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invisible-key · 10 months ago

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Sick in Public - part 3

This is an indirect continuation of my Sick in Public series – it can be read without reading part 1 and part 2. While the previous two parts represented a blog post Bernie has written to describe his experience with vomiting on a bus, this part is about a new character, who found inspiration in Bernie's post and tried to recreate it herself. ;)

Kinks: emetophilia, stuffing for emeto purposes

OCs: Emily (pic)

Word count: 1.7k words

Warnings: slight nsft (mentions of arousal), detailed description of vomit

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My name is Emily, and I am an emetophile.

I’ve been fascinated with puking for as long as I can remember, but only after leaving for college and getting my own room away from my family, I have found courage to experiment with self-induced vomiting.

I’ve been following the blog of this one digital artist who draws a lot of emeto and asphyxiation stuff. But occasionally he makes a post about himself vomiting irl as well. Recently, he wrote a post about his true experience of throwing up on a crowded bus and it’s given me brain rot. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. The image of chunks of vomit reflecting back onto my skin as I puke on the doors of a bus was living in my brain rent-free 24/7. I was obsessed. I needed to feel it.

I’ve never had the courage to make myself vomit in public, but it’s one of my biggest fantasies. Nobody would suspect a thing. When people see a petit, innocent-looking 19-year-old girl get sick on a bus, they’re not going to assume that she is a gross degenerate who gets off on making a public mess. They are going to think she is very ill and feel sorry for her, maybe even comfort her. Something about the idea of deceiving people like this made my brain tingle.

The important question was: how do I induce nausea inconspicuously? I went to the internet to research ways to induce vomiting (this search itself made me excited to puke right now). I saw a picture of mustard dissolved in water and it kind of looked like orange juice so I figured it might be a sneaky way to make myself sick in public.

On the designated day, I took an empty 0,5 L bottle, added three teaspoons of mustard in it and filled it with water. I put on a light orange dress with a pattern of white flowers (hopefully I’ll be able to wash vomit stains off of it).

I wanted to fill up my stomach as much as possible, so I cooked a vegetable soup and forced myself to eat the whole pot. I was starting to feel a little queasy from fullness, but I didn’t give in until I swallowed the last spoonful. My belly felt heavy and tight. It became visibly round and protruded from under my dress.

After the large meal, I hopped onto a bus headed for the shopping centre. I sat at the back of the bus, away from people, so that they would not realize that the orange juice smelled like mustard. When I settled down, I opened the bottle. I took a sip and grimaced. The taste was revolting, but I tried to supress gagging because I had to remain inconspicuous.

I was only able to down half the bottle, the taste was just too much. My mouth started salivating a little and I gagged into my palm. A bit of acid came up to my mouth, but I swallowed it back down.

The bus ride took ten minutes, during which… nothing happened. I was queasy due to the gross taste, but it didn’t seem that I was going to vomit. My fantasy of feeling droplets of vomit reflect back onto my skin off the doors of a bus was not going to become a reality.

Oh well. If I’m already at the mall, I might as well buy a new summer dress.

I got off the bus and made my way towards the entrance of the mall, feeling water sloshing inside my heavy stomach. The disgusting taste lingered on my tongue, and I felt a bit queasy and lightheaded.

I entered the mall and headed for my favourite clothing store. As I was browsing dresses, I still felt nauseated, but at this point I didn’t think much of it. I became more interested in shopping than in throwing up. I found a delightful light green dress with a pattern of white flowers that I was sure would go great with my red hair, and I made my way to the changing rooms to try it on.

Suddenly, I was overcome by a shiver followed by a cold sweat.

No – no way that I’m going to vomit NOW…

But there was no mistaking the feeling as my throat tightened and my mouth filled with a large amount of saliva.

I basically threw away the dress and ran out of the store. I emerged at the central plaza of the shopping centre. In the middle of it was a small fountain surrounded by benches. I knew where the bathroom was, but I could tell that I was not going to make it there.

I stopped halfway to the fountain. I was shaking and my legs felt weak. My heart was pounding in my chest, and I felt a little dizzy. The time has run out. I leaned forward and put my hands on my knees.

“Egk – guuuurh – cough!”

I gagged and retched, and a small amount of brownish water came out my mouth and fell on the tiles below.

“Cough, cough…………”

I’m not vomiting that much yet, maybe I can still stop it… I tried to supress the nausea by sheer willpower, but my belly convulsed forcefully, putting pressure on my overfilled stomach, which sent a large amount of undigested soup up my oesophagus. A waterfall of puke spilled out of my mouth and splashed noisily on the tiles underneath. The puddle was light brown with visible pieces of vegetables. It didn’t look all that different from the soup I had eaten. This thought created a mental image of me eating puke, which made me shudder and immediately retch again in disgust. A small, rather chunky wave of vomit made its way to my mouth and I let it spill out. A piece of vegetable stayed lodged at the side of my tongue, tickling my throat, which stimulated my stomach to spew uncontrollably. “Uuuuuuuuurrrgh!” – splash, splash! The intensity of this heave put tears in my eyes. I could barely catch a breath, and I was swaying on my weak legs.

I startled when I felt a hand on my arm. I flinched and looked in that direction, while I was still coughing and gagging as the aftereffect of the last wave. Through vision blurred with tears, I recognized a tall man. “Are you alight, miss?” he said in a kind and soft voice. “Let’s sit you down, okay?” He took my hand and lead me to the bench at the base of the fountain.

As soon as I sat down, saliva started filling my mouth once again. I was breathing rapidly, and my heart was pounding in my ears. I was covered in sweat, my belly muscles hurt, I was trembling with sickness, and I just wanted this to be over. I tried to breathe deeply to soothe the nausea, but it wasn’t working. My stomach contracted and more vomit shot out of my mouth, staining the bottom of my dress and splashing on the tiles underneath.

“Huuuuurk!!”

I felt the stranger’s gentle hand caressing my back as I gagged and coughed up forgotten chunks of food from the depths of my throat.

I tried to breathe deeply, for the nausea was overwhelming. There were tears in my eyes, my whole body was trembling, all I could do was breathe. Breathe in, breathe out…

I looked up at my saviour. „Th-thank you…“ I strained through my tense throat, just before a massive wave overtook me. My stomach contracted painfully, and I lurched forward, a watery projectile shooting out of my mouth. It went on for longer than I thought possible, water after water making its way out of me without a break. When it finally ended, I felt a bit dizzy. I tried to breathe, the outside world felt distant, and the only thing I sensed was the hand on my back. When I managed to catch my breath, I opened my eyes and noticed that the puddle of vomit in from of me was HUGE. I was worried that the people might suspect something… But what could they possibly suspect? Nobody is going to assume that an innocent-looking girl overate on soup and then took an emetic to make herself violently sick in a mall.

The man kept rubbing my back, which felt comforting.

“What happened to you, young miss? Why are you so sick? Should I call an ambulance?”

I shook my head dizzily. “No, i-it’s fine…”

I barely managed to finish the sentence before I coughed up another mouthful of bile. It did not shoot far so basically all of it landed on my dress.

I breathed and breathed, and then my stomach contracted again, straining heavily to get just a little bit of water out.

I breathed in and then I started to feel better. The sweet after-vomit feeling of relief washed over me and made me feel light and ecstatic. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the pleasant feeling while the man kept rubbing my back.

When I opened my eyes, I looked down at the massive pool of vomit on the floor. I thought that this huge amount of water and all of these chunks of food came out of my stomach, and it turned me on. My panties were completely drenched, but I wasn’t sure if it was from arousal or if I had pissed myself due to all the straining. Maybe both.

I decided that I should leave before the cleaning staff shows up and starts yelling at me.

I smiled softly at the man (probably didn’t look that charming with pieces of barfed up leak lodged between my teeth). “Thank you for your help, I feel better now. I will leave now. My dad is at the parking lot, he will take me home,” I lied, because I didn’t want to inconvenience the man any longer. I got up and made my way to the exit on weak legs. When I got on the return bus, I sat next to the window and I closed my eyes. I smiled. I did not end up spewing chunks onto the bus door, but it turned into an exciting experience nonetheless.

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Disclaimer: This is a fetish story and as such meant to be fiction and not an inspiration for irl deeds. Do not try this "at home". (Also pls don't try to make that mustard emetic, I'm not sure how safe it actually is and I heard that it might not be safe for people with diabetes or a heart condition etc.)

#emetophilia #emetophilic character #female emeto #oc: emily #my kink writing #vomiting in public

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janewaykove · 6 months ago

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Hey! Please look into how AI datasets are formed. These programs are only able to function due to large scale intellectual property theft that would be illegal for any other purpose. AI is an amazing concept and we can do lots of great things with it, even (theoretically) with generative AI if someone were to build a dataset ethically with knowledge, consent and compensation of the authors whose works are being used (there aren't any currently, thus theoretically. the reason there aren't any is if you did it, it would no longer be profitable) but please be aware that the currently available generative AIs (not just text btw, visual ones too) exploit writers/artists, especially smaller ones who don't have the means to fight back. The only way we can disincentivize this theft is by ending demand for the product

If you see parts of anything in the AI stories I post(ed) that you think are from someone's story, please do let me know. But as far as I can see, it's just common phrases and generalized things. Aside from the names I put in and the dozen specific prompts (which often included dialogue), basically all that's left is to put it into place and fill in stuff like everyday phrases (ie "she walked down the hallway and turned the corner"). And of course the sex bits that I prompt. If there's suddenly a paragraph in there from Moby Dick, that'd be a bit questionable!

Now if I posted something from some original story/character/world, I could totally see the issue with it being ripped off. But I wouldn't post that. As it is, I have to be specific about a lot of it. I mean, it will know Captain Janeway should be on Voyager. But if I make the character be Kove, it tends not to know who the hell she is and makes her a tall, skinny blonde who works as a waitress. There's only so many ways to write a sex scene so unless someone owns "she reached between her legs and touched herself," or whatever, it's probably not stealing that from anyone, lol!

As for photos, I've seen how those work and don't care for them. I see a lot of images that look just like original images so I know the generator is just taking original images and basing "art" off those. And not even well, I might add (oh those extra fingers it likes to add).

Hope I'm not sounding like an ignorant jerk here. I know a lot of people don't like AI, so I note when I've used a generator. But, as I've said a while back, my brain isn't what it was 25 years ago and some times I just wanna read a weird story with a weird ship. When they come out kinda good (even though they still need tweaking), I share them. What I've seen is general/common stuff in between my specific prompts, otherwise I wouldn't mess with it.

Also, if fanfiction is technically illegal anyway, the only people to be compensated for AI programs using their work would have to be people who write original stories. Those would be easiest to find in AI generators so that'd be a plus, at least. If AI generates stuff based on fandoms, it's harder to figure which is stolen. But if you've got AI talking about Zippooloo Square on the planet Deengu with its 3 purple-pink moons, that'd be an obvious steal. If it's talking about Voyager being in space, that's more general and common knowledge (unless it mentions a quirky addition we know someone else made up just for their own version) that most of the fandom has wrote somewhere or other.

Edit: I'm not saying AI doesn't steal, just to be clear. I read about it stealing works, or people using it to continue an original story. I certainly don't approve of that! But the little stories I do are just AI filler stuff in the specific prompts I give it. So just "he said/she said" and "walked down the street and went into the cafe" stuff. Not chunks of storyline from already written stories.

#ask #anonymous #if this turns into a big hate war #i will remember why i keep anons off #this reply was 2x longer but i rewrote it #then it came out long anyway lol #i hate conflict and it stresses me so much #ms and stress do not mix

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galloperthompson · 3 years ago

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Regarding Galloper Thompson’s clothes

Including his (slutty, thigh high) boots

It’s been brought to my attention that galloper’s slutty thigh high boots actually look like ankle boots with the thigh high part tucked into the boot. So I’ve decided to go beyond my jokes about him being a slut anyways and make this post going over his clothes. And buckle up folks, it gets long.

I’ll be honest, it’s pretty difficult to find details about 13th century (and 12th century) Scandinavian life specifically, especially since I’m using google. For this post, I have just used general European fashion, but in the future I’ll be mixing viking things with general European things from this time (but I’ll mostly try to keep the general European things to German and English/Irish stuff). I’ll also be referencing things from both the 13th century and the 12th century, since galloper “lived” during the early 13th century (and every website seems to think the 13th century started in 1250).

But anyways, an English knight from the mid 13th century apparently wore something like this on his bottom half (underneath other layers):

Now as you can see in this terrible quality picture (sorry about that, but I did try to label it), the hose are thigh high just like galloper’s leg coverings, which is what gave me the idea that maybe it’s hose he’s wearing. So let’s begin.

I would explain the whole system they used, but this does it better than I could (you only need to read until it starts talking about chausses since we’re only talking about the hose). The linked text is a bit weird and may (or may not) be unreliable, but it’s compact, explains things well, and has pictures (it’s where I got that *stunning* photo I labeled). However, keep in mind that it depicts a mid 13th century English knight, and galloper is from early 13th century Scandinavia, so while there may be similarities, there’s also definitely differences in how he would’ve dressed. Braies were apparently longer in the first half of the 13th century, for one, and didn’t really become “underwear” for everyone until the second half and later. Hose were also referred to as stockings, and apparently hose and stockings didn’t really refer to different things until later on. Additionally, clothing differed between class, but we’re not going to go over that today.

So how does this relate to galloper? Well his lower half actually sort of resembles the picture above, doesn’t it? His “hose” are thigh high, with ankle high shoes over them, just like the picture. Despite the similarities, though, there are differences. His “hose” aren’t pointed, and so there are no ties for them. Apparently, hose didn’t have to be pointed, and those thigh high hose that weren’t pointed were held up with pins.. but there are no pins to hold them up either. Without one of these mechanisms to hold up the hose, they would not stay in place. And considering we can see where the thigh high part ends, we should also be able to see at least part of what’s holding them up. The thigh high part could also theoretically be “leg bandages” that extend above the knee. However, his “hose” don’t look like wrapped or crisscrossed cloth, they look solid, so leg bandages are unlikely.

Now, I wanted to present hose as an explanation based (somewhat) in history, but I don’t actually think he’s wearing hose. We’ll go over why later in this post, but let’s keep going for now.

On to his tunic and coat. Well I say tunic, really it isn’t a tunic by medieval standards. Back in the 13th century, tunics didn’t have buttons—at least not on the front. And his coat.. well it’s not something you’d find in the 13th century. Longer coverings, down to the knee or lower, were the style then. Shorter coverings with buttons down the front didn’t appear until the 14th century in the form of things like doublets. Those “things” were usually very padded and form-fitting, however, and neither galloper’s shirt or coat seem to be padded or exceedingly form-fitting at all.

The history of gloves (in everyday wear, at least) is surprisingly complex, so I won’t be touching his gloves. I’m also ignoring his belt because I don’t have much to say on it, but they did have leather belts with “single-looped” buckles (whatever that means) in the 12th and 13th centuries.

Moving on to his cape. Ah yes, his tattered little cape (which matches his mare’s tattered little saddle blanket!). Who knows why the fuck he wears it. There doesn’t seem to be a hood (like the medieval chaperon) or a part that comes around to cover the shoulders, and it’s too short to be a cloak. My best guess is that it was a design choice based on the fact that such a short cape doesn’t need a fluttering animation. Why not axe (lol) the whole idea of a cape? Well, all the coolest characters have capes!

His weird ass shoulder pad I can’t come up with an explanation for, though (or at least a medieval one). If he had a neck, the shoulder pad would be digging into it based on the position. Maybe it’s supposed to be like those shoulder pads with tassels on some formal military uniforms (technically “epaulettes” with “fringe”)? Except instead of tassels it’s feather looking things and also there’s only one shoulder pad for some reason?

All of this is to say that none of what he’s wearing can realistically pass for 13th century clothing, except maybe his lower half, and that’s still stretching it.

His entire outfit actually most resembles military uniforms from the 18th and early 19th centuries, as @inkowl13 pointed out in this post. When he floats, you can even clearly see his tattered coattails, which are his trademark green on the underside. In the case of 18th century garb, his shirt would be a waistcoat (he doesn’t seem to be wearing an 18th century shirt underneath his “waistcoat” at all, but maybe we just can’t see it or distinguish it from his “waistcoat”), and his jacket-thing would be a uniformed soldier’s coat. His lower half would be breeches with either a. ankle boots and over-the-knee stockings, b. ankle boots and thigh high gaiters (those things with buttons that go over the top of the shoe), or c. thigh high boots, which appeared as riding boots in the 15th century and remained common until the 19th century—including in military uniforms (in fact, some cavalry units today still use them in their ceremonial dress uniforms). His shoulder pad would, in fact, be a strange attempt at an epaulet/epaulette (which were used in the 18th century (and beyond) to denote rank) with fringe the color of his trademark green. The fact that there’s only one also makes sense within this period; whether the epaulet/epaulette was on the right, left, or both shoulders indicated rank (Galloper’s “epaulet/epaulette” is on his right shoulder, our left). The issue of glove history is also eliminated since it seems military uniforms in the 1700s made use of gloves. Men’s capes/cloaks at this time went to the knee or below it, so my explanation for his cape is unchanged. Through this lens, things start to become clear.

This is a mannequin (is that what you call the fake models of historical clothing? does mannequin apply in this context?) wearing an 18th century cavalry uniform:

As you can see, he looks incredibly similar to galloper, despite the many differences.

And these are two sets of 18th century soldiers (again, sorry for the less than ideal quality):

On the left there’s a pair of soldiers with over-the-knee boots and on the right there’s a pair with over-the-knee gaiters (see how they go over their shoes). Thigh high boots would make more sense for a horseman, but thigh high gaiters would explain some things about his lower half, like how his boots and the thigh high part are different colors. However, there are no buttons on the sides (like gaiters have) or garters at the knee (like both stockings and gaiters had), and the thigh high part is tucked into the shoe, more like stockings rather than gaiters. In these pictures you can also see how his upper half looks incredibly similar to all four soldiers, again, even with the differences.

Now, unless galloper was keeping up with fashion until the 18th century when he stopped (he gave up I guess? said “fuck that shit” and hasn’t changed clothes for the past 300 years?), he shouldn’t be wearing an 18th century military uniform. Especially since he was shown wearing the same clothes in his execution scene (which I don’t put too much stake in considering the Jarl was in his ghost form and even the soul riders don’t have 2 sets of clothes in game).

So why does he look like this, then? The reason why he looks like a revolutionary war soldier can be traced back to the inspiration used for his design. According to Jorvikipedia, his “...design takes direct inspiration from author Washington Irving’s Headless Horseman from The Legend of Sleepy Hollow...” which explains why he looks the way he does. Jorvikipedia has been wrong before (they list his place of birth as “Jorvik (presumably)” which doesn’t fit with his backstory), but if Galloper’s design was based on the headless horseman of “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow” (which it very likely was), it would provide justification for the 18th century look of his clothes. Washington Irving’s horseman was, after all, (alleged to be) killed during the revolutionary war in the 18th century.

It’s obvious his upper half is based on 18th century uniform, but the intention behind his lower half remains a mystery. Whether it’s meant to be stockings, gaiters, or boots, I don’t know. Theoretically, his lower half could even have been intended to be hose, braies, and shoes. But considering his entire look and the inspiration behind his design, an 18th century explanation seems more likely (I just don’t know which 18th century explanation, exactly). It would be pretty strange if half of him was medieval and the other half was from the revolutionary war era. Though, I’ll admit, it’s not completely impossible.

My theory for the contradiction between his design and his backstory is that his backstory came after his design. The 18th century look of him, along with his inspiration, and the lack of medieval elements in his design all make a compelling case for this theory. The only thing I can think of that may disprove it is his mare’s y-shaped bridle, but even that could be explained if she was designed after galloper, while his backstory was in its first stages of development (I’ll probably do another post on his horse’s tack, since this post is already long, but that’s for another day). But that’s just a theory; the star stable team could very well have just not done any research on 13th century attire, instead modeling his look on depictions of Irving’s headless horseman and adding the bridle as an indication of the origin they had already established for him.

Ok, but what about the rest? The other parts of his and his mare’s designs (color scheme, hanging pumpkin jack-o-lanterns) can be attributed to the fact that he is the halloween event character. Though his color scheme could be inspired by the headless horseman in World of Warcraft, who was introduced in 2007 (I found out about this horseman while looking into other possible inspirations for galloper’s design), all the colors seen on him and his mare (black, green, red, orange) are general Halloween colors. The hanging jack-o-lanterns are not historically accurate for the Middle Ages (or the revolutionary war era, actually) as pumpkins were not introduced into Europe until Columbus “discovered” the Americas, and did not become commonly carved into jack-o-lanterns until the 19th century in America -which was when and where “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow” was published (though the pumpkin “head” was not even carved in the original story). I suppose galloper could have developed an affinity for pumpkins (and for carving them) later on (Jorvik seems to have a lot of them), but it’s more likely that they added them (to the keep and his mare’s design) based on modern halloween practices instead of historical halloweens or consideration of galloper’s feelings on pumpkins.

Ok, so we’ve established he’s not historically accurate for the 13th century, but what would his clothes look like if they were actually historically accurate? The answer is: I don’t know! Maybe I’ll do another google deep dive and make a post on that, but for now we’ve come to the end.

All of my information about historical clothing came from sorting out google results, so take the historical bits with a hefty grain of salt (more like a bowl of salt actually). If you have any actual knowledge about history, please feel free to correct me.

#i am planning on doing more of these little deep dives into what life was like back then #a large chunk of this post is a bit of a mess but oh well #sso #star stable #star stable online #galloper thompson #gunnar thrymson #tagging this #googling history #separate from the ‘me overthinking’ tag

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sunfleurry · 4 years ago

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Inches

Disclaimer: I write stories and use Harry Styles as a face claim. In no way shape or form does my writing reflect how I perceive the actual Harry to be. These are my characters, the face is just a bonus!

A/N: Let me give you some fluff because I’ve posted only angst. Another repost from my old blog because ya girl has no time to write.

She woke up, flinching from the sunlight penetrating the flimsy white curtains. Her movements caused Harry to stir from behind her before he tightened his hold around her waist and kissed the back of her head.

“Good morning,” he said, morning voice making her toes curl.

Smiling, she turned around to face him and squeezed her hand between his head and the pillow, pulling his lips towards hers. “Good morning.”

He closed his eyes and kept her against him for a little longer. “I’m so tired. Let’s stay in bed all day,” he mumbled.

“We can’t, we have plans.”

Sighing, he nodded his head but didn’t move. She liked it when he was like this–relaxed and wholly himself without any stresses of the outside world weighing on him. His naked chest was pressed up against hers and she could almost hear the steady beat of his heart. At that moment, hers ached at how much she loved him. They’d been through so much in the last five years, but they were stronger than ever.

She ran her hands through his hair then paused. “Your hair is getting really long. Almost like you’re twenty-one again.” When he opened an eye to look at her, she said, “I like it.”

He nuzzled his face into her neck and kissed her right there. “I don’t. I need to cut it soon.”

“Shall we cut it?”

“I’m so happy I’m dating a hairstylist.”

“I’m not a hairstylist,” she giggled. “I just learned by cutting my brother’s hair. Poor kid.”

“You’re my hairstylist,” he cooed.

Laughing, she shoved him off her and proceeded to go wash up and get ready for the day.

After breakfast, Harry was sitting on the edge of the bathtub with towels surrounding him on the ground while she laid out a pair of scissors and a comb on the counter next to him.

She ran her hands through his wet hair and pointed at the mirror. “Alright, H, take it in. This is the last time you see yourself with this length for a while.”

Harry brought his fist to his mouth and bit his knuckle, dramatically wincing at his reflection. “I don’t know if I’ll recognize myself after this.”

Rolling her eyes and stifling a smile, she clipped the back of his head. “Stop being so dramatic.”

He laughed, rubbing the part where she hit him. “You can start now before you give me a concussion.”

She climbed into the bathtub to stand behind him and started brushing his wet hair, clipping neat sections out of the way. She could see how her ministrations relaxed Harry through the mirror–his eyes were closed and he had a small content smile on his lips. She couldn’t help but give him a kiss on the cheek before she started cutting the hair on the back of his head.

As she got to the sides, Harry hummed when pieces of hair fell in front of him but didn’t say anything. He liked that she enjoyed cutting his hair and it also helped that she was good at it. He was admiring her through the mirror–her hair in a mess at the top of her head and her glasses perched a little too far down on her nose. She was wearing his white t-shirt that was big on her but not too big–as it only fell a quarter way to her knees–and peeking from underneath was her ridiculously expensive cotton shorts from her favourite lingerie store. The sight was one of many that he’d committed to memory and stowed away in his mind to look back on when he was away for work again.

A few minutes later, she stepped over the tub again and proceeded to push his knees apart in order to squeeze herself in between his legs.

Harry raised his eyebrows at her. “You’re a little handsy today. If you wanted to be between my legs, you just had to ask and I–”

“Oh, piss off,” she slapped his thigh, “or else I’ll give you one inch bangs.”

He gasped and brought a hand to his mouth, pretending to zip it up and throw away an imaginary key.

As she cut his hair, he had to hold back a stupid smile at the furrow in eyebrows. He found her concentration to be cute. She shivered slightly when he rested his palms against the back of her legs and slid them up her thighs to cup the skin right underneath her butt.

“I’m going to mess up if you keep this up,” she mumbled.

“I trust you.”

“You really shouldn’t.”

“I can’t wait to marry you.”

Before she was even able to register his words, her body reacted in shock and accidentally cut a part of his bangs clean off.

Her gasp caught Harry’s attention and he looked up only to see his girlfriend staring wide-eyed at him with a big chunk of hair held in her fist.

“What did you just say?”

“Did you just mess up my hair?” He tried to look at the mirror behind her, but she blocked his vision.

“Harry–”

Giving up, he cupped her face in his palms. “Of course I want to marry you, love. Don’t you?”

“Of course,” she breathed.

“Well then,” Harry smiled and backed up to look at the hair in her hands. “This is definitely not a part of the haircut is it?”

She gave him a sheepish smile and slid her arms around his neck to surreptitiously drop the hair in the bathtub behind him. “No, it looks fine,” she eyed the gap between two long pieces of hair, “it’s fine.”

Harry knew she was trying to convince herself, but he wasn’t mad. Frankly, it was his fault for dropping that bomb on her while holding a pair of scissors to his hair.

She kissed him once. “It’ll grow back.” Kissed him again. “You’re still the handsomest.”

“Am I now?”

She pulled him in for a deeper kiss. “Always,” she mumbled against his lips.

Harry couldn’t contain himself anymore. He wrapped his arms around her waist and stood up, holding her against him in the process. He carried her to their room then laid her down on the bed.

“I don’t believe you,” he laughed.

“Gross, Harry, you’re getting hair all over the bed! You could’ve at least brushed it off.”

“If you doubted I ever loved you before, just know the fact that I’m still so enamoured even after you’ve ruined my precious hair should prove you wrong.”

He looked funny with his hair gracefully falling onto his forehead–a generous chunk missing. She couldn’t hold it in anymore. She burst into laughter, tears running down her face, yet she still managed to squeeze in “I’m sorry” between each round of laughter. He soon joined her and jumped on top of her, almost making them both fall off the bed. This resulted in more hysterics.

A few minutes later, after having calmed down, Harry laid on his back with her head resting against his chest and her arm wrapped around his waist. They were both catching their breaths from the fit they just had.

He whispered her name.

“Yeah?”

“I was supposed to ask you at dinner tonight, but I don’t think I can wait any longer.”

She sat up on her knees and peered at him quizzically.

“Stay here,” he quickly said.

Before she could answer, he got up and disappeared inside their shared walk-in closet then re-emerged with a velvet box tucked in his hand.

When she caught sight at what he held, it felt like emotions flooded in her bloodstream and spread through every inch of her body. Shock, elation, love.

He climbed back on the bed and faced her, catching sight of her silver-lined eyes. He resisted the urge to reach for her face to catch the tears that he knew were about to fall any second.

“I love you. I loved you before we started dating, I loved you when I asked you to be my girlfriend and I loved you when I asked you to move in with me. I love everything about you, from the way you can’t help but sing along to every single song you hear, even the ones you don’t know the lyrics to, to the way you eat the crust of your sandwiches first, before eating the rest of it. I love you so much that I have no doubt in my mind that when we’re nothing but memories left on this earth, my soul will continue to love you. I can’t spend another day without seeing a ring that I gave you on your finger, so I have to ask you this: My love, will you marry me?”

She was speechless, but that didn’t mean she was paralyzed. Without a second thought, she threw herself at him and he caught her .He held her against his chest and stroked her hair as she nodded furiously, and when her chest heaved with sobs, he tried soothing her with his words. He couldn’t suppress the smile gracing his features at the realization that she’d agreed.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he hummed, “please don’t cry, I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“I’m just so happy,” she sniffled, looking up at his eyes.

“So, is that a yes?”

“Even though we’re wearing barely anything and there’s a large chunk of hair missing from your head?” She laughed through her sobs.

Harry grinned.

“Of course, I’ll marry you, you idiot.”

He slid a hand behind her neck and pulled her in to kiss her with as much passion he can muster up. She pulled him closer, muttering “I love you” between each kiss.

After what felt like forever, they pulled away and he slid the ring on her shaking hand. And for the rest of the day, they changed their minds and decided to stay in. They stayed in and spent their time showing each other how much they loved one another with not only their words, but with their bodies, accompanied by a gorgeous diamond which sealed their future together.

#harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles drabble #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff

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anna-pixie · 4 years ago

Text

safe passge -> the witcher {part two}

I will be uploading this to AO3 soon... I’ve never posted on there before so I’m just figuring it out!

Read part one here

Summary: Geralt deals with having you and Jaskier annoying him on the road. You stop at an inn and make a new friend.

Pairings: Geralt of Rivia x Reader

Warnings: None

“So… day three on the road. How is the princess coping?”

“The princess will murder the bard with his own lute should he decide to keep calling her the princess.”

Jaskier raises his hands in defence and you shoot him a sickly sweet smile, revelling in how easily you can get to him. Your friendship with the bard has developed quickly over the three days you’ve been on the road, it seems as though the two of you are cut from the same cloth - personality wise that is. Geralt, bless his soul, thought he had it rough when he travelled only with Jaskier - now there are two of you.

“It’s not very becoming of you to threaten a life, princess.” Geralt hums, commenting on the incessant insults thrown between you and Jaskier.

You send the large man a glare out of the corner of your eye, fighting the smile that threatens to show as he meets your gaze with a smirk of his own.

No. You have to remind yourself, you are not attracted to the Witcher. The large, scary Witcher who could kill you with his bare hands if he wanted to. Your mind flashes with the inappropriate thought of his large hands around your neck, your life in his hands while he looks at you with those hypnotic eyes.

Your cheeks flush and your eyes dart around quickly, the horrifying thought that Geralt may be able to read minds as part of his Witcher-ness scares you.

“Jaskier… psst.” You hiss, trying to subtly get the attention of the bard who is humming a tune to himself as he skips just behind Geralt.

You’re in a small town surrounded by nothing but forest, making your way to the local inn from where you left the carriage at the edge of the dense greenery.

“Yes m’lady?”

“Geralt can’t… read minds… can he?”

Jaskier chuckles at your fear, his quizzical gaze pinning you for a moment before he cackles, “Oh! This is golden! Has someone been having some less than innocent thoughts about the big bad Witcher?”

“Shut up, Jaskier!” You squeal, slapping the bard harshly on his upper arm. He winces, sprinting back towards Geralt with cries that you’re attacking him. The white haired man turns his head to face you, his eyebrows raised exasperatedly. You respond with a pout, an innocent gaze his way through your lashes. You only receive a clenched jaw in response before he turns, hitting Jaskier on his arm in the same place you did.

A chuckle escapes your lips as he wails in pain. Sure, your little slap probably stung a bit - but Geralt did not hold back. He will probably have a bruise there soon. The inn enters your vision, and your sore muscles practically cry out in relief.

As you enter the establishment, you realise that you probably look quite the sight. First, the lilac adorned bard clutching his arm in pain, followed by the hulking Witcher, swords at the ready behind his back, and then you - in your pretty pink dress with your favourite necklace.

Certainly a motley crew, you wonder what the patrons are assuming when they see you. Do they guess correctly? That your parents paid the Witcher and his bard to escort you to your new home? Or do they assume wrong? Perhaps they think you’ve been kidnapped, held against your will by the big, scary white wolf.

Geralt doesn’t seem phased by the stares, thudding over to a table in the far corner of the room, lowering himself onto the wooden bench with a groan. Jaskier orders the three of you a round of ale and meat with all the trimmings and a side of potatoes.

“I’m not hungry.” You mumble as you observe the sloppy food the inn keeper throws before you, “I’ll save it, take it back for the carriage driver.”

“We’re not leaving here until you eat everything on that plate, princess.” Geralt doesn’t even look at you as he speaks, tearing a chunk of meat straight from the bone and chewing harshly. You cringe slightly at his brutish manners.

“No, thank you.”

“I wasn’t asking, princess.” There’s a new edge to his voice now, a no nonsense tone that non-verbally tells you that you’d better start eating right now, or else.

“Oh, don’t use your scary voice on her, Geralt. We all know you’re a big softie deep down.” The two men start to bicker amongst themselves and you snicker, reluctantly starting your meal.

Being raised as a princess, you were expected to be prim and proper at all times. That meant having immensely smaller portions of food to your male counterparts, so having a large meal - the same as the two men - is foreign to you.

You eat as much as you can, about half of the plate, before you start to feel full. Your eyes light up as you recall passing a beggar on your way to the inn. Deciding then that you’ll spare some of your own coin to buy the carriage driver his own meal, you ask the inn keeper if he can wrap up the remnants of your food in some cloth.

“I hope you’re saving that for later.” Geralt comments once you’ve ordered another meal for the driver.

You take a beat to reply, debating whether to tell him the truth, “Of course I am.” You lie, a sickly sweet smile gracing your lips.

“Hmm.”

A while later, whilst Geralt and Jaskier are having a hushed conversation, you attempt to drink some of your ale. This is another first for you too, never having had a sip of any sort of alcoholic beverage before.

Deciding that the best option is to go all in, you take a huge gulp of the brown liquid, regretting it instantly as you spit it all back onto the wooden table, choking and gasping as your throat burns.

You exchange an embarrassed, wide eyed look with Geralt and Jaskier, and there is a long moment of silence before they start to laugh. Yes, properly laughing. You’d expected it from Jaskier, but the deep peels of laughter that rumble from the Witcher take you by surprise.

“Oh! That was just priceless!” Jaskier wails, and you can’t quite tell whether he is pretending to wipe the tear out of his eye or if he is actually crying.

“Shut up.” You grumble, your face flush with embarrassment. Jaskier’s laughs fade in mere chuckles and Geralt just observes you quietly, a smile still tugging slightly on the corner of his mouth.

“Excuse the question, Geralt, but I don’t quite understand the carriage driver's insistence on sleeping in the carriage. Surely he can find a safe place to leave it for a night?”

“Princess, his whole livelihood rests on that carriage. If it goes, he’s done for. Not worth the risk for a comfortable night, I’d assume.”

“Oh.” You hate how frequently you’re reminded of the fact that you’re utterly clueless about anything outside of your luxurious lifestyle. You’re pretty sure that this will change during your month on the road, you’ve already experienced so many things you had never even imagined, “May I be excused to deliver his meal to him? I’m sure he’d appreciate some warm food.”

Geralt doesn’t answer, he just pins you with that annoying stare once more. Yes, annoying, that’s what you’re telling yourself.

“Of course you can, Y/N, excuse Geralt’s lack of brain cells that stop him from keeping up with a simple conversation.”

The Witcher’s arm darts out and before you even see what has happened, Jaskier is once again gasping in pain.

“You’re in no place to give such permission, bard,” He sends a side-eyed glare to the bard who grips his arm with a dark look in his eyes, “You’ve got an hour, princess, any longer than that and I’m coming to collect you. Are we clear?”

“Crystal.” You grin, sending a thankful nod to the innkeeper who hands you the two parcels of wrapped food.

With one final wave to an apprehensive looking Geralt, you make your way back through the town. Your eyes light up when you realise the beggar is still in the same place, you approach her carefully and your breath stills when you realise she is holding a small baby.

“Hello there.” Your voice is soft as you approach her, and the woman smiles at you, although her eyes remain guarded. You notice she hugs the child tighter to her chest as you approach, and you can hardly blame her. It’s hard to know who to trust these days.

“Evening, miss.” Her voice is tired, croaky and worn. She sounds exasperated, and it is probably something to do with your rather… glamorous… attire. It is not customary for people of higher standing to treat beggars well. You’d heard stories of the young lords in your kingdom teasing and taunting the poor beggars.

“I picked up an extra portion of food in the inn,” You pause, wondering how to phrase this, “I was wondering if you’d like it?” Her eyes seem to light up when you show her the parcel of food, physical proof that you’re not playing a practical joke on her.

You’re torn as you gaze at the baby, wanting to give the half portion that you saved for the driver to make sure it gets fed. Surely you can explain to Geralt why you didn’t end up going back to the driver? Plus, this baby definitely needs it more.

“Oh, thank you miss.” The woman cries, her eyes literally tearing up as she inhales, taking in the fact that she is going to have a real meal tonight. She seems in disbelief when you hand her the other wrapped food parcel, telling her that it is for the baby, “Are you sure?”

“Yes, please take it.” You smile at her, beginning your walk back to the inn as she begins to cry. You stop, your mind screaming at you not to leave her there, and you turn back to the two with a resigned sigh, “Excuse me, ma’am, I’m staying at the local inn. Could I pay for you to spend the night there?”

The guarded expression returns to her eyes as she observes you, but she looks back down at the food in her hands and seems to realise that you’re not messing with her. She rises slowly, a pained expression on her face as she clutches the baby tightly to her breast. There is a limp in her step and you realise she has probably been sat in the same position for a while.

She catches up and falls into step beside you, a silence falling over you as you think of what to say.

“What is your name?” You start simple, hoping you can ease her into conversation without scaring her away.

By the time you reach the inn again, you’re laughing with the woman who you discovered is only two years your senior. Her name is Lettie, and she was kicked out of her home when she got pregnant out of wedlock. The father of the baby didn’t want anything to do with them, and left them to fend for themselves on the street.

She has a lovely baby girl named Faith, who giggles away as you babble at her. Lettie giggles at the story of Jaskier almost throwing up over your anecdote about the scar on your leg, and you laugh along as you push open the door to the inn. Once again, you’re on the receiving end of judgemental glances from the patrons - but Lettie doesn’t seem phased as she follows you over to the table where Geralt and Jaskier are watching you with wide eyes.

“When I let you out of my sight for an hour, I didn’t think you’d return with more people, princess.” Geralt grumbles, his harsh gaze fixed on Lettie and Faith, who both observe the Witcher curiously.

“Princess?” Lettie questions, only just seeming to register the term Geralt used to address you.

“Uh, yeah.” You blush, scratching the back of your neck, “I’m paying for her board for the night Geralt. I’ve plenty of coin to spare, why not use it for something good?” You ponder, gaining the attention of the innkeeper’s wife, requesting a large room with an adjoining bathroom, “I’d like a few jugs of hot water for a bath to be brought up, please.” You finish, smiling at Lettie whose eyes are teary once more.

“Oh, Y/N, I don’t even know what to say. This is the most kindness I’ve been shown in a long, long time. It… it means so much to me, you don’t even realise.”

You place a hand on her thin arm and squeeze gently, “Please, it’s a pleasure. Would you like me to watch Faith while you have a bath? I can sit in the adjoining room with her, if you’re weary of leaving her with me.”

She seems to mull over your offer for a while, before finally deciding that she can trust you, taking the room key off you with a smile.

“Please, take care of her. If she cries, she likes to suck on something - or maybe eat some food.” Lettie kisses her baby on the forehead and hands her over to you.

Now, you’ve never held a baby before. However, extensive lessons in motherhood from your own mother have prepared you for this moment - you clutch Faith, gently cradling her head in your palm as you rock her slowly. The baby seems at ease with you right away, and Lettie heads towards her room with a relieved sigh.

“Princess…” Geralt mumbles once more, and you finally look at the two men as you take a seat on the bench, still rocking Faith.

“Oh, hiiiii there.” Jaskier coos, stumbling around the circumference of the table to sit beside you, fawning over the little baby in your arms. Her wide eyes land on Jaskier and she lets out a shriek of delight when he begins to play peek-a-boo with her.

Faith reaches towards the bard, signalling that she wants him to hold her. You let out an aww and hand him the baby, finally meeting the gaze of Geralt who looks incredibly annoyed.

“What are you playing at, princess? We can’t bring them with us.” His tone is firm, no nonsense as he refuses to let you break from his gaze. You sigh, scooting over towards him, trying to ignore the way your mind screams at you to get even closer.

“I know that, Geralt. I was only going to give her some food and I saw her baby and… I couldn’t just leave them there. I’m going to part with them in the morning, after I give them some coin. I promise.” You look up at the Witcher through your eyelashes, your persuasive look has never failed before.

He groans, finally removing his gaze from yours and clenching his jaw.

“One night. We’ll be leaving early in the morning.”

You bite your lip to hide the victorious smile on your face.

*****

Tag list:

@over300books

#geralt of rivia #geralt x reader #geralt imagine #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt x oc #geralt fanfic #geralt of rivia x ofc #geralt of rivia x oc #geralt of rivia imagine #the witcher imagine #witcher imagine #geralt x y/n #geralt x you #geralt x ofc #geralt of rivia x you #geralt of rivia x y/n

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antiadvil · 3 years ago

Text

Sparks Fly

Summary: Dan and Phil’s vacation after Vidcon is going well, until a mistake from Phil sets the whole thing up in flames. Rating: PG-13 wc: ~2.2k A/N: written for the @phandomreversebang! Shoutout to my team ( @schnaphan as the talented artist and @catboydan as my incredibly tolerant beta who did not mind me getting the fic done a day before posting) for being incredibly helpful and supportive of the weird direction I decided to take a “sparks fly” prompt in. You can see @schnaphan’s art here.

Read on ao3 or beneath the cut.

Phil was proud of this one. An airbnb cabin, far away enough from the rest of the world that they would get some space to themselves for once, but close enough to civilization that it had broadband internet. The perfect place to wind down together after Vidcon. He stretched his feet out onto the glossy wooden coffee table and turned another page, trying to focus on his book.

“Ah!” Dan jumped back a bit as he entered the living room. “Did we really need to keep the cutout?”

“It’s funny,” Phil insisted. He wasn’t sure what exactly had inspired him to stuff the cardboard cutout of Dan into their suitcases when the man from the convention asked if they wanted to keep it, but it annoyed Dan to see a replica of himself stand in the cabin’s living room, so stand it did.

“It keeps scaring the shit out of me.” Dan glared at it, somewhat resentfully.

“Even better.” Phil attempted a wink.

Dan rolled his eyes. “Just wanted to say I’m tired. Going to bed.”

Phil looked up from his book, trying to suppress his disappointment. “So early?”

“Tired.” Dan leaned over the back of the sofa to try to reach Phil’s face, reaching out with his hands to pull him closer when Phil jokingly pulled away.

“Good night,” Dan said, kissing Phil on the forehead, and then on both cheeks when he pouted. “Do your best to survive without me. You’ll have your book to keep you company. Very intellectual.”

Phil rolled his eyes, turning back to his (somewhat trashy) horror novel. “Good night. Sleep well.” It was good that Dan was going to bed early, probably, he hadn’t been sleeping well recently. Hopefully he’d be able to catch up on some sleep tonight and feel better.

The cottage was quieter than Phil expected with Dan in bed in the other room. It was a bit eerie, so far away from the rest of the world, alone in the woods, and Phil found scenes from the axe murderer horror novel in his hand flitting through his head a bit more vividly than he would have liked.

He needed something to calm him down, ground him, and he remembered from the advice he had absorbed through Dan’s therapist. A scented candle, maybe? It would be cozy and warm, and you never saw scented candles in books about axe murderers. There were scented candles already provided on the coffee table, he’d just have to find the matches.

There were probably some in the kitchen. He stood up and moved to the kitchen, searching the cabinet until he found the matches. He struck one, absentmindedly, before remembering the candle was in the other room. The flame was already flickering down—he didn’t have long to get there before it burnt out.

His resolve strengthening him, he summoned extra reserves of strength from deep within him to start a sprint back towards the living room. He was just rounding the corner when he noticed a human figure looming ahead of him. “Ah!” He jumped slightly before realizing it was just the cutout. God, Dan was right. It was terrifying. He looked for the candle, then paused. The match. Where was the match?

A flickering, growing glow in the corner of his eye answered his question. “Oh fuck,” Phil whispered. “Oh fuck, DAN, oh fuck-” he ran towards their room. “DAN,” he shouted again, swinging the door open.

Dan was sitting up in bed, massaging his head. “What the fuck did you do, Phil?”

“Fire,” Phil managed, “fire!”

He was starting to smell the smoke. Dan must’ve too, because his eyes widened. “Phil, you idiot, we can’t get out this way.”

Dan was sort of right, he supposed, the living room was between their bedroom and both the front and back doors, and a large chunk of it was on fire right now.

“You idiot, you should’ve gotten out.” Dan sounded scared now.

Phil wished he could say he had gone back out of some deep seated need to save Dan, but if he was being honest, it was just instinct at this point to run for Dan every time he made a mess. “It’s fine,” he said, looking around for an exit. The window. Phil silently thanked his past self for booking an Airbnb with only one story.

Dan’s eyes followed Phil’s gaze, and he must’ve had the same thought, because he grabbed Phil’s arm, dragging him over to the window and wrenching it open. “The screen-” Phil said, before Dan let go of his hand to push at it until the screen came loose, falling onto the ground on the other side of the window.

“Come on,” Dan said, swinging a leg over the side. He hopped awkwardly down, dragging his other leg after him. “Come on.”

Phil’s legs seemed to seize up, but with enough of Dan’s tugging he made it over the windowsill, his foot catching and sending him tumbling into the sweetly scented, but somewhat thorny, flowerbed. “Ow,” he muttered, looking at the scratches running their way down his long, pale arms. He found himself staring at them, transfixed, as a single drop of blood welled up and trickled down his arm.

Dan pulled at his arm again. “Phil, move-”

Phil stumbled to his feet and out of the flowerbed, following Dan until they were about 20 feet away from the house, just where the grass turned into woods. Oh god, Phil could just see the headlines about how two British idiots were the cause of the latest California wildfire—

“Call 911,” Dan said, sounding just a little less frantic now that they were out of the house.

Phil patted his pockets, looking for his phone. He found a phone-shaped lump in the left one, and pulled it out, his hands shaking as he tried to pull up the phone icon and type in the numbers. It took him a couple of tries, but he finally got the number in right.

A woman’s cool voice sounded from Phil’s phone speakers. “911, what’s your emergency?”

“Right! Emergency. I’m here with my—um—friend,” Phil said awkwardly. “We’re on vacation, from the UK, well, vacation after a convention—you don’t care about visas, do you?” he said, suddenly remembering Dan’s Bahamas fiasco from a few years ago.

Dan glared at him. “The fire,” he prodded.

“Right!” Phil said. “My house is on fire.”

“Do you have an address?” the woman on the other end asked in the calmest voice Phil had ever heard.

“Address,” Phil motioned to Dan with a gesture he hoped clearly communicated, “get me the address for this airbnb,” but Dan didn’t seem to understand. He just looked confused.

“What?”

“What’s the address of this place?”

“Oh!” Dan said, digging out his phone (Phil was suddenly grateful that neither of them could be separated from their phones for long enough to lose them in an emergency). He stared at his screen anxiously, as if he was waiting for something to load.

When it finally did, he didn’t even read it out loud, just shoved the email in front of Phil’s face so he could read it to the dispatcher.

“Alright, sir, help is on the way,” the woman on the phone said. “Are you and your friend a safe distance from the house?”

Phil looked around. “Um, I think so.”

“Perfect. And there’s no one else in the building? Any pets?”

“No. Just us.”

“We’ll be sending an ambulance around just to check that everyone is alright, just so you know.”

Phil hoped he wouldn’t be charged for that. He missed the NHS. “Okay.”

“I’m just going to need you to sit tight until then, okay? Now, can you answer a few questions about the fire?”

She asked a few vague questions about how the fire started, and Phil was grateful that he didn’t have to actually explain what happened, just say it was an accident. Her questions seemed more designed to keep him on the line and calm him down until the fire truck came than to get any actual answers about the fire from him. Phil tried not to look too hard at the growing flames, glowing in the window.

After a few minutes, he could hear sirens in the distance, and a fire truck and ambulance pulled up in his driveway. A few figures in bulky suits hopped out of the truck, immediately getting to work unrolling a hose and aiming it towards the windows of the living room, where Phil could see flames flickering.

“Right,” a very tall man in firefighter gear strode over to them. “I just have a few questions about how the fire started. I don’t suppose you’d be willing to help?”

“You should probably talk to Phil about that, I have to make a few calls,” Dan said, ducking away and patting Phil’s hand before leaving him alone to face his interrogation.

“Yeah,” Phil gulped. “I was there.” He forced himself to look up to make eye contact with the firefighter.

“Right,” the man said, writing something in a notepad. “You saw it start?”

“Yes,” Phil said. “I, uh, was carrying a match.”

The man raised an eyebrow and wrote something down again. “You were carrying a match,” he repeated.

“Yes,” Phil said, finally breaking eye contact. “I was carrying a lit match and I dropped it.”

“Hmmm.” Some more writing. “Why’d you drop it?”

“Well, um, me and my-” Phil hesitated for just a second. “Me and my friend kept this cardboard cutout from this convention we went to, and when I walked back into the living room it startled me and I dropped it.” He didn’t dare look up and risk making eye contact again, but even the other man’s pen scribbling seemed judgemental.

“Right. So then something caught on fire from that?”

“I think it was the carpet. I’m not sure.”

“Well,” the man said, clearing his throat. “You and your friend are lucky you’re safe. I hope you’ve learned to be more careful with matches next time.”

“I have. Sir.” Phil cringed inwardly, hoping it didn’t show on his face. Sir? Was he a child being scolded at school?

The firefighter seemed to accept Phil’s assurance, though, nodding once before turning away and moving back to the truck, just as Dan emerged from the ambulance and jogged over.

“Your turn.” Dan nodded towards the ambulance.

Phil sighed. At least the paramedics probably wouldn’t ask him any questions about how he had managed to start a house fire.

When Phil’s exam was done and he got out of the ambulance, Dan was waiting for him. “I found us a hotel,” he said.

“I love you,” Phil said.

“As you should.”

“What about our stuff?” Phil asked, anxious.

“They let me go in to get our suitcases. Nothing else, though I’m not sure I’d be able to find anything else if I was allowed to try. The living room looked pretty bad.”

They hadn’t gotten a chance to unpack much yet. Just having their suitcases should be fine, though Phil missed his horror novel already. But still, Phil groaned. “Are we going to be in trouble with the Airbnb host?”

“Nope,” Dan said. “I called already, they have insurance for idiots like us.” He smiled as he said it. Phil couldn’t help but appreciate that he had lumped the two of them together, as if this whole mess hadn’t been entirely Phil’s fault. “We’re not getting our money back, though.”

Phil sighed. “Understandable.” It was probably the best outcome he could ask for, especially with he and Dan safe… and how expensive US medical bills could get. “How far is the hotel?”

“About half an hour.” Phil opened his mouth, but Dan cut him off. “I’ll drive. You’ve caused enough damage for today.”

He was smiling, just teasing, but Phil couldn’t help the flush of shame that came over him anyway. “I’m sorry.”

Dan threw an arm around Phil’s back and pulled him closer. “I know,” he whispered. “Now come on. Let’s get out of here and get some rest.”

The hotel room wasn’t as nice as their cabin had been. It was on the smaller side, and the carpet was scratchy and gray. The mattress on the equally gray bed was a bit lumpy, but Phil couldn’t bring himself to care as he dragged himself into it.

Dan collapsed next to him. “How is it that I’m the one functional in an emergency?” he asked. “I’m the one crippled by existential despair all the time.”

“I don’t know,” Phil confessed, wringing his hands. “I just… I panicked.”

“I know,” Dan sighed, patting Phil’s face fondly.

“Nothing like a near death experience to solidify a relationship, though, right?” Phil joked weakly.

Dan patted his face again, a bit more clumsily. “Nothing like a near death experience to make me tired.”

He lapsed into silence then, and Phil listened to him fall asleep, counting every breath, matching them with his own until his eyes drifted closed and he fell into a dark, dreamless sleep where, finally, he could no longer smell the wood smoke.

#phan #phanfic #my writing #phanfiction

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athena-is-a-chaotic-lil-shit · 4 years ago

Text

Of Ice and Blood

Part 8

Supposedly everything I post consecutively is one part, but I always reach the 250 block limit everytime so I am forced to cut it off! It's all good though, I just hope you don't mind that.

Anyways, enjoy reading! I'll be working on my requests after I post this and the slasher fic in my works.

Edit: Holy sh*t I thought it wouldn't fit but it did! (And I meant the word count you dirty lil thing—) This will be the longest part in the series yet (since 4.3k words fit perfectly)

Pairing: Tai'chi Kashharzol (Orc) x Pearl Blackbell (Fem!Human/Reader)

Word count: 4.3k

Warnings: None :)

Contains: f l u f f (and maybe too much blushing but I have no regrets)

—

You let the student call the police as you tied up four unconscious men using their clothing. You left when you heard the distant sound of sirens and trusted her to explain what had transpired in the alley. You bid her farewell, resuming your walk to your destination. You breathed out your exhaustion, the little energy you got from a short nap earlier got spent punching people again.

"So...that was..."

"Expected." The orc supplied when you trailed off.

"Mm...Yeah."

Expected, both disappointing and frustrating. You did your best not to snap at the kid for it and only hoped she understood and learned.

The sun had already sunk long ago, but there was still a myriad of warm colors. Very subtle, but there. Each passing second transitioning it into a darker shade until little specks of light became visible. The sky...black in a matter of minutes. Street lamps lit your path as shops both closed and opened for the night with people saying hello and goodbye.

"Thank you, by the way. For uh, earlier." You got careless. Too careless than you usually are.

You shivered at the thought of what might've been the outcome.

He only nodded, along with a grunt of affirmation beside you.

"Are you mad?" you whispered. Was he angry at you being a stupid idiot and rushing straight into danger?

"No, just, "—he sighed, rubbing his forehead with his fingers—"worried." His scent was clearly not just of worry. He was also scowling.

Tai'chi was very worried about you, he always had ever since you met, which wasn't long but he felt a strong need to protect you, even if you could handle yourself well on your own. Oh, but he was angry, enraged within at those men who harmed the poor student, especially at the one who almost stabbed you at the back. If they were in his stronghold they would've been fed to the wargs.

No, he would've torn them apart himself.

You didn't speak again until you arrived at your place, finally. You're not rich and even if you were you have no desire to live in those luxurious and super expensive condos. You preferred to have something homey, small, as long as it had what you needed for comfort and safety, you were content.

It also saves a lot of money for future expenses and emergencies.

"So, uhm, welcome." You said as you unlocked your door after several tries on putting the key in. Tai'chi ducked considerably under it, his large frame barely making it through.

You took off your shoes, placed them on the side, and kept your socks on. He followed suit, taking off his boots, coming out barefooted.

It wasn't smelly, which was pretty surprising.

You headed to your kitchen and prepare dinner for both of you, but a hand on your shoulder stopped you in your tracks.

"I will cook." Tai'chi spoke and you immediately replied, stuttering.

"I-I should be the one cooking for you! It's not right. I'm the host and you're the guest it shouldn't be—"

"Pearl, I will cook." He asserted, his voice deep and confident, you sighed as it made you relent. You'd make a mess if you did anyway, might chop your hand off with a knife or dunk your head in the pot.

"Fine. But next time I'll do something for you instead," you groaned.

The orc grunted once before he stepped past you and into your kitchen while you plodded to your room.

Tai'chi paused for a moment to take in the details of your house. It was fairly small. From where he stood, his head was a foot away from touching the ceiling. To his left was an open way to what he assumed was the living room where he could make out half of a brown couch facing away from him. He also noticed a couple of framed photos hanging on a faded orange wall. Tai'chi glanced in the direction where you disappeared, he could hear the faint sound of the shower going on.

Good.

Not wanting to waste any more time, he started preparing dinner for the two of you, making use of what was present in your humble home. You had a similarly humble kitchen with a simple stovetop and double-door cupboards.

A decent-sized (a/n: everything is small to him okay) refrigerator sat in the corner where he found some meat in its freezer, quite a huge portion for such a small person like you, but then again he witnessed firsthand how much you could eat, and eat like an orc you did. Tai'chi reached inside to grab the meat but met resistance. He subconsciously yanked the frozen thing off, his eyes widened when he realized what he did, nearly topping over the whole appliance. Tai'chi sheepishly adjusted the refrigerator back in its place, before he looked for other ingredients while he carefully moved around to avoid any more mishaps.

You went inside your bedroom, groggy and disgusting as you pulled off your clothes and threw them in a basket just outside your bathroom. You stepped inside and took a long, hot, well-deserved shower to get that dried sweat and blood off of your body. After you rinsed down, you sunk yourself in your little tub, sighing in content as you tried your best not to fall asleep. You shuddered and trapped yourself in a daze, enjoying the hot water around your naked form, relaxing in the aromatherapy you made for yourself as you hummed a tune, letting your thoughts wander.

The precision of that throw was simply scary. But also cool...mm. Awesome.

I wonder what happened to the Silverstones...

Courting, huh...who would've thought I'd be courted by an orc. I wonder what that entails...

Wait, I'll be courting him too, right?

"..."

You got out when the wrinkling started. Your muscles were still aching but less so than before. You used a towel to dry down before wearing a black oversized shirt, you had about 6 of them in your wardrobe 'cause hey, not one to dress up fancy and flashy. Plus blood gets splattered on your clothes a lot, it would be a waste of time and money. You also slipped inside your favorite pair of dark grey joggers, the one you always wore when you were at home. They were comfy!

You let your hair fall over your shoulders and back since it was still damp. When you got out the scent of cooked food engulfed you, wafting from your right.

Oh, how mouth-watering it was.

You tiptoed to your kitchen to peek at what Tai'chi cooked up. Unfortunate when you couldn't see anything with his broad physique was blocking your line of sight on the table.

"I could smell you, you know."

You almost, almost let out a yelp. You wiped your drool with the hem of your shirt.

"I- uh-"

He chuckled, "You must be starving. I—" Words died in his throat when he turned around to look at you.

He gawked.

You surprised him for the nth time today. There you stood before him, relaxed and freshly cleaned up, a whiff of mint reached his nose, your shampoo perhaps, mixed with your scent. You didn't have your mask on, which gave him a full look at your face, your lips were a little chapped, half-lidded eyes showing your exhaustion.

"Is there something on my face?"

"N-No." He stuttered as he tried to get something out. "Ehem, no. You just look... I'm done with dinner, you— we should eat, and then we can talk." Tai'chi said as he moved to take a chair and sat across you. You let that go, in favor of sating your hunger.

His cheeks were a bit darker in shade than his skin, but that slipped away as the dinner in front of you grabbed your full attention. It looked and smelled like pork curry. Was it pork curry? It's like something straight out of a Ghibli movie.

Bite-sized chunks of meat, diced potatoes, and carrots coated with a rich syrupy brown soup together with a modest –at least to both of you– portion of rice next to it. It was simple, but the way it tempted your senses implied that there was something more than what meets the eye, and your nose.

Or it's your gluttony speaking, probably.

You picked up your spoon and wondered if it's as good as it appears to be. You gulped, audibly.

You brought a small portion into your mouth, nearly falling off of your seat as you resisted the urge to make any sound that would outright embarrass you, but lo, as you took another spoonful, you couldn't stop yourself from letting out a moan. Your eyes widened and immediately covered your face with two hands as you felt it heat up.

You chewed and swallowed before you squeaked out, "I-I-I'm so sorry! It- It's just so yummy and tasty and I— it's amazing, and uh..." You trailed off and groaned, at a loss of words in your embarrassment. You risked to part your fingers and peek at him. He met your gaze and you hid again. His cheeks were in a darker hue than before. Was he flustered like you? Oh no, you shouldn't have done that, now he will think you're being weird!

Tai'chi cleared his throat and you removed your hands but refused to make eye contact with him, your face still hot.

"We... We should eat." He said, stiff and trying to seem indifferent. But that sound you made would forever be engraved into his mind, it was both cute, and, well, sensual.

Okay fine, it was somehow arousing, but he has it under control, he will keep his damn urges in check, even if it means jumping out of the window just to make sure he won't scare you away. He's an orc of honor for goodness' sake, he swore an oath, he will keep it.

You ate fast but paused to savor the food, minus any embarrassing noises, thankfully. The curry was rich and a bit spicy, the pork was soft and tender as you chewed at it easily, juicy as it is, along with the potatoes and carrots, both cooked and prepared with obvious care. You almost cried from the combination of flavors you nearly forgot it was just curry you're eating.

But damn, this is the best curry you've eaten your whole life.

It was minutes later when you finished your fourth heaping plate of food. Tai'chi had five. He made a lot which was great, considering how your plates were wiped clean as if they weren't used in the first place.

Damn, you ate like you didn't eat for a week.

With some regained energy, you stood and took the dishes before Tai'chi could even stop you, putting them in the sink and washing them, quick and thorough. Once you were done with that, you went back to your seat, ducked your head, and stared at your lap.

"..."

"I... Thank you for the food. It was really delicious and great and everything! And, uhm, you made the pork curry like a pro and I never tasted anything so fulfilling, —my mother will beat me if she heard that—and it was a simple curry but I, it's just so, so—" you huffed, "mind-blowing!" You were rambling, you knew. You looked up when he didn't say anything.

H-He's grinning...

"Thank you. I pride myself in my skill in the kitchen and I'm happy what I made for you was satisfying." Tai'chi thumped his chest, showing that he was very honoured to hear your words. He's never telling you he almost broke your fridge though.

"It was great!" You exclaimed right after him, throwing your hands up. It was truly great. He grinned even wider at this, that dark shade still present in his cheeks, though you were no better as you could feel the warmth on your own.

"Then I am beyond happy and honored to hear that from you," liga lul, he stated, only saying of the last part in his head.

You smiled at each other.

"Is now a good time to discuss my kind's courting rituals?" Taichi asked after a minute of sitting there in silence.

"Y-Yes, please," you replied. "So, how do orcs court someone?"

He straightened up in his seat.

"We show off to the one we're interested in, basically speaking. Ranging from skills in fighting to proving that we could provide for our...mate." He paused, watching you closely.

You nodded for him to continue. Not gonna lie, that last part made your heart skip a beat. Mate, huh.

"We," he coughed, "we also chase or fight off other suitors, be it threatening them or engaging them in battle. And if they attempt to kidnap or hurt the person courted in any way, they will suffer the wrath of an orc."

"So, they'll...die?"

"Yes, or so that's what it usually was back home. Here, in this city, it's a crime to kill someone just for that reason, but it is law among us. No one would bat an eye if someone gets beheaded just because they were foolish enough to insult the person an orc is courting."

"Oh," pretty brutal but okay. "Is there an option where they don't get murdered or..." You asked, waving your hand around. Killing because of an insult is going overboard, in your opinion, but then again, anyone would be furious if their potential partner gets slandered or taken away forcefully.

"When the courted wills it. It is always up to them to decide the fate of those who tried to harm them, and the orc must take their words into action."

"Oh, good. I really don't want you getting in trouble just because someone called me a freak and all," you said. You looked at your hands, calloused and a little rough from experience. Scars were littered over your body and you hid them well from any curious eye with your long sleeves and pants. Though right now, some of the scars on your arms were visible.

You jerked when you felt his large hand grab your arm and moved along to yours, rubbing his thumb on the back of it, his brows furrowed as he looked at you.

"They are wrong to call you that."

"And everyone's a piece of shit to call you a beast, a savage, or a murderer," you followed up in an instant.

His expression softened, and you smiled, ignoring how your heart hammered in your chest as he continued to caress your hand.

Tai'chi could feel your pulse, beating so fast he was scared for your health. But he was happy to know he could make you feel this way, his own heart was thumping loudly in his chest too.

"As I said before, we would show that we could provide for our potential partners. We would bring to them our best kills from hunts, offer gifts crafted by ourselves if we have the skill, if not, we will buy them tokens and things that remind us of them or what pleases them."

"Wait," you interrupted, "when you insisted on cooking dinner, was that a part of courting?"

He gave you a small smile as he scratched his sideburns, sheepish like a little child caught stealing candy.

"Yes." He answered, rather quiet than his usual booming voice.

"Uhm, I must say, it was really amazing. Your cooking, I mean. And thank you, again."

"The pleasure's all mine," he replied. "Building houses or fixing the courted's current one is also a part of it."

"You're not gonna build me house right away, are you?" You joked, but then he didn't reply. "Wait, you're serious? But we're still studying and—"

"I am serious about building a house for, uh, the two of us," he interrupted, "but yes, I understand our current situation won't allow that to happen...yet."

"H-How long does the courting last?" You couldn't help but ask. He's talking about building you a house someday and you don't even know how old he is! No connection to what you're fumbling about but yeah, your mind is messed up. You are curious though...his age.

"It usually lasts for six months, to give time to get to know each other but also not prolong the courting stage so they could proceed to the next, but there are times when it lasts longer than that. You will have absolute control over how fast or slow we proceed in the courtship. That means it's up to you on when to end it and decide whether you'll...take me as your mate, or turn me down."

"Sounds pressuring but okay." You want to, like, combust right now.

He chuckled.

"Pressuring? No, no, please do not be pressured. Your word is law and I will face death by my family's ax if I disobey your final decision."

"Again with the death thingy!" You were appalled at how extreme orcs were.

"Us orcs are very strict and firmly tied to our traditions, but I can say we are changing. It is slow, but change nonetheless."

"I have a question," you raised your free hand out of habit.

Tai'chi nodded.

"I hope this is won't offend but how old are you?"

There, you said it. Oh fuck, you hoped it wasn't offending. Shit it was— asking his age, seriously?

"How old do you think I am?" He questioned, teasing you, a smirk on his lips catching you off guard.

"What? Noooo that's not an answer! I can't guess, you might get angry."

"I won't," he supplied right after. Why would he be? In fact, he is pretty much enjoying himself just watching you fidget with your ears slightly tinted pinkish. By the gods, he wants to touch them.

You sighed.

You stared at him, avoiding eye-contact as you tilted your head to get a good look at his features. He had a long and narrow scar you didn't spot before, in a lighter green color on the left side of his face. It wasn't noticeable if you stare at him up-front. It went down his neck and ended just above his collar bone. You wondered what caused it.

The orc was rough, his double tusks sharp and intimidating, even horrifying to another set of eyes but to you, he was attractive and rugged, his scent alluring and you only found him more fascinating each passing second. The scars he had enticed your curiosity but you weren't gonna ask about it, yet.

You always thought the standards set by society are rather absurd. You looked back at the time when someone asked you what your type was, along with showing you different pictures of men, human men, which were deemed "hot" (with quotation marks, yes) by most people. You didn't answer because; one, you don't know them; two, you couldn't tell what their personality was because you can't scent them; and three, it only annoyed you. People found you even weirder after that. Ironically deeming you senseless for not having an eye for beauty. No taste or missing out, they said.

But one's beauty wasn't found in sight alone.

You hummed to yourself. His hair was rich black, no trace of graying, so maybe he's not so old? 30s? How fast do orcs grow up? Do they even age? What do they look like when they were children?

You were brought back to the present when he gently squeezed your hand.

"Oh— uh, 35?" You blurted out, a bit panicked. As far as you know no one is as....buff as him in your age— but wait he's an orc!

"Oh no wait that's—"

You were cut off by a loud snort followed by a boisterous laugh coming out of Tai'chi, making you more embarrassed than you already are. His guffaw shook your apartment you swear your neighbors are filing a noise complaint tomorrow with how much he was laughing and you raising your voice.

"No," he said, "no actually, I'm still in my 23rd year. Do I really look that old?" He questioned as he chortled.

"23rd?! But you're— you're," you gestured at him. He's just five years older than you (which isn't long period of time you think) but he's— he's fucking huge! What the hell did they eat up North?

"Yes," he laughed again, amused by your reaction. "Believe it or not I am. Orcs begin training at age 6" he shifted the topic, "The adults would let them choose their desired weapon and craft to pursue, but also allowed them to experience all selections, from swords, battle axes, hammers, and many more, along with skills and crafts like hunting, blacksmithing, combat, construction, even basket weaving.

"I went on my first hunt when I was 12 and brought a stag back home. I tamed my first warg at 15, named him Nadul, Orcish for 'night'."

"6 year old me snuck out of the house during nap time to collect twigs in the woods while you were wielding weapons and—"

"That is correct,"

"And you had a pet warg?" You knew what wargs are, you read about them when you were in high school, along with other animals that fascinated you. They looked like large wolves with the stature of an adult grizzly bear and can carry a full-grown orc into battle.

"Have," he corrected, his fluffy buddy was still very much alive and well the last time he went back to visit his home, which was three months ago. He doubted anything could take down Nadul, not even a Frostbear, he was the one who trained him after all.

"I still can't believe you're 23. You look so..."— you were not gonna say old, no— "mature."

"At a different rate from humans, yes."

Of course they do. You got so much to learn about orcs, and him.

"And you? How old are you?"

"19."

"Oh? You look 13 with how little you are,"

You didn't expect him to be playful like this, but you went along.

"Hey! I'm only small compared to you, you giant!" True, you were a tad shorter than most girls your age but it has its perks! You'd save a lot of money from buying clothes just because you grew rather slowly. "And in fact, I'm still growing!"

"So am I." He grinned, smugness painted all over his face.

"Noooo, if you keep growing you won't fit through the doorway!" You whined, pouting at how much of a tease he was being.

He found it adorable, the way your lower lip was upturned as you looked at him. The sudden urge to pat you rose but he didn't act on it.

"Do not worry, us orcs stop growing in our 25th year," or not. "And I will make sure to feed and treat you good so you'll become taller!" he stated confidently. Tai'chi was about to laugh again, but he froze with his jaw open when you turned real red, your ears tinted and your lips quivered, unable to speak out anything.

That last part, made your face feel like fire just kissed it, twice. Panicked and having no idea what to retort, you let your head fall on the table with a thud. You gripped his hand tight and took silent breaths to calm your thumping heart down.

"Y-Yeah... I..I l-look forward to that, Tai'chi." You were able to say that at least.

He gave a soft grunt as he looked at you on the table.

You were very flustered, he scented. His comment-sort-of-declaration was clearly the reason. But oh, he had no regrets. He will make sure you're healthy and well-fed, and it's just one way of showing off with his skills.

That's only the beginning.

You were in for some Orcish surprises.

You sat in comfortable silence again for a while, just taking in each other's scents, soothing and calming your hammering heart. Tai'chi continued to caress your hand, gentle for such a big orc like him. He could snap your neck with two fingers alone, but he remained careful like he was holding a thing so delicate.

Tai'chi could feel your pulse slow down to a normal rate, your scent shifted to that of a relaxed state and something fuzzy. He can't call you his yet, you just met today but you already got him wrapped around your tiny fingers. First, he will court you and show his admiration, prove his worth. And you, yourself, turning it into love the more you spend time together, he knows it will.

And he'll surely be damned to let this chance slip. Not once did he took interest in getting a mate before, his mind too busy and filled with his responsibilities along with studies in other kind's culture, and taking care of his siblings.

But back then and there, something pulled on his heart, the way your eyes stared into his for seconds that felt longer than eternity itself. An exaggeration, but that's what he felt.

He found you.

You were about to doze off so you removed your head from the table and tried to blink away your sleepiness, the light hurting you a little. You should get to bed soon, your first class starts at 8 in the morning. You stared at Tai'chi, admiring that blue eyes of his, its hue similar to that of lapis lazuli, you thought.

"I should take my leave now. We need to rest, especially you." Tai'chi said when he saw how tired you appeared, you were barely keeping your eyes open. He stood up from his seat, lightly pulling you up with him. You shook your head, rubbing your eyes as you led him to your door.

"Keep safe," you bid once he was ready to go.

"You as well... I will see you tomorrow."

"Mm, g'night."

Tai'chi breathed through his nose before he placed a kiss on your forehead. It was brief, but it sent a pleasant warmth all over your body. You were too sleepy to even bother being shy now, so you only smiled at him.

"Goodnight, lak'mar lul." He gazed at you, sighing before he stepped out of your apartment.

You stood there for a moment before you checked your door and made sure it was deadlocked. You killed the lights off as you sluggishly trudged to your bed. Darkness enveloped your home, a welcome one. You crawled to the middle and tucked yourself under the dark blue cotton sheets.

You were out like a light once you settled down. Much too many things happened right after another, draining you to an exhaustingly low point. You only prayed you'd feel better in the morning.

Your last thought was about how warm the orc was, and how, for some reason, his scent, his presence, felt like a home you never had, which was saying something since you had encountered a lot of scents in your life, both good and bad. You hugged your pillow tight as you succumbed to a dreamless slumber.

—

I'm putting this off for a bit to give time for requests and other WIPs. But if a random continuation pops out I'll have to write it down and set it aside for editing later.

Thank you for reading!

75 notes · View notes

dokoni-mo · 4 years ago

Text

Far Away, Together || Darth Vader x Reader

(A/N: Hello all! This is my first post on tumblr and I am so excited to share my fic with all you lovely people!!! I used to write alot, but haven’t in some time. Since I am renewing my love for star wars, I thought that I would do a little something for my favorite man of all time: Vader!!! A big thanks to Kenna for helping to inspire me to write again (you know who you are :))) ). This is chapter one of a series of about 10 chapters I plan to write. Please enjoy and feel free to ask to be added to the tag list!! also, not my gif)

WARNINGS: mentions of a TIE crash, some cursing

Key: (F/N) = first name (L/N) = last name

Word Count: ~3600

Edit: Link to Chapter Two: [x]

Life on the Super Star Destroyer was exactly the same as the ship looked on the outside: cold, dull, and gray. Color? What’s that? Life? Never heard of it.

No one ever really stopped to mingle with one another, even for a brief, courteous “hello!” or “hey, how’s it going?”. These types of action were seen as unnecessary and not impactful to squashing out the rebellion, as well as to eliminating any sign of hope that one day the Empire will just cease to exist, leaving everyone alone. Everything and everyone had a purpose within the Empire. Everyone had their own job, and heaven forbid that you are somehow unable to do that job. Any failure was seen as weakness, and the Empire had no use for weakness amongst its ranks. These were the fundamental truths of working under the Empire.

Being a mechanic wasn’t so bad. You got to do what you loved to do, so what’s so bad about that? Sure, you had very little contact with the outside world (aside from the occasional news briefing or smuggled-in holovid), you had very few acquaintances, and you were always just referred to as last name only, but all of these could be overlooked. You wake up, put on your drab, gray-green uniform, go to work, then go back to your quarters, rinse and repeat every day of every week. A nice little routine for your nice little job on the nice little imperial vessel.

To say you blended in with the crowd was wrong. Everyone blended in with the crowd, so to say you blended in with the crowd was diagnosing yourself with special-snowflake syndrome. There was no individuality within the Empire. There was only the Empire, the usage of names only a formality or a way to get one’s attention. Despite this, due to human nature, those serving would often try to attempt some sort of individuality. Female officers would have a signature way of pulling back their hair, troopers would talk in different made-up accents, and some even gave themselves tattoos. You, however, found your individuality within your work.

When fixing something, you would often put your own spin on how you bring said thing back to its former glory. Fixing a speederbike? Lets rewire the wires so that they make a nice, pretty zig-zag pattern. This will help it steer a bit better, anyway. Fixing a blaster with a faulty trigger? Why not add a new cooling system just to be nice. Fixing a TIE? Oh boy, the possibilities are endless.

This may be what has allowed you to rise through the ranks so quickly as a mechanic. There was seemingly nothing that you couldn’t inflict your midas touch upon. Plop anything down on your workbench and it's a guarantee that it will be fixed.

On the other hand, it may just be dumb luck. This is ultimately what you thought. You were just merely doing your job, trying to not cause any trouble for yourself, just like everyone else you worked with. It just so happened to be you that the Empire had noticed.

It was this attention that landed you this new assignment.The news had come suddenly and almost unexpectedly. Pack your bags, (F/N), you're out of the Endor research station and now on a one-way ticket to the Super Star Destroyer. Of course, there was no one around to pat you on the back when you got the news, and certainly no one to say congratulations. You did that yourself that night by treating yourself to an extra ration.

If you were anyone else within the Empirical army, you would be over the moon about working on this ship. But, you felt no emotion towards the subject. It was just another job, what’s so special about it?

You quickly learned the answer to that.

Him.

He made the entire aura of the ship much tenser than any other research station or star destroyer that you had ever been on. People were not kidding when they said that his entire presence dripped with authority and power. To defy him, was to defy the Empire. To fail him, was to fail the Empire. It also always meant a loss of your life by the point of his saber.

You remember the first time that you saw him with your own eyes, not just an image from a news briefing or the picture you formed in your head when you heard the stories. You were lined up along with all of your new fellow troopers, officers, and mechanics, your hands firmly by your sides and your chin held up high, your eyes the only part allowed to move. He had been returning from some sort of escapade, and it was time for another customary formal greeting for him.

He was hard to miss when the door to the shuttle had touched the cold, hard ground. Everything about him was massive, intimidating. Dressed head to toe in black, his frame resembling a man but his features that of a droid. Despite the layers upon layers of armor and clothing, you could tell his muscles were nothing to bat an eye at. His shoulderspan looked like it could be twice your own, and his hands look like they could wrap around your waist and crush you in to a million tiny pieces at any second. Hot.

As he walked past you, you could feel the floor vibrate with menacing trembles as he took each step. His breathing was enrapturing, filling up your ears like it was there to live rent-free. When he finally spoke (a simple “Good, admiral”), you could feel the bass right in the middle of your chest. His voice was encapsulating, surrounding you with it's deep, authoritative, encompassing demeanor. Even hotter.

Yes, Darth Vader was quite the interesting character. But, he was not the one, you had decided, to try and become buddy-buddy with. Far too risky. Instead, you would carry on as normal: do your job, and don’t get in anyone’s way. You have done this for years, and a change of scenery with a far more intimidating boss wouldn't change that.

Except when it did.

The day (you believed that it was day, at least. It was hard to keep track of time in the middle of space on a giant floating mouse cursor) was as simple as ever. You woke up, ate your breakfast rations, then went straight to work. They had you fixing a few blasters and comms that day. How exciting.

You almost didn't hear the sound of the sirens when they went off, nor how the room suddenly was flashing red. When you had finally came-to, the sound of a highly distressed officer was over the hangar’s comm system.

“Everyone clear the bridge now! Lord Vader is coming in hot!”

Coming in hot? You wondered what that had meant. Of course, you knew what that meant, but this was Lord Vader we were talking about. He was the best pilot in the whole Empirical fleet. He never crashed, you had thought.

Despite your judgement, you put down your tools and started to run along with the other mechanics. They seemed just as confused as you were, awkwardly trying to shuffle out of their stations into somewhere safe. Quietly slipping past the small crowd, you found refuge on the other side of the doorway you were in, finding a place to watch within one of the windows.

Looking up to the stars that made up the tail-end wall of your workplace, you were almost shocked to see that the officer over the comm wasn’t hallucinating. Lord Vader’s TIE was, indeed, coming in hot. A noticeable plumage of smoke followed in his wake, as well as the occasional burst of sparks and the odd chunk of metal falling off. The noise that TIE made when it passed through the barrier was unholy, making you wince right before you had jumped in your polished boots. Lord Vader’s TIE crashed right on the floor of your workspace, skidding along and spinning not before crashing into several unfinished projects and stopping just before the doorway you had been standing in.

Oh, maker. He’s dead.

That was your only thought as the smoke and dust around the TIE settled in the air. The smoke was occasionally illuminated by the sparks coming out of the ship. This was definitely not a pretty scene. That TIE was busted.

A twinge of some sort of odd emotion rippled through you as you saw the tip of a red stream of light pierced through the metal of the broken TIE. It made a large circle motion before shrinking back inside. Moments later, the circle had been thrown off, flying past the group of mechanics that had begun to shuffle awkwardly back into the hangar to inspect the scene for themselves. You had joined them as the circle was discarded off of the TIE, the wind making a strand of your hair raise.

He stepped out of the burning pile of metal mess moments later. A small amount of smoke radiated off of his body as his boots collided with the ground. His shoulders were raised, his left fist in a ball as his right held on firmly to his weapon. He offered no one any explanation as he marched his way to the medical bay, an air of contempt and loathing following him.

They had let you off to lunch early that day. The smoke from the TIE could be toxic, and they needed some time to clear out the hangar before everyone could get back to work.

You ate your ration in silence as everyone around you murmured their theories and rumors about the incident that had occurred about an hour earlier. There was no need to speculate, in your eyes, and the only people you talked with were out on some other assignment. Silence kept you company, anyhow.

Your peaceful lunch, however, was eventually rudely interrupted by some rude, old geezer. His uniform adorned many different patches and pins, so you figured he had to be some sort of presiding, know-it-all, experienced officer. The lines in his face only made him look more stern and stuck up than he sounded, his lips pursed as he eyed the datapad he held whilst he stood in front of your lunch table.

“(L/N), I presume, yes? Our newest mechanic from Endor?” the old man questioned, his dark eyes flicking back and forth between you and your glowing blue picture.

“Yes, sir. That’s me.” you responded, sitting up to offer some sort of respect to the officer.

The old man turned off his datapad with that, folding his arms behind his back as he addressed you fully. “Well, Miss (L/N), I do hope that your current assignment holds no sentimental value to you. You are being reassigned with a very important alternative, effective immediately.”

“Immediately?” you questioned, “I apologize sir, I don’t quite-”

“Your new assignment, Miss (L/N), is to repair Lord Vader’s TIE. I assume you bore witness to his entrance earlier today.” said the old officer, cutting you off. “Lord Vader’s ship is of utmost importance to the Empire, and we only assign our best to repair it when needed. We have already removed your previous assignment from your station and place Lord Vader’s TIE in its place.”

Before you could get another word out, the officer turned on his heel to leave, only giving you a side glance over his shoulder as he continued, “You should be pleased, Miss (L/N). You just became one of our finest mechanics.”

~~~

You only saw a heaping pile of garbage that was vaguely shaped like a TIE Advanced x1 at your station when you returned. The ship was mangled beyond repair. Aside from the gaping hole in the center of the fighter, the wings were gnashed beyond recognition, many of the metal plates lining the surface either gone or melted, the wires that snaked along the inside of the craft were now on the outside, and it still hadn’t stopped smoking completely.

You couldn't hide your expression as you walked around the TIE. Why the hell would you even try and repair this hunk of shit? you thought to yourself, Just get a new TIE, I’m sure the Empire can afford it.

You contemplated on going back and finding that old man that gave you the assignment and asking him to repeat it back to you. Whoever wanted this thing repaired was a madman at best. Sighing, you reminded yourself of your virtues. Do your job, don’t get in the way. And, this was your new job.

You had no idea on where to start.

~~~

It was long past quitting hours when you heard the doors to the hangar open.

You were perched on top of the broken down TIE, your jacket long since discarded. You were left only in your boots, pants, tanktop, and goggles as you heard heavy footsteps draw closer to your station.

You paused briefly from your welding to listen to the footsteps for a brief moment. You pondered for a short time on whether or not to address the person walking towards you, but decided against it. You figured that they were just some trooper or other mechanic sneaking out for a midnight walk or snack. Although you were loyal to the Empire, you were no snitch to your fellow troop. You resumed your welding after your judgement had ended.

You continued to listen, however, and noticed how the footsteps had ended very close to your station. Listening past the sound of your welding, your heart almost jumped out your throat and hitched a ride to the outer-rim when you noticed an all-too-familiar sound.

That breathing.

To make sure that your ears were not playing tricks on you, you stopped your welding and peeked over the top of the TIE. Sure enough, there he was, staring up at you without a word, without even moving one muscle. Your blood ran cold.

“L-Lord Vader!” You called down as you scurried to put down your tools, pushing your goggles up to rest on your sweat-gleamed forehead. You landed on the ground with a thunk as you slid down the TIE, hurriedly walking over to address the Dark Lord properly.

Standing so close to him forced you to notice the height and size difference between the two of you. He was tall, so tall that you had to almost crane your neck to look him in the eyes of his mask. His frame dwarfed yours in every way, making you feel so, so small and weak compared to him. As the sith looked down at you, you couldn't help but feel his real eyes behind the mask bare into you, almost as if he were looking right into the fiber of your being. You swallowed thickly but silently, forgetting that you were out of uniform in front of the Emperor's right hand.

“I-I apologize, my Lord, I did not hear you come in over the sound-”

“Is it not past active hours for your department, mechanic?” He interjected, interrogating you. You felt your cheeks gain a touch of rouge out of embarrassment. You had barely even noticed that it was so late, that almost all of the lights in the hangar had gone dim.

“Yes, my Lord, it is. But, I had-”

“You need not explain yourself to me, mechanic. I have come here for a report on the damage to my ship. If you will so generously supply me with that, perhaps I will overlook your discrepancies tonight.” He said to you, his head tilting to the side. The eyes of his helmet never left your frame as he spoke to you. His authority made a shiver run down your spine, your breath hitch. He could kill you at any moment's notice, and you both knew that.

“Yes. Yes, of course, my Lord.” You responded quietly. It was then you finally dared to let your gaze fall off of the menacing, tall figure before you. Turning on your heel, you looked up at the broken down craft before you, pressing a hand against the cool metal. “Well, my Lord, I will not dare lie to you. This fighter is in real bad shape. Her left wing is almost completely non-existent, her guns are unrecognizable, and her central computer has been totally fried. Her engine received a great amount of damage as well, and it looks like all of her spark igniters and thrusters will need to be replaced. This is all, of course, not to mention the damage to her framework.”

You had circled around the TIE absentmindedly as you spoke, your hand gliding over the jagged surface of the craft. Vader’s gaze followed your diminutive frame as you paced about. You could feel the eyes of his mask follow you with every footstep. Were it not for the continuous babbling on about damages, you would be shitting a brick right about now.

“And how do you plan to proceed with these repairs, mechanic?” He asked you, a hint of his temper and curiosity poking through.

“Well,” you retorted, looking at him once more, right in the face, “In order to proceed with anything, I have to get the central computer back online and running. That way, I will be able to talk to her better, and maybe even run a diagnostic for any damages that I haven’t caught yet. After that will be the repairs to the wing, which I will likely have to build from scratch from other scrapped TIEs. Once that is complete, repairs to the frame will begin, then onto the guns and engine. This may change, however, if I am able to run that diagnostic, my lord.”

The way you held yourself in front of the sith lord was certainly a pleasant surprise. Lord Vader was used to his subordinates making a vain attempt to make the situation sound better to him so that he would be pleased. You, however, did not shy away from cutting to the chase and telling Vader how it was. He felt a twinge of appreciation bubble deep, deep down inside him. He always did value someone who truly knew their way around a ship or two.

Vader took a glance at the mess of his TIE Advanced then back to you before he spoke again. You had refused to take your eyes off him again.

“I understand,” he rumbled out, placing his large hands on their respective sides of his belt, “I presume that these repairs will take a small while.”

His words were spoken as a statement, but you knew he was asking.

“Yes, Lord Vader,” you said, nodding in affirmation, “They indeed will, but I will do all in my power to have her running again just like new.” You couldn't help but flash a small, quick smile at the end of your positivity.

Vader stared down at you for a brief moment before speaking again, the sound of his steady breath winding around you once again.

“Good,” he finally said, “I expect no less from you, mechanic. I will come here again periodically, and I expect a full report of progress for each of my visitations. Do I make myself clear? Do not fail me.”

“Of course, my Lord. I will do exactly as you wish” you replied, giving him a firm nod as you stood at attention. Quickly, you relaxed your pose, letting your gaze fall once more and your body to turn to resume your work.

Vader, however, stood completely still. He was not done with you quite yet.

“Your name.” Vader said flatly, with a hint of demand.

This sent a jolt through you. You shot your gaze back to the sith, your hand gently clutching one of your tools, applying just enough strength to keep it from falling.

“P-pardon, my Lord?”

“Your name, mechanic. I wish to know your name.”

You licked your bottom lip hurriedly. You prayed that he couldn't notice your cheeks tint pink.

“It's (L/N), my Lord-”

“I know that, Miss (L/N). I wish to know your full name. Do not make me ask again.”

You almost burst out laughing. He had to be joking. This was the first time in years that someone had asked you for your first name. You were surprised that you even still remembered it.

“It’s… It’s (F/N), my Lord. (F/N) (L/N).”

Another pause from him, along with another long staring contest between the two of you. Was his breathing always this loud?

After an eternity, he spoke once more, “I have full faith in you, Miss (F/N) (L/N). It is not everyday I have the privilege to converse with one of your skill level and courage.”

With that, he was done. He stepped to the right, turned, and walked to the door, leaving without another look or word. You stared at the door for a long moment before looking at the floor, replaying the past events in your head, letting his words plague your mind over and over like a broken record.

Was that a compliment?

No, of course not, you had convinced a majority of yourself.

With a sigh, you climbed back up to the top of the broken TIE, seated on your perch again. You adorned your goggles once more, telling yourself just a little more before you retired for the night.

Little did you know, this was only the first interesting night of many to come.

#star wars #x reader #star wars x reader #star wars x you #darth vader #darth vader x reader #fanfiction #anakin x you #anakin skywalker #anakin x reader #star wars fanfiction

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itsclydebitches · 4 years ago

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RWBY Recaps: Volume 8 “Divide”

Hello, everyone, and welcome back! It feels good to be doing some normal RWBY-ing in this strange world of ours. First, some supplementary materials.

Number One: In response to any (valid) questions along the lines of, “Hey Clyde, it’s now been a full year since Volume 7 was airing and you still haven’t answered my ask about it. Or the ones about Volume 6… what’s up with that?” I’ve created what I hope is an informative video detailing the problem:

vimeo

(I assure you, the Earth, Wind & Fire was a happy accident during the screen recording.)

Needless to say, there’s a lot and I’ve known for some time now that I will LITERALLY never get through all my asks. Which doesn’t mean I don’t want you to send future thoughts in! Just know that as we head into Volume 8 territory I’ll most likely prioritize those, as well as any Volume 7 asks that aren’t woefully out of date. But I do want everyone to know that I read all the asks I receive, appreciate them immensely, and think too much about hypothetical answers, even if I don’t have time to actually write them out 💜

Number Two: There’s a bingo board this year!

Jury’s out on whether I’ll remember to update it, but at the very least this serves as a decent glimpse into my — and others’ — expectations going into this volume.

Number Three: I’ve collected a list of things I’ve heard about Volume 8 from what seem to be reputable sources. I did this because RT is developing a tendency to talk up certain points and then fail to deliver, either because something was taken out of a volume/moved to another, or because RT apparently has radically different ideas about what including something means. So this might be handy to keep on file and ask ourselves two months from now, “Did RT actually deliver on what they promised?”

Emphasis on Ruby’s leadership and how Summer’s death has impacted her

Insight into Ren and Nora’s flaws

May Merigold will supposedly have a larger part

More information about The Long Memory (Ozpin’s cane)

Theme of the volume is that you can respect someone but that doesn’t necessarily mean you agree with them

Very short timeline (supposedly just two days)

Yang in particular is very suspicious and distrustful

I was also going to include a list of all the threads that need to be continued/wrapped up, but honestly that would have taken too large a chunk off my life. Let’s just throw out the highlights:

Are we really going to have Qrow gunning for Ironwood?

Clover is dead regardless. Press ‘F’ to pay respects

Oscar bb you got shot please acknowledge this

Ozpin bb you got done dirty please acknowledge this

Penny is a Maiden now. I feel like the fandom has been sleeping on this (myself included)

Queer baiting, queer baiting… you’re on thin ice at this point, RWBY. Just skate on over to the queer snack bar before you fall straight into the lake.

Ren spill your deep dark secret already and it had better be something more than just ‘Oh no Nora might someday die :( ’

Salem is here so how the actual fuck is the cast surviving this?

Will Ironwood likewise survive his descent into antagonism? Yes or please yes no?

I think that’s all the biggies. I strive to keep lists like this in mind while analyzing, but honestly RWBY has a hundred moving parts that are abandoned or changed or simply retconned at the drop of a hat. So an attempt will be made.

Number Four (last one I promise!): Normal disclaimers and reminders for Recaps apply:

Please don’t fill up the already full inbox with flames. It’s still 2020. No one has time for that nonsense.

There will absolutely be typos and wonky parts because I try to get these out the same day an episode premieres. I have now been working on this for ten hours, nearly straight, and have no more energy for edits. Apologies in advance and RIP to my Saturdays.

I reserve the right to use stupid GIFs and memes at my discretion.

I strive to keep my focus on recapping/analyzing but salt tends to worm its way in… If you’re a die-hard RWBY fan with little patience for criticism, let alone (at times) snarky criticism, please proceed with caution.

No wait I lied, this is the last thing:

Okay, got that out of my system LET’S DO THIS!

We start not with the episode itself but rather Rooster Teeth’s (RT’s) strange non-promotion of it. If you follow my blog you may have caught the post where I pointed out that there was nothing on RT’s website to suggest that one of their most popular shows—if not the most popular show—was premiering today. Nothing on the main page. Nothing on the RWBY page either, not unless you count the Volume 8 poster background (easily mistaken for the Volume 7 poster) and the trailer buried all the way down past Episodes, past Merch, in the Bonus Features section along with videos like Live From Remnant and the volume intros. RT… the promotion of your feature show is not a bonus. This should be front and center! Honest to god, five minutes before the episode dropped I was checking the website for a Volume 8 section, a countdown, anything that would tell me the episode was imminent without relying on fans on tumblr to keep me in the loop. We got nada, zilch. I’m not sure whether that speaks more to RT’s iffy management of the series or simply the website’s horrible design—RIP losing RWBY on Youtube—but I was surprised when I saw the episode a few minutes after 11:00am. At that point I honestly expected to hear about a dely.

So that’s the mood I entered the premiere in, but truly? We start off strong. Things take a pretty severe nosedive later on, we’ll get to that, but I was impressed with our beginning and that probably has a lot to do with the fact that we start with our villains.

We open on a Cinderella character, Cinder, and thus I’m immediately pleased that we’re getting something about her backstory after all this time. Seven years! She appeared in episode one, folks! To say we’re overdue is an understatement. There isn’t a whole lot to go on, just a younger Cinder sadly scrubbing the floor, poised under a spotlight. What we learn, or potentially learn, is based far more in cultural knowledge than this scene. We know Cinderella’s story, which includes the abusive family, the longing for more, the eventual escape, and thus we’re able to read all of that in this image, despite the image itself not telling us any of this overtly. That means we could be wrong in our interpretation, but if we’re not it’s an easy shorthand in an already packed story.

What I’m really impressed with is the sound bridge between the scrubbing and her nails on the back of Neo’s chair. Fantastic way to confirm that this is Cinder as well as showcasing just how far she’s come. The sound of her labor has been replaced with the sound of her power and given that Cinder’s power is stolen, tied to a grimm arm, the property of a genocidal maniac… that’s messed up. It’s a Cinderella story gone wrong.

So yeah, Cinder tells Neo to head straight into the creepy, grimm infested blood cloud to see Salem and Neo is like, ‘Uh… no thank you?’ lol.

RT does a good job this episode with her expressions, ensuring we know exactly what she’s thinking despite an unwillingness/inability to speak.

Poor Neo might be in too deep, but I quite like the overall atmosphere of this opening. Say what we will about Salem’s awful characterization, at least she has style. This woman knows how to make an entrance and, piggybacking off of the Apathy, RT knows how to infuse horror elements into their fantasy. The red and purple coloring of the clouds, spiked whale teeth peeking through, bright orange in the background looking like explosions… that’s all 👌 Including the intro card.

The only thing I want to gripe about is this:

I’m sorry, why does the whale grimm have landing pads? Or something like it?? The whale otherwise works because it’s poised between the natural and the fantasy synthetic. It looks like a real grimm whale on the outside, but is sporting a throne room, a control panel, and other unnatural elements on the inside. It’s a visual indicator of Salem’s ability to control and change grimm. Now though, the additions are wrong, infringing on the line between organic and tech, the line between what helps the grimm individually (giving monkeys wings) and what just helps Salem. Every other aspect of the whale straddles that line wonderfully, adding to the creep factor, like a grimm version of the Uncanny Valley: it’s not quite a whale anymore… but landing pads? That looks ridiculous. Why does Salem even have that? How many ships are her people feasibly using? Why are there five?

Take it away, please.

Cinder waltzes in like this is a normal home visit, but Neo has an appropriate ‘What the actual fuck?’ face going on.

They approach Salem on her throne where Cinder immediately kneels, greeting her with, “My queen.” I mentioned during my trailer breakdown that I think Cinder is lying her ass off here, and I still think that based on a line we’ll get in a minute, but now at least we have a sense of how she can pull this off. A woman who started out as a (presumed) servant is going to know how to mimic subservience, even if her heart isn’t in it. Salem is very good at playing the girl who will still kneel and scrub the floor for you. She will scrub the floor, she’ll do everything you want, she’ll just be plotting her own rise to power while she does it.

There’s quite a bit of interesting cinematography in this episode, not all of it good, and I think one of the mistakes is here when we get a closeup on Salem’s mouth as she greets Cinder. A closeup like that should be reserved for more significant dialogue—“Rosebud”—and yet we get this shot again when Cinder tells Emerald to be quiet. It’s awkward and coupled with the numerous eye closeups we got in the trailer, I think RT is playing a little fast and loose with the camera. Each shot should add something to the scene, not distract from it. If you don’t have a reason for including a technique like that then leave it be.

Back to the actual dialogue though. We knew that Salem knew Cinder was alive and now it seems that she just expected her to come back? I’m slightly lost. It feels like we’re missing something here. Cinder goes off to secure the lamp, fails, nearly dies, wanders on her own for months, and then randomly shows back up on Salem’s whale doorstep, yet Salem isn’t angry at all? Did she have faith that Cinder would return when she has something to offer? Did she just not care about Cinder, considering her return an unnecessary but otherwise welcome surprise? That would make the least sense given that she holds the key to accessing Beacon’s relic… but that circles right back around to why Salem is seemingly indifferent to Cinder’s comings and goings. Surely she can’t actually believe that Cinder is loyal?

“So I trust you wouldn’t return to me empty handed,” she says. Yeah, trust means nothing in this show, Salem, didn’t you watch Volumes 6 and 7? Again, I simply don’t know. I suppose I’ll just chalk it up to confidence, that if Cinder did bail Salem knew she could track her down again. Deciphering her motivations and beliefs is a lost cause when the show continually gives us so little.

The important thing now is that Cinder does indeed have an offering and you can see that Salem is somewhat surprised at being handed the relic.

Cinder, of course, takes credit for the victory and we’re given another wonderful shot of Neo. ‘YOU took it?’

Oh, Neo. Best get out while you still can.

Tyrian appears having obviously made his way to Salem’s ship sometime between her arrival and now. The exchange is pretty standard for this group. He insults Cinder for failing and needing this victory to make amends, talks about how any win against Ironwood says more about his lack of intelligence than her skill, and Cinder… doesn’t have a whole lot of comebacks, actually. I’d say Tyrian won that verbal spar, enhanced by a better use of the camera when we get his tail looming menacingly towards Cinder and Neo.

He goes on to say that Watts was a “necessary sacrifice” so, uh… I’m just going to toss out the ask I answered yesterday. Based on our intro I’d say Watts is still significant to the volume—hacking Penny is my guess—but by the end? He could be in trouble.

(As a side note: I plan to analyze the intro next week. It’s just easier when it comes first.)

Tyrian also calls Neo “little one” which I just found absolutely hilarious. In an on brand creepy manner, that is. Not that Neo couldn’t kick his ass, but there’s something wonderfully chilling about having the serial killer use an endearment towards a potential victim, one that comments on her size while he’s looming.

In contrast, Cinder refers to Neo as a “valuable asset” and we get our third mood of the episode.

Who’s going to start a Neo reaction image collection?

It’s true enough on the surface—who wouldn’t want an ally who can turn into anyone else?—but we’re still bumping up against question of why Salem needs this. She’s immortal! She has an endless army! Magic! This scene works well with a villain who needs a skillset like Neo’s to succeed, but Salem doesn’t. RT is doing a great job writing a story thus far, just not the story we’ve previously been given. This isn’t the story they set up.

This will come back up when we reach the RWBYJNOR group. Just wait.

Before that though, the gang’s all here as Emerald, Mercury, and Hazel show up, all in new outfits.

I think I like everything except for the weird Xs on Emerald’s jacket—it’s way too distracting and frankly makes an otherwise good look ugly—and the fact that she’s showing her midriff in Atlas. Hazel doesn’t have any sleeves! Oh my god, why doesn’t anyone dress for the weather in this show?

Frankly, I found their reunion to be kind of lackluster. I mean, there was nothing wrong with it. Emerald does sound briefly excited, she does run, and it’s in character for Cinder to cut her off… it just didn’t resonate with me emotionally. I thought after two volumes of thinking she’s dead, then working through the knowledge that she’s alive, that I would feel Emerald’s shock and relief more, but I didn’t. And I’m not entirely sure why. I don’t want to level any accusations at the voice acting because frankly I know next to nothing about that skill (and from what I’ve seen it’s usually praised in the fandom), but I will say that throughout the premiere I was noticing it more than I ever have before. The lack of emotion here and some awkward deliveries later, like when Yang goes, “Ruby, there is no way Ironwood will cooperate with us” and I immediately thought, “Wow, that came out stilted.” These observations stick with me because, as said, voice acting usually isn’t on my radar. It’s not something I’ve studied or had practice analyzing. If you’d never told me that Ren or Qrow’s VA changed then after a year hiatus I literally wouldn’t notice… but there’s something about this episode that didn’t sit right. Anyone else get that sense, or was it just me?

Regardless, the arrival of our other three villains really doesn’t amount to much, though I’m happy for all the Emerald and Mercury fans who get to see them in new outfits. The focus is still on Cinder as she delivers a line indicative of her true motivations: “That power will be mine.” Yeah, she’s not loyal to Salem, she’s just power hungry. Of course, Salem immediately takes note of this and raises her hand, in another nice use of the foreground, reminding her that she hasn’t given that order.

Cinder is shocked, angry even, but quickly covers it up with her “Without you I am nothing” line. If I caught it right I think she also calls Salem “Ma’am”? Hilarious. Again, skilled at playing the servant.

Also, before I forget, it’s worth noting that almost everything from our trailer appeared in this episode. Yeah, there are a few details like Nora attacking some tech and the group on their bikes, but on the whole we’ve already seen the majority of our promo material and will likely get most of the rest next week. It makes me both interested and nervous for what another twelve episodes are going to hold.

Salem opens her whale, or opens a portal type view in it, something that gives us a long-distance look at Atlas. I don’t know what exactly is going on here, but it’s pretty so I’ll take it.

She also delivers the frankly badass line, “Just because you’re more valuable to me than a pawn does not make you a player.”

She waves them all away with perfect ‘You mean nothing to me’ attitude and we sadly leave our villains.

Sad not because I don’t love my farm boy, but because things are about to get a whole lot messier.

Oscar has made his way to a camp of civilian survivors… all of whom are just hanging out in the supposedly deadly cold. Yeah, there’s a single fire, but at least four of them aren’t anywhere near it. Three of them also aren’t wearing gloves. What was that survival rate again?

A nice if gruff dude gives Oscar soup—water?—while showing off his… badger claws? I don’t know what kind of faunus he’s supposed to be, but he feels like the sort of two second, minor character who could easily become a meme lol.

Oscar thanks him (my polite son!) and hands the bowl back after a single sip. Which is impressive because I would have assumed the guy was giving me the whole bowl and just taken it. Hell, I’ve done that even when I didn’t assume it’s all for me. A Starbucks barista once approached me with a tray and a plate of samples, I knew I was supposed to take just one, yet for some reason my hand went to take the whole goddamn plate. He had to tell me off, then I was trying to explain that I didn’t actually want or think I should have eight shots of cappuccino all to myself, I don’t even like coffee, he clearly didn’t believe me… it was awkward. So good job, Oscar. You’re less awkward than me (though that’s not saying much).

Now a question, Oscar. Darling. Brilliant boy who has been through too much: why the fuck aren’t you talking to Ozpin? This will be A Thing later when he presents a lack of time to talk as justification for keeping more secrets (we’ll get to that too…) yet here is time! You’re just sitting there for who knows how long, with plenty of privacy to hide a supposedly one-sided conversation so the Mantle citizens don’t get weirded out or suspicious. Talk to Ozpin. Our headmaster gets two lines in this episode, utterly inconsequential lines like his airship scene, lines that feel like they exist to say, “See? He’s still included in the story!” even though he absolutely is not. Two volumes of mostly silence, a perfect setup to start the reconciliation process, but we’re going to put it off again?

Instead Ruby randomly and conveniently appears. I want to know how she found him. Oscar isn’t wearing a tracker. He clearly didn’t call them because he’s surprised when Ruby shows up. He fell alllllllll the way back down to Mantle and then wandered to a random part of the slums. You’re telling me they flew over the entire city—after beginning this search thinking he was in Atlas—and somehow managed to spot him from up in the air? C’mon. I would have rather had a beginning where Oscar makes his way back to the group himself, giving him and Ozpin time to hash things out.

“Need a lift?” Ruby says, eliminating that potential. Sigh.

Oscar immediately starts beating himself up when he gets onboard, saying that he “was stupid to think the General would listen.” Nah, you were stupid to buy into Ruby’s nonsensical confidence and for telling Ironwood he’s as bad as Salem. Sorry, Oscar, but everyone is written badly these days. I will, however, say that I am THRILLED at the group’s reaction to his return. Ruby says that she’s “just glad you’re alright.” Nora has a wonderfully tender moment where she hugs him gently rather than her usual glomp.

That? That added a year to my life. Everyone else seems relieved that he’s okay too, so kudos there. After four years of Oscar being an outsider in the group, this is one of the few moments that feel like he’s 100% accepted. Really glad to see it.

Now let’s see if it sticks after they learn Ozpin is back...

They fly to the Happy Huntresses’ base and I again feel like I’ve missed something crucial. When did they team up? I mean, RWBYJNOR was working directly under Ironwood up until the last hour and Robyn ran off to fight Tyrian/Clover in the last couple episodes. When did she have time to explain her (briefly) changed allegiance and why would the Happy Huntresses trust the group without that? Did Robyn share that Blake and Yang went behind Ironwood’s back for her? Do the Huntresses instinctively trust them because they’re now wanted by the military? How did they even run into each other?

Again, I think we would have been better served to have an episode before all this. Let Oscar make his way back and let the group struggle with the magnitude of their situation on the airship, before they find new allies. Transferring directly to, “They have help and a secret base and a plan in the works!” makes me feel like I missed the real premiere last week. You know, the one where Salem unexpectedly arrived and we left the group like this.

This is where we’ve ended up though. The group is cozy in this hideout, getting info from Joanna, and my only other thought is, “Why is she giving all this exposition?”

Shouldn’t it be May? I mean, we were told that she was going to play more of a role this volume, a promise that’s pretty important imo given her status as a (so far off screen) trans character, so why not put her in the role of mediator between the Happy Huntresses and RWBYJNR? Giving her that setup as a leader among her people as well as lots of lines would be meaningful. A trans character just existing and being a part of this fight! May could obviously still fill that role—I’m well aware that we’re only one episode in—but it just seems like a missed opportunity to me. Out of all the undeveloped Happy Huntresses, our premiere focuses on the one who has the least importance to the fandom.

As said, Joanna talks a fair bit but what it basically boils down to is trying to get everyone to the crater below Atlas. It’s apparently not safe, but it’s warm, which is what matters right now.

So… let me get this straight. You want to gather everyone into a not safe crater, by leading them through an army of grimm, so that they can wait there in case someone moves the Staff, thus dropping an entire city on top of their heads? That’s the plan? Which admittedly isn’t Joanna’s fault. This is another instance of RWBYJNOR having information that a leader does not and they should really consider speaking up about it. But of course they don’t.

Also, how long does everyone have in regards to the cold? Shouldn’t there be dead civilians by now? The time it would take to find the Happy Huntresses, team up with them, get settled in the base, and find Oscar says that things should be pretty grim right now (pardon the pun), yet every non-aura user in this city seems content to just hang out in the snow. Either the cold is deadly enough to justify moving everyone to the crater, or it’s mild enough to let everyone survive this long, not both.

After hugs are given everyone obviously wants to know what happened to Oscar. His response?

“It’s a… long story. I get the feeling there’s been a few of those tonight.”

That’s a check for the bingo card! We’re halfway through the first episode and we’ve already got another secret. Yes, this is a secret. Oscar actively chooses not to tell anyone that Ozpin is back—something Ozpin himself comments on—and then skillfully draws attention away from himself with “I get the feeling there’s been a few of those tonight.” Indeed, all eyes go to Penny. Oscar’s plight is forgotten, which is what he wanted. His justification?

Ozpin: “You’re not going to tell them?”

Oscar: “You and I aren’t done talking yet.”

Along with this look.

Oscar no. There’s so much wrong with this I don’t even know where to begin. Let’s create a list.

As said, you had plenty of time to talk to Ozpin and chose not to. Miss me with this excuse.

You are now doing to your friends exactly what you and your friends did to Ironwood, which in turn is what Ozpin did to you! I can’t believe we’ve got Oscar critically side-eyeing him when they are still—still—repeating the behavior they drove Ozpin away for.

What is there to even talk about now? Oscar didn’t punch himself/Ozpin (lol) but he did steal Jinn’s name from Ozpin in the first place. You got what you wanted, drove him away, and have been lying and keeping secrets ever since. The only thing they should be talking about involves apologizing. Any further criticism—which is what Oscar’s expression and curt reply suggests—is beyond hypocritical.

Seriously, what needs to be discussed? There’s no reason not to tell the group unless Oscar wants to talk about whether they should tell them. There’s no good ending here...

Don’t you think it would be nice to know that Ozpin is back and you’ve got super magic powers while making plans to save the entire world?

This is all especially stupid given Oscar’s “Salem wants to divide us” reminder to Ruby in a moment. Oscar, you are doing the most to divide the group right now. By not forgiving Ozpin. By refusing to work with him. By keeping him secret from everyone else.

This is bad, friends, I worry for what the rest of the volume will bring…

The story is done with Ozpin for now so I guess I will be too. The group continues filling Oscar in and we get some shots of the base, including a rather prominent poster of what I assume are two Happy Huntresses. Did they die in battle perhaps?

It’s a little strange.

Oscar: “Where’s Qrow?”

Me: “Likely still making bad decisions.”

No one knows so they just drop it. Which I kind of get, only so much you can do to find him if he’s not out on the streets like Oscar, but it still reads as kind of iffy that two nieces look down at the ground for a hot second and then move on with their plans, content to leave Qrow to whatever fate befell him. In a minute we’ll see Yang firmly take Ren’s side regarding helping the people they can in Mantle, which frankly comes out of nowhere for her. I think an easy motivation would have been Qrow. Ruby wants to save the world, Yang wants to find and save their uncle, and that just happens to align with Ren’s desire to save the civilians who need immediate grimm and cold help. Don’t get me wrong, I like that there’s finally some division between the sisters, I just wish it hadn’t come about so abruptly. Ren had setup for standing up to Ruby. Yang did not.

But I’m getting a little ahead of myself. Joanna lists the grimm horde and no heat as the major threats to everyone. The group agrees.

Me: What about Salem?

Joanna says that this is all doubly dangerous because there’s “no more military protection.”

Me: Oh, so now you want the military?

This is all so disjointed. Even more-so when Joanna mentions that Ironwood has stopped all evacuations to Atlas, likely due to the “hard light shields” that are the only thing standing between Salem and the city. Thing is, the show never makes this connection, I just did it myself based on this scene and the one that comes later. The show presents Joanna’s line as a pure condemnation. Ironwood won’t let more evacuees in because… he’s just evil, I guess. Yet there is a justification here, namely that continuing the evacuations even while he’s stuck without Penny leaves him wide open to a Salem attack, the death of everyone currently safe, but that argument is never presented to the viewer. I don’t need people to agree with Ironwood’s perspective, I just wish that perspective was offered as an option. The show is very good about acting like RWBYJNOR’s opinion is the only justified opinion, or simply the only opinion at all.

After everything is laid out Weiss goes, “We’re never going to sleep again, I just know it.”

I could make a crack about the lack of continuity and how the group should be collapsing right now… but that was a funny line. It can stay.

What is far more of a problem is the fact that no one is talking about Salem. Okay, that’s a lie. They do talk about her, but in a roundabout way like her presence isn’t impacting every decision they make. That’s the real issue. They’re acting as if Salem isn’t here right now, like she’s off far away, maybe approaching slowly, and they’re arguing over how best to prep the world for her eventual attack. There’s no emotion here—let alone action—to reflect that the series’ Big Bad has arrived and is poised to murder them all. Literally what is this? Ruby is yelling about warning the world and, ignoring the continued question of why that’s a good thing when the world can do nothing to stop Salem and knowledge of her continually drives people to horrible acts, she has yet to acknowledge that… she’s the world? Ruby is the world in this conflict. She, Mantle, and Atlas. Salem is here for you all. Right now. You are, this instant, in the situation you want to warn others about, so why don’t you try to do something about it? Or at least acknowledge it. Ruby wants to warn the neighborhood about a potential fire while her house is actively ablaze, and the fire could have totally killed her by now but decided not to for… reasons.

“Ruby’s right,” Nora says. They have to tell the world so “they can prepare.” How? How are they supposed to prepare for this? The story cannot continue ignoring Salem’s immortality.

“Ruby’s right,” is all Blake says and I’m starting to thinks that’s why her character exists now, to agree with Ruby. It’s great that she’s getting a little distance from Yang, but man.

As Ruby asks whether Pietro can get Amity up and running despite it not being finished (called it) we start an incredibly odd sequence of flashforwards to their individual missions. I’ve seen a lot of praise for this already and though I agree that, in theory, it’s a good way to save time, I found the actual execution to be jarring. Upon thinking back through our timeline, it became clear they were flashforwards, but while watching I thought they might be flashbacks (especially since that’s more common).

Some of the shots, like Nora’s, just look awkward when you’ve got the exact expression and pose transplanted from one scene to another, like she’s a cardboard cutout behind a green screen. To say nothing of how the flashforwards ruin any suspense (I use that word loosely) in the conversation itself. If the question is, “Will they decide to go to the military compound?” then that question is answered when we see Ruby scoping out the compound, not when the group actually decides on the course of action.

It just made an already muddled scene worse for me, so I hope this trend doesn’t continue.

And of course, Amity can be used despite all the info last volume claiming that it wasn’t finished. Pietro suddenly acts like it is finished and the only thing standing in their way is Ironwood providing access. If that were the case, he would have used Amity weeks or days ago like he wanted to! When was it finished? Not after Watts commented on how incomplete it was. When did they get back the resources they needed from Robyn? It’s as ridiculous and retcon-y as I thought it would be.

Yang points out that Ironwood will never listen to them and Ruby counters that “he doesn’t have to.” They’ll just take the access from him. Because why wouldn’t they in a series where they’ve already stolen two airships? Stealing from the super evil military that Joanna wishes were helping them right now is just the group’s go-to plan nowadays.

Pietro isn’t sold on this plan though. He lists at least three obstacles they’d need to get through “and then… oh boy, I might need to think about this some more.” “And just to clarify,” Oscar says, “This is the easy option?” Um...no it’s not? We also know there’s an access point in Ironwood’s office so… why not go there instead? They really think the Academy is less guarded than the military base? There’s a potential justification here along the lines of, “After Neo and Cinder broke into his office Ironwood will have the place on high alert,” but unless I missed it the group doesn’t assume anything like that. They just listen to Pietro point out all the ways they can’t get into the military base and jump straight to that being the best option. It feels like a transparent way to create conflict for the group. We’ll just have them taking the most dangerous route despite an easy route being offered alongside it. Why bother mentioning his office at all? Just have the access in the military base. Boom, done.

It’s that conflict and the fact that Ruby tends to hear “You can’t” and digs in her heels. You can’t go to Atlas. I’ll just steal a ship then. You can’t defeat Salem. Watch me. You can’t break into this base. Guess what I’m doing! She’s dangerous in her fairy tale, meta-driven insistence that everything will turn out her way because she wants it to.

Speaking of, we finally—FINALLY—get someone challenging Ruby. Sort of. Not actually but it’s the closest we’ve ever gotten:

Yang: “Ruby, when we came here we said we’d follow your lead… but things haven’t exactly worked out.”

Now, there are two things to take away from this moment. The first is how utterly shocked Ruby and the others are. I mean, take a look at these expressions.

Ruby straight up can’t believe what she’s hearing. Weiss put her hand to her mouth like this is the most dramatic thing to ever happen to her. Oscar looks down in a ‘Yeah, I agree but please don’t look at me and make me admit that’ way. And Nora looks indifferent in the screenshot but animated she goes sort of stern, likely pissed that Yang would dare say that given her own agreement with Ruby. This not only reiterates that Yang’s challenge came out of nowhere—seriously, how did we move from following Ruby no matter what to this? Last volume she asked a single question along the lines of, ‘You sure?’ and when Ruby said ‘Yes’ Yang was entirely on board—but also demonstrates that no one has EVER said no to her before. Ruby is amazed that someone would challenge her. The act of challenging Ruby is, in and of itself, shocking. This group has gotten so used to following Ruby blindly that the teensiest little pushback is greeted with this.

Because it is teensy. This is the second takeaway: Yang barely challenges her and that challenge leads nowhere. She doesn’t accuse Ruby of anything, she doesn’t question her continued authority, she just broadly implies that things could be better. We followed you, now things are bad, take from that what you will. It’s incredibly mild as far as criticism goes, making the shock all the more, well, shocking, but it also amounts to—wait for it—nothing! Because Yang didn’t truly challenge Ruby’s leadership. She’s still in charge, she’s still calling the shots, and they’re still listening to her. We might have gotten some change if this division had been allowed to play out, but instead Jaune comes in with a, “Let’s go for both!” solution. It let’s both groups get what they want which, in turn, releases them from the need to grapple with whether they’ll listen to Ruby when she’s advocating for something they don’t agree with. We have now lost the chance to see whether, when push comes to shove, Ren and Yang will cave to Ruby’s will or stick by their own beliefs.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s more conflict than we’ve gotten in years, but that doesn’t mean it’s particularly compelling conflict. It’s good by RWBY’s standards, which doesn’t necessarily make it good. The actual issues at hand—Ruby’s dangerous arrogance, the group’s loyalty, her choices up until now—are just swept under the rug. For all the visuals we get insisting that there’s this great divide in the group… there’s really not. Not in any way that matters.

Also, Ruby is an idiot. Okay, that was mean, but she really is in this scene. She’s actually not an idiot overall because she was written as wonderfully intelligent in the early volumes, but now? Lately? She makes me want to bang my head against a wall.

“But that’s how Salem got this far,” she cries. “By dividing us!”

Ruby… oh my god, Ruby. No one should have to explain to you that dividing people means turning them against each other, not literally dividing your team to complete separate tasks. This girl honestly thought that because there was this teensy disagreement and that half the team would complete Plan A while she and the other half completed Plan B, both of which notably work towards the goal of, “Protect people from Salem,” that this was somehow what Salem wanted. That is was dangerous. Honestly, it’s a scary look at her view of leadership too: If everyone doesn’t 100% agree with me and do what I say, that’s an objectively bad thing that the grimm queen wants, right? Does Ruby think that unification means following a single person (her) without question or variation? That would explain a lot...

The fact that Oscar needs to explain the difference to her is not good. It really doesn’t say great things about this version of Ruby. Though he was comparing Ironwood to Salem last volume, so really they should all be wearing dunce hats.

Penny offers to take the relic directly to Salem in exchange for her leaving the kingdom alone. I honestly didn’t expect that. If anyone took that risk I would have put my money on Ozpin (but of course, during all this talk of the women he knows best, he’s kept quiet). Oscar is again the voice of wisdom, pointing out that they have no reassurance that Salem will keep her word. At least Penny is thinking about Salem as a threat though, so kudos for that. When this plan is shot down she volunteers to get Ruby past the military security instead and, uh, she’s a little intense about it.

I’m not entirely sure what is going on with Penny. She disagreed with Winter but then seemed to come around to her point of view, enough to help anyway. They had another (stupid) disagreement about the value of individual lives, so that helps to explain why she’s teaming up with RWBYJNOR (if you ignore that Ironwood is also trying to save individual lives...). Did watching Fria die shake her up? Is it being the Winter Maiden that’s not sitting right? Does Penny have lingering feelings about the framing that haven’t shown up until now? Her status as a ‘real girl’? We’ve got a lot of reasons that could definitely explain this sudden need to fight, but we’re not told which—if any of these—is the driving force.

We’re then given a lot of little details. Someone points out that if Salem gets the staff and “create[s] anything else” then Atlas will fall (so yeah, let’s move the people underneath it). We still don’t know what exactly the Staff does because “creation” is kind of broad and “powering a city to float” doesn’t seem to sit within that category at all. Pietro gives Yang the keys to his lab so they can get the bikes. We see the group dividing in the flashforwards, something I do like, especially since the show has gone out of its way to break up most of the usual duos. Nora in particular is pissed at Ren for his choice.

“Oh, I’m saving Mantle because I actually believe we can do this.”

#yikes. Well, I did say I wanted a conflict other than ‘Oh no, one of us might die’ and it looks like I got it. But Nora, the only reason you can do this is because the plot is in your corner: none of you are collapsing from two major fights, you didn’t lose your aura so the cold isn’t a danger, the military is barely a threat all of a sudden, Salem is helpfully hanging out in her whale instead of killing you, and the story decided that Amity can function so long as you all are the ones who get to use it. That’s why you can do this. Ren, who follows in-world logic and doesn’t want to risk a whole kingdom’s worth of lives on a pipe dream, thinks differently, oddly enough.

As they leave though Penny gets a call from Ironwood. I know precisely what the fandom is going to say here: “This evil man is just trying to use Penny to open the vault!” Of course he is. He needs it open to save everyone he can, Penny included. Plus the concept of “using” her is a double-edged sword. What do we think the group is doing right now? Using her to get past the security. Penny’s power is a tool any way you slice it. Granted, Penny volunteers to help the group, but notably here Ruby speaks for her. Penny seems torn and Ruby takes the scroll away with, “She’s not going anywhere until you change your mind about Mantle.”

Sorry, Ruby, but coming from you that sounds less like a reassurance for Penny and more like just an order for Ironwood. Remember Harriet? We’ll stop attacking you provided you do what we want. Ruby has yet to learn about compromises, let alone acknowledge that she might be wrong. How about you let Penny decide where she goes, especially since by all logic she should have a lot of loyalty to Ironwood. She knew him before she ever met you. She’s worked with him since she was rebuild post-Volume 3. Despite what Penny has said, if the story would just let her think about his actions for a hot second—making her the protector of Mantle, sticking up for her after the framing, sending her to the party, teaming her up with Ruby, etc.—she might realize that the ‘He doesn’t want me to have friends’ and ‘He just treats me like a tool’ assumptions are just that, unfounded assumptions. But no, Ruby speaks for them both because Ironwood is evil now.

“If she makes it through our defenses,” Ironwood says, “everything that follows will be on your hands.”

That’s true! Kind of like how it’s own Qrow’s hands that Clover died. When you insist on making a bad situation worse you hold responsibility when the shit hits the fan. You know though that Salem won’t get through their defenses now, somehow, so that there’s no chance RWBYJNOR will be blamed for it. Or, by that point Ironwood will be so crazed that anything coming out of his mouth is dismissed, no matter how accurate it might be.

We then transfer to the Ace Ops who are, despite what the fandom theorized for many months, clearly upset about Clover. Also pissed. Which they have every right to be. Their friend and leader was killed. Imagine for a moment that Ruby had been murdered by Tyrian with an allies’ help. Exactly what do you think the group would do? Swallow it quietly and get over it? Ha.

I’ve already seen some speculation that Clover survived due to details like showing us the bandage and his room being listed as for a “Patient,” but he looks pretty dead to me.

He got gutted through the chest and left out in the snow for who knows how long. We saw him slip away. Qrow screamed over his dead body. He’s not breathing now. If RWBY suddenly claims he survived this, I’m calling BS.

Most of the other visuals we get here were already dropped in the trailer. Winter is pretty injured from her encounter with Cinder, likely permanently based on her new outfit. Ironwood had to replace his arm—and I am calling BS on that “Losing his arm is reflective of him losing his humanity” commentary from RT. Please go read up on a couple decades worth of ableism in media and then get back to me.

We get Ironwood’s line about the light shields and, notably, a whole lot of empathy. Regardless of what he might want Penny for, he still called her with compassion. He’s watching the Ace Ops mourn their friend. He’s talking about protecting his kingdom. The first thing he says to Winter is, “Thank you, Winter. I don’t know what I would do without you.” Ironwood has a heart! It’s always on display, which makes this scene utterly ridiculous.

I literally don’t know how to respond to this. The gunshot made me jump, both because it’s a gunshot and because, again, what the fuck? I know I said that next volume RT might just have Ironwood descend into full villainy, shooting whoever he pleases now that he’s shot Oscar, but I didn’t actually expect them to do it. Because he never should have shot Oscar in the first place! I wanted the story to let Oscar grapple with it a bit and then quietly backtrack, acknowledging it as the mistake it was. The concept that Ironwood, empathetic Ironwood, rational Ironwood, always thinks before he acts Ironwood, let’s kids yell at him Ironwood, tried to team up with Robyn Ironwood, did everything Ruby wanted Ironwood, won’t kill Watts after he destroyed his arm Ironwood would shoot this guy just to shut him up is absurd. It was absurd then, it’s absurd now.

That being said, there’s a possibility he didn’t actually shoot the council member, but rather just (“just”) gave a warning shot down the hallway. I say this because the reactions to this are pretty tame. Everyone looks startled, yeah, but after the initial shot there’s nothing that I would expect if there was now a guy bleeding out on the floor. The council woman doesn’t scream. Winter doesn’t seem overly shocked. No one is running to try and help him. Basically, if Ironwood had just killed a political figure in front of six witnesses, entirely unprovoked, I would expect a bit more of a reaction than this. This feels far more like a, “Damn he’s not joking around, letting off warning shots to get people to leave him alone” not “WOW, our general just killed someone in cold blood!”

What I really hate though—beyond just assassinating his character—is how many fans think my friends and I are delusional for calling it character assassination at all. I hopped onto the RWBY tag for five minutes this morning and was bombarded with posts about how Ironwood needs to be murdered horrifically, anyone who likes him is sick, the Ironwood stans are as bad as Adam stans, you’re an idiot if you want him redeemed… because apparently the concept of a story writing a character badly doesn’t compute. I’m not here to argue that Ironwood didn’t do these awful things (regardless of whether he actually killed the guy or not). I’m not here to argue that they’re not awful. I’m just here to say that we never should have gotten these scenes in the first place, or if we were going to get them, we deserved an actual descent into murder at the drop of a hat territory. I’ve already explained extensively on this blog how early Ironwood was not accurate foreshadowing for this, and Volume 7 certainly wasn’t setup, but it looks like the majority of fans aren’t interested in examining whether any of this adds up. Which makes my job, as someone trying to examine this series somewhat objectively—in as much as that’s possible for any single viewer—as well as simply enjoy it as a show, really hard. It’s bad enough when a story keeps taking the characters you love and villainizing them, and doing that badly, but then when you turn to the community and see them rallying around the idea that you’re awful for being dissatisfied—you’re the bootlicker, you’re the blind stan, you can’t see what’s ‘really’ going on here… that sucks. For those of you happy and satisfied with Ironwood’s arc, that’s great! I’ve also seen a lot of posts hyping up the complexity of his character now. There’s nothing wrong with enjoying what we’ve been given and I’d never want to imply that just because it’s not what I wanted it’s somehow wrong. I’m honestly thrilled that after a year of worry so many people have adored our premiere, including this scene. I just wish that I could say RWBY had given me something I didn’t want in a persuasive manner and that the fandom as a whole was a bit more welcoming of differing criticisms.

Not that I didn’t already know the RWBY fandom had its flaws, but still lol.

That’s basically it for our premiere. Nice note to end on, huh? Our final scene is of Salem using the lamp to set her bloodhound grimm on the city. Why doesn’t she just go herself? What was she planning to do here in Atlas in the first place, considering that getting the relic was a surprise? Who knows. Little about this holds together. But we do end with another awesome shot, so small favors.

It’s always strange concluding a recap, but even more-so when it’s a premiere, during a historical moment in the U.S., amidst all the nonsense that is 2020. So for now I’ll just conclude with three quick things:

The updated bingo board will be listed at the end of each recap, provided I don’t forget about it lol. Today I’m checking off tone (not nearly enough freaking out about Salem), the team keeping secrets (Oscar), and major plot point dropped (Amity is suddenly finished). I could also probably check off the cold not killing civilians and getting Amity up and running, but we’ll see if any changes with those.

I’m including my Ko-Fi link at the end of recaps now. Not with any expectations. Not with anything resembling pressure. I thought long and hard over whether to include it at all—let alone mention it here—because I love doing these and never want anyone to feel like it comes with strings attached. But life is a little harder and weirder than it was last year, so I figure it can’t hurt. Feel free to pass on by and I won’t be bringing it up past this note.

Far more importantly: thank you for reading! :D

(Bonus 4. Editing this was an absolute nightmare — damn you, tumblr! — so I apologize if anything is super wonky when I finally post.)

See you next week! 💜

[Ko-Fi]

#rwby #rwby spoilers #rwby volume 8 #mymetas #rwby recaps

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votederpycausemufins · 4 years ago

Text

And this is the end of the story. Sort of. I’m going to do one or two more ‘chapters’ that are more just... you guys send me asks about the story and I’ll compile them into a chapter or two. it can be stuff like ‘i didn’t fully understand this’ or ‘can you tell more about that’ or ‘what if X happened instead.’ I’m also doing this on the Ao3 side since more people have been commenting there, but you can still use my inbox or leave messages on this post itself, whatever works for you.

Of course, all this is possibly due to the Hermit!Tommy au being created by @petrichormeraki

Mumbo groaned as he woke up, most of his body aching for some reason. Looking around, he was glad to see he was in his own bed at least. Next to him, curled up in the covers was Jrumbot who seemed to be hooked up to his redstone chargers. Mumbo patted his son’s head before pushing himself up so he could look around.

Grumbot was propped up in a nearby chair, also asleep and charging. The door to the room was cracked open and Mumbo could hear voices coming from somewhere behind it. His eyes were then drawn to an item frame with a mask of his robot skin. At least it seemed to be similar if not exactly the same. Most likely Grian had hung it up because he sure didn’t himself.

Mumbo dragged himself out of bed and walked towards whoever was talking. Getting closer, he could recognise Tommy and Grian’s voices, but there seemed to be a third person there as well. It was probably someone from Tommy’s old world, so Mumbo wasn’t too worried.

Before he could quite tell what exactly they were discussing, they stopped as Grian noticed Mumbo walking their way. “Mumbo! You’re awake!” The avian went over and hugged Mumbo before pulling him over and using the redstoner as something to lean against, nearly pushing him over in the process. “How are you feeling?

“Like I got crushed working on a redstone project with pistons. What are you wearing?” Mumbo saw Grian’s Watcher mask, not having seen it before.

“Oh this? Well… uh, you hit your head pretty hard back there, what do you remember?” Even though the mask covered Grian’s eyes, he could tell that the avian was sending glances to Tommy and the other person in the room.

“I remember up to confronting Dream after we got you back. But much after that is a bit fuzzy. I still remember bits and pieces of course.”

“Told ya.” The unfamiliar voice spoke and Mumbo finally got the chance to turn and look where their guest was sitting. He almost drew his weapon when he saw them, but he held himself back.

“Why’s Dream here?” Mumbo hazarded a glance back to Grian, hoping for an answer but Tommy was the one to answer instead.

“Not Dream, this is Drista. She’s Dream’s sister but she’s cool.” Mumbo accepted that answer as he could see the resemblance with their taste for similar mask styles.

“Yep, sorry about that. You panicked and attacked and I clocked you over the head.” Mumbo frowned at her cheerful tone but then Grian spoke and drew his attention away from the girl.

“As for the mask, while I’m mostly fine, there’s still some stuff I’m recovering from and the Watchers panicked since someone was able to mess with me and gave me a prescription for these. I might even keep them because it helps me not go crazy when in a Watcher State.”

Mumbo nodded, glad for the explanation. Then he turned his attention to Tommy. “Tommy? I’m sorry for yelling at you earlier. I wasn’t in a good headspace at the time. I of course can’t recall everything I was thinking at the time, but either way, I want to apologize.”

Tommy just rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Grian told we what shit was going on since he talked with you. It doesn’t fucking matter.”

Mumbo started to open his mouth to reply, but Grian stopped him. “Can you go wake the kids? They’ve been charging for a while and I think they’ll want to be up now that you’re awake.” The Redstoner hesitated, but did agree and headed back to his room. Once he was far enough away, Grian sighed. “That was close.”

“I’m sure he won’t have a complete mental breakdown if you bring up the VGs.” Drista said, leaning back against the wall behind her. “If anything happens, just slap the mask back on and then pull it off, it should pull it away.”

Grian crossed his arms, wings folding tightly behind him. Even though they couldn’t see his face well, he still looked down to the ground. “It still doesn’t feel right. He essentially is always going to have one part of his life he can’t remember.”

Drista gave an exasperated groan. “Oh stop complaining! He wanted this because he wanted to stay with you for whatever reason. He can always just stay a Vault God and you can never see him again. How’s that sound?” Grian was quiet. “That’s what I thought. Welp, now that we know he’s fine, I’m out of here.” And then she was gone.

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

Tubbo didn’t stay with Crumb and Sparklez for too long, needing to get admin training from Xisuma with Ranboo. Xisuma would not admit to a single person how many times he needed to take something for the headaches he got from teaching the two of them, but after interacting with the other smp members, he was perfectly fine with the current pair.

The smp island didn’t last long as members griefed it so many times that Scar finally threw his hat down and said he wouldn’t fix it anymore. He tried two more times after that, but it was the principle of the matter. The area was moved further away to a larger chunk of land that wasn’t too close to anyone’s base so that way the smp members could still have a place to start in Hermittown but also have areas to expand to. Most people went back and forth, though Philza seemed to be taking up a permanent residence in the town.

Grumbot went to visit his grandpa once, but he quickly was given the rule of not being able to go alone after that when he immediately tried to set up an election for mayor of the town. Techno tried to attack him, but he forgot the details of Grumbot being a robot, specifically one that had extensive knowledge of political figures, and Techno being both a former prince and an anarchist, the bot had a good idea of how to defend against the warrior. He still needed repairs when Grian arrived to scold him, but no one died.

After Tubbo had learned enough from Xisuma, he went back to traveling around with his dad and Crumb. It would never be longer than a week, but it was painfully obvious when he was gone as Tommy would seem down. At the very least there were a few times that Tommy was able to go along with Tubbo to see the sights.

Tommy and Mumbo eventually warmed up to each other again, mainly because Grian forced them to do more things together. They finally seemed to officially be on good terms after dragging a few smp members into Hermit Challenges together.

Grian attempted another war, which started poorly as the smp members jumped to conclusions and escalated on their own. Tubbo and Ranboo had to step in to stop it for the hermits to give them a rundown of how wars worked on the server. There were a few hiccups after that, but for the most part, things went well.

After Hbomb had first gotten a tour of the server and had seen Cub’s base, he ended up mining a large amount of ancient debris and making a wall of it on the smp side as a social experiment. It lasted longer than he thought, but still didn’t last all that long. After a few weeks he made a second one and was pleasantly surprised to see it stand longer than the first had.

With Dream gone, things started to calm down for the smp members, but a number of them still tended to wake up thinking things were back how they used to be. Mumbo ended up buying a space close to Odea and making a therapy shop which did quite well. He was also pleasantly surprised to see the Odea store suddenly getting sales as the smp members seemed to actually want the services.

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

Grian sat on the railing on the balcony of his mansion, right under the large G. Next to him was Tommy and they looked down at the two teams of four people doing a barge box quest. Grian specifically wanted two hermits and smp members on each team for a better balance and he had even reduced the prices for the smp members specifically. Sure it was a competition, but really Grian wanted the two worlds to get along.

“Didn’t Scar say you did this in the last one?” Tommy looked over at Grian who didn’t take his eyes off the people below.

“Hmm, sort of. It’s a little different. They’re placing blocks instead of putting them in the chest. Mumbo helped with the redstone for it. It cycles placing blocks inside so you can’t just take them all out and not do anything. There’s a delay once the last block is out so after a short bit they’ll get their note saying where to fly to next.”

Tommy nodded, glad Mumbo wasn’t the one telling him this and making it sound even more complicated. “How’s he doing by the way? That war got a little crazy near the end.”

“He’s fine. I made up some excuse for the mask. Accidentally overcharged it with Watcher magic so only for extreme emergencies.”

“Sorry for being busy end-busting.”

“Not your fault. It sounds like it was fun.”

Tommy laughed. “Yeah, Tubbo only tried cheating once. Xisuma noticed almost immediately and called him up to scold him. I didn’t even realize he was doing it in the middle of a fight.”

“Speaking of, why didn’t Tubbo bring you back when he teleported home to deal with things?”

“So we could continue once he was done with that. We want to kick back and relax, not get in another war.”

“Oh, I see how it is. Our wars are too good for you!”

Tommy and Grian laughed until Grian noticed one group start flying off, the second group not that far behind. “Alright, time to head to the third checkpoint. You want a head start before I beat you there?”

“Hey Big G, that’s not fair. You got those fucking wings of yours.”

“That’s why you get a head start.” Grian smirked, making Tommy realize what was about to happen and he immediately jumped off the balcony and used a rocket to propel himself in the direction of the next checkpoint.

“See you later bird boy!”

“Not if I get you first!” Grian yelled back. He would give Tommy a few minutes, but then the gloves were off. He loved how grumpy Tommy looked when he carried the blond while flying. And any chance to make a little game of it was something Grian liked. “Alright, that’s enough time.” And then he was in the air, flying off towards his brother.

#hermit!tommy #hermit!tommy au #tommyinnit #grian #grian xelqua #watcher!grian #avian!grian #mumbo jumbo #vault god!mumbo #drista #xisumavoid #tubbo #ranboo #grumbot #jrumbot

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immortalcoelacanth · 4 years ago

Text

Between the Walls, Chapter 4: Cheating the System (Dream SMP fic)

God dammit I forgot to post this before I passed out, so it’s a rare super late/early post from me XD

Word count: 5826

Summary: In which Tommy learns about many things. The purpose of the mob farm, what gunpowder is, and that Techno has a horse named Carl.

Over the course of the next couple days, Tommy learned several things. He learned that Techno’s favourite vegetable was a potato, something about it tasting like victory and being easy to grow. He learned that the upper floor of the house, the only space he had been unable to reach since digging upward tunnels was a bitch, housed not only Techno’s bed but a bell as well. Honestly, he was more surprised about the hybrid having a bed than anything else since he rarely seemed to sleep.

He also learned what the true purpose of the mob farm was.

The borrower had been looking out one of the many windows, still a bit anxious about being out in the open but ultimately adapting quite well to his new environment, when he spotted Techno outside. Nothing about this really interested him, he occasionally watched the hybrid gather resources nearby or take trips to the village to trade, but what caught his attention was the fact that Techno was going to the mob farm this time.

Now curious, he leaned against the window and watched as Techno brushed some freshly fallen snow off the ground, revealing a previously hidden trapdoor.

Seeing an opportunity to both mildly annoy Techno and figure out what was up with that random trap door, he quickly ducked into the nearby passage and made his way down to the ground. From there, he shimmied out of the entrance he had made in the wooden framework of the house, winding up on the stone stairs.

Entrances and exits to the house were always the first thing borrowers made. Escape routes were important and all, and he doubted the hybrid had noticed the practically invisible entrance, consisting of nothing other than a sheet of wood that could be moved back and forth.

It was a sliding door, Tubbo called it. He had picked up the design during a conversation with some other borrowers and shared it with Tommy once he got home. They had, naturally, tried it out and built their own special, hidden sliding door and used the space behind it as a sort of secret storage.

Hopefully it was still hidden, protecting the treasures they had gathered over the years. The sparkling red dust that Tubbo liked to mess with, the worn bee plushie, the old jukebox Tubbo had managed to fix up, and the discs they would listen to late at night.

Cat and Mellohi.

He skidded to a halt once he reached the railing, nearly falling off in the process, and quickly cupped his hands around his mouth.

“HEY TECHNOOOOOOO!” Tommy shouted at the top of his lungs. “BIG MAN! WHAT��RE YOU UP TO?!”

While the hybrid didn’t show any signs of being surprised, something that the borrower was just the slightest bit disappointed about, he did see those large, pointed ears twitch before Techno turned to face him. He waved both of his arms, bouncing up and down, and he watched as Techno reluctantly made his way over.

“So, what’s up with those trapdoors?” He immediately asked, leaning forward and peering around the hybrid as he tried to catch another glimpse of the aforementioned trapdoors. “Got some secret room full of women you’ve been hidin’?”

“... I don’t think there are any words in the English language to convey the emotion I just felt, and no.” Techno calmly replied. “It’s for the mob farm. The hoppers and chests.”

“... You keeping frogs down there?” Tommy grinned as he heard the disappointed sigh the hybrid let out in response to his question. He had no clue what a hopper was, but it sounded weird.

“It’d be easier to just show you.” Techno said, choosing to completely ignore the borrower’s question as the last thing he wanted to do was acknowledge it. “C’mere-”

“Wait! Wait! Don’t pick me up! Blade, let me ride on your shoulder!” Tommy exclaimed as he clasped his hands together. “It’ll be cool!”

“Wh-no.” Techno balked at the request. “That is possibly the worst idea I’ve ever heard on so many levels.”

“But I’ll be tall-”

“And that’s even more of an incentive to say no.”

Tommy inhaled and used his backup plan. “Please, please, please, please please, please, please, please-”

His pleading was cut off when Techno reached out and picked him up, yet again without bothering to warn the borrower. He was moments away from shouting, wanting to curse the hybrid for making a habit out of randomly picking him up, but the sudden drop onto Techno’s shoulder cut him off.

Immediately, he found himself surrounded by the fluffy trim of the cape and he impulsively ran a hand through the surprisingly soft material. It was warm, very warm, due to both the body heat the hybrid was giving off as well as the natural insulation provided by the cape. He glanced upwards, noticing the large, pointed ear above him, and a mischievous grin crossed his face.

The borrower quickly inhaled and, without warning, blew a quick puff of air up towards Techno’s ear. He was immediately rewarded with a full body shudder from the hybrid as his ear twitched wildly. That evil look appeared once more, and he quickly inhaled-

Just in time to be met with a sharp flick on his forehead. It was Techno’s retaliation, and he let out a loud yelp before massaging the aching spot.

“What the fuck was that for?!”

“You acting like a gremlin.” The hybrid replied while staring at the borrower out of the corner of his eye. Tommy nervously swallowed. “And don’t do that again.”

“R-Right! Got it, big man!”

With that boundary drawn, Techno made his way back over to the trapdoors. He ignored the surprised shout that came from Tommy as he started moving as well as the uncomfortable memories that roiled in his mind. Moments of people whispering as he passed, pointing at him.

At his ears.

Looks of disgust and distrust, as though he were some kind of freak walking through the streets. The insults and jeers that filled his childhood, eventually turning to words of praise and awe-

He suppressed the shudder and pushed down the images that plagued his mind of a time that had long since passed. There was no point dwelling on such things, remembering them, and in an attempt to distract himself, he opened the trapdoors and jumped down.

Whatever Tommy was expecting when the duo descended into the room connected to the mob farm, it certainly wasn’t this.

He could see the faint glow coming from those weird blocks, something he still needed to ask Techno about, lighting up the small space. The room itself was made out of stone, smelling faintly of dirt, and featured some chests that had been placed directly below the glowing blocks. Some strange, metal devices linked the two, and the borrower briefly wondered whether those were the “hoppers” Techno had talked about.

Before he could ask what anything was, or why the hybrid had decided to make the farm in the first place, Techno made his way over to one of the chests, crouched down, and opened it, revealing all the loot that the mob farm had generated while the borrower had been acting as bait.

There were some drops that Tommy was familiar with, the bones and rotten flesh being the main ones. Back in Borrowton, there had been groups who would go out and scavenge what loot they could find after the mobs had burnt up in the bright sunlight. It had been a dangerous job, but the rewards were worth it.

Especially when the occasional chunk of iron was found. He would never be able to forget Tubbo’s excited rambling about what new tools would be made. Fixing old, broken things was his favourite pastime, even more so when he and Tommy got something out of it, and it was one of the main sources of motivation for Tommy to go out and steal things.

Well, that and spite.

Bones had been surprisingly rare with how common skeletons were supposed to be, but he had always supposed that was because of the local wolf population getting to them first. No one wanted to challenge the local wildlife, even if it meant getting vital supplies.

However, the rest of the items left Tommy scratching his head in confusion as he tried to figure out what they were. One looked like some weird, reddish eye. String, or something that resembled string, was also pretty common and he quietly wondered if that was from the occasional spider he had seen. The only other thing he struggled to identify were the random piles of some strange, grey coloured powder.

Interestingly enough, it was these piles of powder that Techno seemed the most interested in, based on the appreciative hum he let out upon seeing how much had been collected.

“It’s gunpowder.” The hybrid replied. After hearing the confused noise the borrower made, he continued speaking. “Creepers drop it.”

“Oh.” Tommy had seen the large, somewhat fuzzy, green mob before. It was always from a distance since they apparently exploded. “So it blows up?”

Techno just grinned in response as he slowly sorted through the loot, gathering as much of the gunpowder as he could and adding it to a bag, making the borrower instinctively shudder. There was just something about that look, the amount of malice he radiated that made him want nothing more than to run, to hide and find somewhere he would be safe.

He hated it, of course, and determinedly shoved the emotions down. He was a big man, and he wouldn’t show any fear! He was stronger than that!

“Bit of a shit explanation, that is.” Tommy huffed. “Just smilin’ like someone who’s scheming. Are you scheming, Blade?”

“Not at all.” The sarcastic drawl clearly indicated otherwise, but the borrower decided not to press any further. He had his own things to worry about and the last thing he wanted was to get caught up in whatever Techno was hinting at.

Prioritize, Tommy had to prioritize. For as much as he unintentionally enjoyed his time with the hybrid, it would be best if he kept his distance as much as possible and only interacted when he really needed to. Less attachment would make it easier to leave.

It was a sound plan.

Too bad Tommy always sucked at following plans.

The next day, he ended up learning that Techno used to have a horse named Carl.

The loud bang that shook the house, walls trembling before going still, was the first indication Tommy had that something bad had happened. The next was the furious, yet short-lived, shouting he heard coming from the front yard. He faintly heard something about a retirement fund?

He didn’t really care about whatever a retirement fund was as most of his attention was focused on whatever could make Techno sound so angry. It was the first time he had ever heard such anger from the hybrid, which was concerning in and of itself, and he hesitantly made his way out towards the shouting. After creeping through his hidden door, he found Techno pacing in the snow, a somewhat crumpled piece of paper held in his hands.

Maybe that was the source of his anger…?

“Uh, Blade?” Tommy hesitantly called out. He cringed as the hybrid whirled around, red eyes shining with rage, and quietly wondered why he always got himself into these stupidly dangerous situations. “You… lookin’ a bit mad there, bruv-”

“They took Carl.”

“Uh, Carl?”

“My horse.” Techno replied, voice strangely monotone after his enraged outburst moments ago. “He’s stuck in some underground maze.”

“... So, when are we breaking him out?”

“We?” The hybrid repeated, anger fading as it was replaced by confusion.

“Well, yeah! You think I can’t help?!”

“... You’re a tiny person-”

“I am a big man with a big brain!” Tommy retorted as he pointed a finger at Techno. “And I’m great at puzzles-”

That was an absolute lie, Tubbo had always been the better out of the two when solving puzzles or riddles. He was far more patient than Tommy.

“Plus they’re probably counting on you being alone and stuff, not having a master puzzle solver with you!”

The hybrid hated to admit it, but in a way Tommy did have a point. Though he doubted the kid was as much of a master at solving puzzles as he claimed, his diminutive size could come in handy, and the sooner he got Carl out of that maze, the better.

“Alright-”

“Yes!” The borrower cheered, eagerly hopping into the offered hand before jumping onto Techno’s shoulder. He quickly made himself comfy, ignoring the exasperated look on Techno’s face, and tapped the side of his neck. “Let’s go!”

“I have to get supplies.”

“... Let’s go after we get supplies!”

Fortunately, preparing for their journey did not take long, and in no time at all, Techno set out and strode into the tundra. As they were leaving, Tommy noticed how some of the stones that made up the front porch were cracked. He could see the point of impact and how the damage spread outwards.

Had… had Techno punched it?

It took all of his strength to suppress his laughter, and even then he caught a glimpse of the hybrid staring at him in confusion before shaking his head. Nope, Techno was not going to ask about what that laughter was about. He had more important things to focus on at the moment, like getting to wherever the hell this maze was, and ignoring the inane chatter coming from the borrower.

By the time the sun had begun to set, the pair reached their destination.

“So I guess this is where your horse is.” Tommy commented as he stared at the stone entryway leading deep underground. His eyes momentarily lingered on the strange, orange, glowing things in the ground before he looked up at Techno. He couldn’t see much of the hybrid’s face due to his vantage point, but he could easily see how tense his jaw was.

Gritting his teeth as he thought about the best way to solve this maze without losing one of his lives, Carl, or his items.

“Yeah.” He grumbled as he approached the entrance, eyes briefly scanning over the sign that stated only he could enter. A quick hit with his axe split the wooden sign in half, pieces tumbling to the ground as he made his way forward.

“Apparently, if any blocks get broken Carl’s gonna burn to death.” The hybrid explained, descending into the start of the maze. “If it was anything else I’d get someone, probably Skeppy, to do it for me, but I don’t want someone to troll me by breaking a block and killing Carl.”

He then glanced down at Tommy. “And that’s where you come in.”

“... We’re gonna cheat the system?”

“Absolutely.”

“Fuck yeah!” Tommy cheered, throwing his arms up into the air in excitement. “Pog! We’ve gotta rub it in their stupid faces after we get Carl back!”

That got a small smile out of Techno, and he felt his mood lift for the first time since reading that stupid note. The kid could be so damn obnoxious and annoying, but sometimes he was alright.

So, after quickly checking out the nearby chest to see if there was any loot in it and finding nothing, he moved on and investigated the lectern nearby. He picked up the book resting on it, and opened it.

Huh, at least whoever designed this place was nice enough to leave hints.

Techno scanned over the words written in the book as he glanced at the arrows on the wall. “So, they need to be in a specific pattern-”

“I’ve got this.” Tommy scoffed as he cut Techno off. “Just lift me up to one of those frames and I’ll handle the rest.”

Mildly intrigued to see what the borrower had in mind, the hybrid held out a hand for Tommy to jump into. From there, he lifted the kid up to the item frame and watched as he skillfully jammed a tiny knife into the space between the frame and the wall, wiggled it loose, and slipped into the crack.

Suddenly, the arrow on the item frame started turning, rotating in place until Techno heard a click come from it. The borrower stuck his head out of the crack and grinned. “Got it! Take me to the next one!”

This process was repeated with each of the item frames, Tommy prying them open and messing with the redstone behind the wall until the arrow was in the correct position. Hardly any time had passed before the final click sounded and a section of the wall slid open.

Techno grinned. “... So you were a good investment-”

“Fuck yeah!” Tommy smirked while flexing his arms. “Big brain move to invest in these muscles!”

“... I take it back.”

“Hey!”

Progressing deeper into the maze, Techno easily kicking aside the empty lectern that was in his way, he took note of the bed placed in a cramped corner and the sign above it. A warning of death and respawns, and the implications made him snort in amusement.

Him? Die in this stupid maze? Not going to happen when he had Tommy to throw into the dangerous sections. Speaking of which…

“Time for you to do your thing.” He said as he scooped the borrower off his shoulder and placed him on the ground. “Apparently there’s a lot of death up ahead, probably lava. Try not to die.”

“Awwwww, the Blade cares-”

“It’d be a pain in the ass to replace you.”

“... Fucking dick.” Tommy grumbled as he stomped off. “It’d be impossible to replace me, you can’t replace perfection!”

He didn’t bother listening to whatever the hybrid’s response was as, in a mildly unnerving display of attention and focus, he approached the latest challenge he needed to overcome.

Tommy hummed as he investigated the next section of the maze. It certainly looked complicated, with all the pressure plates and strange devices, but there were two things that he quickly noticed that left him grinning. The first was that the pressure plates didn’t really detect him thanks to how small he was, and the other was that not all of the stone blocks were perfectly flush with one another, leaving the occasional gap that was just big enough for him to fit through.

Perfect.

He cracked his knuckles and got to work.

Crawling through the gaps yielded several pieces of information, the main one being that Techno had been correct in his guess that there would be lava. There were tons of spots where it had been used, each dead end filled with the glowing, molten fluid. It was chilling to realize how many times whoever kidnapped Carl wanted Techno to die, and Tommy could not help but wonder why.

Why steal Techno’s horse? Why go through all the trouble?

Something else he noticed was the strange, dark coloured sand with swirls and shapes in it. He had been hesitant to walk in it at first, and when he did he noticed that the sand seemed to stick to his boots, making it hard for him to move at anything other than a snail’s pace. Fortunately, he was able to easily skip these sections and in no time at all, he found himself staring at another lectern.

Fuck yeah!

With a victorious grin on his face, the borrower scampered back through the cracks and gaps in the blocks before finding his way back to Techno.

“You solved it?”

“Of course I did! Big man, I better get a reward for this-”

“Your reward is me not punting you every time you decide to act like a gremlin child.” The hybrid teased as he stepped forward and scooped the sputtering Tommy up. He stepped onto the pressure plate, momentarily disoriented as he was moved around, and then gestured for the borrower to begin guiding him.

Every so often, Tommy would get Techno to pause as he quickly checked to make sure the path they were following was correct before continuing to lead him. He could feel both his pride and ego swelling at his success, even after the teasing from earlier. This maze was easy!

And that thought stayed in his mind for only a couple of seconds before the pair reached the next section. While the borrower did not see the hint, he did catch sight of the smile that crossed Techno’s face once he was done reading it, which made him smile too.

Oh yeah, this next part was gonna be easy as hell-

Or so the borrower thought, until he was blasted in the face by the roaring heat of a room full of lava. The viscous fluid dripped from the ceiling and filled the pit which took up the bottom of the room. Several tiny platforms were suspended above the deadly obstacle, and multiple ladders lined the walls.

“It’s all fucking lava!” Tommy shrieked, voice cracking painfully. “Techno, move!”

“Gimme a sec.” Techno tersely replied as he jumped from the starting platform to the nearest ladder. His concentration was momentarily thrown off as he felt a pair of arms wrap around the side of his neck and a tiny body press itself against him.

It was Tommy, and he was trembling in fear.

Discomfort ran through him, but the hybrid ignored it as he continued to jump from ladder to platform. He carefully dodged the bits of lava that fell from the ceiling and unconsciously raised the shoulder the borrower was on, blocking any potential lava that might land on him.

It was a gesture that only Tommy noticed, his eyes widening in surprise as the protective positioning registered. It was just like back with the librarian. Techno was trying to keep him safe…

Soon enough, Techno’s boots hit stone. This sound snapped Tommy out of his dazed state, and he awkwardly let go of the neck he had been clinging to and looked off to the side.

Don’t say anything, just don’t mention it-

“Welp, hope you don’t mind more lava-”

“THERE’S MORE?!” The borrower wailed as he looked in front of them, taking in the multiple different pathways that were full of lava. “WHY THE FUCK IS THERE MORE?!”

“Bruh, if you’re gonna keep being so loud I’m sticking you in a bottle.”

“Technoblade, you’re subjecting me to this torture again! Wh-what about my emotions?! The trauma?! I’ll never be able to look at anything orange ever again!” Just as Tommy was about to continue his rant, Techno lifted a bottle of some strange, glowing liquid up for him to see.

“It’s a good thing I decided to brew a fire resistance potion, then.”

“... A what?” The borrower blinked in confusion, and the hybrid rolled his eyes before explaining further.

“It’ll make us immune to fire damage for a bit-”

“Immune-why didn’t you use that in the other room then?!”

“I didn’t wanna waste it, duh.”

He ignored the enraged sputtering coming from Tommy and quickly splashed some of the potion on the kid, getting a loud curse in response, before dousing himself with the rest of it. After quickly checking to make sure the fire resistance was actually working on the borrower, a quiet sigh of relief escaping him when he saw those signature orange swirls, he then glanced at the hint book.

He who fails, may lose, but maybe not again…

Again…?

“Two, maybe?” Techno mumbled to himself as he approached the second opening. He both felt and heard Tommy start to panic, listened to the anxious mumbles and felt the nervous shifting on his shoulder, and decided it was best to get this part over and done with.

Without warning the borrower, he quickly lunged into the lava, pushed through it, and found himself in a stream of water. He was immediately met with more shouting courtesy of Tommy.

“What the fuck, man?! Why the fuck would you do that without warning me?!”

“So I didn’t have to listen to your yelling…” Techno started to say, but his voice trailed off as he looked down the next passage and noticed something moving in the distance.

Something horse shaped and wearing diamond armor.

“CARL!”

He immediately raced off, passing the two rooms that had clearly been left open on accident in his haste to get to his horse. Tommy was nearly knocked off his shoulder, but just barely managed to hold on thanks to the fur trim behind him.

“How about a bit of warning, next time?!” The borrower shouted, ultimately being ignored as Techno chose to focus on showering Carl with love and affection instead. He whispered gently to the horse, brushing a hand through Carl’s mane and promising that they would be home soon, that everything would be alright.

Tommy pretended to gag. “Can’t believe you’re going soft, Blade, and over a horse too.”

“I’ll have you know that Carl is the best horse in the world, and deserves nothing less than perfection.” Techno proudly stated. He looked so happy, definitely the happiest Tommy had ever seen him, and it was so…

Weird.

Rather than continue to tease the hybrid further, the borrower just let out a loud, exasperated sigh, arms dropping to his sides. “Well you better finish up your reunion so we can get outta here!”

Unfortunately for Tommy, it was this outburst that caught the horse’s attention. Carl let out a snort and shifted so his muzzle was pointed at Techno’s shoulder where the borrower was. Tommy winced as he felt a puff of warm air run over him before frantically looking at Techno. “What the fuck do I do?!”

“Relax, Carl’s just saying hello.”

“... So I should say hay back-” The pun was cut off by a quick flick to Tommy’s forehead. As the borrower grumbled as rubbed at the sore spot, Techno offered his own suggestion.

“The last thing you should do is offend Carl, especially with any of your shitty jokes-”

“They’re not shit!”

Carl let out snort of his own at Tommy’s objection, as if disagreeing with the borrower despite only having just met him a couple moments prior, making Techno let out his own laugh.

“I can’t believe I’m being bullied by a bastard and his horse.” Tommy grumbled. He was snapped out of his sour mood when another puff of warm air rolled over him, Carl still clearly intrigued by the tiny being. Feeling both curious and nervous, Tommy hesitantly held a hand out towards the horse.

“Hello there… Carl…”

This was insanity, absolute insanity, and the borrower was certain he was going to die. However, his assumption was immediately disproven when the muzzle of the horse was pressed against his hand.

Unfortunately, the affectionate gesture was a bit too strong for Tommy, nearly knocking him over before Techno reached out to steady him.

“Looks like Carl approves.” The hybrid chuckled, getting a half-hearted glare from the borrower.

“At least he’s got good taste.” Tommy mumbled as he gently patted the horse, starting a bit more comfortable. “Everyone approves of me, I’m fantastic.”

“You keep telling yourself that.”

A couple more moments passed with Carl investigating the strange, tiny new creature before the horse let out a snort and shook his head. One of his hooves pawed at the ground, a clear sign that he was more than ready to leave the cramped space he had been stuck in.

Having saddled up Carl and made sure he was alright for the journey back home, the group emerged out of the dark tunnel into moonlight. Techno let out a quiet, relieved sigh, happy to be out of the cramped maze, while Tommy just slumped against the side of his neck. The duo were exhausted and both wanted nothing more than to pass out.

… But sleep was not the only thing on Tommy’s mind. He kept thinking back to the maze, to the puzzles he had helped the hybrid overcome. He had been helpful, very helpful, and it was likely Carl wouldn’t have been saved if it weren’t for him.

He was important, his help had been important, and he wanted to know if…

If Techno realized that.

He wanted the validation, craved it, and despite how anxious he was everything in him begged him to speak up and voice those words.

Ask him, ask him-

“Techno,” Tommy began, looking up so he could catch a glimpse of the hybrid’s face. “Did… did I do good?”

“No,” He felt his heart shatter hearing that word. Again, again someone had not thanked him for his work.

“You did great.” The rough sensation of a finger being pressed against the top of his head and ruffling his hair snapped Tommy out of his spiral, and by the time the ruffling stopped he was able to look up and see the smile on Techno’s face.

A true, genuine smile.

You did great.

Great.

...

Why?

Why had a man who was practically a stranger to him, someone he had known for less than a week, been able to say the words he had been dying to hear from the people who had known him since he was a child?

Why had one of the most emotionally reserved people Tommy had ever met been able to express the appreciation towards his actions that he had only ever experienced with Tubbo?

Why was Technoblade one of the two people he now felt safe around? How the hell had the hybrid managed to earn his trust so fast with how much of a prick he could be?! And why the fuck was he crying over something so stupid-

But it wasn’t stupid.

It was a sign of him being valued, being wanted. A sign that, despite how annoying and obnoxious he could be at times, someone cared about him. It was what had drawn him to Tubbo in the first place, the foundations of their friendship.

The fact that they genuinely cared about one another when no one else did.

I miss Tubbo.

A choked sob burst out of Tommy and he quickly pressed his forearm over his face as he struggled to suppress the sounds of his crying, damn he had been crying a lot.

He was unaware of how the ear above him twitched, Techno obviously hearing the sounds of his distress despite how hard he tried to hide it. He was equally unaware of the look of discomfort that briefly crossed the hybrid’s face before fading to neutrality.

Emotions, the last thing he wanted to deal with.

… Or really knew how to deal with. Years worth of being a social outcast, repressing his own emotions, and just having a general sense of anxiety towards interacting with people had left him woefully unprepared when it came to displaying empathy. The people who mattered most to him, Phil and-

The soothing sounds of someone playing a guitar. That teasing laughter and lighthearted sparkle in his eyes.

Wilbur.

Both of them knew, or had known, when he was trying to help out and show that empathy he struggled with. The words he was unable to say, always out of reach, conveyed through physical acts. The occasional, awkward hug, leaning against them…

Stealing Wilbur’s beanie and ruffling his hair, warm curls bouncing and wrapping around his fingers. The sounds of his laughter.

Fuck.

This was why he didn’t do emotions. Too many bad memories and negative feelings he didn’t want to deal with.

After what felt like an eternity passed, with Techno being seconds away from breaking down and begging the borrower to just stop being sad please I don’t know how to deal with this, he heard the kid sitting on his shoulder let out a shaky sigh.

“Fuckin’ bullshit is what it is.” Tommy bitterly mumbled, arms crossed and posture defensive. Techno let out a soft hum of agreement, and the borrower could feel the corresponding rumble through the neck he was leaning against. He instinctively started relaxing, sighing softly as his eyes closed.

Neither of the duo made any mention of what had just happened, both uncomfortable with the display of emotions for various reasons, but the awkward air lingered.

It was suffocating and only brought attention back to what had just happened, making it impossible to escape from the embarrassing display of feelings. As such, Tommy cleared his throat and decided to strike up a conversation.

“So, what about me?”

“Heh?” Techno blinked and tried to stare at the borrower, only really succeeding in catching a glimpse of his sprawled out legs.

“You’ve got this cool horse and all,” He started to ramble, gesturing with his arms despite knowing that the hybrid had no way to see. “With-with diamond armor, or some crap-”

“I should start trying to upgrade Carl’s armor.” Techno suddenly said, tuning out Tommy’s rambling as he contemplated whether it would be worth it to try and make netherite horse armor. “He deserves it.”

“I am talking, bruv! I thought you had manners?!” Tommy huffed as he angrily jabbed the side of the hybrid’s neck. He openly scowled when Techno started laughing.

“You were talking? I thought that was a fly buzzing around-”

“Prick!”

The insult was followed by more slapping as Techno laughed loud enough to nearly knock the borrower off his shoulder. He just barely managed to grab onto the furry trim of the cape as he glared up at Techno.

“You keep fucking picking on me for bein’ short and shit.”

“I don’t pick on you because you’re short. I pick on you because it’s easy.”

“Well… well your mum’s easy.” Tommy grumbled, crossing his arms and looking off to the side. He ignored how Techno continued to laugh, or he did until he came up with a suitable rebuttal.

“... I think I’d like a moth as a cool animal friend.”

Yup, that got the laughter to stop immediately. “Tommy, you’re not keeping a moth in my house.”

“It’s our house, bruv! And she’d be nice!” Tommy continued, pretending he didn’t hear Techno speak. “I’d have to give her a great name though. How about Clementine?”

“Tommy if you let one moth into my house, I swear-”

The borrower burst into loud cackles, arms braced against his stomach as he threw his head back and laughed. He tilted backwards, nearly falling off of his perch, and just barely managed to righten himself. Due to this, he didn’t catch the faint smile that crossed the hybrid’s face, nor did he see how those red eyes seemed to brighten for a moment, despite the inner turmoil that the owner felt.

Maybe, just maybe, Techno could admit to himself that it was nice having some company.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The fastest way to a piglin hybrid's heart is through his prized, retirement securing horse!

#my story #fanfiction #dream smp #dream smp fic #sleepy bois inc #sleepy bois inc fic #borrower au #dsmp tommy #dsmp techno #borrower!tommy

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ginmo · 4 years ago

Note

How do you think the Bran and Jaime’s meeting will go in the books? I’ve read theories guessing he might end up as King Bran’s Hand, meta where the writers want him to become a mentor or father figure to the Starks in a full circle of his redemption arc, while others don’t want or think he should be involved with the Starks long-term either because of his and his family’s sins against the Starks or because they view his arc as reclamation rather than redemption or atonement. 1/2

This is what GRRM said about Bran and exploring time.

“It's an obscenity to go into somebody's mind. So Bran may be responsible for Hodor's simplicity, due to going into his mind so powerfully that it rippled back through time. The explanation of Bran's powers, the whole questions of time and causality - can we affect the past? Is time a river you can only sail one way or an ocean that can be affected wherever you drop into it? These are issues I want to explore in the book, but it's harder to explain in a show.” - Fire Cannot Kill a Dragon

Hodor’s name reveal is neat and all, but Bran’s power to manipulate the past doesn't exist just so we can randomly learn Hodor’s pointless name origin. That would be ridiculous unless the scene was used to introduce that ability. Hodor’s name reveal is important to the narrative, and I believe its purpose is to set up a much bigger event/reveal involved around Bran interfering with the past, not just observing it. I’m pretty sure GRRM was hint-hinting to D&D about this, which is why he told them about the random ass Hodor scene that was already written, thinking it would be obvious what that means for the overall plot and letting them run with it but………………..

Because of this, I think it’s possible Bran brought himself to where he is.

IF Bran isn��t involved in The Push, then he could have been involved with Jaime killing the Mad King. I kinda like the idea of Bran playing into Aerys’ madness, causing him to stock up on wildfire around the city, because then the wildfire would be an essential future plot element for a bigger purpose towards the end of the series and it would be a question of time, “a river you can only sail one way, or an ocean that can be affected wherever you drop it,” but for the entire series. (And, as someone with a passion in astrophysics, I’m a sucker for discussions around time. BUTTHAT’SJUSTME)

Do I totally subscribe to this theory? Eh. I’m still not convinced Bran is King of All of Westeros for reasons, but I’m open-minded. I DO think Jaime is surviving the series, for reasonsssss, so I’m putting that disclaimer out there right now. I will never claim with absolute confidence that he is surviving though because, I mean, nobody fucking knows, and there’s an argument for death. I’m just going off of narrative clues that I perceive to be clues, and taking other character arcs into consideration. After literally drawing up a table because I’m weird, the column for Survive has more evidence and justification than the column for Dies, so that’s why I lean the way I lean. SO with that being said, I think it’s possible he has more of a political future.

IF this is what GRRM is writing, Jaime would still be responsible for pushing him, of course, but future Bran would want to be pushed. He'd be setting everything in motion to create the butterfly effect that makes it happen.

Even if that isn’t what GRRM had intended with exploring time, it’s highly likely Bran’s character development is taking him down a path of apathy over it, meaning he wouldn’t be needing Jaime to do something for the purpose of redemption for him.

Speaking of Redemption…

-deep breath-

I’m going to go off on this a bit because it IS relevant, I swear.

“Limits of redemption” is probably the biggest wtf interpretation fandom has when it comes to what GRRM actually said. I’ll try not to go off on it too much here but -

Interviewer: Both Jaime and Cersei are clearly despicable in those moments. Later, though, we see a more humane side of Jaime when he rescues a woman, who had been an enemy, from rape. All of a sudden we don’t know what to feel about Jaime.

GRRM: One of the things I wanted to explore with Jaime, and with so many of the characters, is the whole issue of redemption. When can we be redeemed? Is redemption even possible? I don’t have an answer. But when do we forgive people? [...] I want there to be a possibility of redemption for us, because we all do terrible things. We should be able to be forgiven. Because if there is no possibility of redemption, what’s the answer then? [x]

I bolded “we” from the interviewer, because it gives context to GRRM’s answer with “we” being the readers, not the characters or Jaime himself. (I think there’s another interview where he says “limits of redemption” but it’s in the same context. I could be wrong but I SWEAR I heard it. Anyway…)

“I kind of tried to ask, ‘do you think he’s changed?’ to get him to talk about Jaime’s redemption arc, so he said something like he wanted to explore the concept of forgiveness and whether it’s possible to be forgiven for doing such horrible things, and that his goal was to ask the question, not give an answer.” [x]

Fandom thinks this is the characters giving Jaime forgiveness, and maybe there will be a small element of that in the books, but the question is for the readers. No, Jaime is not actively seeking redemption from people. His redemption is for himself, through living his best life, by rediscovering the person he used to be. Yes He Will Be Redeemed and No He Will Fail assume redemption is some arbitrary checklist determined by One Big Act, and they’re answers to a question GRRM doesn’t want to give an answer to.

The purpose of Jaime’s POVs is to ask the readers, and the most obvious moment of this was the bath scene. GRRM smacks us over the head with the Aerys confession, and then as we’re introduced to more and more of his POV chapters, he slowly chips away at the Jaime illusion that was intentionally established the moment he pushed one of the perceived child protagonists out of a window. It’s brilliant, and I’m sorry GRRM that a large chunk of your fandom is too dense to get it. How frustrating lol. I’ll be insulted for him. (I’m legit wondering if his recent angsty tweets about grey and redemption about real life stem from a concern that his fandom won’t understand the point of the series.)

To give you an idea of where these people are coming from, at least one BNF idiot on Twitter believes redemption hasn’t been explored with Jaime yet.

But uh…

GRRM mentioned his intent is to “explore redemption” after delivering Jaime POVs, because... it’s... not a spoiler… he’s already exploring redemption, because the question is being asked TO US. We were supposed to have an “oh shit” moment, realizing this is more complex than the surface level, biased perspective we were delivered at the beginning of the story. “Maybe Westeros and my protagonist have it wrong.” -cough- the people in the village in BatB -cough-

No matter how much fandom likes to pretend they love GRRM for pushing the boundaries of fantasy, they secretly fucking hate it. They love to be comfortable, dude. That’s why they read this series as if it’s a clear cut Good vs. Evil, because a) ego and b) that’s easy. If GRRM was writing Jaime as doing everything with ill intent then…. his… question isn’t being asked. They think everything he does right now is selfish and Bad, so they’re waiting. They want it spoon fed to them. They want classic fantasy. They want Starks = Good, Lannisters = Bad.

But… if the author sees Jaime’s actions as grey and complex, enough to ask the question to the readers if he’s redeemed in their eyes or not, then he’s not going to write an endgame that punishes the character for narrative payoff, because he doesn’t see his actions as “sins” or “crimes” in the same way that these people are. Once upon a time, a person on tumblr reblogged one of my posts and said that Jaime will rape Cersei before he kills himself and that will be his endgame. But GRRM doesn’t view Jaime as a rapist, so he’s not going to write Jaime as a rapist. I’m bringing that up, because it’s the same phenomenon. People can ignore authorial intent all they want, but NOT when it comes to predicting narrative trajectory. The general fandom is terrible at that lol.

The exploration of redemption for Jaime comes in the form of confronting his disillusioned self and everything attached to it. Before someone thinks, “lolllll he isn’t disillusioned”

“he actually was a very idealistic young man who was disillusioned by life” [x]

Jaime’s redemption is the path of returning to that idealistic man for himself. It’s by feeling ashamed of the things he’s done to hide his love for Cersei. It’s by gaining independence and detaching from the toxic relationship that caused a mess outside of them. It’s by wanting to be like the knights he admired in his youth, and like the woman warrior that inspired him.

So when I think about narrative payoff for Jaime, I don’t see it framed as him being “punished” for actions viewed as “crimes,” when GRRM clearly established those “crimes” as complicated and grey with a character already going through some positive development, and especially when the characters judging are written to be flawed as well.

On the other side, having him be “punished” by succumbing to hatred and anger is for sure giving an answer (this just… -sits on hands- don’t even get me started on THIS fucking hot take). That answer would be a clear, solid, “No, no matter how hard he tries to turn his life around, he can’t be redeemed, because he’s a hateful, angry, fucked up person.” I’ve legit seen people think “limits of redemption” is a boundary of redemption drawn in the sand that Jaime is walking towards but he won’t be able to cross it. I-.........................

And what’s even the point of his handchop if scenario number 2 happens?

“And Jaime, losing a hand, losing the very thing he defined himself on is crucial to where I think I want to go with the character. And he questions what do you make of yourself if you’ve lost that.” - GRRM [x]

(I’m going to put this quote in every post sorry not sorry)

So he’s going to take Jaime on this big identity journey just for him to be like “lol nah he isn’t that” …?? That makes the loss of his hand meaningless, not “crucial.” Is it really crucial for him to lose his hand if he’s bringing him back to the beginning? Is it really crucial for him to lose his hand to make himself realize he’s hateful and a failure and murder Cersei and then himself? No. He could have still met Brienne and been inspired by her knightly ways, attempted to live a better life, found out about Cersei’s affairs, etc. He doesn’t need to lose his hand to reach a point of fucking murder/suicide lmao fuck (not saying he’ll do that but I KNOW people are thinking it).

The loss of his hand is “crucial,” because GRRM has bigger endgame plans for him in the form of politics, and the journey to believably get there requires the forced loss of his warrior identity and everything that the hand symbolized.

AS FOR THE ACTUAL HAND THEORY...

Even though I’m undecided on it, I CAN see it IF Bran is King. I get it. Jaime’s missing his right Hand, he becomes the Hand to the kid he pushed out the window. Hardy har har. I understand how that would be pleasing.

And we all know GRRM said something about how the best ones for power are the ones who don’t want it…

And… this suspicious scene at the very beginning of the series…

“You should be the Hand.”

“Gods forbid,” a man’s voice replied lazily. “It’s not an honor I’d want. There’s far too much work involved.”

Bran hung, listening, suddenly afraid to go on. -AGOT

BUT IF that happens, it wouldn’t be there as some sort of #atonement #forredemption. It would be there because of Jaime’s growth as a character after developing into a political player, after asking himself, “what do you make of yourself if you’ve lost [the swordhand]?” He’s no longer the warrior he once was. He dislikes any sort of political position, because he feels most alive with a sword in his hand. But that was Warrior Jaime, and the point of “what do you make of yourself after you’ve lost that” is Jaime going down a different path after discovering that Warrior Jaime has died. I mean, he’d never be actively seeking power and thinking it’s the best career ever, like he’d probably be all -sighhhhhhh- about it, but he’d be doing the responsible thing and what’s necessary. He’d make himself useful in a new way.

“The Warrior had been Jaime’s god since he was old enough to hold a sword. Other men might be fathers, sons, husbands, but never Jaime Lannister, whose sword was as golden as his hair. He was a warrior, and that was all he would ever be.” - AFFC (Do I really need to make a post about how GRRM foreshadows? Mr. Bran: “I never fall”...?)

Jaime losing his hand was the narrative consequence for The Push, making all of his development post handchop -ALL OF HIS POVS- the redemption theme. It was the hand that pushed Bran, fucked his twin, killed his king, swung the sword against fandom’s Precious Protagonists…

“You ought to be pleased. I’ve lost the hand I killed the king with. The hand that flung the Stark boy from that tower. The hand I’d slide between my sister’s thighs to make her wet.” - AFFC

So if Jaime becomes his Hand, it would be the two characters meeting in the middle, not Jaime groveling at his feet, begging for forgiveness, framed as a punishment for sins - “sins” that fandom views as “sins” that need narrative payoff, because they don’t understand intent.

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silverwhiteraven · 5 years ago

Text

Borne of the Stars - An MLB Kryptonian AU - Chapter 1

Kryptonian AU Tag List: @eve-valution @weird-pale-blonde-person @kris-pines04 @soulmate-game

[ Posted on Ao3 ] [ Chapter 2 ]

[Summary: Marinette Dupain-Cheng was a normal girl with a normal life. 'Was' being the proper tense. Her family takes a trip to Metropolis in the States while waiting for renovations of their bakery to be completed. An unlucky encounter with danger and the two Kryptonian cousins of Earth leads to a reveal that means Marinette shares a very similar past with the Superhero duo. At the same time, she becomes a Superhero, too. Oh, what a mess... ]

Many things began to change for Marinette Dupain-Cheng when she was 14. Specifically, the great domino chain was set off in the summer before her last year of collège. She would not notice the change that had come until an entire year later, but it was that summer in particular that started it all. Her entire life was about to be irrevocably altered forever, all because her family’s bakery needed a renovation, and chose America to vacation to while it happened.

~~~

Marinette steps out of the elevators into the hotel lobby, a black accented pink messenger bag slung over her shoulder, and glancing around for her parents. It was late morning and they had been dealing with calls from Paris involving the Dupain-Cheng Bakery’s renovations.

Her parents had purchased the connecting building behind the bakery, planning to move the kitchens back into the new area and expanding the front of the bakery enough for both extra displays and a café sitting area. Even the menu was getting an extension, including drinks, to go along with the new look.

However, the contractors were having a bit of trouble involving the building’s supports, and it was unfortunately taking time out of the family’s down-time.

Marinette found Tom and Sabine standing in a corner of the large lobby, back to back like they were ready to take on the world together, phones to their ears as they talked away. Their daughter smiled at the image of them and walked up, kissing their cheeks in greeting as they leaned down to meet her like it was second nature. Not once did they break a beat in their conversations.

“I’m going to go explore,” she states to them, quiet enough not to distract them but enough for them to hear. “One of the city parks is nearby and I've been dying to check it out. I’ll be back later, call me if you need me to come back sooner or want to join me when you're done. Is that alright?”

Both her parents smiled proudly at her and nodded in unison, Marinette beaming right back at them. With a final wave goodbye, she turned on her heel and sprinted out the door with excitement.

Metropolis was such a bright and beautiful city in her eyes, and it only helped that it was protected by one of the most awesome beings on the planet.

The dark, gloomy city of Gotham and its equally awesome vigilantes only a scant few hours away certainly helped in giving the sunny city some extra contrast, too.

Just thinking about the heroes though gave her a mixed sweet and sour taste. Superman and the Bats certainly tickled at her sense of style as a designer plenty often, and having come to one of the very cities they resided in did nothing to ease it.

Alya had been no help when she first joined their school the year before, either. The first thing she had done was bring up heroes. It hasn't been until then that Marinette had started really paying attention to the masked people and their choice in clothing. Casual and semi-formal had been her forté then, but now, supersuits had become a large part of her hobby as a way to get more creative. As well as to ease her frustrations at all the heroes and villains and their range of great to terrible fashion choices that Alya would bring up on a regular daily basis.

However, the designer could admit that in recent years, the heroes, and some villains, were getting better with their costumes. She could also admit that, looking through the eyes of past generations and their preferred fashions, the heroes had been rather on point and with their times. And like the good heroes and vigilantes they are, they evolved with the times and switched things up before they became nonredeemable. To Marinette’s eyes, anyways.

But there's always room for improvement. And today was a great day to be inspired to make them.

Marinette stepped into the park with a wide grin, looking around at all the proof of life it was filled with. Most of the benches were filled; joggers taking breaks, parents keeping eyes on their children, and office workers leisurely eating lunch.

She looked up past the trees to see a clear view of one of the most well known and iconic buildings in the entire city: The Daily Planet. Grinning and giggling out of excitement, she picked up her pace and beelined for the side of the park closest to the building. There was nothing like the most well known place to spot the local superhero in order to get inspiration for redesigning his suit.

Finding a vacant bench with a clear view of the Daily Planet, Marinette lays her bag on her lap and pulls out her sketchpad, sticking a few extra pencils over her ear and into her hair so she wouldn't have to stop and sharpen one when it goes dull.

She sat there sketching away, occasionally looking up again before resuming her task. It took a bit of time before she noticed the occasional odd whistling in the air, an odd pitch between that of a plane high above and one you’d hear from something small and fast like an arrow. As she glanced up once more as the sound grew loud enough to take note of, she had to blink, unsure if she really saw something streaking through the air above the tower.

Marinette stood and squinted, setting her bag and sketchbook to the side. She took a step forward, shielding her eyes from the sun and continued to stare.

Then the sound returned once more, and before she could question it and look for the streak she was about to hope was the local superhero, a loud clang could be heard, ringing through the air like a warped bell toll of Big Ben.

Her eyes went wide as she took a half step back and realized the Daily Planet’s planet had shifted, and was moving forwards towards her side of the tower. Her body froze and tensed as it continued to tilt.

Then she just, reacted.

“Everyone, MOVE!!” Marinette bellowed as loud as she could, for once in her life channeling the commanding voice of her mother and the volume of her father.

“THE TOWER IS COMING DOWN,” she continued to yell, and she watched as the message was received by those out in the open, and the message quickly spread. She was a bit relieved to see that they were managing to stay level-headed despite the panic that was undoubtedly rising.

She then rushed forward into the middle of the four laned street, signalling to drivers of the cars that couldn't hear her. “GET OUT OF THE WAY!!” It was agonizing to continue watching above, the golden sphere moments from tumbling off its remaining perch, as she motioned for the vehicles to turn back. She was once more relieved to see that those who got stuck were evacuating their cars before they got desperate behind the wheel.

In one last check, she saw an older teen stepping out of the building, earbuds in his ears, face downcast into a book.

“Oh no,” she breathes out, and breaks into a sprint for him.

When she reaches him, hearing the final creaks of the orb above and a crash as it falls down and smashes one and then another of the corners of the tower’s step-like upper levels, she slams his book closed and shoved it into his chest, startling him, a headphone falling from his ear.

“Move,” she says breathlessly, and his blue-green eyes widen in comprehension as a third crash sounds out, and a chunk of rubble falls to the ground behind her. She shoved him backwards, back into the lobby of the Daily Planet. He stumbles and falls as she steps back to balance herself out from having pushed him too hard.

The doors close and she’s too late to follow as another, larger chunk of building falls between her and safety, more coming down all around.

Looking up, she sees the brass sphere fully overshadowing the sky, finally free-falling right for her.

Marinette barely manages to slide behind another huge fallen chunk and between two of the building’s outcropping walls before the Daily Planet’s signature symbol comes crashing down into the ground.

#Kryptonian AU #maribat #crossover au #Borne of the Stars #marinette dupain cheng #miraculous ladybug #willowbendt

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bradshawwannebe · 4 years ago

Text

Coffee and baby bunnies

Bucky Barnes x fem!englishteacher!Reader

It’s weird when you have a best friend that suddenly doesn’t seem like a best friend. One look at him and you notice just how much you love him. Do you act on these feelings or should you just keep them to yourself?

Warnings: fluff and a mean little cat (based off of my own cat)

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

Waking up one morning and deciding that going to a coffee shop was good, it was a great idea. Right up until you stubbed your toe and thought you broke the nail on your pinky toe, again. Then you remembered you have an English class to teach at the local High School, and luckily your class doesn’t start until 7:00. Quickly glancing at the clock and it reading 6:30 caused you to get your butt into gear, slipping on some skinny jeans and a nice loose fitting black shirt you decided to slip on pointed toe red flats and doing some simple makeup as quickly as possible. Looking back at the clock and seeing that 10 minutes had passed you sighed ‘That’s a record’ you grabbed the daily necessities and your keys to go to the nearest open coffee shop available. Right after you fed and pet the little furball of a cat you called Pattie May wishing her a good day and asked her not to mess with pillows and plants too much, or at all.

It took all of ten minutes to see that your favorite cafe was open and grabbing your coffee and a croissant until you met a rock hard chest but thankfully saving the coffee. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t looking where I was going, are you okay?” A low, deep chuckle is what you heard in response your fussing, out of humiliation your eye were facing the red shoes on your feet but the chuckle you heard irritated you, causing you to look up at the person to reprimand them for laughing at you, but when you saw who it was that fire quickly died and the blood spread across your face in an instant.

“It's a fine, doll, don’t worry about me, are you ok?” the man, er well The Winter Soldier, responded.

Your breath got caught in your throat and your heart skipped a beat at the sudden realization and words failed you, ‘So much for becoming an English teacher’. And with that you nodded with a, “Yes, I’m ok, uh thank you for asking Mr. Soldier… er uh Barnes, Uh I-I mean-” you were cut off before you could embarrass yourself any further, if that was possible.

“Bucky, my name’s Bucky,” jeez, what a voice.

“Bucky,” you breathed, testing the name out on your lips, and loving the way it felt,” right, sorry. Thank you, Bucky for asking and sorry for running into you but I really have to get going.”

“What’s your name?” he rushed out before you could turn away.

Telling Bucky your name, you walked out before you said something you’d regret.

And once at the school and in the security of your classroom, Levi, a freshman asked why you were so red and you blamed the coffee.

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

Since that day around a week ago, you’ve met at the same shop as often as possible, waking up earlier, getting dressed faster just to see Bucky. However today, numbers were exchanged and not even before you left the shop, you got a message from an unknown number, why numbers weren’t exchanged before was beyond your knowledge.

“Hey, it’s Bucky.”

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It’s been a month and yours and Bucky's friendship has blossomed, still a friendship but he has successfully been upgraded to ‘best friend’ seeing as you only have two other people that you talk to that aren’t students or work colleagues,and personally are your friends. “Hello, Earth to Y/N, are you still there?” the metal hand of Bucky Barnes waved in your face to get your attention. “Are you okay? You seem out of it.” His concern warmed your heart and you fought off a blush and grin from appearing on your face. “Yeah, Buck, I’m fine, what were you saying?”

He eyed you a bit before answering, “I was asking how your class is.” Oh.

“It’s going okay, I stopped a few kids on the football team from snorting Smarties before anyone could do much damage,” you supplied the man. Explaining how snorting the candy worked when he gave you a confused expression. “Big dummy heads, the lot of them.”

“Isn’t calling students ‘dummy heads’ considered bullying?” he teased while sitting on a nearby bench in Central Park. you fixed him with a glare that didn’t last long before you decided that it was getting late and your bed was calling your name.

“Actually, no, I wasn’t talking about them, per say,” you defended yourself, standing up and throwing the empty cappuccino cup in your hand in the nearby trash bin, “but it is getting late and I should most definitely be getting back to my apartment and grade some papers. See ya.”

You didn’t notice that he had already stood up and he grabbed your wrist before you could move too far away. “I know you’re walking home and it’s New York and it’s a big city, so I could walk you home.”

You glanced at your watch quickly before making a decision. “Ya know, yeah, why not? Plus, now you could meet Pattie May. Well Gabby and I call her May, but Jordyn just calls her cat. She’s a bit of a b-,” you said without taking a breath before realization dawned on you that you were rambling. A thing you did when you were excited or nervous. You went to state your realization before you were cut off. “You’re rambling again, doll.”

“Whoops, sorry,” you stated with a slight shrug and a sheepish smile walking ahead to hide the inevitable yet traitorous blush on your face. You felt his presence as he sidled up beside you. The cool, autumn air couldn’t extinguish the fact that the man standing next to you could very well be a heater in disguise as you felt his warmth radiating off of him. Walking the trail out of Central Park you spotted the small bunny that sat off to the side of the trail. “Bucky, look, it’s a baby bunny!” you couldn’t contain your excitement. Spotting the small animal was probably one the most exciting things you did as a teenager, the excitement of seeing them never leaving you, even as a fully grown adult.

“It’s so tiny and adorable. Hey, do you think we touch him or her? I don’t know it’s gender but it’s cute.” The logic of stating your desire hit you and you suddenly felt like the dumbest person ever. Especially when the bunny saw you and took off out of fear. “Actually nevermind.” You didn’t miss the look of fondness on his face, the smile he gave you was like an award.

“Hey, you ok? You just kinda stopped talking,” you were actually slightly worried. And as if sensing your concern, or well simply answering you, he looks away.

“Yeah, the rabbit was just cute. So, my question is why I have never been to your apartment in the first place. You’ve been to mine countless times for movie night but I’ve never been to yours.”

Shrugging you answered. “Now that I think about it, I don’t really know. Well then in that case, why don’t we have a movie night Friday? We could order pizza and find a movie on Netflix or something.” It's not the first time you’ve had a movie night with Bucky so it’s nothing unusual about the event. However, to say that you didn’t feel attracted to the man beside you would be a lie and to say that you didn’t have a small, but slightly large crush on him would be an even bigger lie.

“Yeah, is around 7 okay?” he asked already knowing that answer would be yes, and with a nod of your head you confirmed it, and the rest of the walk to your apartment was silent.

When you reached your apartment you convinced him to come in even if it was only for a second. Sliding off your shoes at the door in order to not track dirt or mud into the apartment, and asking Bucky to do the same. Doing as you asked he set his boots on the floor by the door. “Hey, so where’s that cat you were talking about? I want to meet her,” he spoke genuinely curious about the cat, and excusing yourself you went to go find her.

Bucky watched you walk out of the room stunned with the slightly messy papers on the table and the small bushy kitten on the couch that was glaring at him. He walked over to the flowers and various succulent plants that were resting by a bookcase of small knick knacks and books that scream the little perks of personality you left in the apartment, and he couldn’t help but notice some of the bears that graced a few of the shelves around your home and the bit of succulents that were on the ground, with little bite marks in the small chunks. Then, suddenly there was a loud ‘bang’ drawing him out of his train of thought. “You alright, doll?” he wasn’t too worried, he could tell you were clumsy just by the continuous meetings at his favorite coffee shop and the movie nights at his apartment.

“I’m ok, don’t worry! Is May out there? I can’t find her in here.” he chuckled at your statement, assuming you stubbed your toe and a small thump followed with a string of curses.

“Yeah, she’s in here so try not to kill yourself coming out.” and with that he walked over to the small kitten that suddenly started standing up and purring at him.

“Well, aren’t you a cutie?” he asked the fluff ball, reaching his hand out to pet her. Unfortunately for him he reached out his flesh hand, and the small kitten had already rolled onto her back attacking the supposedly offending hand.

“Ow, you little-” he was cut off when you walked into the living room and scolded the cat and carrying a squirt gun in your right hand.

“May! You know better, stop biting people that only want to show you affection,” he couldn’t help but think how domestic the situation was, the small cat no longer gnawing on his fingers but instead hugging his hand,”I’m sorry about her. She’s only a few months old and extremely playful. It doesn’t mean she hates you, I promise.”

“She's cute so I think she can get away with it,” he teased with a small smile, and you smiled back. You stayed like that until the death ball meowed at you and decided to use your leg as a scratch post.

“OW, you little brat! Fine, I’ll get your food just be nice, jeez,” excusing yourself you walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge. As soon as May heard the refrigerator open she was gone, followed by persistent squeaks that could only be described as demanding from the cat.

“I know, I know, but you have dry food so why do you want this so bad? Oh well. Here you go, hun, eat up.” and almost as if the kitten was thanking you the meows ended with another squeak.

“Sorry, I give her some wet food in the morning and at night and she is very vocal and demanding about it, but even then she's kind of polite,” you explained, turning around in your kitchen only to be met with a hard chest.

“Oof,sorry… again,” you said sheepishly, taking a few steps back. Bucky didn’t say anything except a follow up apology.

“You apologize too much.”

“Yeah, well… so do you, you giant,” you teased back.

“Well, you’re cute when you talk to animals.”

“Well, you’re cute when you think I don’t know when you're staring,” the playful banter suddenly turned into a confession of feelings within seconds, ‘wow, I really just said that.’

“Well, your glasses make you look cuter than when you wear your contacts.”

“Yeah? Well, I like you… a lot.”

“I bet I like you a lot more, sugar.”

“Not possible, soldier,” you sassed taking one step towards him.

Taking one step closer you became chest to chest.

“I’m about to kiss you,” You whispered.

He smirked at that, “Not if I kiss you first,” and you he did. His lips felt so much better than in your dreams. Your arms snuck their way around his neck while his arms rested on your waist. However do to this pesky little thing called oxygen you had to pull away, even though you really didn’t want to.

“MEOW!”

Looking down you both chuckled at the small furry kitten demanding something from, what that is you aren’t exactly sure. Bucky leaned down for another chaste kiss,” You think we could make Friday more of a date? I could pick you up at the same time and everything”

You nodded, agreeing with him and the time.

“Goodnight, doll, don’t stay up too late grading those. You’ll be tired by tomorrow morning,” he stated putting his shoes on and walking outside you following behind him to the door.

“Goodnight, Bucky, don’t worry, I’ll save them for tomorrow.”

With one last kiss, he walked out the door, “maybe I’ll have the kids grade the papers”.

#bucky x reader #winter solider x you #this my first one please be kind #fluffy!bucky x reader #Soft!bucky #Bucky x teacher!Reader #bucky x sassy!reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #Bucky Barnes fluff

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punkpoemprose · 4 years ago

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Fashionably Late- A KACIJ Fanfiction

Hi @gingersweetlove I’m your secret santa! I’m so sorry about how late I’ve ended up being with your fic (ironically about being late, I swear that was not intentional), but I hope that you’ll still enjoy it! Here’s a little canon-verse post movie Kristanna goodness <3

Length: 2139 Words Universe: Canon Rated: T (Teen & Up)- Fluff and Nondescript fade to black sexytimes

Anna did her best to adjust her crown without disturbing her carefully coiffed hair, but was having little luck. She thought that maybe she shouldn’t have sent her maids away. She also thought that maybe she’d have better luck in fixing it herself if she didn’t have someone’s lips on her neck as she attempted to do so.

“If you don’t stop kissing my neck I’m going to end up with a beard burn or a hickey and Gerda will never let me hear the end of it. God forbid Elsa notices, she and Honeymaren will be giggling about it all night and people will talk.”

It was a half-hearted chiding as his lips pressed against the sensitive skin just behind her ear, his beard scraping and tickling her throat in the process. She hummed at the sensation, and he laughed, his nose shifting her hair slightly as he kissed down her neck again.

“Let them talk,” he said, “It’s our engagement party, they must realize that I like you a little bit at this point.”

She tipped her head to the side, into his lips, and successfully set her crown further off kilter, taking a chunk of hair out of it’s place in the process. She couldn’t care though when his hands settled around her waist, practically surrounding her, and lifted her up carefully to his height before his place behind her.

She turned her head to the side to kiss him, and was unsurprised when he tipped her back into his arms, turning her in the air and breaking their kiss for a moment to get a better position for a second, and then a third. She smiled against his lips and wrapped her arms around his shoulders to redistribute her weight as he shifted his hands to hold her more comfortably against his chest.

“I don’t know,” she said teasingly, “Everyone in the kingdom thinks that we hate each other. Really, just ask.”

His eyes were alight with mischief and his lips were firmly set into a smile when she looked up at him. She liked it when he was playful. More often than not she was reminded of just how hard his life had been before they met. His rough hands, that callouses that caught on her silk skirts and the scars on his back, sides, and legs always exemplified many years of dangerous work and responsibilities that had aged him beyond his years. She knew how difficult it was for him when topics of family were brought up and he dealt with the knowledge that he’d likely never know who his parents had been. There were hundreds of reminders every day of how hard life could be for him, for them both, and so in moments of joy, where he was able to eschew responsibility or worry to tease her, she relished it.

She’d play her role of course, she’d pretend that propriety was important to her for a fraction of a moment, and then she’d let him kiss her head to toe. She’d kiss him back and nip at his bottom lip and card her fingers though his hair until they were both breathless. She’d laugh with him and squeal with joy and surprise when he’d lift her from the floor, because they both knew intimately that life was far too short to take the quiet moments, the minutes they stole together, for granted.

“Well then,” he said with a grin that made Anna melt and an edge that made her shiver in the best way, “Maybe I’ll have to hold their Queen hostage for a little bit. Kiss her all over so there’s no doubt that I very much enjoy her company.”

The scandalized expression that formed on her face was only half for show. She was a little scandalized, but in the good and exciting way. In the way that made her pulse race and her skin feel hot, like she was suddenly wearing far too many clothes although she was perfectly content and comfortable moments before.

“All over?” she asked, unable to control the little squeak to her words as she said them, “That… that would take a lot of time Mr. Bjorgman. Are you intending to make us late to our own engagement party?”

“Yes. Yes, your highness I think I am.”

With that, Anna felt his grip adjust on her as he carried her off and towards her bed. Perhaps, she thought, Gerda was correct when she’d mentioned that maybe letting Kristoff help her get ready for their engagement party was a bad idea. Though, Anna also thought that this was going to be one of the most enjoyable bad ideas she’d ever had, and really, if anyone had the authority to be late to her own party and look a mess while doing it, it was the Queen.

The crown certainly came with its perks.

***

“Sorry about your hair.”

Anna chuckled. Her eyes were closed, and she was genuinely enjoying the feeling of his fingers combing through her loose hair. After their unplanned tryst her hair had been so irreparable that he’d taken it down for her and was about to do his best to put it up for her.

“I’m not that worried about my hair Kris. I think walking properly might be the priority, but I think no matter what people are going to know that we got up to something.”

He laughed in return, a short, joyful sound as his hands left her hair for a moment to pull her back to his chest, and then to massage her legs gently through the dress they’d only just managed to get back into. His fingers, rough and large as they were, had managed rather brilliantly to close many small buttons to make it happen. Some would be shocked to hear such a thing, but Anna had just recently been reminded intimately of how precise and skilled his fingers could be.

“I know I should be apologetic, but I’m having a very difficult time not taking that as a compliment.”

“Oh, it was a compliment. I’m very pleased with how we just decided to spend our free time, but I’m just thinking that it won’t be particularly discreet when we leave here rumpled and weak kneed.”

She could all but see the proud and mischievous grin on his face, even though he was behind her. She couldn’t really complain that her fiancé hadn’t been able to keep his hands or mouth off of her, and she would never deny that his performance was more than satisfactory. She might very well combust when she put on her white dress and walked into the chapel in a few short weeks, but she’d had the comfort of knowing that they were compatible in the bedroom for months, and wouldn’t miss the chance to indulge in his attentions when and where she could.

“I guess it’s good then that the only person you’ll be close with is me. Unless you have anyone else on your dance card.”

His hands returned to her hair, starting on the basic sort of crown braid he’d put into her hair on more than one quiet evening. She’d never worn her hair with his braids in public before, and she was honestly thrilled to be able to do so. She couldn’t wait for someone to comment on her appearance so she could tell them that her fiancé had done her hair. It probably wasn’t proper, but it was going to be fun to see the way some of the stuffier members of the court reacted to such a thing. If no one else was, Anna knew that the palace staff would be amused and that alone would put a smile on her face.

“Just you, and we’ll only dance the festival songs.”

His fingers were gentle as they tugged her hair softly into place, and Anna could sense his focus as he smoothed hairs into the braid and did his very best work. They both knew that they could have called her ladies maids back into the room to straighten her hair and fix her dress and so on, but there was something about the intimacy of preparing each other to face the world that neither of them had been willing to give up.

She’d kissed up his stomach as she’d rebuttoned his shirt and then combed his hair back to the way it had been before he’d started kissing her neck and ignited a fire in her belly. Of course, she’d then tussled it just a touch to get it the way she liked it. He looked handsome in his formal wear, but he just didn’t look like her Kristoff if he wasn’t a little bit mussed. He might be Arendelle’s ice master and deliverer and soon to be the nation’s prince consort, but he was first and foremost Anna’s mountain man, and she liked it when he looked like who he was.

“You spoil me,” he teased, leaning forward to kiss the crown of her head as he finished her braids, “We can waltz if you want to, I’ll hold you close if your legs are feeling weak.”

She shook her head ever so slightly, his lips lingering in her hair making her wish that they really could just skip their own party. To spend the rest of her evening pressed close to his side, snuggled up in bed together, seemed like a dream in comparison to spending the night in the public eye, pretending that she hadn’t just had her world rocked by her fiancé’s hands and mouth. Maybe dancing closer than socially acceptable would be a fair substitution.

“You think we’re fashionably late yet?” She inquired, leaning back against him more fully as he rested her crown, perfectly centered, atop her head.

“I’ve never been fashionable, and I try not to be late.”

“You’re so matter of fact.”

She felt him shrug behind her, and she managed, through great personal effort, to peel herself away from him and off the bed they’d just made love in. His hands lingered as she did so, running them over her shoulders and down her back.

“I’ve been told it’s one of my better qualities.”

“All of your qualities are better qualities.”

She grinned when she turned to face him and saw that his cheeks were flushed, and his eyes were rolling. She liked complimenting him as often as she could, just to see the way it caught him off guard. When she stood and stretched her hand out for him to take, he grabbed on tight and pulled her into his lap, kissing her like a man starving despite how thoroughly they had just enjoyed each other.

“If they have to send Elsa after us,” she panted against his lips between kisses, “You’re going to end up frozen to this bed.”

“What a catastrophe,” he teased, “To be stuck to your bed.”

***

That they’d managed to pull themselves together for a second time and only wound up arriving seven minutes late to their own party was a miracle in its own right. That no one seemed suspicious of them was all the proof that Anna needed that some higher power was in fact looking out for them. Or at least that her entire court had already accepted that her relationship with Kristoff was one that she was happy to flaunt to the point that the shock factor had long since worn off. She’d gleefully take either.

“Receiving lines,” he muttered under his breath as another duke of something walked up to greet them, “Receiving lines are going to be my least favorite part of living here.”

Anna snorted, and Elsa, a few feet away with Honeymaren, speaking politely to some other marquess of something, shook her head and grinned. Clearly she was enjoying watching the two of them try to keep it together, and Anna couldn’t blame her for it. Not being the center of attention certainly suited Elsa well, and if she got some joy out of her and Kristoff’s boredom, it at least meant someone was happy.

“What’s going to be your favorite part?”

He didn’t answer in words, but subtly rested his hand a bit lower than normal on her lower back and squeezed gently. The implication was clear though. She was his favorite part. And, as he less subtly but probably still cleverly enough to go unnoticed, brushed his hand against her bum as he returned it to his side, she knew that he also was looking forward to the ability to spend a bit more intimate time with her.

She had to admit that was a favorite part of hers as well.

“Later?” she whispered.

And his smile, grand and unabashed, was all the response she needed.

#kacij2020 #kristanna #frozen #post frozen 2 #engagement party #nondescript fade to black lemony goodness #It's like la croix as a fic #You know the lemon is in there #but it's just a taste #also Mollie I am so sorry about how late I am #But I LOVE YOU #And I'm so glad you're the person I was assigned because I adore you and writing things for you makes me feel extra inspired #I didn't really know exactly what you wanted but like if you'd like anything else AND I MEAN ANYTHING I'll write you something else #Consider it a bonus fic #Because I feel awful for being late and I love you

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