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satansbooks · 4 years ago

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Obey Me Headcanons

Reader is gn also winchester.

warnings: swear words. I don't know what to put in this. it's my first time actually so definitely be prepared of messy writing and some grammar mistakes?

a/n: hey! I hope you like it since I started watching supernatural again. I thought why don't I give it a try. I didn't add belphegor since this headcanon/fic takes a place in the first month of the whole exchange program. ✨here you are✨

word count: 1,7k

summary: reader is the youngest sibling of winchesters, end up in devildom.

okay so, you and your brothers were after a stupid shapeshifter for two weeks now and let me tell you that, being in a same car with your annoying brothers for two weeks without getting any rest to deal with them was sucked.

this shapeshifter (you guys were guessing he was an alpha since he was fast and wasn't struggling with shifting.) was homicidal maniac to be honest. he killed more than thirty children in a two weeks row and they were so random. like he was killing for fun. there were not any pattern or connection between them.

town to town, city to city. you and your brothers chased him non stoppingly. your body was craving for some bed to sleep on. or a pillow. or anything that is soft and resting. these leather seats were hella uncomfortable.

and still, still you had a very little information about him. he was leaving lots of trace for you to find him. he seemed like he was enjoying your little chasing game. well that makes one. because you were this close to lose your shit.

you were watching stars from your side of the car window while driving (the road was soo empty. you were sure you could drive with your eyes closed). your older brothers music was keeping you company on a low sound level to not to wake them up. normally Dean wouldn't trust you with his car but he was tired. after all he was driving for two weeks with a very little rest. he needed some sleep. at least more than six hours. and Sam, well he just likes sleeping and napping.

so when your vision blurred suddenly you act quick to pull over. without any second you found yourself in a room. it was like a court room with eight chairs. different animal shadows was painted on the walls behind the court chairs. dark decorations and purple&black flags all over the place. only some candles were lighting the whole room.

spooky?

later you found out you were in devildom as an exchange student for a whole year just because some fancy underground elite wanna show off to three realm that he's the one and only king that can bring peace and serenity. you were his little experiment.

anyone could tell you were beyond being angry. you were frustrated. and nothing, nothing you do could change that.

or you thought...

he knew keeping you under his control would be hard so he decided to do what he can do best.

dealing.

if you could stay here without giving him or the house of lamentation any trouble for a month, he was going to release you. but he was sure you would want to stay here after you spent a month. (he knew thanks to barbatos..)

you didn't say anything to him. you knew your brothers would come to get you before that. even if it means they have to destroy whole "devildom". you were sure. also you didn't have anything to use against these demons except your tattoo (which would only work if one of them wanna take over your body.) so the best option was keeping your mouth shut and agreeing with them. you just had to wait for a month.

first night was hard.

not that it got any easier for some time.

you couldn't sleep but who could have blame you. you were in hell. it doesn't matter which fancy name they were calling it. it was hell. the sulphuric smell was unbearable and of course you only had silver knives with you (you were carrying them in your shoe. they were kinda small but since a lot of creatures has a weak spot for silver the size didn't matter. you wished it could harm demons too) so you were unarmed.

they seemed nice tho. they were kind to you (most of the time) especially Beelzebub. so you thought to give them a shot. what could have happen worst?

Lucifer realized the runes you used to seal your room when he was bringing some paper work to your room about exchange program.

these kind of runes were useless here. but he didn't want to say anything to you, clearly you needed them.

Mammon was your 'first' guy. he was with you on your way to RAD and also in your classes. (Lucifer made sure that you two have the same class schedule) eventually you started talking with him because it was impossible not to. he was charming, talkative and funny. you would be lying if you said you wouldn't enjoying his company during your time with him. (especially after the whole pact thing. it only brought you two closer.)

you were quick to remove all runes in your room after that. because you and mammon started watching movies together. sometimes Beel and Levi would join you.

and when you were not, you were with Asmodeus.

your father was trying to keep a balance between his kids and his hunting business, most of the time you were with your brothers. they were pretty protective over their younger sibling. that actually explained why you didn't have any friends.

so when asmodeus asked you to come shopping with him you were slightly shocked?

yeah, of course you and your brothers went to shopping but it was because of some necessity not for fun or spending your time.

but your nervousness passed quickly around him. he was lovely, and so very kind. you actually liked how straightforward he was. and this little "shopping sprees" turn into your things.

your first and genuine interactions with all of the brothers were on a dinner.

they were trying to scare mammon by using the so told "ghosts" in their house. they were just joking around but even the thought of them made the second eldest shudder.

you didn't say anything because you were enjoying your well-cooked meal which was from human realm (they decided to put some human world food in their menu in order to make you feel more comfortable)

"there's no such a thing as ghosts!"

Mammon said without waiting more. you could sense the anger mixing with fear in his voice. then you feel a sudden urge to laugh.

"oi, what are ya laughing at human!"

"of course there is Mammon. they're pretty common. I'm sure there is one in this house."

you couldn't stop your laughter. there wasn't anything funny about it actually but come to think of it, he was one of the most powerful demon in three realms and scared of low level creatures like ghosts?

brothers always forgot they actually have a hunter in their houses---

they all asked tons of questions about ghosts and other stuffs you've been hunting.

satan was the most curious one about this topic. he asked you many questions about them after dinner. of course he read all about them but it was just basic informations to be honest. (and they all sounded like a fairytale tbh)

please don't be surprised when he actually arranges some kind of hunting trip with you to examine them closely. lucifer didn't know about that.

but figured it out when two of you showed up to RAD very late, smelling like rock salt and fuel.

you gave him one of your notebooks (you started to take notes about the creatures you're hunting with your brothers just like your father did. you already had four notebooks for now. it was like diary.) to study. he appreciates it. :''

okay here's another thing, your older brothers appetite was something you've never seen before. or you thought before meeting with Beelzebub.

when you met Beelzebub for the first time you didn't mind his eagerness to eat that much. (Dean was your family's Beelzebub lol.) obviously you couldn't eat as much as he does but your company kept him happy.

he was giving you big-bear-hugs whenever you talk about your brothers or how bad you missed them. (he feels you :'))

you two started to go diners or whatever they were calling it so often. he was kind and thoughtful. even invited you to join him for workouts. (since you're not going hunting trips anymore, you decided to join him on gym to keep yourself and your form steady.)

after gym you usually would watch a show called "I'm an unstoppable powerful wizard but still don't know how to fall in love with someone so I'm hunting other creature's to forget about my massive heart-break but it's not really a heart-break." which was a good show to be honest.

thats how you got close with Levi. he already was impressed your skills as a hunter ('they're like, out of an anime!' he thought) so he invited you for long gaming sessions in his room. since you were always in a car. it was difficult first. but you got used to it. (he was good at teaching)

you spent tons of sleepless night with him: watching movies and animes, playing games, reading and re-acting manga scenes.

the most challenging demon to communicate was lucifer. he already met your brothers. and he didn't like them. he had a strong prejudice about you. he thought you were just like your brothers.

but after some time, when you started to get more comfortable around other brothers it also effected your relationship with the eldest.

and it all started with a dumb question.

he was doing some paperwork for lord diavolo with you about the exchange program. when you sighed for the millionth time in an hour. he had no choice but ask what was the problem.

"can you look into my eyes and ask me what do I truly desire?"

he was confused?

"I mean there's a Lucifer in human world who can bring people's darkest desires. so I was wondering if you could do the same."

now he was more confused.

there was a Lucifer in human realm? and what was his ability again?

when you try to explain him and failed over and over again you decided to show him.

and you two started to watch Lucifer.

he actually enjoyed spending some alone time with you.

after a month, your brothers never showed up. you didn't want them to. Lucifer said he taken care of them. and he promised that he didn't hurt them.

even if you missed your brothers too much. you knew one year wouldn't hurt anyone.

after all maybe that 'underground elite' was right. he was the one and only who could bring peace and serenity over the three realms...

and you were very thankful to him.

#supernatural #obey me #obey me leviathan #obey me lucifer #obey me satan #obey me mammon #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #crossover #obey me headcanons #headcanons #winchester!reader #dean winchester #sam winchester #oh no i hope i dont suck #first try looolll

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morwensteelsheen · 4 years ago

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farawyn and borodred for the ship ask game thing?

thank you so much!! :)

okay i’ll start with borodred because for some unfathomable reason i actually got there first —

1. What made you ship it?

One of my favourite Types of ships is the Elder Statesmen Of War-type set-ups, where it’s less about people brought together through theatrical romantic gestures and more about the steadiness of people who are going through similar (immensely difficult) circumstances, who know that in their hearts they’re always going to put their duty to that cause first, but still seek out human comfort in other people who will understand what their priorities are and why.

I think there’s also a lot of similarities about the kind of helplessness they both face despite having this tremendous innate strength. Both of them still have to deal with family dynamics that are complex (made more complex by the war) and that can’t be fixed just by their own sheer will power; both of them die these utterly unnecessary deaths (not that death makes a ship but I think in this instance it actually points to the constant tragedy these guys face); and both of them are meant to be the principal figures of their families and people and are ultimately sidelined by the cruel mechanisations of war and the forward march of history or whatever wanky term there is for it — my apologies to ep thompson's ghost, dont haunt me bro.

Plus there’s obviously the interesting thread raised when Faramir starts bitching about Gondor and likens Gondor (and by very explicit extension, Boromir) to Rohan. That always made me go ‘Hmmmmmm, wonder what else Boromir liked about Rohan,’ lmao.

Anyways for me the ship is the equivalent of Star Wars’ Kanan and Hera or (my OTP to end all others) Luke and Wedge, just people getting by on love and duty and without big ol fancy romance.

2. What are your favorite things about the ship?

The fanon, I think, really makes it, as with so many other LOTR ships. battlefield manners, by themightypen is essentially the definitive take for me on them — these two guys who are just so fucking exhausted, man, but still overcome by defensive love for their families, even if their (foster-)siblings are naïve fools. That I just love, love, love. Plus I think they’re unique for their ability to pretty comfortable explore the relationship between Gondor & Rohan in advance of the Ring War without having to stray too far into AU, which I always appreciate.

3. Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

Not really, tbh, except in that I don’t think Boromir is necessarily as laddy as people like to portray him. I’m happy to play into it in, say, my modern AUs because I think that’s a fun and sweet niche for him, but I am a bit 🤪 about Boromir as this kind of reckless, drunken playboy (not least because I think that’s a much funnier niche for Faramir to fill, at least when he’s younger). Chapter Four of Swaddledog’s Hearts and Minds gets my preferred Boromir characterisation absolutely spot on, I think.

And now, sigh, the ultimate OTP, Farawyn —

1. What made you ship it?

For starters, I think I am obsessed with Éowyn in a way I’ve never quite been obsessed with any other fictional character. I came to reading LOTR at this moment in my life where I was intensely frustrated about everything — trapped inside permanently (helplessly!) because of the pandemic, just starting a new political organisation that I truly believed in but that was still making me feel like shit, facing down an untenable about of work, and, fundamentally, really, really hating being a woman and what that means. And along comes Éowyn, who is bitter, who is cold, who is ANGRY, and who doesn’t perform joy or softness or gentleness just because people expect her to. She’s this seminal Woman Of War in so many ways, I think the kind of person a lot of us wish we could be. She’s got her emotional taps cut off at the source, she holds her head high and faces down unimaginable personal and political terrors, and at the end of it all still has this abiding love for her family that, I would argue, is almost unparalleled by anyone else in the book.

After all that, she gets this incredible moment of emotional catharsis (or what we expect to be emotional catharsis): “no living man am I!” She undertakes THE greatest martial act of the Ring War, and in that moment there’s this unbelievably sophisticated dialogue happening about gender (“Éowyn it was, and Dernhelm also”), and leadership (Merry finding his courage not because of the immediate scenario of the Witch-king, but because he’s spurred into it by Éowyn’s presence), and love and care.

And then we learn that no, actually, this glorious act of violence wasn’t the emotional catharsis we thought it would be. She gets to ride to war, she gets to throw herself headlong at death, and in the end that hopeless act of individualism isn’t really what does it for her. She’s still left desolate and despairing, and actually all of her problems haven’t gone away.

And then we need to rewind a bit, because along comes Faramir, who is gentle, and is kind, and does seem to believe in joy, but not because people expect it — actually it's made abundantly clear nobody expects it — but because it’s something quite innate to how he figures the world. And he’s a huge fucking nerd too. I have a lot of thoughts on Faramir’s flaws and why I find them endearing, which I won’t put here, but almost immediately you get this sense of a guy who’s quite melodramatic, good humoured, and very much not made to live in a time of war.

But he’s also clear-headed about war and what it requires (tactically, if not strategically, though that’s a post for another day), but who is kind of cynical and weary of it in his own unique way. And it’s a unique cynicism given his personal circumstances because he’s the second son of The great family of Gondor, he’s apparently — though with some big ol’ question marks hanging about the extent — very able to command some of the elite units in the realm, and what’s more than that, he’s got all these fantastical powers (the light mind reading to start, to say nothing of this apparently magical ability to command animals too. bruh.). By all accounts he should be this brazen hot mess, but he’s not. He’s desperate to claw his way out of this war-torn cage of expectation his people have for how a man should comport himself in time of war. Is it a little naïve? Sure. A little fussy? Absolutely. But does it point to that same desperation that Éowyn has? Yes! But also the practicality, like, neither of them are really enjoying the circumstances they live under, but good fucking god are they both able to Make It Work.

So finally we get to the Houses of Healing and what is the finest and most aggressively romantic writing of LOTR. Seriously, it’s so fucking much. It’s breathtaking. It reminds me quite viscerally of this fabulous quote from Les Mis:

The power of a glance has been so much abused in love stories, that it has come to be disbelieved in. Few people dare now to say that two beings have fallen in love because they have looked at each other. Yet it is in this way that love begins, and in this way only.

At some point I will devote more time to talking about the two reasons line, and the blissful Queen of Gondor speech, but I think to me that big, important line is: “And then her heart changed, or at least she understood it; and the winter passed, and the sun shone upon her.”

It’s not about Éowyn changing herself entirely (though, I think, it really does bear mentioning that she does change, and that’s every bit as important to understanding that scene as it is romantic), it’s about Éowyn coming to terms with how to live with herself as herself, and how to live in communion with someone else. She can’t just cut people out anymore, and she can’t just treat them as objects of infatuation as she did with Aragorn, she has to reckon with people as they are. And that’s sort of the moment where I knew I was about to plunge fully off the deep end with these two and never know a moments’ peace again, lmao.

2. What are your favorite things about the ship?

Someone on here once called Farawyn a love letter to women and, by god, yes, exactly that. I love the capacity for emotional intimacy, that is beautiful in ways I can’t express. To me, though, my favourite thing is the promise of life they speak of. Not as in oh they shag loads and have babies (though not opposed to that, obviously), but in the sense that unlike Aragorn and Arwen, who are always going to be buried under/burdened with the crushing weight of history and tradition, Éowyn and Faramir are going out yonder those hills and they’re going to do some real cottagecore farming shit. Obviously with all the trappings of rank and nobility and whatnot, but they, unique to anybody else in the books, get to sow this new idea of what life should be. They are, outside of Aragorn, the single most powerful people in Gondor. Éowyn’s got the ear of a king, a steward (which is essentially a prime-ministerial deal here), and functionally her own prince (if the hobbits are to be believed when they refer to it as essentially hers). I suspect that, in life, there were remarkably few arguments she wasn’t winning, and that Ithilien probably trended towards the jumped up noble hippie camp Tolkien so desperately wanted Oxford to be (or, in other words — Cambridge, lol).

3. Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

Yeah, man, everybody stop treating Faramir like he’s a big fucking crybaby and Éowyn like she’s some kind of shrieking 2010-era tumblr girl.

One of the single most important lines defining Faramir’s character is when Denethor roasts his ass for always trying to appear noble and lordly, if you ignore every other piece of textual evidence we have about him, what part of that line makes you think Faramir’s some simpering daisy? And why would you want to link tremendous emotional intelligence and care with being too limp-wristed to function, lol??? Like I struggle loads with writing Faramir, because I have never once in my life tried to be noble or self-restrained, so find it hard to get into that mindset, but better, I think, to imagine him too closed off than to do this wilting flower song and dance lmao.

And stop making Éowyn out to be this over-emotional angst machine. She’s got problems, yes, and she’s sure as shit got a lot of angst, but at almost every point in the book where we’re overtly dealing with her emotions, she’s sublimating them into something else. One of the most serious times we see her cry is when she’s fighting with Aragorn about riding out, and after that moment she literally tries to kill herself. Those tears aren’t standard, man, that’s a real watershed (lol) moment for her. You have to read around what the text is saying to get a better feel why everybody’s constantly calling her cold and distant.

#god this is probably obnoxiously long because i can't do cuts on my phone #but refuse to open the tumblr website on my laptop lmao #faramir #éowyn #boromir #théodred #farawyn #borodred #god sorry for these fucking tags man im just trying to make my blog slightly more organised #i just have a lot of thoughts #i should really write more metas it would probably help my writing out quite a bit #asks #meta

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fridgeza · 4 years ago

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one of us is leaving; an excerpt from the self sacrifice files

“hey!” a voice calls him from across the floor, and it’s scratchy and dirty and the sound of it makes purpled want to curl up and die. it’s a rich voice, but all voices are if they’re this high up in quackity’s casino. he turns, and a blonde boy is leaning across his table, beckoning purpled with one hand, holding a cigarette in the other. purpled winces, and briskly walks back to the table. he’d rather not interact with quackity’s people today, but this boy screams ‘important’ and purpled would be a fool not to listen to him. maybe it’ll get him in good graces with quackity, he thinks and then promptly snorts. yeah, right.

“uh, hello.” purpled greets awkwardly, “can i help you?” the blonde is familiar, a face he’s seen maybe a little younger. maybe a little happier.

the blonde lets out a laugh, “nobody can help me, man. not anymore. the real question is what someone as clean as you doing in a rotten place like this.” he seems amused, as if he’s toying and imagining purpled’s backstory in his head and hoping purpled’s more realistic telling will do his imaginary script justice. and with that, purpled realises where he recognizes him from.

“wait, aren’t you tommy innet?! from smp earth?” purpled sputters, eyes going wide for a moment. tommy innet was an icon, for practically everyone. he was the character everyone wanted to be, behind no one except for maybe technoblade, and even then he was a funnier character. people loved him, and once he got booted off the show, there were practically riots. nobody's seen him since the show, but his fame remains the same. tommy doesn’t look pleased to have been recognized, his eyes darkening and his smile returning to a straight face for just a moment. the facade comes back up though, when he laughs and waves the hand with a cigarette, the smoke curling around his dismissive wave of a hand.

“yeah, yeah, old news. that isn’t all that important right now,” the blonde says, his smile taking a dispariging tone. “what’s important right now is your story.”

he points a cigarette at purpled, grinning. purpled feels like he is trying to distract purpled from why child star, and current star, tommy innet is doing in a casino when he’s clearly underage and it will wreck the reputation s.m.p studio’s built up for him.

“now come on, do tell.” he leans closer to purpled from across the table, and dismisses the casino worker that’s been standing by them this whole time. purpled can’t refuse, partly because it seems like tommy really wants to know, and mostly because tommy seems like the type of person to have access to executing purpled if he doesn’t get the story he wants, and purpled is not in the mood to die. he can entertain a spoiled rich kid with his sob story, for just a moment. it might help him get some cash, or even better, some reputation.

“there’s not much to it, i’m afraid. my brother’s been missing for months because of a job. quackity said he’d help me find him if worked for him.” tommy raises an eyebrow and covers his mouth with a hand, seemingly suppressing a smile. but then he takes a longer look at purpled, probably realizing the older boy is serious. his eyes soften in sympathy, and he breathes out a sigh.

“and you believed him?” he asks, and purpled could feel his breath stolen. he has nothing to say to that, nothing other than-

“yes.” and there’s nothing else, truly nothing else, purpled can say. he feels like an idiot, to put it simply. that he believed quackity would help without any strings other than work, that he believed anyone so high up in this fucked up, and ruthless city would spare a moment of their time with someone like him without an ulterior motive. it’s such a simple lie, that purpled is ashamed he didn’t see through it. ‘work for me and i’ll find your brother,’ that was it, no contracts signed, which means quackity is under no obligation to pay him or help him except his own free will, and purpled’s entire life and way of earning money and aspirations are in his hands.

“it seems you’ve figured out that was a shitty ass decision yourself.” purpled looks up at tommy, and the boy’s eyes look questioning, so he nods. tommy shakes his head, sad and tired and angry, all at once.

“quackity isn't a good man, i’m sure you’ve seen. but he was once, and that’s gotten you farther then it should have. you know to be careful, i’m sure,” he doesn’t phrase it like a question, he says it like a fact, and purpled feels almost complemented by it. he thinks that’s the best complement he could receive from people high up here. he nods, and turns to leave, because that’s when these types of conversations are usually over, with the person never helping him except for wasting time but making purpled feel artificially better. tommy grabs his wrist, and purpled twists his head.

“be better than i was, okay? be smarter than i was. don’t sign any of his contracts, don’t even look at a pen near him. the city’s elites will sink their claws into you and pick you apart, bit by bit. i don’t want that happening to someone like you. you’re the future for kids like us, don’t waste it.” and oh, this isn’t some artificial sympathy from a boy who’s had it good, rocking with the stars his whole life. tommy is desperate and clinging onto a last hope, and when purpled gets a good look at him, everything fits into place. his blazer’s a bit too big, looking less like an expensive jacket tailored to him but a hand me down, something a poor girl would wear when trying to look rich. his dress looks like it was supposed to be white, the black lace looks like it’s supposed to be fancy, but it doesn’t quite do it. tommy’s hair is blonde, but it’s a dirty blonde, and his blue eyes are not dollish or adorable in the way s.m.p studios marketed them as, but wild. tommy looks wretched.

tommy either looks like an expensive mess or a cheap legend, and purpled supposes that was always the tommy innet brand. ripped apart and scrappy, but in a sellable way.

“okay.” purpled says, and tommy lets go of him. he offers out an unused cigarette, a signing to their peace treaty. purpled takes it, and pockets it. he doesn’t smoke, but he knows an olive branch when he sees one. it’s tommy’s apology to him, and it’s tommy’s apology to the people’s he left behind, because when purpled recognizes his face from massive billboards and hit reality tv shows, he also recognizes it from the orphanage that was just down the street from him and his brother’s tiny apartment, filled with kids who would’ve killed at a chance to even see the blinding white lights of the city, of fame and money and people to love them.

purpled supposes that’s what tommy did. he killed. they all killed to get here. it’s another thing purpled and tommy have in common.

#purpled and punz (the brother) do murder work for quackity btw if it wasnt obvious #s.m.p studios is also very very corrupt and bad #tw implied abuse #tw abuse #tommyinnit #purpled #tommyinnit fanfic #quackity #purpled fanfic #quackity fanfic #smpe au #smp earth au #dsmp au #dream smp au #mcyt #mcyt fanfic #mcyt fanfiction #tommyinnit au #purpled au

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tomeandflickcorner · 4 years ago

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Falcon and Winter Soldier Episode 4- My Thoughts

Okay. I have no idea what to expect now. As always, spoilers under the cut.

This episode shook things up by starting off with a flashback, involving the time Bucky spent in Wakanda after the events of Civil War. It’s the moment where Shuri managed to remove the Winter Soldier programing from Bucky’s brain, and Ayo is personally performing a test to make sure the procedure was truly successful. As many people have already discussed, this whole scene was masterfully done. As Ayo is reciting the Winter Soldier Activation Words, Bucky’s utter fear of relapsing is tangible in his face and voice. But as the test continues, the fear in Bucky’s face slowly is replaced by disbelief and elation. Because he’s realizing the Winter Soldier Activation Words aren’t affecting him anymore. But it’s not until Ayo directly tells him that he’s finally free that he fully lets himself believe it, and he breaks down crying from the joyful relief. Anyone who tries to claim that Sebastian Stan isn’t a phenomenal actor has clearly never watched this scene.

Of course, this flashback ends up being immediately contrasted to the present day scene, where Ayo is confronting Bucky in Latvia over the issue of him helping break Zemo out of prison. We saw in the flashback that Ayo was the one who personally tested Bucky to ensure he was freed from the Winter Soldier programing, which suggests they had a personal bond. But now, that bond has been damaged because of the whole issue with Zemo. I fully understand why Ayo is angry about this. After all, she’s not only part of the Dora Milaje, but she’s the second in command of that band of elite warriors. As such, her first priority will always be to Wakanda and it’s throne. And we all remember that Zemo was directly responsible for the death of the late King T’Chaka, so it’s natural that he’d be considered their enemy. Plus, while it’s been a while since I saw Civil War, I think it was Ayo who was supposed to be protecting King T’Chaka at the time of the UN bombing. If it was, that would further explain why she’s so miffed, because she must feel like she’d failed in her duty to protect him because of Zemo’s actions. (And, in a way, Zemo’s actions in Civil War probably also led to the events of Black Panther. Because without King T’Chaka’s death, there might not have been that power struggle between T'Challa and Killmonger.) But now, Bucky assisted Zemo’s escape from prison. The same Bucky who the people of Wakanda had taken in, cared for and helped get his life, identity and autonomy back. Yeah, I can see why Ayo would take this personally. Bucky really should have checked in with them before doing what he did. Granted it was a spur of the moment decision and he probably didn’t have the time to contact them in order to give them a heads up about it, but the point still stands. Still, when Bucky explains he needs Zemo to finish his current mission in stopping the Flag Smashers, Ayo reluctantly agrees to give Bucky a mercy period of eight hours. At which point the Dora Milaje will return in order to take Zemo into their custody.

After Ayo leaves, Bucky rejoins Sam and Zemo, and they begin discussing the issue of Karli and the Flag Smashers. Sam says that he wants to try reasoning with Karli in order to come up with a peaceful solution. Because he understands where she’s coming from in regards to how she clearly feels the world is not listening to her people and properly addressing their needs. But he doesn’t agree with her methods of fighting. Zemo, however, doesn’t think it’s possible to reason with Karli because of her taking the Super Soldier Serum. His argument seems to be that everyone who has ever taken the Super Soldier Serum gets corrupted in some way. The only exception to that rule was Steve Rogers, but Zemo points out there has never been another Steve. (Interestingly, when he says this, the camera seems to focus on Sam. I wonder if that was an intentional decision or just a lucky accident.) And yes, they also don’t really acknowledge the fact that Bucky didn’t become a Super Soldier voluntarily. Unlike Steve and the Flag Smashers, he wasn’t given a choice in the matter. But I guess that’s beside the point.

To be honest, I’m not exactly sure what Zemo’s goal is right here. Because he does seem to be sticking around with Sam and Bucky, even though he had a few chances to give them the slip. But at the same time, this is still Zemo. And he seems to have a major grievance against Super Soldiers and all enhanced individuals. Which probably explains why he’s sticking around, considering the mission involves the Flag Smashers, who all injected themselves with the Super Soldier Serum. But is he eventually planning to try and take down Bucky, too?

In any event, the trio decide their best chance of getting Sam his opportunity of sitting down and talking with Karli is at the funeral of that woman who we saw die in the last episode. Because this woman was apparently well-loved by the community. (Side note, I shared Bucky’s confusion when Sam begin talking about his TT. I have never heard that particular slang word for aunt before. Is this a regional/cultural thing?) They do manage to determine the location of this funeral thanks to Zemo, who manages to gain the trust of this one little girl by offering her some Turkish Delight. The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe vibes aside, that was a pretty good idea. I don’t even remotely like this guy, but I can admit he’s smart. But them, when they’re on the way to the funeral, John Walker pops up, being his usual likable self. He argues with Sam for a bit over Sam’s intention to try talking with Karli in the hopes of coming to a peaceful resolution, which contradicts with Walker’s plan of just apprehending her. Thankfully, Lemar Hoskins is able to convince Walker to at least try giving Sam a chance.

After the funeral, Sam approaches Karli and begins to talk with her, utilizing his skills as a councilor and therapist of war vets. And he’s actually starting to get through to her. But then, Walker botches it all up. Because he just couldn’t give Sam the ten minutes he requested and barges in to arrest her. Which results in Karli thinking that the whole thing was just a setup and throwing all of Sam’s progress with her out the window. Karli and the other Flag Smashers end up getting away, but in the process, Karli had a brief run-in with Zemo. And their confrontation resulted in Karli accidently dropping the vials of Super Serum she’d been carrying around in her fanny pack. Zemo, going along with his whole shtick of enhanced individuals must go, starts to destroy the vials. But while he’s doing so, Walker comes up and knocks him out with the Shield. And that’s when Walker sees that there’s only one vial of Super Serum remaining. Unbeknownst to Sam and Bucky, he secretly ends up pocketing the vial before they arrive on the scene.

Sometime later, they’re all back at that apartment(?) where Bucky, Sam and Zemo have been crashing in Latvia. Walker decides enough is enough, and he’s going to return Zemo to his cell in Germany. But that’s when Ayo and the other Dora Milaje appear. It seems that the eight hours that Ayo gave Bucky are up, and they’ve also come for Zemo. Of course, Walker, being the arrogant moron he is, is rather dismissive towards the Dora Milaje, trying to claim that they don’t have jurisdiction there. Which leads to Ayo stating her epic line, of how the Dora Milaje have jurisdiction wherever they are.

https://youtu.be/jG8u1UdD-T0

When Walker proceeds to neglect to show the proper respect towards Ayo and the rest of the Dora Milaje, despite Sam’s urging to not start anything with them, Ayo proceeds to put him in his place by giving him the beatdown he deserves. And I really like how Bucky seemed content to just sit back and watch it happen, embodying the viewing audience in the process. (His ‘looking strong, John’ was just so wonderfully snarky.) Eventually though, Sam gets Bucky to step in.

Of course, that leads me to the part where Ayo reveals she can detach Bucky’s vibranium arm with just two moves. Which seems to be a pretty polarizing moment in this episode. Okay, I acknowledge that this whole situation is extremely complicated. And as I stated earlier, I fully appreciate that Ayo is feeling particularly betrayed by Bucky’s actions in assisting Zemo’s escape from prison without discussing it with the Wakandans first. That being said? DUDE! I know it’s easy to forget sometimes, but the fact remains that Bucky is an amputee. A man with a physical disability. You don’t up and remove a disabled man’s prosthetic limb without his consent! What’s wrong with you? It’s the same as going up to a deaf person and ripping out their hearing aid, or taking away someone’s wheelchair!

Also, it’s possible I missed something about this scene, but the way it was set up doesn’t make a lot of sense. I didn’t see anything to suggest that Bucky and Sam were attempting to prevent the Dora Milaje from leaving with Zemo. If Walker hadn’t started trying to throw his weight around, they probably would have allowed it without an argument. Bucky only intervened in the ensuing fight in order to dissolve the situation. And when he stepped in, it almost looked as if Ayo was preparing to make a killing blow. Which is way extreme because, while Walker is an arrogant, smug prat and deserved to get knocked down a few pegs, at this point, he hadn’t really done anything to warrant getting impaled by a spear. Yeah, I get Ayo and the other Dora Milaje are undoubtedly super angry right now because of the whole Zemo thing and tempers are running high. But at the same time, that fact alone means they really shouldn’t be acting rashly. Oh, at it gets better. Because while everyone was distracted by all the fighting, Zemo slips into the bathroom and manages to escape by moving the bathtub aside and slithering away down the drain like the snake he is. (Exactly how big are the pipes in Latvia?) So because of all this fighting, Zemo is now roaming around free somewhere, and the Dora Milaje have to leave without him. I repeat, I fully get this is a complicated, complex situation, and I understand where they’re coming from. But perhaps if the Dora Milaje didn’t start fighting with Bucky and Sam when they stepped in to interfere with Walker’s well-deserved beatdown, maybe Zemo wouldn’t have gotten away. Just saying, they were doing a pretty good job of keeping Zemo on a leash up until now.

So anyway, in the aftermath of this fight, you see Walker starting to have a mental breakdown. Because he is completely flabbergasted that he was effortlessly taken down by the Dora Milaje. Because while they are unquestionably highly skilled and trained warriors, they are still completely ordinary people. Not a single one of them have been injected with the Super Serum. So how is he supposed to manage going up against the Flag Smashers, who are Super Soldiers? (It’s also possible that Walker’s despondency over this is partially fueled by him having sexist and xenophobic viewpoints, considering the Dora Milaje are all African women, but that’s open to interpretation.) While he and Hoskins are sitting at a diner somewhere, Walker, clearly thinking about the fact that he has the last vial of Super Serum, asks Hoskins if he would take the Super Serum if he had the chance. Hoskins states he would take it. Which is clearly meant to parallel an earlier scene, where Zemo asked Sam if he would take it if it was ever offered. Because Sam stated he wouldn’t without hesitation. Which once again further cements the fact that Steve made the right choice in choosing Sam as his successor. (It’s also evident by the fact that Sam is the one trying to find a peaceful resolution with the Flag Smashers, while Walker is simply trying to charge in and simply take them out.)

Things come to a head when Karli actually calls up Sam’s sister, Sarah, and directly threatens her and her kids in order to give Sam an incentive to meet with her again. So Sam, with Bucky accompanying him, suits up as Falcon in order to confront her. Karli attempts to try and convince Sam to join up with her, but Sam still insists that, while her goal is honorable, there’s a better way to fight without resorting to violence (such as blowing up buildings with innocent people inside). But once again, Walker mucks it all up. Because, Sam is then contacted by Sharon Carter. Who seems to be able to track Walker via satellite? Which seems to contradict something she said earlier about not having access to satellites, unless I misheard that line. Yeah, Sharon is kinda shady in this episode. If the fan theory that she’s actually the Power Broker turns out to be right, I won’t be that shocked. In any event, it seems that either Walker and Hoskins ended up going after the Flag Smashers again or Karli’s meeting with Sam was just a diversion to keep Sam and Bucky out of the way while the Flag Smashers tried to go after Walker in order to kill him. I’m not sure which it was. But regardless, Sam and Bucky immediately go off to try and find Walker before it’s too late, with Karli also running off to join the fight.

Here, it’s one big action sequence, with Bucky, Sam and Walker fighting against Karli and the Flag Smashers. Hoskins eventually joins in the fight as well (he was absent from the start of the fight because he was jumped by some of the Flag Smashers and was briefly tied up in a bathroom somewhere until he managed to free himself). But in the mist of the battle, Karli ends up either kicking or punching Hoskins into a stone pillar with full Super Soldier strength. And the impact apparently snaps Hoskin’s spine, killing him instantly.

Okay! I was seriously not expecting them to kill Hoskins off like that! And it’s a shame, too. Because while I barely knew Hoskins, he still seemed like an okay guy. At least he was the one who, however briefly, convinced Walker to at least try to give Sam a chance to talk to Karli. Which indicated he wasn’t as gung-ho and impulsive as Walker is. Unfortunately, it seems that Hoskin’s death was the breaking point for Walker, because he immediately snaps. And while Bucky and Sam go after Karli when she makes a break for it, Walker goes right for the other Flag Smashers. He quickly corners the Flag Smasher called Nico, who I think was Karli’s right-hand man, in the middle of a crowded square. And, in full view of everyone, mercilessly murders Nico with the Shield. And he is showing no reaction to the fact that the onlookers are all staring at him in shock and horror, or even that some people were filming him with their camera phones. He simply straps the Shield, which is now covered with blood, onto his arm. And that’s where the episode ends.

Well, crap! That’s a rather dark note to end the episode on. Clearly, Walker is unstable. And I have no idea what the final two episodes of this show will be like. The even more chilling aspect is that, while it’s not explicitly stated, it’s implied that Walker might have already taken the Super Serum! And this show of rage and aggression was the result of it. After all, as Dr. Erskine had said way back when, the Serum elevates everything. Good becomes great, but bad becomes worse. And Walker was clearly undergoing a phycological breakdown to begin with. So if he’s taken the Super Serum (like we were probably supposed to assume he did when he effortlessly bent a metal pole like a pretzel during the last battle scene with the Flag Smashers), then he must be REALLY unstable now! And now, the Shield, the very symbol of Captain America (which is tied to Steve Roger’s legacy), is now tainted by a bloodstain. Again, I have no idea where the show plans to go from here on in.

Speaking of the Shield? On a closing note, I do have to address the fact that Bucky once again scolded Sam for giving away the Shield in the first place. *Sigh* Okay. Bucky? I love you, man. You’re my favorite character in the MCU so far (apart from Goose, of course). But you really need to stop blaming Sam for this. Because Sam didn’t give the Shield away like you’re suggesting. That’s not what happened. Sam donated the Shield to the Smithsonian, with the understanding that it would be kept there, as a monument to everything Steve Rogers did and stood for. It was the US Government who went behind Sam’s back and took back the Shield in order to hand it over to Walker. Sam didn’t know they were going to do that until after the fact. Yes, Bucky has every right to be mad about what happened. His feelings are justified and valid. (Particularly if they end up revealing what I think they’re going to reveal.) But he’s taking it out on the wrong person. And he really does owe Sam an apology.

#falcon and winter soldier #falcon and winter solider series

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alirhi · 4 years ago

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chapter 20

Title: Winter's Frost Chapter: 20/? Fandom: MCU Rating: R to be on the safe side Pairing: Loki/Bucky Summary: Loki never told anyone the real reason he became so obsessed with Midgard. Much better to let them think he wanted to hurt his brother than draw their attention to the one thing in the universe that makes the God of Mischief truly vulnerable. WARNINGS: nothing major. A little language, some angry peeps. Notes: Like I said a few chapters back... Fuck the canon.

"They need to know."

Loki flinched, glaring at Bucky over his shoulder. "Not now, love."

"Okay, how did he get out?!"

The bland look Bucky gave Stark made both Loki and Rogers smile. "I was an elite, untraceable super assassin for seventy years. You think I can't pick an interior lock?"

"Didn't you learn how to do that when-"

He grinned. "When I was twelve, because you got your dumb ass locked in the basement at my grandfather's house. Yep. But the other version sounded better."

Rogers laughed. "How much do you remember?"

Bucky's smile immediately faded as he glanced at Stark and then quickly averted his gaze to the floor. "Enough. Too much. Listen, there's something I need-"

"James, don't."

"Nah, let him talk, God of Misfits." With a cold smirk in response to Loki's irritated glare, Stark crossed his arms over his chest, staring him down. "We've heard quite enough from you already. Let lover-boy get a word in."

Ignoring him, Loki turned to face his lover fully and implored, "Don't say it. Trust me, love, it won't end well."

"They deserve to know," was Bucky's quiet, but firm reply as he stepped past him and approached the Avengers. "Stark... There's something I need to tell you about your parents."

"What about them?" Suddenly the quippy billionaire didn't look so amused anymore. He actually looked terrified, and with an unexpected twinge of empathy, Loki remembered that he'd nearly died only a week earlier.

"Really, darling, perhaps later..."

"No." Bucky was shaking his head, but it was Stark who'd spoken, his voice sharp with forced anger and impatience to mask his trepidation. "Shut the hell up and let him talk, or I'll hand you both over to this Thanos guy myself."

"There is nothing you can do to me if I don't allow-" A firm grip on his shoulder stopped him, and he turned to see his adoptive brother staring at him.

"Loki. Will you continue to silence him, the way they did? Trade a literal muzzle for a metaphorical one?"

He shrugged Thor's hand off with an impatient snarl, but didn't speak again. He hated it when that moron had a point! With an apologetic look to his beloved and a resigned flourish of his hand, he spun on his heel and walked away. He didn't leave the room, but he did move to the far wall so as to let Bucky see that he was no longer in Loki's protective shadow.

The sad, grateful half-smile he received nearly made him weep. Then Bucky sucked in a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and told Stark as gently as he could, "HYDRA had them killed."

"When you say HYDRA," Stark began slowly, visibly shaking. "You mean..."

Bucky nodded. "They sent me." He closed his eyes. At first, it looked as though the conversation was causing him pain, but then Loki noticed the tension in his muscles and the way he moved his feet just a bit farther apart; he was bracing himself.

He did it just in time. Tears in his eyes and body still shaking, Stark still managed to put a surprising amount of force behind his punch. Bucky's head snapped to the side, though Loki knew that was less from the impact and more to keep Stark from injuring his hand too badly; he threw so much of his weight behind that punch that, if Bucky hadn't moved, he would have broken his hand.

"What the fuck is your jaw made of?! Jesus!"

"I'm a super soldier," he explained calmly as he opened his eyes, ignoring the look of numb shock on Rogers' face. Keeping his gaze locked on Stark, who stood shaking his bruised fist and gaping at him, he told him, "The first time HYDRA caught me, they shot me up with their version of the serum Erskine used on Steve. I didn't know what it was then, but it didn't take long to figure it out. But it was inefficient; there were others they tested it on, but I was the only one who survived, as far as I know. After the War, they didn't have access to their scientist or his research, so they sent me to retrieve the newest batch of the serum from the Americans... From Howard Stark."

"And you couldn't have stolen it without killing him – them?! Why did my mom have to die?"

From his position behind him, Loki couldn't see the tears in Bucky's eyes, but he could hear them in his voice as he croaked, "'Sanction and extract; no witnesses.' When I'm given an order, I can't refuse it. I don't even get to decide how to carry it out; I took the first opportunity, eliminated the witnesses, and took the prize back to base."

Stark lunged for Bucky again, but Rogers quickly caught him around the waist and held tight. "Those 'witnesses' were my parents, Barnes!"

"I know." Bucky nodded, head drooping as he stared at the floor again. "They were an innocent woman and a man I liked. They sent me to kill a man I'd known during the War; a man I admired and respected."

"And you didn't even fucking pause, did you?!"

"That's quite enough, Stark." Loki pushed himself off the wall, about to step between them again. He stopped when Bucky held his hand up for him to do so, but didn't keep quiet. "He was never given a choice. And I don't mean that in the soft 'the options before him were unpleasant' way you people like to use it in; I mean literally. With weaponized science, his ability to choose, to even think beyond weapons and strategy, was stripped from him."

"Loki, I don't need you to defend me."

"Well, someone ought to!" Oh, delightful. Now he had tears in his eyes. Both hands clenched into tight fists, he glared at Stark because he couldn't bear to look at Bucky for the moment. "I know a thing or two about being a pawn in someone else's game, Anthony, but even I had the luxury of unpleasant options. Do as I was told and be ridiculed for how I went about it, or be ridiculed for refusing? Watch Asgard fall into ruin, or delay my brash, violent brother's coronation and be villainized for it? Always a choice, even if the choices before me were painful. Can you even imagine someone using machinery and hypnosis to dig around inside your brain and push down and strip away everything that makes you who you are, until you know nothing but the mission they present to you? I've seen a large portion of the Sergeant's scrambled and suppressed memories, and they frightened me. Me. With the notable exception of my brother and the beast, I could eliminate all of you right now if I so chose, and what HYDRA did to James frightened me. He did not murder your parents, Stark. HYDRA did. And they used a friend of your father's to do it."

Stark actually appeared to be calming slightly; he still looked as though he wanted to rip Bucky apart, but the tension was leaving his muscles and his breathing grew less labored. Then Bucky had to go and open his big mouth again.

"There's more. Steve... You might wanna sit down."

"Good Gods, James! Quit while you're ahead!"

With a half-hearted chuckle, Bucky attempted to joke, "Is this what 'ahead' looks like? Guess I've been out longer than I thought."

___________________________________________________

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waywardwrestlewritingwaif · 5 years ago

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Anxious Millennial Love

I couldn’t let this day pass without posting some fanfic love for the man whose become my favorite wrestler in the world. I’m not saying that he’s the best technically (although he’s pretty amazing and getting better all the time) but the combination of skill and nuanced character is unequalled. So here’s a fic in honor of birthday boy Hangman Adam Page. Happy trails, cowboy.

Pairing: Hangman Page x reader

Word Count: 1,576

Warnings: None really. Other than that it’s pretty angst-y.

The alcohol selection here isn’t great, to say the least. A few mainstream beers that all tasted the same, cheap spirits for mixed drinks and a couple of low-to-mid-range bottles for those who insisted on drinking straight up. And the atmosphere is pretty lousy. There’s always a small crowd and it’s not what you’d call a full-on dive, but an air of depression just permeates the place, rising like a mist from the eyes of the people in it. You’d never come here with your regular friends, that much is certain. You’re the cheery one, the plugged-in one who always knows what’s happening around town, where the hot spots are and where to be seen. You got your job at AEW because you knew all these things. You’re an Event Coordinator, which means that you’re in charge of everything from press conferences to team dinners. With everything in lockdown and all the shows happening in Jacksonville, you feel like you’ve been demoted to a glorified travel agent but given how many of your friends have been laid off, you know you’re one of the lucky ones.

“Just keep an eye on the kids,” was the instruction Tony gave you. Make sure they all had places to stay and make suggestions as to where they could go so that at least tracking their activities wouldn’t be too difficult.

Only one of the “kids” ever comes here, though. The rest cycle through the small number of places you’ve recommended. They’re not thrilled about it but they get it and they’re all happy to spend time with one another. He, however, needs to separate himself and take some time alone. So you’d suggested this place to him and hadn’t mentioned it to anyone else. A quiet bar with the basics and little likelihood of getting picked out by fans. He’d been shyly appreciative of the suggestion and the grateful look in his eyes had practically melted you.

So you’re sitting here, doing your job by keeping an eye on the company’s prize asset, the one who’s quietly become the most beloved character on the show: Hangman Adam Page. You know that the others have gone to dinner at the hotel and that a few of them will be hitting the bar there afterward, so you’re just doing your job by hanging around in the shadows of the bar where the Hangman has come once again to drown his sorrows. You’re just doing your job.

Except that never in history has a job coordinated so perfectly with what you’d choose to do anyway. You’d happily spend your time doing nothing but trailing after the Hangman. From the first time you laid eyes on him, you were done for. It was that combination of strength and pride with vulnerability. The anxious millennial cowboy indeed. You’d immediately let yourself get lost in those crystal blue eyes and you still couldn’t find your way out. So, sure, you were doing your job by keeping an eye on him. That’s what you told yourself. That’s what you told him on all the nights when you swept in to gather him up and take him back to the hotel. Just your job.

Seeing the time, you slide from the booth where you’ve been hiding with the same beer you ordered when you came in over an hour ago. It’s nasty and flat and you’ve barely been able to stick your tongue in it to give the impression that you were consuming. But it makes decent bait, so you bring it with you as you approach your target.

“Hey,” he mumbles, looking genuinely pleased to see you. “I didn’t know you were here.”

“Well I just got here,” you lie. “But I don’t think I’m going to stay long.”

He pivots on his seat and gives you that sweet drunken smile, the smile that turns your skeleton to dust every time you see it. He’s like an angel with his soft golden curls and cherubic face, so powerful and yet so in need of protection. You don’t know exactly what it is that’s been troubling him all these months, the tension between him and his Elite brethren, the retreat into alcohol, the conflicting ways in which he constantly seems to be reaching out to people and isolating himself. Whatever it is, you just want to gather him up and shelter him from his demons. You want to be his safe space and sometimes, you think you are.

You push your barely-touched glass towards him and he eagerly accepts, draining almost half of it at once, then looking embarrassed when he burps.

“A bit too excited there,” he explains, blushing.

Nevertheless, he downs the rest of the glass in his next gulp, smiling when no bodily reaction shows up to humiliate him. He beams at you, eyes unfocused, and holds his arms wide, inviting you in. You couldn’t think of refusing.

As soon as you step closer, he enfolds you in his arms and pulls you against his chest. You wrap your arms loosely around his neck, admiring the sight of him staring up at you, inebriated and innocent.

“How do you always know where to find me?” he drawls.

“That’s my job,” you joke in response, saddened when you see that he believes you.

He runs his hands up your back and pushes his lips against yours, soft and needy like always, his tongue finding its way into your mouth and your movements growing more passionate until you’re forced to pull away.

You smile, seeing your lipstick smudged on his mouth and move to wipe away the mess with your sleeve. He just stares at you with affection and doesn’t react, like he doesn’t care what you’re doing as long as you’re there with him. He’s always so vulnerable looking when he’s like this, always seems like he just needs to be held and told that things will be alright, that the world is not as angry and brutish as it appears. You desperately want to reassure him, but what could you even say? You’re not any more hopeful than he is. But feeling his arms around you makes things a little better because he is proof that there are beautiful, incorruptible things in this world.

“I think it’s time I get you back to the stables, cowboy,” you tell him.

“Cowboys don’t live in the stables, silly.”

“Well then it’s time that I take you back to wherever the cowboys go.”

He pulls you close and kisses you again, fervently but also softly, needing you while at the same time showing how very much he appreciates you. Perhaps, if you were a better person, you’d just take him back to his hotel room and tuck him in before heading back to your own place. On top of all the other things that are obviously plaguing him, he really doesn’t need you raising questions about the kind of relationship you have.

But you’re not that person. You don’t need alcohol because you’re so drunk in love with him that no number of step-programs could save you. You run your fingers through his hair and feel your heart flutter. Then you take a step back, which he correctly interprets as a request to rise to his feet. As he does so, he pulls you in again and plants the most sensual, wonderful kiss you’ve ever had on your lips. You want it to go on forever. You want music to kick in and see credits roll. You want to believe that this is the moment where you’ve truly discovered each other and that you’re about to step into the world of happily ever after.

It isn’t. Tomorrow morning he’s going to wake up with the same sheepish expression he always has. He’s going to slink guiltily from your apartment and back to the hotel so that he can pretend it’s where he spent the night. You’ll be left reclining in a bed redolent of sex, still hearing his whispers of passion in your ears, still feeling the trail of his touches over your body. You’ll try to shake the heavy weight of your feelings off and you’ll fail but do just enough to allow you to get up and continue with your day.

Maybe it would be easier if you couldn’t tell he had feelings for you. Maybe if you could look in his eyes and see someone who just wanted a place to relieve his sexual tension, you could burn away any emotions he stirred in you. Maybe if he were an asshole like a lot of the men in this business are, you’d be better off. But every time he drunkenly declares that you’re the best thing in his life, the only thing that makes him feel better, and even when he retreats hung over and shame-faced from your bed, you know that his feelings go far beyond the desire for a casual hook-up.

Gathering you close against him, he whispers hoarsely into your ear, “Take me home. I need you to love me right now.”

And so you slide away just slightly, grasping both of his hands in yours and leading him towards the exit. Some day, you promise yourself, you’re going to force him to open up, you’re going to make him explain the specters that haunt him and make him realize that love can overcome them. But it probably won’t be tonight.

#hangman page imagine #adam page imagine #aew imagine #wrestling fanfic #wayward wrestle writing #hangman page x reader #happy birthday hangman

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modernagesomniari · 4 years ago

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Fic - ‘The Wrong Game’

Part 15 (15!?!?!) of my Mala Suledin Nadas series, which follows my playthrough of Ellana Lavellan. All the stories can pretty much be read on their own, but there is continuity through them. You can check out the whole series here or read this chapter in isolation on AO3 here.

So, I'd just finished Hushed Whispers and done the rounds back at Haven, which meant that Eli and Vivienne's relationship by this point basically involved two flaming rows about the status of mages. However, the next thing I did was complete Viv's first war table quest, which rewards you with her approval. This didn't make sense to me, so I wrote a thing that made it make sense i.e. Eli is crap at politics and asks Viv's advice despite disagreeing with her. This speaks of a practicality and humility Vivienne approves of (plus we get a sneak peak of how Eli may or may not SLAY the Winter Palace).

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After their second strong disagreement about the status of mages, Vivienne is dismayed to see Herald coming in her direction again.

The Wrong Game

It had been quite some time since Vivienne had needed to calm herself down this way. Intellectually, she knew why this was different, but that neither made the anger less potent nor curbed the irritation at being made to feel it. Perhaps she had been at court for too long - she was getting lazy.

It wasn’t just that she disagreed with this new Herald of Andraste - she had disagreed with many people before. Nor was it that the Herald existed outside of the Game - Vivienne had taken great pleasure in instructing many scholars from all over Thedas of their academic failings. No, this particular woman was infuriating because her logic had no bearing to the Game at all. Nor to the Chantry. Vivienne was more than adept at wielding her learning to point out the flaws in most foolish arguments like Lavellan’s, but her reasoning meant nothing to this girl. On the contrary, they had barely made it to the more mainstream discussions around mage rights, so busy had they been questioning the fundamental definition of mages that made those discussions relevant.

Lack of preparation, that was what was making her so angry, Vivienne realised. When Lavellan had rebutted any question of the necessity of mage towers using the Dalish as an example of a society that needed no such thing, Vivienne did not have the tools available to argue the point. As such she was reduced to simply dismissing the point outright, which felt beneath her. She was no novice, of course. As soon as she had found out that the Herald was both a mage and a Dalish elf she had combed the library of the Winter Palace for every useful tome on the culture she hadn’t yet read. That, she quickly learned, was precious few. Not because she had read them all, but because every account of elven culture that was available was either monstrously out of date or so steeped in mind-numbingly simplified Chantry rhetoric she felt momentarily ashamed for the entirety of the Orlesian academic elite.

Thus, she had come to an argument she was not expecting, that had turned in a direction she should have foreseen, woefully unprepared. This was not a situation she cared to repeat, although she was slightly at a loss for how not to. The Herald clearly distrusted her greatly now - there was a defensiveness in her last few sentences that precluded a rather dull mental attitude suggesting any further actual intellectual debate was going to turn predictably cumbersome and personally affronted. How exceedingly dull. She was aware she could not blame the Herald for such an attitude. It seemed to be true that the Dalish did not have the space to carry books with them, so Lavellan couldn’t be accustomed to truly rigorous intellectual discourse, but Vivienne would have appreciated a little more time to gather the information about Dalish culture she needed before they got to the bullish stage.

She had developed just enough of a headache that the sight of the Herald darting out of the war room at the back of the Chantry had her sigh and turn to her books, away from the main body of the building. She did not wish to get into this discussion again, so did rather hope that the girl would pass her on her way out.

“Madame Vivienne?”

No such luck, it would seem.

“I am rather busy, darling. Perhaps we can pick this up another time.”

“Oh. It will only take a moment, I’m sure. I was wondering if I could ask your advice.”

Well that was unexpected. Vivienne turned, shrewd eyes skirting over the Herald’s crude (if rather fetching) attire to her face, where she noticed a slight rise of colour to her cheeks, a distinct widening of the eyes. Something had shaken her, clearly.

“My advice?” she asked, knowing that for all the frost in her voice she might as well be standing back with her arms crossed. Lavellan did not look reassured. Good. “I believe we just established that my advice is not particularly welcome.”

“Not on magic. I think we’ve discussed that enough for today.” Lavellan said quietly, adding a rather surprisingly self-deprecating chuckle before looking directly up into Vivienne’s eyes. She had courage, Vivienne had to give her that much.

Those big green eyes still slightly panicky, the Herald took a step towards her and her words all came out in a rush. “I was in the war room and they’re asking me to make some decisions because they can’t agree, which is fine. But there’s a problem just south of Val Royeux to do with the letter your friend sent and it’s to do with some nobles? Of different families? That I can’t remember the names of? And they’re having some disagreements about…about…um…something and the advisors want me to help them decide what to do. Me. Me, Madame Vivienne. Ellana Lavellan, First of Clan Lavellan. Being, as that name suggests, Dalish. And I thought to myself ‘why on earth invite an expert on the Orlesian court to join the Inquisition if you’re not going to use her’? Because, for some reason, they seem to think I’m qualified.”

There was something unavoidably charming about the genuine panic in her face that Vivienne was fighting a losing battle not to be swayed by. Apparently, however, the Herald wasn’t finished. “I know we don’t see eye to eye on some things. And I’m not stupid, so your advice wouldn’t be wasted. It’s just not my area of expertise and I know it’s yours. Will you advise me?”

Vivienne considered her and Lavellan, rather surprisingly, let her do it. She had to admit, she was rather taken aback by this approach. She had assumed that Lavellan would have taken such offence to their earlier disagreement that Vivienne would now be spurned to the Herald’s detriment. Still.

“You are aware we come from very different backgrounds, my dear?”

“That’s sort of the point, Madame Vivienne, yes. No one knows woods better than those who have had to survive in them except those who have learned to thrive in them. My woods are made up of actual trees. Yours are noble families with bewilderingly similar names.”

Vivienne resolved not to let the Herald see her smile at that particular comment, though from the sparkle of mischief in those same eyes that were so wide a moment ago, she perceived she had possibly failed.

“And you trust me to help you navigate these woods?”

Lavellan cocked her head, something like a smile on her face. Vivienne realised, not pleasantly, that it seemed she herself was being considered now. Whatever Lavellan had decided made her nod to herself, the grin widening. Goodness but she would never survive the Game.

“No.”

Vivienne’s eyebrows raised, pausing her own assumption in its tracks. Never say that Madame de Fer did not learn from the scant few mistakes she made.

“No?”

“No. However, I do trust that you have your own ideas about what is best in this situation and how best to resolve it so I think I can learn a lot from listening and watching you hunt in these woods. I also trust that you will see this as an opportunity to further any agenda you have yourself, which will be just as educational for me. You can learn just as much about hunting by being hunted as you can by hunting something yourself.”

Well. It had been a long time since anyone had stood in front of Vivienne and accused her to her face of planning to manipulate them. Oh, plenty of inferences and innuendo, but never flat out. She found it rather invigorating.

“What made you be honest with me?”

Lavellan was surprised enough by her choice of question that she laughed. A little too loudly, so the sound echoed in the Chantry proper and she flinched a little, coming closer with a conspiratorial smile like they’d both just been nearly caught filching chocolates from a Senior Enchanter’s desk.

“I don’t have much experience with the Game,” she admitted in an almost whisper. “But I do get the impression that plain talking isn’t part of it. Which made me wonder whether it wasn’t then actually quite a good weapon if used right. The huntmaster never let me go on hunts because he thought I’d be no use,” she explained at Vivienne’s questioning look. “Then I helped my brother win a contest by freezing a deer solid so it wouldn’t run from his bow and the look on his face was like he’d just swallowed a wasps’ nest!”

“Wasn’t that cheating, my dear?”

“Not at all,” Lavellan replied, affecting an extremely convincing innocent look. It was the touch of affronted, Vivienne thought, that sold it. “My brother was allowed to pick a second to help him. He picked me. The fact that the huntmaster had already decided I was useless was his mistake, not ours.”

Vivienne had underestimated this apostate. She had underestimated her greatly. A small approving smile graced her lips and she watched Lavellan notice, hope and challenge in her smirk. Vivienne could not find it in herself to care, impressed very much by Lavellan’s clear attitude to her assets and resources. That her pride after an argument was not going to get in the way of her practicality was an aspect to her personality Vivienne very much appreciated. Perhaps, despite their differences, she could still get her to listen, to make sure that no more damage was done to Vivienne’s people. This war was taking its toll and the stakes had never been so high. She couldn’t begin to forgive herself if she didn’t use every talent and skill the Maker had entrusted her to develop to protect and elevate those people who now so desperately needed someone on their side. Whether they could see it or not.

Which meant keeping the Herald sweet. The Herald who had just proved that she might be a lot more useful as an ally and dangerous as an enemy than Vivienne had initially predicted. It was rather delicious being wrong. Not that the Herald needed to know anything of the sort.

“I assume,” She began, moving away towards the open doors and expecting Lavellan to follow (which she did), “That you refer to the rumours that the Divine is not, in fact, dead?”

“Yes!” Lavellan replied, relief evident in her voice as it appeared that Vivienne was indeed going to help. “Only apparently just refuting it doesn’t work and we need to choose carefully what we say to who and when?”

Vivienne looked down at her, seeing nothing but an earnest desire to learn in Lavellan’s upturned eyes. She didn’t trust that look for a second. This assignment she’d given herself had just got significantly more interesting.

How marvellous.

#dragon age #lavellan #madame vivienne #mage rights #dragon age inquisition #somni #mywriting #eli

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hunter-the-sad-skeleton · 4 years ago

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On General Lunaris+redemption in my Ducktales AU(Put it on DA, putting here too)

So! In the Ducktales Reboot, where General Lunaris originates from, he was a horrible person who(from what I've seen) hasn't gotten a redemption arc! Obviously not everyone needs a redemption arc, but I quickly grew attached, so I got to work! In my AU, yes, Lunaris DID screw up BIG. I'm NOT excusing ANY of his actions. For the AU I'm working on, Lunaris acted mostly out of fear of the unknown or fear of becoming obsolete.

Granted, he shouldn't have acted the way that he did, as he hurt his people more than he did help them, but I can see both sides of the metaphorical coin. I've come up with a few big events in the Moonlanders' culture's history to fill in the blanks, but no true dates yearwise.

First big event: Tranquility gets constructed by Captain Voltair(General Lunaris' father)

Second big event: A monarchy/law system gets put in place for Tranquility.

Third big event: Mcduck enterprises sends first ambassador to go visit the city of tranquility.

Fourth big event: On a trip with the ambassador, Captain Voltair meets Enchantress Baleta(Buh-lee-tuh) and falls head over heels for her.

Fifth big event: After a few years of dating after the ambassador left, Captain Voltair proposes to Baleta.

Sixth big event: Voltair and Baleta get married.

Seventh big event: Lunaris is born.

Eighth big event: Another Mcduck enterprises ambassador gets sent to Tranquility due to hearing about the excess gold reserves and attempts to get close to Voltair and Baleta so that they can steal some of it.

Nineth big event: Guards catch the ambassador stealing gold and threaten their life unless they leave immediately.

Tenth big event: The ambassador holds his hands up in surrender and the guards escort them back to their ship.

Eleventh big event: The ambassador steals some gold as they're being escorted to their ship and boards it before the guards can catch them and steal it back.

Twelfth big event: The city of Tranquility recovers from the loss of materials slowly but surely, discovering a cave of sorts when they go spelunking for more gold.

Thirteenth big event: The first Moon Mite attack. The loss of people from Tranquility that day was tragic.

Fourteenth big event: Captain Voltair trains a group of Moonlanders in the ways of combat, forming a strong garrison of soldiers.

Fifteenth big event: Voltair goes out to take on the Moon Mite, but doesn't return, having bit off more than he could chew by taking on the Moon Mite.

Sixteenth big event: Baleta passes of old age and Tranquility shuts its doors for a few cycles in mourning.

Seventeenth big event: A Moonlander by the name of Neo rises up through the ranks of the Elite Guard, known for his incredible speed and agility, eventually getting promoted to the rank of one of General Lunaris' personal bodyguards.

Eighteenth big event: Neo gets sent out with a squad of eight Moonlanders(Some his own family) in another attempt at taking out the Moon Mite, only for it to end in Massacre, the team of eight returning as a team of four, one of whom got his arms and legs pulled off due to his limbs being stuck inside his gold limb enhancers.

Nineteenth big event: Another Moon Mite attack occurs, resulting in yet another large loss.

Twentieth big event: Neo returns to his station as General Lunaris' bodyguard after spending a few months in solitude to recover.

The rest is known in the show! The mindset I put myself in when I write Lunaris is "Okay, I'm doing this for my people's wellfare. I'm in the right, I'm doing what's best for my people, anyone who says otherwise is against me and is very strongly wrong."

Eventually, after a while of dwelling with the Sharkas, reality hits and he makes his way down from the atmosphere, stating that he "Comes in peace, I mean no harm anymore." It takes a while but Lunaris eventually earns everyone's forgiveness.

Except ONE.

Neo refuses to forgive Lunaris, feeling like Lunaris is too "fake" in his apologies. What's stopping Lunaris from turning on them again?! What's stopping him from stabbing everyone in the back again?!? What's stopping him from stepping out of line?! Neo is so full of ANGER and RESENTMENT that he can't see how HORRIBLE Lunaris feels about his actions.

Lunaris tries his best to explain himself, but Neo has NONE of it. Neo actively AVOIDS Lunaris, going so far as to leave anywhere that he may be. He WANTS to forgive Lunaris, but he can't. He feels if he forgives him, he's betraying those that were lost in the patrol for the Moon Mite's extermination that he failed because he froze up.

I see Lunaris as a self-righteous person who wants what's best for his people. Yes, he was, pardon the crude language, a dick in his actions to help his people, but when you're in that position, I can see where he's coming from. Eventually, something happens to put everyone in danger and Neo, wanting to prove himself, throws himself in harm's way. Lunaris calls out to try to get him to fall back. Does Neo listen?

Nope! In fact, he does the exact OPPOSITE and almost gets himself KILLED. Neo panicks, freezing up, then everything goes black.

And Neo wakes up in a hospital bed with Lunaris sitting in a chair beside it, fast asleep. Neo thinks that Penumbra brought him to the hospital, but she's nowhere in sight. He thinks it was Della, but she's nowhere in sight. Donald, nowhere in sight. Scrooge, nowhere in sight. Gladstone, nowhere in sight. Realization hits Neo that Lunaris...has changed. He's better than he was several moons ago, yet he was still denying the fact that he's changed, the fact that he's not bad anymore, the fact that he's good now, the fact that he's not evil now, the fact that he CARED ABOUT HIM ENOUGH TO CHARGE INTO CERTAIN DEATH TO SAVE SOMEONE WHO DIDN'T MATTER IN THE GRAND SCHEME OF THINGS.

Neo is agast. He knew that Lunaris was friendly before the Moonvasion scheme, HE KNEW THAT, and yet...The facts....felt more like fiction. It felt surreal. Neo gets snapped out of his thoughts by Lunaris quickly looking over him, making sure he was okay. Lunaris freezes as Neo asks a simple one word question: "Why?"

Lunaris sits down in the chair, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes for a moment. "Because even if you are small, and freeze up in the face of danger, you are one of my closest friends." Neo tears up slightly, getting Lunaris to quickly get up and look for any injuries.

"I don't understand...!" Neo sobs, practically breaking down after months of anger and resentment. "Why do you care so much...?!" Lunaris realizes that it's not PHYSICAL damage that's causing Neo to sob his eyes out; it was emotional damage.

"Neo, I care about you so much because you won't." Neo falls silent at hearing this. "I know that you may not forgive me, I don't expect you to forgive me, I CAN'T expect you to do that. But know that I'm truly sorry for all I've done to you and everyone else."

Neo looks Lunaris in the eyes, thinking his words over. "I was angry at you, I HATED you." Lunaris cringes, knowing he's fully deserving of what comes next. "But I'm not anymore. I don't anymore. I don't hate you anymore. I'm sorry I held such a grudge towards you."

Lunaris thinks something over in his head. "I heard that your parents aren't quite...Desireable, so.....How would you feel about...me taking that place...?" Neo is shocked, but nods. He could be a cool Dad. Then again, anyone could be a better dad than his biological one.

Tl;Dr: Lunaris works EXTREMELY HARD for everyone to forgive him since he feels terrible about his actions. Sorry this was so long, I got the chance to infodump and this was WAAAAAAAAAAY longer than it needed to be!

#Long post #Dt2017 General Lunaris #General Lunaris #Dt2017 Oc #My Oc #Neo the Moonlander

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kewltie · 5 years ago

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contains: slavery, master/slave dynamic

"Here." Katsuki deposits a discreet black box on Izuku's lap. "You'll need this when you go out."

Izuku looks down at the giftbox, a thin rectangular box that sits light on his lap, but it feels strangely heavy. The thing is deceptively innocuous and boring in appearance, but there’s no doubt in Izuku’s mind what it is. "You got me a replacement collar already?" he muses, one hand carelessly touching his neck in thought. It'd been only a week and a half since Katsuki had destroyed his last one in a show of power against the Academy. "Did you want see me leashed that badly?"

He'd almost gotten use to not having that heavy weight around his neck, but without his collar—his PET ID—Izuku couldn't go out in public, not if he wanted to get arrested. The law is ruthless in that regard; a Lesser like him have to be track and monitor for his own good like he’s no better than an animal.

It doesn't matter that Izuku is no different than anyone else except for his quirklessness, he is considered a property by the state and marker like a PET ID, personal electronic tracker, is how they keep Izuku in line—to remind them of their place in this new societal order; there is no place for the quirkless.

Izuku drags himself away from such bitter thoughts because there’s no point in stewing in it now, and looks up at Katsuki, whose staunch silence has been a strange and troubling thing. "Kacchan?" he presses, staring at the tense line of Katsuki shoulders, the twist of pain on his face, and the clenched fists at his side.

Katsuki exhales a long drawn out breath that make him appear a lot younger, unsure, like he's unmoored and Izuku is the one with feet planted on safer shores. "It's not—I wouldn't," he shakes his head in a clear sign of frustration, "just fucking open the damn thing already." He gestures helplessly toward the box still on Izuku's lap.

"Oh," Izuku breathes in realization, heart warms as his gaze drops to his gift. "That was mean of me, I'm sorry." His eyes linger on it for a moment before he carefully lifts up the lid and inside is a delicate silver band that would sit nicely on his ankle.

Heart palpitating, he reaches for it and then stops. His hand goes still, hovering just slightly above the box. Not quite touching it yet. He lets his eyes roam over every curve and indentation, examining it warily like he’s defusing a bomb.

It’s made up of mainly a thin wall of silver curving inward and at the back is a short chain link to close off the circle. A bar of metal tag engraved with Izuku’s name and ID number is hanging off one of the links with a green gemstone embedded in it.

It’s surprisingly simple and clean in design for something worth its weight in gold. This isn't a normal factory made PET ID. Hand still in the air, he finally drops it down on the anklet, tracing the curvature and feeling the cold metal pressing against his skin.

Lesser belonging to elite patrons would often wear a beaded choker, diamond studded earring, gold plated bracelet, or a signature ring embedded with a nanochip as their PET ID. They’re statement pieces. Meant to show off the power and wealth of the owner and not the wearer.The more ostentatious the PET ID is, the more it would further emphasize the standing of the Lesser’s master.

Sometimes, Izuku wonders if a bit little bitterly, if these ‘special’ PET IDs are even more degrading than the mass produce collar and cuff that they are forced to wear.

At least the former didn’t make Izuku feel like a decorative ornament hanging on the arm of his respective master. They can dress Izuku up in expansive clothes, glittering jewelries, and polite smile but it doesn’t change who and what Izuku is—the lowest rung of the social order. Almost by instinct, his hand recoils from the box and its content as doubt claws at his chest.

“What’s wrong?” Izuku hears Katsuki grunt out. He looks up to see apprehension lining Katsuki’s shoulder and his posture tensing up like he’s ready for whatever the fallout may bring.

Izuku quickly drops his gaze back to the giftbox and thinks somberly when did he become so cynical? For all Katsuki’s flaw, his pride, his arrogance, and his temper—he’d never been cruel for cruelty’s sake. There's no ulterior motive to Katsuki's action because that isn't him.

At Katsuki’s worst, he was a misguided and angry boy who’d lashed out at everyone and everything because nobody had taught him better, but it isn’t in his nature to be malicious for malicious’ sake. Izuku knows that, know it well enough that he isn’t afraid of Katsuki.

Katsuki may not always be gentle or kind in that brusque way of his, but he is a good man.

Somewhere along the way since they parted, Izuku had forgotten about that. Embarrassment sweeps over him. "Nothing's wrong," he murmurs, unwilling to meet Katsuki's heated regard again as he gets his bearing. His hand finds the anklet again, pawing at it with a renew interest.

An anklet is rare.

Rare enough that Izuku had never seen it on any Lesser before. PET IDs are visible maker of identification. A collar, bracelet, or even a ring can make a quick and easy scan but an anklet would force others bend down to make the requisite check—Izuku blinks.

His head snaps up to look at Katsuki with curious eyes. “Did you—?” He swallows, fingers clenching around the PET ID. He can't really mean to do that right? The corner of Katsuki's lips quirk up just ever so slightly in that smug way that reminds Izuku that this is Katsuki.

It’s easy to mistake Katsuki’s volatile personality as just another mindless brute who only knows how to use his fist, but he’d been consistently outshining their classmates ever since they were children. Katsuki wouldn’t be where he is today, among the top young heroes in the world, if all he relies on was physical force and his quirk.

Katsuki wasn't just smart. He got a strategic mind to lead and the charisma to pull it off. And this choice of anklet as a PET ID is intentional. Katsuki doesn't care for others' opinion of him, so this is every bit calculated. Izuku’s eyes widen now. “Why though?” he asks.

Katsuki shrugs, a careless shift of his shoulder that does not highlight the gravity of his words. “If you have to lower yourself before them then they, too, have to lower themselves before you,” he says cuttingly. "They have to work for it just to see who you are."

Izuku smiles humorless, unclenching his hand from the anklet. "I'm not worth much for them to really care who I am," he says, gesturing down to the anklet, "and you are making it hard for them to check my PET ID isn't going to make them suddenly sympathetic about my plight."

Katsuki's lips thin out. "You don't need their sympathy," he says with an annoyed huff. "What you need are allies who stand by you and not let the everyone else fuck you over just because you're quirkless."

"And what of the world's opinion that I deserve it?" Izuku muses. "After all quirkless is a debilitating disability under the law."

Katsuki frowns, face usually tight. "I bought you so you’re mine," he asserts. "Not the state or anyone else. The only words that should matter to you are mine alone. Fuck the rest. They're not important as me.”

Izuku blinks. Hard. And then clutching his stomach, he bends over and laughs. Light and free and so full of wonder. The sheer arrogance in this man, he thinks helplessly in that endlessly fond way of had spellbounded him in the past.

Katsuki is truly one of a kind.

"What the fuck, Deku," Katsuki snaps, and Izuku can literally hear the annoyance thick in his voice. Quickly composing himself up once more into some semblance of order, Izuku pulls back up in time to see the pinched expression on Katsuki's face.

He says, with a thinly veiled humor, “It’s just,” he smiles, warmth from the thought, “all so you, Kacchan. You haven’t changed after all these years.”

Katsuki makes a face, opens his mouth, and thought again before settling on: “You’re fucking ridiculous, you know that.”

Izuku’s smile only broadens. “I know,” he says softly as his eyes drops once more to the anklet still sitting innocuously his hand. He rubs a thumb over the cool metal under his touch as he muses, light and loose, “But not as ridiculous as wanting you to put this on me though."

Silence.

Katsuki wears his pride like a second skin. It’s his armor and though they had been dented in the past, he would rather die than be stripped of it. To think he would even lower himself to Izuku of all people, to a Lesser even, is not only preposterous but inconceivable.

Realizing right away the hiccup that he had made, Izuku’s head jerk up and he sees Katsuki had gone stock still, face carefully and eerily blank. “S-sorry, it was just a stupid joke. I didn’t really mean—“ his next words hang in the air under the severity of Katsuki’s glare.

“Give me that thing,” he instructs coolly, like the words coming out of him wouldn’t turn Izuku’s world upside down.

“W-what?” Izuku squeaks out in disbelief. Horror. And whatever other nonsense this entire situation had made itself into. No, no, this can't be happening.

And when Izuku is still stuck in his shocked stupor, Katsuki steps forward, reaches out, and rips the anklet from his hand. Then, oh-my-All-Might, he drops down to his knees in front of Izuku's feet with a startling ease that sends a bout of fever rushing through Izuku’s head.

Izuku hastily withdraws his legs from the floor, tucking it close to his chest protectively. “Get up from the floor,” he hisses, looking down at Katsuki’s bow head. “I said it in jest. You—you didn’t have to do it!” He flails helplessly, because Katsuki had gone mad. Absolutely, wretchedly mad.

“Shut the fuck up,” Katsuki snaps with a snarl of his lips. “Don’t tell me what to do.” His free hand shoots out, snakes it around Izuku’s right leg before yanking it down. Izuku struggles against his hold at first, his other free legs kicking furiously at Katsuki to let go.

What a ridiculous picture they both must make with Katsuki making an attempt to hold onto one of his legs and Izuku trying to fight him off, but it's a losing game. Katsuki is a trained hero who fights villains for a living, put away criminal daily, and he has a powerful volatile quirk, while Izuku is just plain old Izuku.

“Don’t,” Katsuki orders, heated palm pressed meaningfully on Izuku’s skin. Just a single word from him can bring such dangerous connotation that Izuku stops, the fight having been knocked out of him at last. He knows exactly what Katsuki is capable of, the danger he poses to Izuku.

It's in the way he carry himself, the scars stamped all over his body, and the lethality in his hands. It's the same hand that is currently wrapping around Izuku's ankle. The palm pressed against Izuku's bare skin is firm, and it burns like a brand, but his touch is careful. Controlled.

He had seen that hand take down a villain twice Katsuki’s size and weight, blast a hole through steel, and send a man flying across town. Katsuki’s hands capable of so many violence things, but hei had also use them to save a pregnant woman trapped under rubbles and carried a child out of a burning building. They'd saved lives; they'd saved Izuku once a long time ago.

Katsuki lifts the heel of Izuku’s foot up and rests it on his knee. He drags his other hand, the anklet still in its grip, near and opens the chain clasp. With an immeasurable care and steady hands, he wraps the jewelry around Izuku’s ankle and closes it once more.

“Things don’t always change, but sometimes they do,” Katsuki tells him, voice low as he places Izuku’s foot down on the floor again and backs away. He stares up at Izuku, eyes unflinching as he says dogmatically, “I’m not that dumb ignorant brat anymore. “

It’s not an outright apology, Izuku knows but he sees of Katsuki’s hunched form and it’s—it's, the dynamic is all wrong. Izuku has the shackle around his ankle, but Katsuki is the one on his knees. One of the strongest, mightiest, heroes of this generation is kneeling before him.

How absurd.

It's maddening, really, but it's a statement if there ever was one. Katsuki’s hysterically clumsy zig-zagging attempt of an apology without ever saying those damning words. That's just so like him. That's just so not like him. Katsuki's right. He's still the same old Bakugou Katsuki that Izuku knows but he'd grown up now. Time, care, and effort had aged him well.

Katsuki stands up and steps back as Izuku’s eyes fall on his feet. “I know,” Izuku murmurs, looking at his newly acquired bespoke collar.

There's no doubt in his mind that it is collar, because all PET IDs in all its many forms are simply that, but just for a second with the anklet sitting easy and light on his ankle, he doesn't feel it. Doesn't see it for what it is, it’s Katsuki's concession to him.

Izuku had been afraid it would be too heavy to carry around, and it is. Katsuki’s intention are weighing him down, locking him in place, but somehow in its confinement, he finds comfort and security. Katsuki can't change how the world may see him, but this is a start.

#bakudeku #fic snippet #fic: <

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ship-ambrosia · 5 years ago

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Thicker Than Blood is the Crests They Bear (Fire Emblem)

I’m usually all about the shipping, but that’s not the case here! I cannot believe I wrote this all in one day - one where I had to take Kiki to the vet too. She’s still glaring at me as I post this lol

This is set some time pre-Tragedy of Duscur. The moment Sylvain mentioned all the ways that Miklan tried to kill him, I wondered what his friends growing up would have thought of that.

Summary: In which Sylvain goes missing, and his friends know why.

It’ll be fun, Sylvain. He had said.

Just the two of us. Sure, it sounded wonderful.

Don’t tell father and mother, they’ll just spoil everything. He was right. And Sylvain would do anything for him.

Miklan never wanted to spend time with him. Miklan never wanted to even be around him. When his brother offered to take him for a horse ride through the mountains, it meant everything to Sylvain. It was everything to him. Finally, Miklan was seeing him for what was true; he hadn’t chosen to disinherit him with his birth. There was nothing more that little Sylvain wanted than for his brother to love him.

As he lay in the snow, alone and cold in the quiet winter evening, he finally confronted himself. Deep in his heart, he knew it had been too good to be true. He had always known Miklan hated him, and that wouldn’t go away in a single day. Still he had believed him, put all his faith in him.

Right to the moment that Miklan told him to get off the horse.

As he watched his brother ride away, Sylvain was angry, but not at him. He was filled with fury and hatred toward the goddess, toward his parents, toward his Crest. This thing he never asked for, didn’t even fully understand. Why? Why had this happened to him? He supposed if he were to die here, at least he’d had some good times. Dimitri, Felix, Ingrid... his closest friends. At least while his parents mourned their heir, his friends would mourn him.

Dimitri, ever the prodigious hard worker, was returning from training for the day when he overheard the conversation.

“The heir you say? That’s the boy who was friends with Dimitri,” Lambert sighed. “My word... how would I ever be able to tell him?”

“Tell me what, father?” Dimitri asked, having stepped forward into the room without even realizing it. “Who are you talking about? What’s going on?”

“Dimitri,” the king, so strong and wise and ever the perfect image of a knight to the young prince, he looked so sad as he kneeled down so he could be level with his son. “How much did you overhear?”

“Just the last part. I was with Gustave until but a moment ago,” he looked up, toward the man who had been speaking with his father. “I recognize you, sir. You’re from House Gautier. So you were talking about Sylvain.”

“Ever the perceptive young man,” the man chuckled, but there was a darkness to his eyes.

“Dimitri,” his father let out a sigh and avoided his son’s direct gaze. “Sylvain went missing about three days ago. Margrave Gautier sent his man to me immediately, so he could have been found by now but... we don’t know. We won’t know until I get another report.”

Dimitri’s eyes widened in response, as all the breath left the young prince’s body. Something like this... he was no stranger to death. Dimitri had seen people die before, in front of his eyes. He knew his birth mother had died, and that was why his mother wasn’t truly his mother. But to think Sylvain would be claimed in such a way was a thought that had never occurred to him. He had always imagined his friends - Felix, Ingrid, and Sylvain of course too - growing up to become knights in his service when he became king.

Except, the thought had occurred to him before. Once, when the four of them had all gathered not even a year ago at Margrave Gautier’s manor.

The clashing of practice swords was a common sound in the Fraldarius household, if it wasn’t Duke Fraldarius’s two sons competing with each other than there was at least one of them fighting an instructor or even more interestingly, dueling their father. For now it was Glenn and Felix facing off, per usual the younger of the two having once again challenged his older brother to a duel.

With a quick thrust, Glenn pushed the tip of his sword into his brother’s shoulder, just above his heart.

“I purposely struck above your heart so as to not hurt you. But I think I win again, Felix,” he chuckled.

“Ngh, again!” Felix snarled. “Another bout! I must beat you!”

“That’ll be the day, little brother,” Glenn shook his head as he walked off the training ground and sat on a nearby bench. “But I think five rounds is enough for one day. I’m beat.”

“How is it even possible? I train so much more than you!”

“What do you think I do in the capital all day? Stare at Prince Dimitri?”

“No, but it’s not like you and Dimitri can spar all the time! When you’re gone, all I do is train but it doesn’t even seem to matter!”

Glenn leaned over and flicked his brother on the forehead. Felix yelped and rubbed the spot, narrowing his eyes at him.

“It’s not about how much, but the quality of the training. If you’re just running yourself until you’re exhausted, that’s not going to do you any good. You need to understand what to improve on, and figure out how to compensate for your weaknesses. That’s why I train with His Highness so much. You and I are too similar in the way we fight.”

Felix pouted. “What do I need to work on then?”

“You need to compensate your lack of defense with your speed. You’d be even faster than me I’d bet,” he grinned. “Have you ever sparred with Prince Dimitri? I’d love to see that.”

“Father won’t let me. He thinks Dimitri and I might actually hurt each other.”

Glenn howled with laughter for a moment, clutching his stomach. “Ha! Well he’s not wrong,” finally when his laughter died down, he placed a hand on Felix’s head and ruffled his hair. “Don’t worry Felix, it’ll happen someday. You and I both, we’ve gotta get stronger than His Highness if we want to serve him, right?”

And Felix looked up to his brother, to the person he looked up to more than anyone else in the world, and cracked a grin. “Of course.”

It was then that the doors to their training yard burst open, and from them came their father, Rodrigue. The duke was a man known by his sons to be rather jovial and cheerful, but the same could not be said about him in that moment. Duke Fraldarius’s entire face was darkened, his brow furrowed deeper than either of them had ever seen.

“Father? What’s wrong?” Glenn stood up, dropping the sarcastic tone and “old man” greeting he usually gave their father upon recognizing that something serious was happening.

“We’re leaving for Gautier territory tonight,” the duke’s words were sharp and crisp. “Boys, gather your things.”

“Did something happen? Did the people of Sreng attack? How could they retaliate so soon? It has only been six years since you and King Lambert quelled their uprising,” Glenn dropped the information he recalled from his studies quickly, once more leaving his younger brother in awe of his abilities.

“No, it is not Sreng. At least, goddess I hope not,” Felix stiffened up when his father’s gaze moved to him. “Felix. Sylvain has gone missing. I’m taking you boys with me to help search for him, and so that his friends will be there when he is returned. Count Galatea and his daughter should be on their way, and I believe Gustave will be bringing Prince Dimitri as well. Do you understand?”

All the joy and frustration building up in his body from sparring with his brother rushed out of him in an instant, and instinctively, Felix looked toward his brother. Glenn was staring straight ahead, eyes narrowed, teeth clenched tight in anger. Like his brother, Felix also looked up to Sylvain who, despite being friends with him and Dimitri and Ingrid, was two years older than the rest of them. To hear Sylvain could be hurt, could be missing, even dead somewhere... just didn’t seem fathomable. Sylvain had made a promise to him; a promise that neither would die without the other. He couldn’t die on him now.

Staring into his brother’s face however, suddenly the situation became all too clear.

Ingrid was silent in the carriage to Gautier. Her hands were clutched together in her lap tightly as she muttered prayers under her breath to the goddess that Sylvain would be found safe before she and her father even arrived. It had not even been that long since she had last seen her friend, loud and obnoxious and exhausting that he was. She found that any time she spent with him was only spent cleaning up his messes, apologizing to people he’d angered or upset.

She knew Sylvain meant no harm, and she was just grateful they’d gotten to the point where he stopped attempting to flirt with her too; amusedly, it’d taken him saying something in front of Glenn and for the older young man to threateningly tell him to back off to finally do it. Ingrid smiled ever so slightly at the memory.

The ache in her chest brought her back to reality though, the pain of not knowing what had befallen her friend. Was he dead? Had he been kidnapped? Of course she and all her friends understood extremely well the danger their lives were in constantly; not only were they the children of nobles - Dimitri being the prince and next heir to the throne, and both Felix and Sylvain being the children of two of the highest ranking noble families in Faerghus - but all four of them bore Crests of the Ten Elite Heroes. They were all incredibly sought after for marriage, so she was sure that even kidnapping wasn’t out of the question.

“Do they... do they have any clue as to what happened?” She spoke up finally.

Her father appeared to be startled by her voice, looking up at her quickly before back down to the floor of the carriage. “Not from the message I got sweetie, no. But it takes some time for those messages to be delivered, you know. They will probably have some idea by the time we arrive.”

“Sylvain could be returned safe by that time, could he not?”

Her father nodded, giving her a smile. “Of course, Ingrid. That’s why I’m bringing you. When he returns safe, he’ll want to see his friends, wouldn’t you think so?”

She could see it in his eyes though, that her father didn’t truly think that was what would happen. She supposed it was good then, it was a show of his support for House Gautier, that he would travel so far to help them search for their missing heir. And she would help too, as best as she could. She may also have Dimitri and Felix, and even Glenn, but nothing would be the same in their group if Sylvain was found dead, or never found again.

Yes, their group, the future leaders of Faerghus... who all bore Crests...

He wondered how well his friends remembered that night in the manor. His father had thrown a party; for what, Sylvain couldn’t have been sure. Even if he wanted to know, his father still probably would’ve insisted he was too young to understand. The only thing Sylvain cared about was that King Lambert, Duke Fraldarius, and Count Galatea were all in attendance, which almost guaranteed that his friends would all be there.

There was nothing he looked forward to more while growing up than the days he got to spend with even one of them, so having Dimitri, Felix, and Ingrid all together was a dream come true. It helped lessen his loneliness, which suffocated him. Sure, he was friends with the attendants, he could go or do anything in Gautier territory that he so pleased. But somehow, just by avoiding him, Miklan made it a nightmare. He should have known; seeing him surrounded by kids his age, seeing him happy, would only have made Miklan more furious.

“I cannot believe Glenn is to be your retainer, Dimitri!” Ingrid clasped her hands together as she chirped. “He’s just incredible, isn’t he?”

“Yes, he is. I’m very happy to have such a friend by my side,” the young prince answered.

“Well, I could be a better retainer than him,” It was Felix who spoke up, looking unhappy. “You should pick me.”

“It was Gustave who picked Glenn, not I.”

“Besides Felix, you just can’t compete with Glenn!”

“Oh shut up Ingrid!”

Even though his friends were bickering, Sylvain couldn’t have been happier to have them there.

“Guys-“

A shadow fell over Sylvain, causing him to stop in the middle of his sentence. He looked up to find Miklan standing above him, looking down with that cold expression he was so used to.

“Miklan?” It was Dimitri who spoke first. He sounded only a bit confused. Sylvain supposed he was confused too. Miklan didn’t speak to him.

”Figures you babies are just standing around talking,” his older brother laughed. “All the adults in the manor are busy so you could be off doing whatever you wanted, but here you are. Just a bunch of spoiled rotten children.”

“What do you want, Miklan?” He groaned.

“I was just going to take a peek at the Relic... maybe play around with it a little,” his older brother answered with a smirk. “No one’s around to tell me not to.”

“Well, we’re around,” Ingrid said with narrowed eyes.

“Right, so are you going to come with me to see the Relic or not?”

Dimitri spoke up. “We shouldn’t. Hero Relics are extremely dangerous. Our parents only use them after extensive training.”

“No, I think we should go with him,” Felix said, stepping up beside Sylvain and narrowing his eyes at the older Gautier brother. “What right does he have to touch what’s rightfully yours? You have to prove you’re better than him.”

Sylvain saw a shadow cross his brother’s face for a moment, sending a chill down his spine. His childish pride wouldn’t let him back down from Felix’s statement though, and he nodded. “Fine, we’ll come.”

Miklan just grinned again. “Understood. Follow me.”

Though Dimitri and Ingrid protested the entire way, all four kids followed Miklan up to the room where his parents kept the Lance of Ruin. With such an ominous name, Sylvain had always been frightened by the prospect of having to wield it one day for his family. He knew it was the weapon that kept his family safe, but he also knew it was more powerful than he could ever hope to understand. Sylvain watched as his brother walked up to the case it was kept in, produce the key from his pocket, and push it into the lock.

“Did you steal that from Margrave Gautier?!” Dimitri guffawed.

“Sure did little princeling.”

“Our father is going to kill you if we get caught,” Sylvain exclaimed.

“He’ll have to kill both of us, since you were here too,” Miklan grinned again that mean smile. “Guess you better hope we don’t get caught.”

The four children watched as Miklan opened the case, reaching in to grab the pole of the lance. It was not the first time Sylvain had seen it, and it wasn’t the first time any of them had seen in a Relic since both Dimitri and Felix’s fathers wielded their own and Ingrid had already been shown her inheritance, it was the first time any of them had seen a Relic without any adults present.

Miklan touched the lance, gasping somewhat at the power that pulsed through him at the touch. Slowly, he removed the Lance of Ruin from its case, and all of them present stared in silence.

“You should put that pack, Miklan,” Dimitri spoke in his I’m-a-prince-and-you-should-listen-to-me voice. Eventually they all would but Sylvain still found it funny, and would have laughed if he wasn’t suddenly filled with dread as Miklan spun the lance around in his hands.

“You aren’t in charge of me yet, princeling.”

“It’s your lance! Stop him!” Felix exclaimed.

Sylvain fathered his nerves, clenching his fists at his side’s tightly. “Miklan! Stop!”

He watched his brother set the Lance of Ruin at his side, turning to face him with an expression that Sylvain didn’t recognize. “What?” There was a hostility to his voice that hadn’t been there before.

“I-I think...” he could feel himself losing his nerves quickly. “You should put the Lance of Ruin back, and we should all leave before we get caught. They’re going to notice us missing.”

“Oh yeah? And I think spoiled little brats like you should learn their place!” In a heart stopping maneuver, his older brother pointed the tip of the lance toward him.

Sylvain started down the shaft of the pole, never once expecting in his life to be afraid of the weapon he was to inherit would be used against him. “Remember what father said? You can only wield a Hero Relic if you bear the Crest that matches it. We don’t know what the lance will do if wielded by someone who doesn’t have one, and you don’t have the Crest of Gautier-“

“You think I don’t know that?!” His brother roared, swinging the lance around. “You think I don’t think about that every day?! Because of you! It’s all because you were born! Why did you have to have the Crest; but not me?!”

“Miklan, stop!” Dimitri yelled.

“Sylvain!” Felix and Ingrid cried at the same time as the Lance of Ruin came flying from his brother’s hand... directly at him.

The next heartbeat later, Sylvain was staring into the familiar face of Felix’s older brother, Glenn. The Fraldarius heir had him pinned to the ground, breathing heavily as though he’d just experienced a very intense workout. When Glenn registered just exactly what had occurred, he took a deep breath and smiled at him. “I cannot believe... I made it in time...”

As he stood up and offered a hand to Sylvain, the younger Gautier brother took in what had occurred. The Lance of Ruin was wedged into the wall, at the same height as Sylvain’s head where it had been only a moment ago. Dimitri, Felix, and Ingrid were on the other side of the room, all looking shocked with their mouths agape. And Miklan...

Miklan hadn’t moved an inch, staring ahead of him with no intention to look at his brother.

All six noble children stood there in silence until some time later when they heard footsteps, and several adults cane burst into the room. At the front of the group was Margrave Gautier and his wife, looking madly between their two sons and the Hero Relic they protected. Sylvain listened quietly as Glenn explained calmly what had happened to everyone.

He’d seen Miklan provoking the four younger kids, then watched them all leave and decided to follow. Glenn had wanted to step in and intervene with the others when they insisted Miklan put the lance back, to tell his brother he was wrong, but the scene escalated quicker than he could have anticipated and leapt in to push Sylvain out of the way of the lance at the last moment.

And that memory, that one small situation in time, was how when they all thought about it, Dimitri, Felix, and Ingrid all came to the same conclusion as to who could have caused their best friend to disappear.

He wasn’t actually trying to kill Sylvain, the adults had all said. He was just angry about the Gautier Crest and acted without thinking. That’s how he’s always been. But they hadn’t been there. They didn’t know. They hadn’t seen the same smile that Dimitri, Felix, and Ingrid had watched cross Miklan’s face after he realized he’d thrown the lance.

“It was Miklan who made Sylvain disappear.”

By the time each of them reached Gautier manor, Sylvain had in fact been rescued. Ingrid, having left first, arrived ahead of the others, and was sitting next to her friend’s bed when Dimitri and Felix arrived together. Sylvain was awake but still advised to stay in bed, wrapped up in several blankets with a fire going in the hearth at the other side of his room.

Sylvain had spent nine hours alone in the cold, on the side of that mountain. It was a miracle by the goddess that he was still alive, they all knew that. It was an unspoken understanding amongst the four of them that under any other circumstances, he would have died. So they were more than grateful to sit by Sylvain’s bedside, to talk with him as long as they needed, to pretend that hadn’t just been the worst three days of all of their lives and that their friends’ brother hadn’t actively meant to try and kill him.

“Dimitri believes Miklan is behind this,” King Lambert informed the others.

Count Galatea was taken aback. “Ingrid said the same thing.”

“So did Felix,” Duke Fraldarius nodded. “And Glenn seemed inclined to agree.”

“I see,” answered the boys’ father.

“I understand that there may not be hard proof for this,” the king continued. “But I believe the children may all be referring to what occurred at that party a year ago with the Lance of Ruin.”

“It’s just one incident after another,” the duke shook his head. “Even if there’s a chance that we have grossly misunderstood this situation, you must make it clear to Miklan that he cannot put his brother in such danger.”

“And even if his anger is only directed toward Sylvain, next time it could be my Ingrid caught in the fire,” Count Galatea added. “Or His Highness.”

Margrave Gautier nodded. “Of course. I understand very, very much. It will not happen again. As of now, Miklan will be disinherited completely from the Gautier family.”

He felt that pain in every enemy he cut down with the Lance of Ruin in hand. He saw his brother’s grinning face, heard him call him “you Crest-bearing fool” over and over in his head whenever the lance was in his hands. Watched him scream and curl in agony and transform into the monsters that he slay on the battlefield. In that way he understood the ghosts that tormented Dimitri very well. Miklan never left him alone.

But it was the Crest Stone embedded in the lance’s surface that reminded him he had to keep fighting. It was the reason he carried on, for the Crests. To do away with them once the war was over, to make people forget they were ever important in the first place. He hated his blood, which carried his Crest, which could be passed down to one of his children some day. But Sylvain had already made up his mind; no matter Crest or not, his firstborn child would be the legitimate heir to House Gautier.

They charged into another endless battle. The lance glowed red in his hands. As red hot as his fury, all his pain, and all the blood he had spilled. But it was fine, because it meant that he would never forget that which was most important.

He hated his Crest almost as much as Miklan had hated him.

#sylvain jose gautier #fe3h sylvain #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #felix hugo fraldarius #glenn fraldarius #ingrid brandl galatea #fire emblem childhood friend squad #blue lions #original post by bree #bree writes #fire emblem fanfiction #tHe CResTs arE To BLamE #minor spoilers but nothing too bad #miklan tries to kill his brother a few times #sylvain hates his crest #angst #bree plays fire emblem #fire emblem three houses

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itsclydebitches · 5 years ago

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RWBY Recaps: “A New Approach”

A friend of mine has a van that she calls the Fun Bus. Oh that’s cute, I thought. I should chuck that into a recap sometime. “All aboard the RWBY Fun Bus!” Except my fun levels are ehhh right now, so how about we just don’t.

In fact, let’s be totally up front about things and get the major positives out of the way:

The animation this volume is absolutely stunning holy shit

I would once again die for James Ironwood. All hail the Hug King

Excellent introduction for Tyrian and Watts. I love feeling like the villains are actually dangerous again

The rest? I’ve got some things to say.

We open on Ruby looking appropriately downtrodden over their circumstances. Getting carted off in an Atlas police craft and all that. We get a pan across each side of the airship with the group looking angry (Yang) or defeated (everyone else)... with the exception of Nora, who is trying to eat through her bonds. I’m well aware that I’m nit-picking at this point, but for once I’d like the serious moments to remain serious in this show. Given her reaction to Salem, Kuroyuri, etc. we’re all well aware by now that Nora is more than just the comic relief. Undermining the others’ reactions with her making dog noises was an early cue that the writers weren’t going to treat the group’s arrest earnestly. To say nothing of the disservice it does to her character.

Actually, there were a lot of coincidental dog references in this scene. Nora’s growling. Referring to the Ace-Ops as Ironwood’s “personal attack dogs.” Deducing that he must have a “bone to pick” with them. Obviously this all means precisely nothing. What I want it to mean is that Zwei will arrive in another package courtesy of Tai, wondering how his kids are doing after one ran off and the other went to find her.

(Seriously though, does everyone remember Volume Five’s ending with Raven? Heaven only knows when that will become relevant again.)

While Nora continues to try and eat metal like a rabid animal, Jaune expresses disbelief that the Ace-Ops “took us out like it was nothing.” Honestly, it never ceases to amaze me how often the group is surprised by other people being stronger than them. Like they’re not the youngest and least trained in a world of professional huntsmen. Rather than acknowledging their need for improvement though---callback to Ruby’s “But we already know how to fight” anyone?---Weiss frames it as an exceptionalism intrinsic to her city. “Welcome to Atlas.” You know, the same city she quickly agreed to steal from and then draw the attention of the guards by giving a racist civilian what-for. The speed with which the show flip-flops between ‘We should fear this city’ and ‘But we shouldn’t take any actual precautions’ is pretty impressive.

All of which is made weirder by Weiss’ next line to the other prisoner locked up with them: “They’re not that big of a deal.” So... which is it, Weiss? Are the Ace-Ops Ironwood’s elites who can obviously take out a group of nine in seconds flat? Or are they worth scoffing and rolling your eyes at? Because you had a rather different opinion literally seconds ago. She does the same thing when the prisoner uses the term “tyranny” to describe the situation in Mantle. She claims now that the label is a “bit much” when before the whole group decided not to approach Ironwood precisely because of how tyrannical he appeared. I swear, good chunks of the dialogue just functions as openings for the plot---let the random prisoner explain all the horrors of this city!---rather than something the character in question would actually say.

But I’m harping. We learn a bit more about Hill and her “Happy Huntresses,” clearly a parallel to Robin Hood and his band of Merry Men. I was actually surprised to learn that she’s a full-on freedom fighter, just based on her posters last episode. The number of them and their professional look felt more like Atlas’ brand of propaganda. Big brother sister is watching you and all that. Then again, we also learn that Hill is gunning for a seat on the council, so it sounds like she’s not an ally of Ironwood’s plotting betrayal, and not a radical entirely removed from him either. We’ll have to wait and see precisely where she falls in this divide between Atlas and Mantle.

That fight is treated rather cheaply by the writing though. In this episode at least. Despite providing numerous looks at how horrible things are for the citizens here, this prisoner, currently representing that fight against the elite, is depicted as an absolute buffoon. He’s not engaging in an important, glorious battle for human rights. He just chucked a brick at an airship. He’s over the top, overly passionate, crazed enough that the group is looking away as he desperately tries to convince the guards up front that these things are important. The thing is? He’s right. But the writing doesn’t encourage us to treat his cause with respect, not when he’s bouncing off the walls and yelling like a conspiracy theorist. Actually, that’s the best comparison I can think of here. It’s like if someone laying out 100% real issues with climate change were written like a crack-pot loner who believes in aliens. That’s this guy.

We’re shown again that literally everyone recognizes Weiss Schnee---does no one else in all of Remnant have white hair?---before Jaune and a few others get distracted by how pretty the view is outside. Qrow commented earlier that they were no doubt going to jail.

Spoiler! It’s not jail.

It’s Atlas Academy, animated in a truly stunning design that reminds me of Weiss’ trip to the CTV tower to contact her dad. Looking back, that skyscraper-esque building probably made her anxious for reasons outside of just the call.

“I guess we will be seeing the General,” Ruby says because yeah, why would we have the group experiencing one iota of punishment before being handed the solution to their current predicament?

Look, anyone who follows these recaps is well aware of my feelings towards the airship debacle. I said last week that I wanted the writing to treat the group’s horrific mistakes and criminal activities seriously, but I wasn’t overly hopeful. I was right not to be. From now until the conversation about Salem, the ‘protagonists can do no wrong’ mindset that drove Volume Six is pulled out again in full force.

First, Winter sees the group in handcuffs and responds with, “You have ten seconds to take those off before I start hurting you.” Which is completely out of character to me. Does Winter adore Weiss? Without a doubt. But Winter is also a stickler for protocol and rules. This is the women who threatened to remove Qrow’s tongue over a few vague, anti-Atlas statements. She is all about devotion to her Kingdom. So how should she react when she sees a group of kids being formally brought in for charges? I don’t know, maybe find out what’s going on before demanding an immediate release? Here, Winter prioritizes the emotional assumption that Weiss and her friends are perfectly innocent as opposed to trusting that they’re in handcuffs for a reason. Which they are. Combine that with the humor of the guards scrambling to obey her with more silly sound effects and it’s once again clear that the group’s arrest was never going to be taken seriously.

Things get so much worse though. Ironwood starts apologizing to them, also working under the assumption that this was all some sort of silly mistake. Of course you shouldn’t be in handcuffs. You’re the good guys! Yang and a few others have the gall to be haughty here (yeah, how dare you arrest us after we committed multiple crimes) and for a moment I think all of this will actually amount to something when Ironwood laughs and says, “We assumed [the ship] was stolen!”

Uh yeah, goes Ruby. It... was?

Which results in a brief moment of shock and about three seconds of anger from Winter... and then that’s it. That’s all we get. Weiss interrupts her with, “I’m sorry I worried you, but we did what we had to do” which, no?? Okay first off, worrying Winter is not the issue here. She’s been worried for literally those three seconds and nothing more. Second, as I’ve established numerous times in the past, they did not “do what they had to do.” Absolutely nothing in Argus forced their hand to the point where stealing military property, fighting Cordovin, drawing that grimm, and then deliberately hiding out from Atlas authorities was justified. Why doesn’t Winter or Ironwood challenge them on this? Why the hell would two military personnel accept at face value that committing all of these crimes was necessary? Imagine your younger sister steals a car (which is in no way comparable to an Atlas airship, but let’s run with it). She and her friends then get caught by the neighbor they stole it from, started a fight instead of giving it back, endangered a bunch of other people on the road, got the police involved, and hid out until they were finally arrested. Then at the police station big sister gets angry at the officers for daring to book you and is pacified with a hug. Don’t worry, dear. I know there’s no possible way you could be in the wrong here. No reason to acknowledge, let alone address, why you thought those were acceptable actions in the first place.

Qrow is briefly called out for letting this happen, but like Maria’s comment last episode about the group being incapable of keeping a low profile, he shrugs it off with a joke. “You try stopping these kids when they have their mind set on something.” You know what these ‘jokes’ remind me of? Privilege. Stuff like “Boys will be boys ¯\_(ツ)_/¯” where people accept that change is impossible, so why would we bother calling anyone out on their mistakes? Boys are just hardwired to hurt girls and call it love. Teens are just hardwired to steal airships and call it necessary. You know what they’re like. Putting your foot down is useless because that’s just how they naturally function... and we’re all going to ignore the fact that no one else could get away with this shit. They’re the special ones exempt from repercussions. There’s a reason why both both Oscar and Ruby smile here. They know they’re not in trouble.

What all of this boils down to is that the group is above both the law and basic decency. That’s what Cordovin, Ironwood, Winter, and the writing all tell us. It doesn’t matter how many people you endanger. What you steal. What you break in order to accomplish that. Or how long you might try to hide what you’ve done. You’re you, a nebulous acceptance that you’re somehow above everyone and everything. These kids are never going to learn anything because each time they make a mistake---even massive mistakes that put a whole city in danger---they’re rewarded with smiles and a blanket acceptance that they did what they had to do. That is beyond frustrating to me. For the love of god, let them face an actual consequence for once.

It’s not going to happen though. Even the Ace-Ops apologize for doing their job (and treat Ruby like some sort of celebrity in the process). RWBYJNRQO is painted as victims for suffering the indignity of arrest... when they did numerous things they should have been arrested for. I particularly love Weiss’, “You could have asked us some questions first.” Yes, because everyone should be in the habit of taking a criminal’s word at face value and then letting them go when they say, “I’m innocent.” Rather than acknowledging any of this, the writing has the Ace-Ops go out of their way to emphasize how special the group is. You’re kids, but only technically. You’re students, but who cares. You’re as good as us, regardless of training or qualifications. That fact remains that the group did in fact do everything they were accused of and more, something that should generate reflection on whether they’re up for being paired with professionals, rather than an insistence that they’re automatically on par with these adults who complete their missions in a legal, safe manner. If that Argus fight gets them hugs and cool new weaponry, I shudder to think what else the group can not only get away with, but be rewarded for.

Once everyone blindly bypasses one of the biggest conflicts of Volume Six, we hit on the other divisive choice this episode: Ruby lying to Ironwood about Ozpin and the relic.

Okay. I’m going to be as clear as I can here: Ruby is being a massive hypocrite. That’s it. That’s the situation. I shouldn’t have been surprised by the fandom’s reaction, and yet I somehow still was. In just a few hours I’ve seen at least twenty posts detailing how Ruby is not a hypocrite because her situation is totally different from Ozpin’s. HE can’t keep secrets. SHE can. Which is the definition of hypocrisy: the group holding someone to a moral standard that they themselves will not strive for. Are there differences between telling the group about Salem and telling Ironwood about Salem? Yes, but the decision of whether or not to tell them derives from the exact same concerns:

Ozpin: I don’t know if I should tell these kids about Salem. I don’t know if I can fully trust them. I worry that admitting the relic still has questions will result in them using one irresponsibly.

Ruby: I don’t know if I should tell Ironwood about Salem. I don’t know if we can fully trust him. I worry that admitting the relic still has a question left will result in him using it irresponsibly.

And everyone is in on it. During the elevator ride up they all want to know what Ruby will say, meaning that they’re ready and willing to lie the moment she decides that’s best. “We’ll follow your lead,” Blake says. No one pipes up with, “Hey. Why are we considering lying to Ironwood when we decided that there’s no moral justification for keeping secrets like that? Especially from an ally involved in this fight?” Except, the group obviously never decided that. Jaune was happy to keep his secret back at Beacon. Blake too. Yang is still withholding info about the Spring Maiden. They’re all perfectly happy to lie provided they’re the ones doing the lying. Someone else doing that to them though? Omg, how dare you.

That’s hypocrisy.

(As a side note: good lord this group is so astoundingly bad at fighting a strategic war. They announce that they should be careful about what they say to Ironwood while two of Ironwood’s guards are in the elevator with them. This is a needless conversation! No one has to establish that they’ll follow Ruby’s lead! But yes, let’s talk about our plans to withhold information from the General while two of his men are very obviously listening in. We even get a shot of one guard looking over at that little tid-bit. I wouldn’t be surprised if this came back to bite them in the form of:

Guard, who I am naming Brad: “Sir, I thought you should be aware... the prisoners that just left? I overheard them discussing whether or not they would tell you something.”

Ironwood: “What? But I thought we trusted one another... did they say what this something was?”

Brad: “No, sir. They just agreed to be careful about what they said in front of you. They clearly intended to hide something though.”

Ironwood. “Huh. Now that I think about it, Ruby did interrupt Oscar when he was about to say something. And she was awfully nervous about it.”

Brad: “Sounds suspicious, sir. I’d look into it.”

Ironwood: “Right you are, Brad. Thank you for bringing this to my attention. I’ll be sure you get a hefty bonus at the holiday party.”

Brad: “Thank you, sir! My husband and I appreciate it.”

Gay guards aside, this is why Ozpin was right to be cautious. This group is too hot-headed, too immature, and often too plain dense to keep world-shattering secrets safe. This moment gets put up alongside Yang’s demand that Ozpin spill all his top-secret info while the random old woman they picked up 30 seconds ago watches. They just don’t think.)

In short, they are in the same exact situation as Ozpin. Weighing truth against potential repercussions. The fact that said repercussions vary in severity---a group of teens betraying him and/or caving under the pressure vs. a potential dictator betraying them and/or caving under pressure---doesn’t matter. They’re both really bad potential outcomes and both parties are right to be cautious. So yes, I agree with Ruby’s hesitance. It’s the smart thing to do. What I don’t agree with is the characters’ and the fandom’s insistence that Ozpin is not likewise smart for doing the exact same thing. Now that Ruby has made this choice she’d better damn well acknowledge her own hypocrisy. If the writing doesn’t give us a serious moment in which the group reconsiders their actions against Ozpin in light of their recent choices, then the ‘protagonists can do no wrong’ mindset has irrevocably damaged this show. Because you can’t have Ruby making the exact same choices her mentor made and not change her perspective now that she’s had the chance to walk in his shoes. “Oh wow. Sometimes you do want to play information close to your chest. Maybe we were wrong to respond so viciously to Ozpin’s secrecy when I literally just did the exact same thing to someone else. I get it now.”

All that being said, I’d actually argue that Ironwood is in a more justified position to have that information. He’s a chosen member of Ozpin’s inner circle. Ozpin never got the chance to vet this group. He’s a fully fledged huntsmen in charge of an entire Kingdom. They’re a bunch of half-trained kids. Checking in on/taking the relic to Atlas does not require knowing about Salem’s immortality. Enacting a plan to tell the whole world about her really, really does.

Because what else is Ironwood’s end game here? The only way this plan makes any sense is if he believes that Salem is mortal. Ozpin may have failed to kill her, but if we get an entire world to attack her at once we’re bound to win! This plan straight up falls apart when you realize that defeating Salem is not a matter of more manpower. Salem’s immortality is the Achilles’ heel of this scheme, whereas fighting the good fight is something the group signed up for right from the start. Not that Ironwood’s plan is a great one, even if it were viable. I’m sorry, but plunging a whole world into despair---something that draws literal monsters out of the woodwork---is a pretty terrible idea. Ironwood’s army can’t be everywhere at once and an announcement of that proportion would cause an untold amount of death and destruction. I can sort of get Ironwood’s sacrificial perspective. Deal with the fallout because the end result (finally defeating Salem) will be worth it. “Trying to hide the truth from the world will eventually kill us all,” he says, except hiding the truth hasn’t limited humanity in the way he assumes it has. It has allowed humanity to live in peace while a select few try to figure out how to kill an immortal woman.

...speaking of, how has Ironwood not realized Salem immortality? This remains a basic if/then construction of the story that blows my mind whenever people fail to pass it. “If Ozpin has fought Salem for over a thousand years, then Salem is either immortal or reincarnating like he does.” Because nothing else is possible! I mean, maybe Ironwood does know about her immortality and he intends his plan to work for reasons I can’t fathom right now, but it’s looking really unlikely after this episode. It just astounds me that we haven’t had a single character go, “Of course she’s immortal. Why is that surprising to everyone?”

Anyway, I’ve gotten horrendously off topic plot-wise. We learn that Penny and Winter now know about the relics and Maidens---something that worries me a bit because, as a piece of technology, Penny is potentially hackable. Especially with Watts on the loose. The Ace-Ops know as well. We also learn that they’ve already found the Winter Maiden who, according to Qrow, is “not exactly a spring chicken.” Huh. Another important piece of information that wasn’t blithely announced because people naturally work on a need-to-know basis... Sorry. Not diving back into the salt. That comment does actually intrigue me though. We know the powers can only pass to young women, so it’s a cool setup to present us with someone who has actually survived with that power for most of her life. I’m also eager to know whether Winter is set up to be the next Maiden. “Young” is a subjective marker and one of the criticisms fans have leveled at Ozpin is the fact that he put that pressure on Pyrrha instead of asking an older, fully trained huntress to be the Fall Maiden. Making Winter the next Maiden will lend support to that criticism. Ozpin could have chosen someone older, an actual adult, and actively chose to give it to a teen. As opposed to the assumption I’ve always worked under: those like Glynda and Winter are now too old. We’ll have to see.

Outside of the Salem part of the plan, I think making Amity Arena into a satellite is an excellent idea. Provided grimm like the Nevermore really can’t reach it. It’s actually cool to see how our real life, kind of boring tech makes its way into a sci-fi/fantasy series.

And while all this stuff is getting revealed we see how utterly thrilled Ironwood is to have them all back. To be blunt: I adore this characterization. I want this to be real. Not only because it’s a breath of fresh air to have someone acting so loving and optimistic towards everyone---He acknowledges Ozpin’s existence! Look at that smile! Kneeling down!---but also because it would be an excellent subversion of the premier’s setup. Dictator-y military figures buckling under paranoia is out. Tired but loving military figures making mistakes they’re willing to fix is in. That hug with Qrow? It added ten years to my life. Tender moments between two stoic guys will carry me through these cold winter months.

But (there’s always a “but”...) I’m not willing to buy into this characterization just yet. Not only because Ruby herself obviously isn’t ready to trust it. Not only because this is a story and we expect conflicts in the form of twists and surprises. Not even because there are moments where our trio feels vaguely threatening, stationed perfectly behind that desk, separated from the rest of the group.

No, I’m hesitating because this whole encounters feels... staged. Let’s review the series of events from Ironwood’s perspective:

You learn that one of your airships has been stolen

Instead of sending some everyday guards like the situation calls for, you send out your most elite group to take care of this issue

They immediately confiscate the relic, demonstrating a) that they know it’s important (they recognize it as a relic) while likewise b) not showing any surprise that one of the four, magical objects in the world just happened to turn up among these random teens

They bring the relic to you

Someone orders the pilots to bring RWBYJNRQO to Atlas Academy, not jail

You then act surprised when the group suddenly arrives

Which, under the circumstances, makes no sense to me. Even if Ironwood had no idea who stole the airship (I’d have expected Cordovin to have contacted him about the distinctive group heading his way...), he would have figured it out the moment the Ace-Ops walked in with a relic in their possession. Someone obviously gave the order for them to bypass jail and come straight to him. Basically, Ironwood is expecting them. Ironwood set up the arrest and everything attached to it. The surprise at their arrival, the fawning over their treatment, really over the top emphasis on trusting each other... This whole thing feels fishy to me considering that he had to have known it was all happening in the first place. It feels like a man crafting a situation where he can look approachable and kindly, arriving like a savior and endearing the group to him. Remember who got you out of those bonds? Huh? Huh? Even the choice to give Ruby the relic back. Do I need to point out how incredibly stupid that is? Ironwood isn’t stupid. He wouldn’t give an invaluable, magical object back to a 17yo unless he had another, good reason for doing so; unless the need to make Ruby and her followers blindly trust him outweighs the risk the relic is in while she carries it.

I mean... seriously. The entire point of coming to Atlas was to put the relic in a safe place. And then Ironwood decides that carrying it around on the streets is somehow better than locking it up in the vault? When Ruby and everyone else just got beat by the Ace-Ops in about five seconds flat? Someone could take the relic off them in a heartbeat! It doesn’t even need to be a main villain. Some stronger-than-average goons could manage it under the right circumstances and a bit of luck. Look at this bright, shiny thing we can sell for quick lien. No, I have to believe Ironwood has an ulterior motive here. As much as I want him to genuinely be what he presents himself as---the embodiment of our opening, “When we trust in love and open up our eyes”---a lot of this just doesn’t fit.

(Then again... it’s RWBY. And the writers are clearly still working with protagonist vision goggles. Maybe Ironwood really does think Ruby keeping the relic is the best option here. In which case he’s just a fool.)

All of which, notably, still keeps our group from tackling the core, ethical issue: why they want to fight Salem when they think it’s impossible. They’re ignoring that question by keeping the truth from Ironwood. The plot avoided them completing their mission by having them get the relic back. We’re just existing in perpetual limbo here.

Which finally brings me to Penny. The end of this episode has her leading the group on an exhausting tour of Atlas Academy, the exact sort of bubbly, silly, casual interaction we got with her in the early volumes. Last week when I pointed out how inappropriate everyone’s reactions were to finding out a friend is back from the dead, a lot of people commented that we’d get to the emotional stuff later. Or going so far as to claim that the group, Ruby in particular, is suffering from a delayed reaction. Except we didn’t see that. There’s a difference between a setup and a non-evidence based assumption that what we want to watch will eventually end up on screen. There was no setup for a delayed reaction. No Ruby holding back tears. Or a closeup on someone grappling with an emotion. Or someone else trying to say something before they were cut off by the sirens. All of those imply that an emotion exists but, since we don’t have the time or the inclination to deal with it now, we’ll come back to it later. That wasn’t the case last week. Every emotion was clear and complete, no variation in regards to the overall chill acceptance of Penny’s resurrection. Now, we’ve seen that trend continue. Ruby doesn’t stop in shock when Penny appears in the Academy hall. We’re given no indication that anyone is distracted by her while discussing business, in the way one might be when a friend and ally is unexpectedly back in your life. When she’s left alone with them, there’s nothing except the montage of exhausted tourism and Ruby’s demands to know where they’re sleeping. Basically, I think this is it. Sure, maybe later down the line---maybe even next week---Ruby will have a heart-to-heart with Penny, but by that point it’ll be too late to feel emotionally fulfilling. We’ve already seen their first meeting, a surprise encounter, doing business, and hanging out together, none of which acknowledges her status as a miracle. Hell, in this episode at least, no one even cares that she knows about relics and Maidens now. Penny has never been closer to the group, but she’s still being treated primarily as the comic relief.

As @valasania-the-pale pointed out to me, we also have the question of when Penny was rebuilt. Doesn’t anyone, at the very least Ruby, care that their friend was brought back and no one thought to tell them about it? Would Ironwood, Pietro, and Penny herself have just let them live with her death indefinitely? It’s a pretty messed up situation when you think about it. A fantastic setup in my opinion, but one that Rooster Teeth isn’t equipped to handle well. Like with so much of RWBY, there’s great potential and very little follow-through.

At least Watts and Tyrian were introduced appropriately. We got confirmation that Watts helped build the Atlas code and now controls it at his whim, causing crashes and powering down security cameras. It’s the perfect threat for a city almost entirely reliant on its technology. Even down to, as said, an ally like Penny who knows all these secrets. Hell, Winter’s comment about the group having access to Atlas’ best weaponry while they’re here is worrisome. What if their upgrades end up hackable as well?

Tyrian, meanwhile, is still Tyrian. That blood pool was a great shot in my opinion. Wonderful creep factor as he sets off into the city. “I suppose we all have our talents” indeed.

Obviously then, there’s a lot going on. A lot to cover and, on my end, continually dwindling hopes that RWBY will cover it well. I can’t be too excited about the group lying when we 100% bypassed their choices last volume. If the show isn’t willing to call them out on those mistakes, I doubt they’ll be willing to call them out on this one either. I’m preparing myself to watch precisely what we’re getting in the fandom right now: an insistence that Ruby is wonderful for keeping her secrets while further demonizing Ozpin for keeping his. Because that’s where we’ve been for the past fifteen episodes: perpetually insisting that everything the group does is, by default, heroic. Logic and hypocrisy aside.

But we’ll have to see.

Until next week 💜

Minor Things of Note

1. Please pay attention to precisely how many long, wide, and aerial shots we get throughout the episode. This is what happens when your main cast is made up of twelve people all working in the same place. Plus six more including Maria and the Ace-Ops. That’s far, far too many characters.

2. I really love how the Ace-Ops’ tail gives away how excited he is. That was adorable.

3. Despite my enjoyment at Ironwood’s obvious joy over seeing Ozpin... morally this is so fucked up for Oscar. He’s introduced by Qrow as, “the next Ozpin,” essentially undermining his identity as his own person (note how massively uncomfortable his body language is in this moment). Ironwood then immediately starts speaking to him as Ozpin, not at all interested in the kid he’s housed in. If he even understands that Oscar is a separate person. We should all keep in mind that just a few days ago Qrow told Oscar to stop thinking of himself as an individual. Ruby agreed with him via her silence. The whole group was happy-go-lucky when Oscar announced that he’s resigned himself to just disappearing someday. As happy as I am that someone actually acknowledged Ozpin’s existence and (gasp!) was happy to see him, Oscar is still getting the short straw in all this. The group really treats him like he’s some form of transportation and nothing more. Penny, our resident robot, has more agency than he does.

4. Maria is still just hanging out with Pietro, I guess? Does she care that the group got arrested? Is she trying to do anything about it? I’m half expecting a comedic moment where she barges in, prepared to break them out and take on all their captors... only to realize they never needed her help in the first place.

5. I like this shot of the relic, the first thing to be bathed in light when Ironwood’s presentation ends. Not convinced it means anything, but a cool perspective nonetheless.

6. Intrigued by this guy.

7. Love, love, love, love, love Watts’ purple outfit. I mean, I’m just a sucker for purple in general. So... yeah. There’s that.

#rwby #rwby volume 7 #rwby volume 7 spoilers #mymetas #rwby recaps

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casualcatte · 4 years ago

Text

RP Journal 8/24 and 8/25/2020

08/24/2020

The Bounty Call Elite Hunt was today and I was /severely/ disappointed in my own performance. Everyone else that came along with us was splendid, but for my own part -- Gods, I think my parents are turning over in their graves in shame. I’ve lived and breathed the Hunt since I could walk, yet I couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn today if my life depended on it. It was likely the fault of the aetheric blast I took immediately after I drew first blood on the beast, so I really shouldn’t be so hard on myself. Nan’to Vaadrage told me as much when we returned to Headquarters.

(Courtesy cut for length -- and for you to get your tissues!)

Regardless of my poor performance, we managed to take down the Elite Hunt with only a modicum of trouble. For a short while, it seemed like no one could get a blow to land on the beast until I landed that attack. After that, the others seemed to rally and fight all the harder -- while I mostly stayed behind a rock and tried not to puke my guts out like Zanshin Kutabare.

It was curious to see Loksia Grimheart with a bow, considering that when we’d gone hunting for coral she’d opted for a sword and shield. A woman of many talents, that. The others, Azazel Hasegawa and Ryza Eclipse I’d never before met, but they both did well between their various magicks. Still, I was glad to finally see the beast go down.

I stayed long enough to have a celebratory drink with everyone, then I stumbled off home. I wasn’t badly injured, but aetheric bullshit always messes with me. Gods, to say nothing of the two aetheryte trips. I know I’m trying to learn Astromancy and all, but some days I really, really hate aetherical magic.

I’m not sure how, but I managed to make it home, get cleaned up and changed out of my hunting leathers before falling face-first in my couch. Lorrendor, I knew, had gone back to Ul’dah, but I had no idea where that dragoon, Edgard Beaumont had gone. All I knew was that I was exhausted and had to rest.

The remainder of the night, I’m told, was passed in a fevered haze as the after-effects of the aether poisoning got to me. I don’t know what I said or what I did, but I have a feeling that I was a lot of trouble for Ardi. Between you and I, journal, I was touched that he stayed right next to me, sitting on the floor beside the sofa, watching over me all night.

Wilbur, a porxie familiar that was gifted to me by Rae-Hann, apparently put in an appearance when I started to have nightmares. He siphoned away the excess aether and that seemed to help me a fair bit. I’m sure that it was just a fever-dream, but I recall waking at one point with Edgard’s arms around me as he held me close, telling me that everything was going to be okay, that I was safe at home in my cabin. My face was wet from tears and I felt like I’d been screaming. The nightmares Wilbur took away must have been severe. I don’t remember much else except for a pink book that Ardi kept hiding. Why would he need to hide a book?

I slept. And this time I didn’t dream.

8/25/2020

When next I awoke, I sent Edgard off to get some fresh air and to stretch his muscles. As I mentioned, he’d sat on the floor all night watching over me as I slept. No doubt that man was achy and in need of some activity. While he was gone, I gingerly made my way to the bath and gave myself the promised soak I’d meant to have when I got home, but skipped in deference to sleep. Once more dressed and ready to face the world, I settled back into my comforter nest on the sofa that Edgard had made me and read one of the books he’d left to keep me entertained, along with a cup of tea and some medicine to help with the nausea.

It was thus that I was found by Lorrendor Hauland when he came to visit. I was surprised to see him come all the way from Ul’dah, given that our last encounter had been… unsettling to say the least. I can’t really tell you what happened between then and now, but this Lorrendor was a different man entirely.

Have I not said before that every encounter with this man feels like it’s with a different person? Today was no different. This was a Lorrendor who was stiff and austere, emotionless save for the one point he laughed when I proclaimed him an automaton. He fetched me tea, he was exceedingly polite and complimentary. I told him at one point I half expected to hear him replying with “Yes, Mistress” and “Whatever you wish, Mistress” to everything I said ere long.

He kept saying that he was “Lorrendor as he should have been instead of the Lorrendor he became.” So this was another version, another mask, as he tried to tamp down his love for me and simply be my friend. Sometimes it makes me wonder if the man has ever lived an honest life and if anyone knows who he truly is? The many Lorrendors I know may be nothing at all like the Lorrendor that Loksia knows or anyone else among his friends. There’s really no telling and there’s really no comparing notes. I don’t know the man. I’m not sure I ever will. He doesn’t trust me enough to be himself around me and I don’t trust him enough /because/ he chooses to hide.

Still, I owe it to him to bring him with me into Dusk Vigil when I go. We’d tracked the Saurotaun to the ruin and think that it may be a lair for it, so that alone is worth investigating. He suggested I bring along people I trust. Naturally, Edgard as my hunting partner, and Rae-Hann as my closest friend, and after some debate, Lorrendor. He’d brought me this information to begin with, the least I could let him do was see it through to the end with me.

Somewhere during this conversation, Ardi returned from his walk. When I queried why he’d been gone so long, he said he’d gotten “distracted” then he tried to hide the same pink book he’d had yesterday behind his back. I tried to get it from him a number of times, even tried to get Lorrendor to fetch it when Ardi threw it across the room, alas. Neither of us could foil that wily dragoon when he’s of a mind he has a secret to keep.

With Edgard present, we discussed the plan for Dusk Vigil again and the dragoon recommended we make it a scouting mission in case the monstrosity was at home. If we saw it, we would retreat and come back with a more tactical plan. Part of me rankled at being made to wait, especially if it was /right there/ but I knew better than to argue. Certainly not with /both/ he and Lorrendor there.

Eventually, Ardi and I settled into our usual banter with Lorrendor chastizing us both as children -- though this time we /were/ being pretty childish -- but all of us laughed and had some fun, I think. Lorrendor needed to catch the last flight from Ishgard to Ul’dah, so he took his leave.

Which left just Edgard and I. Again, I tried to get the secret of the pink book out of him, but he refused to tell. He made me another cup of tea and we talked, as we often do. I pointed out to him that he seemed much more relaxed that he had when he first arrived in Kugane after his fight with Edmond. He seemed more at peace with himself, that whatever chains holding him down had broken and now he had a chance to soar -- but had no idea how to use his wings.

He told me that I’d helped him a great deal, that he’s actually excited when he wakes up in the morning. And in this excitement he gave me a linkpearl, so that we could talk even when we’re apart. It’s a silly, common thing that everyone uses, but it felt meaningful coming from him. Naturally, I had to tease him about it, though, saying that he just wanted to whisper sweet nothings into my ear whenever he wanted.

He inferred then that Something Happened last night in my fevered delirium. He refused to tell me though, saying that something so /intimate/ was meant to be kept a secret. It worried me. Had I said or done something inappropriate? I think I would know, physically, if I’d slept with him and I didn’t really feel that was the case. Idiot, of course he’d delight in worrying me like that.

Still, when I demurred that I didn’t do much of anything for him, he said that I was one of few people who took him seriously, outside of his brother. I listen to him and he feels like he can talk to me about anything. That I could be trusted with his problems. It was heartwarming to be so trusted and I reassured him that I would always be there for him as long as he wanted.

It was then that his mood shifted somewhat and he told me that he was finally ready to go to Valentina’s graveside, to finally find the closure with her that his heart and his soul both needed. He asked me again if I would still go with him. And my answer was of course, I’d promised him that I would. For the first time since I’d know him, I saw fear ripple through Edgard. Fear, uncertainty, and a vulnerability that made my heart ache for him.

I sat next to him, leaning into his side, just to give him a real, living presence to comfort him in such a troubled moment. I reassured him that he wasn’t alone. He would never be, so long as I drew breath. When next he looked at me, his eyes captured and held me within their blue crystalline depths. It was in those depths that I could see … longing. Like a moth to a flame I was drawn to it, enchanted by it -- for a moment, I reached out to that flame…

Before I came to my godsdamned senses! I made my excuses to leave, claiming I needed sleep in my own bed and I left the room. Ardi seemed bewildered and confused, it made my heart ache. I couldn’t believe I’d gotten that close to going against my own expectations. I can’t. I can’t do to him what Tristane did to me. I don’t want to hurt him. I was angry and disappointed in myself for not minding my /own/ boundaries.

As I sat in my room, rebuking myself for my behavior. I heard him talking to himself on the other side of the wall. What I heard, what he said, made my heart hurt all the more. Part of me wanted to go to him, to reassure him, but I knew it was better for us both to remain silent. The Hunt must always be first in my heart. Until it is done, I can’t… I won’t put anyone in the position to love me only for me to die. I knew that pain once and I swore I would never inflict it on anyone else.

What do I do now? How do I act? I never meant for things to get this far. Somewhere, somehow… what wasn’t serious became serious. If I deny his feelings like I did Lorrendor, will he do the same thing? Turn into some emotionless marionette, just going through the song and dance of friendship? I don’t know that I could take that. Ardi is a source of joy to me and a good partner. I don’t… I don’t want to have to be without him.

Why does making the right choice have to be so goddamned hard?

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cherrypiebbyblog · 6 years ago

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“The System: In the Beginning”

Chapter 1 In The Beginning

Pairing: Alpha Sam Winchester x Omega Reader

Warnings: mentions of deaths

NEXT UPDATES:

Chapter 2: July 19

Chapter 3: July 21

NOTE: if anyone wants to make a cover for this fic that would be greatly appreciated!!!!!!!

Also opening up request let me know!!! If anyone would like to be added on the tag list for The System let me know!!

Sam Winchester always had a willing omega. Night after night omegas would volunteer their lives for that one night he would give them. Not many walked away alive and almost every omega he had come into contact with was willing to take that chance. Sam never had an encounter with the same omega twice, in fact he went out of his way to make sure he would never lay eyes on them again. The other hunters would grow suspicious of his nightly activities but Sam’s father, John Winchester would do anything in his power to protect his children. It was very often that a pair of angry mates would come looking for their young omega child at the Winchester bunker but were always sent away.

Many knew not to ask questions anymore that it is pointless and many also know that if John doesn’t want something brought into the light it would be best to forget it all together. Dean was more tame when it came to having meaningless sex with various omegas. He cared about the way other hunters and other people throughout the system saw him. Dean had always been wary of the things he involved himself in, terrified that his father would be disappointed in him. This would be the only thing that could frighten Dean Winchester and no except Sam knows.

Over the years he had seen the way his father looked at him and Sam with the look of shear disappointment. Dean promised himself that he would never give his father another reason to look at him that way again. Sam could not care less of the way people viewed him, Dean basically ran on pleasing their father and Sam never understood it. Not that Sam doesn’t respect John he does truly, but sometimes its hard to see that John is just doing what he thinks is best for their sector and him and Dean.

Both Men grew up idolizing John, watching his every move, they watched John conquer their sector and brought their family to glory all those years ago and both will be damned if they loose their chance to do the same. Sam and Dean both knew at a young age that there was no since in being competitive with one another knowing that someday they would run the Hunters sector together as one.

Sunday July 14, 2019 4:07 am Winchester Bunker

Sam Winchester woke from a dreamless sleep naked, sweating and covered in blood. This was not an unusual way for him to start his morning, which is partly the reason why he must awaken so early. He and his brother Dean, had already taken care of the body so that part of the morning was already taken care of. And even though it sounds like Dean helped his younger brother out, sadly he complained the whole time worried that John would find out he was involved. Ever since there has been talk of reelecting new families through the systems John Winchester has been red hot and always looking for mistakes in the bunker even if its his own sons.

When he was freshly showered and dressed he made his way into the mess hall with many others elite hunters that lived at the Winchester bunker. Dean and his father were at their regular table in the very middle of the hall. They seemed to be in deep conversations as he made his way to the table. “ … if we keep up this behavior they won’t have a reason to keep such close eyes on the sector” John said in a hushed voice. “We shouldn’t even have to be worried in the first place, we need to find out who has been leaking information from inside the sector.” John thought to himself for a moment before asking “ Sam, do you know of anyone that has access to confidential information?” “No one that I’m aware of” Sam answered with a mouth full of food. “Really no one? Not one of your many omegas that are constantly in and out of here?” He asked with a smirk on his face. Dean snickered and took another sip of his coffee. “Not anyone that lived to tell anyone” Sam quipped back. Dean almost spit up his coffee while John explained “Those actions are no longer allowed Sam, we’ve been over this many times. It’s time for you to stop acting like a malicious child and be a man.” After his mini speech got up abruptly and made his way down the hall to his office.

“ You are gonna end up killing that him you know? He is only worried about the sector and don’t think he didn't notice where you went last night or what you dragged me to do this morning.” Dean knew as soon as his father sat down that morning, that he already knew what he and Sam had done. He gave him that look, the look of disappointment that he hated so much. Sam completely ignoring him said “Why are there so many omegas here? I’ve never smelt so many in one room before, what is going on?” “Dad said that he was tired of your antics remember? He said he was bringing in omegas that were trusted along the sector to be here for our needs. He mentioned this to us last week, oh wait you weren't there.” Dean said it jokingly but still hit a nerve deep within Sam, he let it go not bothering to bring it up. Maybe his father and brother were right., maybe it is time for his actions to be cleaned. But after the years of living one way it’s hard to break his habit.

“They are a little young don’t you think? Most of them aren’t even the legal drinking age? Why would dad want them here?” Dean once again being worried about his image, afraid the world would find out about his little age fetish. He quickly swept it under the table and responded “I don't know, dad does all sorts of things for all sorts of reasons why are you worried about it?” Dead couldn't have anyone not even his brother find out that it was his idea to have the omegas so young. Dean didn’t know what it was about younger omegas, all he knew was there was no omega like a young omega. The innocent and pure ones, the ones with the shy smile and rosy cheeks, they got to him every time. “Well they all look stupid and have the look of deer caught in the headlights.” “They are probably just scared or tired not to mention that most have probably heard the stories of you.” Dean explained Sam didn't look even remotely interested in any of them. Dean had to try hard not to look at any of them, afraid at what he might do if he anyone caught his eye. In then midst of looking around the room a voice in the distance caught both brothers attention. “Sam, Dean my office now.” Of course it was John, Sam had many questions and hopefully John had some answers.

Feedback is always welcome! I hope you all enjoyed it!!

#abo #abo dynamics #sam winchester #alpha!sam x omega!reader #sam winchester x reader #dean winchester #john winchester #spn fanfic #spn fanfiction #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction

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jamiehq · 5 years ago

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“⋆ ° ⟡ ( MAXENCE DANET-FAUVEL, twenty-three, cis male, he/him ) i saw JAMIE HAWTHORNE at the winter palace. did you know that the OLYMPIC SKIER is originally from ENGLAND? i heard they can be quite RECKLESS, but also FERVENT. there’s rumours they’re at the winter palace because HE DROPPED OUT OF UNI TO TRAIN, but you never know. SIDELONG GLANCES, BOTTOMLESS GLASSES OF CHAMPAGNE, & BRUISED AND CALLUSED HANDS always remind me of them. ( a, 20, cst, she/her )

hello everyone !! i’m alli and this is my angry angry misfit JAMIE . i can’t wait to get started writing with everyone, this group truly looks beautiful .

triggers: drugs tw, alcoholism tw, homophobia tw (briefly alluded to), abuse tw

BACKGROUND

edward hawthorne-- a man who wears the title of baron like a crown. victoire walker-- an american dream. the spitting image of pose and grace and wealth. a legacy that would breed james hawthorne, son of the bear. son of the dove.

there was no home for james hawthorne. not when he spoke his first word, hardly audible over the sound of his mother crying. not when he was learning to walk, on the shores of morocco as his mother drank herself to sleep and his father made himself busy with one of the maids. he had not known a home when he began school, a rotating carousel of private tutors, world class coaches, and failing grades. he spent nights in the treetops of the amazon, summers swimming in water clearer than glass, dined with nobility and celebrity and extravagance itself, and he dreamed only of his mother tucking him in and his father reading him a story.

he was crammed somewhere between cocktail parties and political alliances with hardly enough room to breathe. he did not know the warmth of a friend or the love of his family. he knew disobedience and lies. he had seen the world and it had made him feel small.

it was in crete-- or perhaps it was venice?-- when jamie hawthorne first learned the taste of his own blood and the sting of his father’s hand. he doesn’t remember what it was he had done now, a memory buried amongst a graveyard of others just like it.

everything was harder from then on.

following the rules, obeying the nannies, staying in one place. he had to move, he had to keep swimming or else he would drown. he found joy in watching things burn. he found peace in the numbness of a line, of two lines, of three. he drove fast cars and left a trail of lovers like breadcrumbs from city to city. he learned that disagreeing with his father was not an option, that repentance meant nothing.

when edward hawthorne said jump, jamie hawthorne said how high. he made friends with brandy, with whiskey, with gin. he escaped through books, through the stories of the gods and of the ordinary. he wasn’t sure which he identified with more. he wouldn’t know sobriety if it hit him over the head, but he wouldn’t know ignorance either. his father called him useless. a waste of space. sometimes he agreed.

his father had always forced greatness onto him, inked talent into his skin like a tattoo. if it wasn’t world class equestrienne trainers, it was swimming laps for hours on end, muscles that never stopped moving. a body and mind never let rest. it was the skiing lessons, the cold of the mountain, that eventually called to him. that enabled him to excel, be the son his father so longed for.

not attending university was never an option. oxford, his father’s alma matter, home to anyone and everyone who mattered. and jamie. it was in the riot club that he met the boy, the first fire that had ever engulfed him so completely. the first sheets he fell into that gave him pause, the touch that made time stand still. tight lips and a knowing closeness.

there was nothing for him at university anymore, not when he was gone. there was only emptiness and failure. he left without looking back, taking with him the only thing he had left, the only thing that made him human. his skis.

PERSONALITY

jamie is fiercely independent. though he has never been able to stand up to his father, he can stand up to almost anything else. he resents being told what to do, who to fall into bed with, how to present himself.

he is also incredibly loyal. there are few he would pledge his life to, even fewer still he would call a real friend, but if he trusts you enough, he will never betray you.

he’s incredibly intelligent, well read, quick witted. through no feat of his own. he had the best nannies money could afford growing up, and the company books became his only constant. he takes pride in his intellect. almost too much pride.

he’s hot headed, angry as the day is long. he would rather start a fight than end one, even with those closest to him. his fists are always bruised, they never seem to quite heal properly, and his brow always furrowed.

he’s highly unmotivated, as well, making his training a pain not only for himself but his coaches and peers. others often question why he’s even here. if only they knew.

OTHER

his pinterest can be found HERE !!

WANTED CONNECTIONS

oxford classmates [ open ] - most likely members of the riot club or into general mischief and mayhem, jamie has likely definitely gotten into a fight or two ( or twelve ) with them before, but there’s a good chance they would still be close friends

fellow olympians [ open ] - arch rivals, teammates, childhood friends who grew up training together. jamie is competitive, it’s in his blood, but he also above all else likes to have a good time. he can be ruthless one moment and pouring you a shot the next

string of hookups [ open ] - it was nothing serious. it never is for him. ( except, how could he forget, just the once, back at oxford. ) they might not even know each other’s names, jamie might remember and pretend he doesn’t. things might have ended poorly, in an argument or a miscommunication. or they might still get along swell, enjoying nightlife together and perfectly content with using each other.

blackmail [ open ] - someone who knows something about jamie that he would never want to get out. maybe about elijah. his father would kill him if he knew, of course. maybe literally. or perhaps about his drug problem, something that would end his skiing career. or maybe they know something about his father, about the cheating and the stealing and all the lies, something that would ruin his entire family. his lot in life. and now they want something from jamie in return.

childhood friends [ open ] - jamie grew up traveling the world, his father mingling with the elite of every country he could sink his claws into. maybe they snuck away together as children to escape the adults, to try and find some fun. the closest thing to friends jamie would have had growing up, week long stays with their families and then vanished forever. or so they thought.

friendship suitor [ open ] - someone who, against jamie’s wishes, wants to force a friendship upon him. they can sense jamie’s pain and loneliness, and, duh, they’re just the person to help.

anything else ?? i love chemistry based plots if you don’t want to plot anything as well, or if you have wcs that jamie might fit into ! his history with elijah could also be a good plot point, though their connection is not known to anyone besides the two of them. give this post a like if you would like to plot or message me !!

#genoviaintro #* 『 son of the bear 』bio.#drugs tw #homophobia tw #(briefest mention)#abuse tw #alcoholism tw #whew this is a monster #thank you for bearing w me for this #i got a little. carried away #typical !!#also posting this so fast after getting accepted bc i cant wait

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