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faint-kitten · 7 months

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Okay since no one else would Care on any other discord or media platform I'm on. I'm just going to go off on Changes in Apex again on my own Blog.

I can't stop Respawn or the Apex fandom. But I'm going to weigh in on this bobz video here about a possible "Ash Reborn" TLDW: He suggests Ash's sword being incorporated into her ult as a Melee, and giving her a movement based tactacle. keep in mind, he's speculating and asking what we'd like to see, there is no confirmation of any of this. But it's been something on my mind since Rev happened: The idea they're just going to start completely re-working anyone the main meta players don't like. Until they just aren't themselves anymore, playwise. To that end: I'd honestly hate this?

I already hate what they're doing to the maps. Like I get it. They were tighter, faster matches in the Halloween event. But people forget there are NEW people trying apex for the FIRST time. My friends got into apex when the maps swapped over and not only did they miss out on really cool locations like Rampart's ship on World's Edge, which, is just a huge POI that eats up time and spreads people out, I get that. But some of the battles are just more boring on that map without all the extra fluff. It's like they shrank it, and flattened it and made it all one dimensional. And that's not only boring, but they found the smaller, harsher rings, and the smaller maps really hard to learn on because they were just constantly getting pushed into fights. They're still in that "Looting" and "staying alive" phase. They haven't even learned the confidence to push fights yet. For them "Top 5" is a perfectly acceptable win condition. There's a lot of changes that feel like they're being made to support the bulk of hardcore players without really, taking into account...like Respawn, these youtubers, these players (and I've argued with some people like them I get their POV and they won't be swayed on this but,) They've been in the Apex ecosystem too long. They're so used to it, and so good at it, they can't conceive of like what joe schmo player who doesn't get 2k every game and might only ever get 2-3 kills a match wants or enjoys. And that's just a hard thing about trying to appeal to everoyne. Speaking personally: i've played so much I think my current Level is assuming I'm ready for skilled lobbies I 100% am not yet. I had a solid week with bangalore where I was crushing it and all of the sudden I hit a new bracket level wise fuck it was like I was playing for the first time in pubs all over again. But getting back to Ash Reborn Like…we have characters who are instrumentally different for different purposes, for a reason. And I fear it's something that's getting lost as Apex continues to try to evolve and re-define itself. Things can't stay the same forever, I get that. You're paying people to make changes, people get bored and want changes, it's cheaper I guess to re-work an existing character than add new ones maybe?

For myself: I want to play different playstyles when I switch to another character. I want to play what that character has to offer. Because I get bored playing the same way. Like why have a bunch of characters if they're all going to fundamentally function similar? That's kinda my fear about this "reborn" path and "reborn" thinking and focus on pushing more battles. You're kind of taking away variety and options. Maybe some people WANT a tacticle that makes people sit still for a minute? I love damage tacaticals I love when Someone's running thinks they're getting away, and I snare them, and like it cracks their sheild, or downs them, because that was the LAST 20 damage they needed to go down. I like to pick characters to fill those different roles when I get bored. Like Sometimes I want to be Lifeline calling in packages and picking people up. ANd honestly the care package can be a little underwhelming so I won't be too sad if that Ult Changes (they are heavily implying Lifeline reborn WILL be a thing.) But she's kind of a beginer character, and like those are fucking important? Let noobs get people shields and backpacks. Let them feel like they're helping. To talk about the Homogonization feaer a bit. Lifeline, Mirage, and Newcastle all have different advantages to picking people up. Lifeline doesn't have to stay there, but she doens't have a sheild. Mirrage can turn invisible and turn you invisible and give you a second to escape, but he's not invulnerable when he does it. Newcastle has a shield and can pick you up while protecting you both. Like, to slap a shield on Lifeline's revive, (which it had at one point) would buff her. But also like...it takes away a bit of what makes playing Newcastle special? And means Lifeline looses that challenge of knowing WHEN to pick up your team. Because just picking them up whenever seriously can fuck them over because you're completely vulnerable and if you're in the open you're just a sitting target for someone to shoot to death. I target Lifeline Rez's more than downed people with their knockdown shields out. Something I could see them doing, is like, Ying from Paladins, or Mercy's Ult/the Medic's ult from Gears 5 where Lifeline reborn just pumps health into people, or maybe revives the whole team at once. That'd be kind of cool. I'm not opposed to changes. But I don't want characters to ALL have a movement ability. Or all have Ults that are used for Pushing, or making them OP one man armies. Fuse and Horizon have fundamentally different playstyles. I wouldn't want Horizon to get a damage tactical, or to turn Fuse into a faster more movement based character. Fuse mains like to hang back, lob grenades and snipe, like don't give him an Ult that just spams grenades and recharges his knuckle cluster as he gets downs. Like let characters have individual playstyles. Sometimes I want to be wraith putting out portals.

Sometimes I want to be Crypto and like scouting around and respawining team mates, or hovering my drone so I can see through walls a bit as I'm fighting. Giving Revenant his jump SUCKED to me, because it took away a key part of his kit (the silence) that made him different. It took away one of the things that made him feel different. The thing I wanted when I switched to him, because I was in the mood for it. Vantage, already has a Jump, when i wanted to do BS leap movement I played Vantage. When I wanted to "Shut em up real good" and crawl and climb high walls to sneak around: I played revenant. Now Rev's new kit is cool, his personality is fine, I've even come around on the design seeing it interact in the Killcode series, but his abilities are kind of generic. It feels like a watered down Ballistic. Like, I wouldn't want Ballistics' smart pistol to be replaced with a sidestep or a fucking teleport, right? Because like that's it's part of him? Like I want characters who can change up the fight or push people out of holes without having to just run up to the team. I like Maggie's drill because it keeps people from taking cover when I have them at range. I like Fuse's Cluster because it can hold a door while I revive someone or heal, or punishes "locked down" characters like Caustic. Jump towers replacing Valk's Ult. We've got two characters that jump AND we have Jump Pads for Octane. And we have Horizon's lift. Do we really need another "movement" Tactical? We have the Drill for Maggie. Like thats why they're assault classes? Their tacticals damage people. Sometimes you want a class like that. If you want to be movement based or evasive thats why we have the skirmisher. Like imagine taking away rampart's walls and replacing them with like a double jump.

Like, play your character because you like their kit. I get they want to refresh things and people say certain characters are boring but like: Don't change the kit so that everyone's the fucking same. Maggie's Big Ball is stupid, IT COULD DEFINITELY be re-worked into something else. But it has it's uses it could be re-vamped. But like I play maggie to run with shot guns and fire my drill. I play Mirage because it's like playing Konkuro from Naurto: I'm puppeting my clones to trick people. These characters have different personalities and playstyles and like. I fucking love Titanfall 2. I Love Ash. People hate on her heirloom but I want it. I love that character. I fucking love her snare, I love the fact she says some Lowkey BDSM stuff like "Time to bind you." I like her passive, no one else in the game has one like it. ANd if they fucking change it to another "see's enemies when hurt" or "moves faster when X." It's like... Stop. Fucking Stop. Just make a new character you asshats. And if you don't like that character don't pick them. I have different "guns" for each character, did you know that? Bangalore is an RE-45 and a Hemlock, every time. Crypto is the only one I use a Triple Take with. Lifeline I use a Mastiff with (Idk why but all my best lifeline games I had a mastiff.) Vantage is a Sentinal and an Alternator. I crave different playstyles when bored. And I really, really, really don't want to see the game just become Homogonous. I don't want to see Ash's arc snare replaced with some generic hop or something. Like her ult is one of TWO that teleports people and it ties back to her fucking Phase Dash on her Ronin. Like don't. Stop it. Don't mess with that shit. Not every character has to be a "push" character. or a "Movement" character. Why have classes at all at that point? Not every person plays the way ultra competitive people in Ranked, or on youtube or the Apex League Plays. I've said it before and I'll say it again. If you play this game everyday, and take it ultra serious: you need casual losers to fill your lobbies or who are you going to body every day. Let people have "fun" picks. Let people have fun. I like Ash's snare it's crazy useful sometimes. To take it away and give her like a jump seems like…why not just play someone else?

But what do I know? I'm mostly playing Apex at this point to Unlock Skins and because it's free and I'm broke. It keeps me occupied and it helps keep the voices from eating me alive when there's nothing else to do. I might not even enjoy this game anymore so maybe I don't have room to talk about it. Like, I eventually came around on the Redesign for Revenant and I'll play him, but like...it's not the same as when I'd be like: "You know what? I want to sling shot balls at people and scuttle around. I'm gonna switch to Revenant today." Idk. I know that Apex today is not the same as the Apex it was before I got involved. So it's always been changing and it always will be changing. And Autistic people: We're just a big fucking fan of change. Really, just really fires all the dopamine. So take it with a grain of salt. I'm just getting my opinion out on this. Like let Wraith mains and movement players play Wraith, don't try to turn everyone into wraith.

#Apex legends #apex ash #apex revenant #apex revenant reborn #Apex Ash Reborn?#venting

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mylittlegemlins · 3 years

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Hello tumblr, during my childhood I was really obsessed with smurfs and since I found out that they released a reboot, which unfortunately I haven´t yet been able to see, I think I had some inspiration and ended up writing this.

I don't usually post this kind of blog about series unless I'm too immersed in it because I feel like it's too childish but to hell, blogging about-analyzing series for kids is my entertainment method and if I can't post about my likes on Tumblr I don't know why have an account.

So I present:

How to catch the Smurfs

This is the definitive tutorial on everything Gargamel ever did to catch the little blue critters.

It is based mainly on the animated series from the 80s and the 3 films that were produced between 2011-2017, I watched several episodes again to write this, but I still hope I don't forget some important information.

Following these steps:

1. Why catch the Smurfs?

During the comics, the series and the recent movies there were many reasons why Gargamel and other humans wanted to capture the Smurfs that change over time, among its main uses we have:

- They are ingredients for exotic dishes.

-Turn them into gold

- Ingredient for the Philosopher's Stone

- Use its essence to obtain magic

- Their tears serve as an ingredient for spells

-Their skin serves as a treatment to cure diseases

2. Points to consider:

This is a set of rules that fall between the lines when using a Smurf for any of the recipes mentioned above.

2.1 How many are needed:

In some episodes Gargamel was about to cook a single Smurf, so 1 is enough to eat them.

To turn them into gold you need at least half a kilo, about 6 smurfs.

2.2. They don't need to be alive

I didn't remenber any place where it said that Smurfs must be alive to use them in recipes.

2.3. Smurfette doesn't always count

She has to be a real smurf or else it won't work, during her first appearance before the papa smurf spell and the episode "smurfette unmade" where she reverts to her original form she is not a real smurf, so it wouldn't work unless that is in its blonde form.

2.4. Fake Smurfs:

The reason Gargamel can't just create another Smurf and use it in his recipes is because his creations are blue clay with a conscience, to turn them into real Smurfs you need the “true blue”spell

2.5. Artificial Smurfs:

Smurfette, Sassete, Kactus, Vicky and any other Smurf they come up with in the future, count as real Smurfs only after their transformation.

To clarify the points, these are the steps:

3.Locate them

The Smurfs are in a village protected by a magical force that makes it invisible or unreachable, it is only possible to find the village if a Smurf guides you to it, even after finding the exact location it will have disappeared if you try to return, so the best It is marks the surroundings of the village and look for them in the places that the Smurfs frequent.

It is possible to capture them when they leave the village, force them to guide you, enter the village using teleportation spells or hoaxes.

4.Traps

Catching smurfs is relatively easy, you can chase them with butterfly nets, catch them with your bare hands, using a cat or any other hunting animal, now that I think about it a hound would be very useful to track their scent.

Using some classic traps to hunt animals also works with Smurfs, traps with cages or hidden holes in the ground, or camouflage in a bush until a Smurf is close enough to catch it, you can't use traps like an obvious cage with food in it, they are too smart to fall for that.

It is more effective if they are placed in strategic places such as a field of smurfberries which is outside the village.

Small female creatures are also used as decoys, such as female smurfs, little mermaids and lymph to make a smurf fall in love and thus leave the village to a point where they can be captured.

5.Which Smurfs to capture

Personally I think there are Smurfs that are easier to catch, although Gargamel could not have a list of all with so many times that they have passed by his house, he should already recognize one or another Smurf and I remember that there is a episode where he knows some of his names.

The main cast, Smurfette, Hefty, Brainy, Clumsy, Greedy, Grouchy, Jokey and Handy as far as i can remember, they´re the ones that have been captured the most times and also the ones that have escaped the most, since they're easy to capture, it would be convenient to take advantage of this, but since they know how to get out, they should change the cages with them, put the cages in another place, move the objects that previously used to get out, and above all not to fall the same tricks again.

Papa smurf has been captured many times, he is the one who most leaves the village and if in one of his trips they capture him, maybe the others would not notice his absence, it is something difficult because he already knows how to escape and he can use spells against you, but if you manage to kill him the others would be lost without their leader, and with the disaster they would be easier to capture.

Lazy smurf takes naps during his work outside the village so it's a good chance to catch him, hopefully he might still be asleep while preparing the recipe and he won't try to escape.

According to his debut episode sickly smurf was never able to escape from Gargamel and Azrael; it is so easy that he catches him with his bare hands in 20 seconds.

Baby Smurf is more vulnerable for obvious reasons, the negative side is that there is always a Smurf looking after him, but if they manage to separate the baby it would be easy to cook , considering the life expectancy of the Smurfs is more than 500 years, it may remain a baby for the next 10 years so there is time to execute your plan.

Nat, Snapy, Sassete and Slouchy, the 4 children Smurfs that appear in season 5 are in almost the same circumstances as Baby Smurf.

In Wild Smurf's first appearance he kicked Gargamel in the face and easily made Azrael afraid of him so it might not be a good idea to mess with him.

I guess Smurfs like scaredy would never leave the village unless they forced it so the only times he gets caught is when they capture all 100 together.

6.Don't let them escape

In many occasions the Smurfs escape when they have already been captured by Gargamel, either from his hands, cages and in their closest attempts they escape from the pot.

These are the points to keep in mind:

6.1 Capture only one

If you capture a single Smurf than two or more as it will take a while for them to realize that one is missing and they will not come to their rescue, the more they are, the more likely they will find a plan to escape, so keep them in mind. separate cages.

6.2 The others will come

Once Gargamel has one or more Smurfs, it is 100% certain that the others will come to rescue him at his house, so it would be convenient to go to another place away from the forest where he can cook the Smurfs without others being able to find them. Gargamel has a basement with a secret door, he was able to hide there and pretend he didn't have them until the rescuers leave.

6.3 catch rescuers

Knowing that more Smurfs could come, you could use it to your advantage by placing traps on the doors and windows, or on the contrary, closing everything so that it is impossible to enter without having a key.

6.4 They will leave him for dead

In the episode "the tear of a Smurf ", it seems that if they don't find a missing Smurf it only takes a week for them to surrender and prepare for his funeral. You can hide the smurfs with their mouths tied up in a drawer and pretend you don't know what they are talking about until they give up, then it will be time to execute the recipes. If Gargamel had enough brain cells to keep the secret, he could eat the Smurfs and the rest would think they were eaten by birds or something and would not take revenge.

6.5. Do not look any further

If you already have 99 it is enough, even if you have only one, it is not worth risking it to find one more, it is a trap.

6.6. Don't open jokey surprises.

The characters always forget that gift.

6.7. Don't listen to them

On several occasions they try to make conversation to buy time, they trick him into thinking that he will bring more Smurfs or that he cannot eat him, everything is a trap.

6.8. Just kill them

He never did that but it's a very obvious choice, I don't remember somewhere saying that smurfs have to be alive for recipes, Gargamel has repeatedly expressed his desire to destroy them. Wouldn't it be easier to kill them before throwing them into the pot? if you can't, they don't even have to be dead, just unconscious or asleep. Gargamel has drops of lava in his lab for some reason, how come he doesn't have substances to knock them unconscious? In case he have many captured you could use classic techniques such as placing the cage in a tub of water until they drown, even stepping on them would be enough since they are very small.

6.9. Papa Smurf's books

If Gargamel tries to kill them with an epidemic, papa will have the cure, if he casts a spell, papa has the antidote, since he has been in the village on several occasions, he should take the opportunity to steal or destroy their books, he could look for the true blue spell and perhaps find another useful spell.

7.Enjoy your smurf soup

If that's all i came up with, you can already eat or become a millionaire at the cost of a smurf's life, hopefully you'll have to face a horrible revenge from papa smurf, but i'm not responsible for that.

8.Other methods to get smurfs:

This is a set of theories for alternative ways to get smurfs without capturing one from the village.

8.1. create smurfs:

In the second live action movie gargamel gets the formula for the true blue spell, so from here technically he could create smurfs, then transform them into real smurfs and do whatever he wants with them, during the series he had to look for the formula instead to look for smurfs.

8.2. Clone Smurfs:

In the episode "the hundredth smurf" Vanity creates a clone of himself that eventually integrates into the village, it is a genetically exact clone so there is no doubt that it is a real smurf. He just needs to place a mirror in front of a smurf and get it struck by lightning, Gargamel could capture a smurf and make clones that will work, he wouldn't even have to keep the original and he would have an infinite smurf machine.

8.3. Kidnap Baby Smurfs:

During the blue moon it is possible that a zork came to the village bringing a baby smurf, it can take up to 200 years without bringing one but if you are alive when that happens, you can try to hunt the zork and capture the defenseless baby.

8.4. Repeat the fake smurf technique:

If it is possible to create fake Smurfs like Smurfette, it might work on a second try, Smurfs are not very cautious around strangers, once Smurfette arrives in the village no one wonders where she came from or why she was in the forest, but rather Immediately they offer him a house, Gargamel could create a smurf and this time instruct him to lead all the smurfs in the village into a trap and make sure he does not turn good, he can also turn himself into a life-size smurf costume, Nobody will notice that there is an extra Smurf and he can repeat the same trap,third time’s a charm

9.Conclusion:

Surely there are many other methods to catch Smurfs but I can't see the whole series again even if I wanted to, because it is a series for children Gargamel never learns from his mistakes I think that catching Smurfs is not that exaggeratedly difficult, especially for someone who has access to magic may be as difficult as capturing a talking rabbit, Gargamel is just stupid.

The end.

#the smurfs #hashtag so that the blog is not invisible #smurfette #gargamel #azrael #brainy smurf #sassete #sickly smurf #no smurf was harmed during the making of this blog #vanity smurf #papa smurf #clumsy smurf #smurf village #I should look for some images #ready #a picture

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certifiedskywalker · 4 years

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Being Best Friends with Klaus Hargreeves Would Include...

Anonymous said: Hey, not sure if you've done anything similar to this before but could I request 'Being best friends with Klaus Hargreeves would include...' I love your blog, thank you! x

I’m baaaaaaack (at least for a bit!)! Enjoy and cut me some slack as it’s been a while since I’ve written fanfiction; especially TUA fanfic!

It’s not entirely his own fault but Klaus is not the greatest influence.

So if you have a rather cautious personality, be prepared to do things far outside of your comfort zone.

If you’re more attuned to Klaus’ chaos, be prepared to get on the wildest ride of your life and probably definitely get into trouble.

If chaos is your thing you might become more cautious around Klaus! Who knows!

Either way you lean, you’re going to get used to the turbulence that comes with Klaus.

Perhaps that’s why you’re so close to begin with.

When he was younger, Klaus was rebellious to combat the structure of his Father’s schedules and training regimes.

Sadly, he could never really rebel enough to free himself entirely.

Aside from his brothers and sisters, Klaus didn’t have friends.

So, when he met you, he dived in head first; all the good, bad, and the ugly.

It was after what Klaus remembers/believes was his first big bender when he found himself in a coffee shop, studying the menu with glossy eyes.

It was one of your first jobs, working as a barista/baker.

Klaus was wearing a long, faux fur line jacket, a pink crop top, and jorts (jean shorts).

Because of his piece-meal outfit, you couldn’t take your eyes off of him.

That and he was holding up the line as he debated what he had the munchies for.

“What would you get…”

“What?” You raised your brows at him, surprised he finally spoke up.

“What would you get if you had stayed up for three days straight, wine tasti-wine hoarding really, and raving in the best clubs of the city?”

“An aspirin and a chai latte probably.”

“Ah! Yes! A chai latte sounds ammaazing right now. Maybe a cookie too.”

“Snickerdoodle?”

“It’s like you can read my mind! Wait, can you? At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

After he got his cookie and his chai latte, the strangely dressed man made himself comfortable in the coffee shop.

After a few hours, Klaus was what your manager considered loitering.

Hell, after the last few hours of your shift and Klaus still lingered, your manager offered to walk you to your car.

“I think he’s just…”

You looked over and saw him, Klaus, idly twirling a pair of sunglasses between his fingers.

“...he’s just lost.”

When you had gathered your things and cleaned up after your shift, you wandered over to where he sat.

It took a moment before he took notice of you but when he did, he stood up quickly.

“Hey you,” he said in a rushed breath (somehow it still sounded flirtatious).

“Hey, uh, I’m Y/N.”

“Oh! What a lovely name!”

He extended his hand to you and you finally saw the tattoos on his palm.

“I’m Klaus, my dear. Care for an adventure?”

That first ‘adventure’ was one that you would remember forever.

Klaus took you to his favorite second-hand shop and you thrifted horrendous articles of clothing.

You still have an incredibly chunky, cable-knit sweater from that day; when you miss Klaus, you wear it.

Klaus bought two wigs, decent wigs, with what money he had.

Outside, Klaus turned to you and grinned.

“Put this on, will you?”

“Pink isn’t re-”

He was already tugging the wig over your head.

“Pink is so your color, trust me,” he gestured to himself, “I know style.”

When he donned the other, curly haired, wig, Klaus led you to an array of establishments with less than welcoming atmospheres where you ‘borrowed’ some merchandise.

Klaus has not mercy for racist or homophobic stores/companies and ‘borrows’ from them often.

Klaus nearly got caught, he lost his wig in the fray.

You had never felt more alive.

You had never smiled wider.

It was thrilling; he was thrilling.

But he wasn’t thrilling all the time.

After that day, you and Klaus were attached to the hip and you learned there were other parts to him outside of the bubbling, endearing chaos.

His addictions became startlingly apparent.

During his many sleep overs, he would search through your cabinets, your fridge, any other place he could think of, for booze.

“Klaus?”

“Yes, dear?”

“Whatcha doing?”

“Hunting for our dinner, what’s it look like.”

You set a limit on the number of drink he was allowed to have when he stayed over at your place (which was quite often).

You didn’t want him to suffer but you didn’t want him black-out drunk, or high either.

Overall, you tried to rein in his drug use; for his own sake.

When he isn’t wasted, Klaus tries to keep himself busy in other ways.

This meant a lot more ‘adventures’ for the two of you.

Small trips to cultural grocery stores to try different foods

Thrift shopping; because Klaus is always looking to add to this wardrobe.

You draw the line at dumpster diving.

“You’re missing out, Y/N! When I lived in LA for a week, this is how I survived.”

“You lived in LA?”

“For a time. Lots of bikinis...roller skates too.”

Other times you and Klaus would just walk around the city talking.

The two of you would create fantasy lives for the people you passed by, giving them wild powers like Klaus and his siblings.

Sometimes you would listen to Klaus talk about his siblings.

Your favorite stories to listen to were about Ben.

“After that, pigeons never seemed to land on the roof. Too scared I think. Ben and I did too good of a job.”

“Sounds like he was an amazing guy.”

“Yeah, he was. He likes y- I, he would have liked you.”

You tell him about your family, about your own struggles.

Through this sharing, this walks and talks, you both grow closer.

These winding walks often end at Griddy’s diner.

“Slap me on the ass and call me Bessy, I forgot how good strawberry donuts are!”

When you return back home, your place, but Klaus calls it home, you settle in.

Klaus will braid his hair, offer to try to braid yours.

“Please, it keeps me busy.”

“What would you do without me?”

“Die of boredom, or just die, probably.”

If you both have a night cap drink before bed, you guys might dance.

Klaus tries to teach you a few moves before giving up.

“Just feel the music, my dear, feel it.”

Eventually, you both collapse and cuddle for a bit.

Klaus is a big fan of platonic cuddling so prepare for that.

Movie nights!

Due to his ‘training’ and his powers, Klaus tends to stay away from horror films so get ready for rom-coms and cheesy action movies.

“Have you ever wanted to do that?”

Klaus has a habit of asking questions during the movie; none of which are crucial to the plot of said movie.

“What?”

“If we got a boat, would you do the whole ‘I’m king of the world’ bit?”

“I mean, why wouldn’t I do it?”

“My thoughts exactly.”

There are nights when you can hear him whimpering from the couch where he sleeps.

Those nights, you creep out of your room and wake him up.

“Bad dream?”

Klaus never responds to the question, ever.

Instead, he curls up next to your and you play with his hair until he falls asleep again.

The next morning, over coffee, you try to get him to talk about it.

Sometimes he does, other times he distracts from the topic.

Either way, you hug him.

“I’m here for you, Klaus.”

“I’m here for you too. Otherwise, I’m homeless.”

He is always trying to set you up with people.

You’ll be working at the coffee shop and he’ll come up and pretend to buy something just to tell you: “table in the far corner. They’ve been glancing your way a lot.”

“Klaus….they’re waiting for their order.”

“Oh. Well, you never know.”

That always leaves you smiling.

It’s hard not to be happy with Klaus as your best friend.

Even when he’s down or you’re down, the two of you together seem to lift one another up.

Being Klaus’ friend means having fun and feeling, feeling so much.

You feel his past pain, his struggle, his grief, in the same turn you feel his joy, his wonder, and his spark for good.

And in that, you inspire each other to do and be better.

#whatcha think?#I haven't written in a while so I'm sorry if it's rough!#klaus hargreeves #being best friends with klaus hargreeves would include #klaus hargreeves imagine #klaus hargreeves fanfiction #klaus hargreeves x reader #tua #tua imagine #tua imagines #tua fanfiction #the umbrella academy #the umbrella academy imagine #the umbrella academy fanfiction #the umbrella academy season 2

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charlessmithhasmyheart · 3 years

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Title: Hunting Hijinks

Genre: Romance

Type: Charles x Reader

Triggers: None

A/N: Hey hey hey! This is a gift for the lovely @fangirl-ramblings. When I got the message that I was your secret santa, I was super excited! You are defs one of the people who I would consider to be my biggest supporter throughout this blog endeavor. Seriously! I would like to apologize for how long this took, but I wanted to make sure I was happy with everything before posting.

I know you had requested something about several people, so I chose Charles! Hope this is to your liking.

Here ya go! :)

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The sun was slowly sinking, the fire in front of you easily becoming your only source of light. The camp and it’s residents had been in the process of setting down for the night. Everyone but you. You were sitting on a log lost in thought, head resting in your hands as you stared into the flames; the object of your contemplation being none other than the mysterious Charles Smith.

Of course, this was of no surprise to you. It had been happening quite frequently. Charles was on your mind a lot. Especially since you had officially become a member of the Van Der Linde Gang.

A small smile began to tug at your lips as you recalled your first encounter with the illustrious group of outlaws.

You had been a bounty hunter then. Well, you hadn’t really been a true bounty hunter. You were just taking odd jobs from the wanted posters around Valentine and Saint Denis. It wasn’t the best work, but it paid well when you succeeded. And you did.

Believe it or not, you had actually met them during one of your jobs. You had been tracking a particularly elusive criminal for a few days. He had held up the general store and robbed a few of the townsfolk. Killed some too. The sheriff was adamant that he was brought back; alive or dead, it didn’t matter.

You were on the trail, the tracks very fresh when suddenly gunfire broke out ahead of you. Intrigued, you spurred your mount on only to come face to face with a shoot out. The target in question was crouched behind an over turned wagon, his own horse dead, as bullets from his attackers, three of them, soared through the air.

Determined to be the one to bring him to justice, you pulled your own gun from its holster and spurred your mount on again. Unfortunately the criminal, in what you can only assume to be a moment of stupidity, peaked from around the wagon, pistol loaded, only to receive a bullet to the face. With him now dead, the attacker’s switched their attention to you, guns still drawn. A curse slipped from your lips as you brought your horse to an abrupt stop.

“You take one step closer miss, and I cannot promise you’ll get away unharmed.” Warned their leader, who you later on learned to be Dutch.

When you made no move to speak he continued.

“Now I suggest you lower your weapon and we can talk this out. I see no reason for any more blood-shed.” He spoke, lowering his own weapon and signaling for the others in his group to do the same.

It took a moment, but you complied and re-holstered your weapon. Then came the conversation that would change your life. You had explained how you were a bounty hunter, making money to survive on your own after your family had died. Dutch responded in kind; giving you the run down of his gang, and, when he was finished, offered you a place to stay. After all, a woman of your abilities would be beneficial to their cause. Seeing as you had no better options, you accepted.

When you had arrived at their campsite at Horseshoe Overlook, you were introduced to many people who, despite being outlaws, were some of the most kind and hardworking people you had ever met. You fit right in, quickly developed relationships with many of the gang members, and the rest was history.

But despite all that, there was one member that you still hadn’t been able to understand.

When you had first been introduced to Charles, he barely mumbled a greeting or looked in your direction before heading of to complete some chore. You had brushed it off in the beginning, assuming you would find time to get to know him later. Now, it was later, and you knew next to nothing other than you had developed feelings for him.

It was all so odd. How could you develop feelings for someone who wouldn’t speak to you, let alone even look at you in the eyes? Sure, you had admired his silent nature, his penchant for taking on the difficult or unappealing jobs and his kindness with the other gang members from afar. Not to mention, he himself wasn’t unappealing to look at. But it still frustrated you to no end because you knew that he wouldn’t feel the same way. Charles had made it perfectly clear, without speaking, how he felt about you.

Stifling a groan, you rubbed a hand over your face, your frustration beginning to build to unhealthy levels.

“Something the matter [Y/N]? You’ve been sitting there an awfully long time.”

You jumped at the sound of someone’s voice and turned to see Hosea strolling towards you, a curious look on his face.

“I’m fine, Hosea.” You replied as he eased into a chair on the other side of the fire. “Just tired is all.”

“I may be old,” he started. “But not so that I can’t recognize when someone’s troubled. What’s bothering you my dear?”

You shifted your gaze from the fire to Hosea. He was leaning back in the chair, arms folded in his lap, with his eyes fixed on you. There was nothing but concern and a honest want to help you in them. He had always been like that. When you were struggling to learn the ways of the outlaw life, Hosea had been with you every step of the way. Making sure you knew the best hunting spots, helping you tend to your chores, and keeping your spirits up whenever you got discouraged. But, expressing your thoughts of Charles out loud? That was different. You didn’t know if you could.

“I don’t really know, if I’m bein’ honest.” You responded finally. “I’m just trying to sort out my feelings.”

And you were. Trying and failing, but you were trying. No matter how hard you tried you couldn’t convince yourself to forget.

“Your feelings for Charles?” He stated matter-of-factly.

You snapped your head up, heat beginning to rise in your face as you tried to stammer out a response.

“How did you know— I mean. I never said—”

Hosea chuckled and splayed his hands out in a calming gesture.

“Like I said. I may be old, but I still know a thing or two. And the way you look at the man when you think no one is paying attention? I’d say you were smitten.” He teased, winking at you.

You stared, dumbfounded and unsure of what to say. If Hosea knew, surely others in the camp knew. And if they knew, did that mean Charles knew as well? And if Charles knew then... No. You weren’t even going to consider the thought.

“You know what? I think I’m gonna turn in for the night.” You stated, pushing yourself off the log and heading towards your tent, refusing to look at Hosea anymore lest you get sucked into a full blown confession.

“You know,” He called after you. “It’ll just get worse the longer you keep it to yourself.”

You gave a half-hearted flick of you hand, the only indication that you had heard his words as you continued to walk through the camp.

——————————

The next morning proved to be no better. The minute you had opened your eyes, your thoughts immediately went to Charles. And Hosea’s advice. When you had finally settled into bed last night, you had pondered what he had said. Maybe it would be in your best interest to talk to him, but the fear of his first words to you being full of hate was too much, and you had drifted off late into the night.

Groaning, you pushed yourself to your feet, ready to distract yourself with the days work. You grabbed your hat from where it had fallen on the floor during sleep and stepped out of your tent. The morning sun shone through the campsite and the warmth felt good on your face. A cup of coffee sounded like a good way to start your day so you headed towards the communal pot; Abigail and Pearson already there with cups in hand.

“Morning [Y/N].” Pearson called out. “Any specific plans for your day yet?”

“Other then my daily chores? No.” You responded, pouring the dark liquid into your tin mug. “Why?”

“Well,” he began. “We’re getting low on food supplies and I can’t remember the last time anyone went hunting. Think you’re up for the task?”

“Sure,” you replied between sips. “I’ll head out right now.”

Pearson grunted his thanks and returned to his own mug. It felt good to finally have some sense of normalcy thrust upon you, so you were more than happy to comply. Nodding your head at Abigail, you finished your coffee; the warmth of the liquid reaching and energizing every part of your body before heading towards the horses.

Hunting hadn’t always been a skill that you particularly excelled at, but when you had expressed your unease with the chore during your first weeks with the gang, Hosea had wasted no time with setting up lessons with Arthur. Originally he would have asked Charles to do it, but every time he had mysteriously disappeared, leaving you wondering what accursed thing you had done to receive the cold shoulder. And hunting with Arthur wasn’t so bad. Of course, he was a little moody at times and his patience wasn’t always there, but you learned. You considered yourself to be quite the hunter nowadays.

Having now reached your horse, you ran your fingers through her mane and cooed soft encouragements before swinging yourself into the saddle. Grabbing the reins, you clicked your tongue and eased her towards he camp entrance.

“[Y/N], hold up!”

You brought your horse to a halt, startled, and turned in the saddle. You were surprised and a bit worried as Hosea sped up towards you, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Are you going out?” He inquired, an odd look that you couldn’t quite place etched on his face.

“Yes,” you replied hesitantly. “Pearson asked me to. Why?”

“Why don’t you take Charles with you, huh? He’s quite the hunter himself.” Without waiting for a reply he called out to Charles who was sharpening a knife. “Hey Charles! You up for some hunting? [Y/N], here could use some assistance.”

It was in that moment that your heart beat began to quicken; from anger and from nervousness at the thought of thee Charles Smith hunting with you. Alone. In the woods. With no one around for miles. Oh, would Hosea be getting an ear-full once you returned. Well, maybe you’d say if. The possibility of you running away forever from sheer embarrassment was entirely plausible.

“There now,” Hosea continued, clapping Charles on the shoulder with his hand. “I’m sure the two of you can scrounge up some food for the lot of us. And don’t come back until you do.”

You shot Hosea a burning look as he sauntered away, whistling a tune the whole while. Charles barely glanced at you as he pulled himself onto his own mount, Taima, and encouraged her towards the edge of camp. You followed suite without a word.

————————

You gripped the bow tightly in your hands, trying to rack your brain for anything to say as Charles walked beside you. The silence between the two of you was uncomfortable. At least, that’s how you felt about it, and, frankly, you couldn’t deal with the fact that the man you had pined for months over was finally capable of staying close to you. Deciding you’ve had enough, you lowered your weapon and turned to face him.

“Why do you hate me?”

“Excuse me?”

“Why do you hate me?” You repeated, crossing your arms.

Charles’ eyes widened as he took in your words, and a strange look crossed his face. You started to feel guilty as you waited for a response. You had come across as a bit rude. It wasn’t what you were going for, but the words just came out without any thought. But, now that you were in this predicament, you decided you were going to keep going.

“I don’t hate you,” Charles finally spoke.

“Well, then have I done something to upset you? I’ve been with the gang for months now and you’ve said all of six words to me.”

Another long moment of silence ensued. Finally deciding you’ve had enough, you tightened the grip on your bow and turned to leave, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. Before you could reach your horse, however, you felt a hand grasp your arm and you found yourself twisted around and a pair of lips locking with yours’. You tensed for barely a second as your mind tried to register what was happening. You were kissing Charles. Or, rather, he was kissing you. And it felt like you had always imagined it to be. When he broke away, you stared, dumbfounded.

“I don’t hate you, [Y/N],” He said, reaching out to take your hand his large calloused one. “I never have. In fact, it’s the opposite.”

“Charles,” You uttered, barely a whisper.

“Ever since the first day you stepped into camp, I knew there was something special about you. I was just too afraid to say anything.” Charles confessed. “I didn’t know how to say anything, because I didn’t know how you would feel.”

His dark eyes locked with yours and you could see the sincerity and fear swirling around in them. A small smile tugged at your lips. There was only one way you felt you could express your true feelings. You reached a hand up to cup his cheek and pulled him into another kiss.

Time seemed to stop. Your heart beat just as quick as you pressed your lips against his in a gentle fashion. His strong fingers brushed tentatively against the back of your neck while your own hand tangled amongst his dark locks. You placed your other hand against his chest and grasped at the loose fabric of his shirt, feeling a hunger your had never felt welling up inside you. Charles, sensing this, slipped a hand down to the small of your back and pulled you flush to him.

The kiss lasted for what felt like years before you finally pulled away, both of you breathing hard and a shine in his eyes that you no doubt mirrored.

“Do you know how I feel now?” You teased.

“Yes, I think so.” Charles chuckled, entwining his fingers with your own. You smiled warmly at him.

“Maybe we should get back to hunting then?” You inquired. “There’s a certain someone I need to have a chat with when we get back. And then, maybe we can have a chat of our own, hmm?”

Charles suppressed another laugh, placed a kiss on your cheek before resuming the hold on his own bow, and traipsed deeper into the woods. The memory of that kiss would reside in your mind as you finished the hunt and it would carry on until later in the evening when you and Charles had another moment alone.

#charles smith #rdr #rdr2 #red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #imaginexreader #imagine #writing #reader insert

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emachinescat · 3 years

Text

Knock

A Merlin Fan-Fiction

by @emachinescat

@febuwhump day 10 - “I’m sorry, I didn’t know”

Summary: It is common knowledge in Camelot that one should never, under any circumstances, enter Sir Owen’s chambers without knocking. Unfortunately, someone forgot to tell Prince Arthur’s new servant.

Characters: Merlin, Arthur, Sir Owen (OC)

Words: 4,618

TW: PTSD episode/flashback

Note: Early days for our boys. :)

Keep reading here, or on AO3!

If you enjoy, pease consider liking, commenting, or re-blogging, and you can follow me for more content like this!

Everyone in Camelot knew about Sir Owen, and everyone who had met him loved him. He was an old warrior, a man of honor and valor with a keen sense for battle and a veritable treasure trove of wisdom. He was old and gray now, and limped from the festering aches of old battle wounds, but he always had a smile and time to chat with anyone he met, nobles and servants alike. After he had retired from knighthood, Uther had awarded him quarters in the castle and a life of luxury.

The kind old man received regular visitors to his spacious rooms and always gladly welcomed them. Lady Morgana brought him a vase of flowers every week, new knights would often visit for advice and encouragement, many of the maids would stop for quick chats between chores, and Gaius brought him his medicine for his old battle wounds and nightmares every evening before bed. Once or twice the king himself had been seen visiting his old friend, and he too always departed with a smile.

There was something that every one of Sir Owen’s many admirers and visitors knew, however, and honored without compromise: Never, under any circumstances, should you enter Sir Owen’s chambers without knocking.

More specifically, no one should enter his chambers without loudly and clearly announcing themselves first – a light, polite knock wouldn’t do, especially not now that he had lost all his hearing in one ear, with the other ear quickly following suit. You had to knock loudly and aggressively, and if he still didn’t hear you, then you had to proclaim yourself as loudly as possible when you eased the door open to peek in. Ultimately, the last thing anyone wanted to do was to sneak up on the beloved Sir Owen, because if he was taken off guard, if he thought he was being ambushed, he became a completely different person.

Sir Owen had fought valiantly for Camelot for many decades, and in that time he saw horrors of battle and the worst of humanity. He’d been gravely injured protecting his fellow knights on no less than three occasions, the final of which had forced him to hang up his chainmail for good. And though he was a perfectly pleasant gentleman when he was in his right mind, in those moments of fear and panic – like when he thought he was being snuck up on or ambushed – he shifted back into the fearsome warrior who had felled scores of Camelot’s enemy’s over the years. And though he was old, he was still strong for his age, and crafty, and his confusion only fueled the desperate strength within him.

Sadly, his moments of lucidity had declined rapidly in recent days, and sometimes he struggled to remember who was his enemy and who was his friend during normal, mundane conversations. He only became violent when he was scared or surprised, however, which was what made announcing one’s presence of the utmost importance when calling upon him.

Every servant in Camelot knew this, as did all the knights and nobles who paid him regular visits. Well – all of the servants except for Merlin, Prince Arthur’s new manservant, who had just been ordered by his prince to go to Sir Owens’ chambers to escort the man to the training grounds. Arthur had asked him to oversee the newest recruits on this crisp autumn morning, and to his delight, the old knight, who had been staying in more often than not, had agreed to do just that. Merlin was happy to have a job other than hefting all of Arthur’s heavy equipment to the training grounds on his own (and all in one go, because Arthur was too impatient to allow Merlin to make multiple trips and very clearly cared nothing for Merlin’s well being in the slightest).

Merlin had never met Sir Owen before but knew that he was a bit of a legend around the castle. He’d heard whispers of some of the brave deeds and epic battles the man had fought in Camelot’s first days. He also knew Morgana brought him flowers to brighten up his chambers, and that he was supposed to be a very kind man with great advice and a smile that would brighten every room. Sir Owen sounded a positive delight, and Merlin had jumped at the opportunity to fetch him for Arthur so that he could meet this amazing man for himself. He sounded like a breath of fresh air in the stuffy citadel – but then again, most anyone who wasn't the prince of Camelot could claim that title, in Merlin's book.

Although Merlin had never been good at the niceties of court when dealing with Arthur, he did make it a priority to remember to knock if he were at anyone else’s door – as Gaius had told him on many occasions, if he just barged into the wrong person’s chambers, he could be in trouble so deep that even Gaius couldn’t bail him out. And so, when he reached the old knight’s chamber door, Merlin made a point to reach out his fist and give a few hearty knocks on the door.

No answer.

Merlin waited a short time before knocking again, but again, no one answered. Pressing his ear against intricately carved wood, he thought could hear something from inside of the room – a faint shuffling, as if someone were moving around. The warlock shifted anxiously on his feet, warning bells clanging in his head. If someone was in the room, why didn’t they answer the door? At the very least, why did the person not call out? Merlin could only think of two possibilities: Either the person in the room could not answer, or was not supposed to be there. Either way, something was off, and Merlin had to check and make sure the old man he was meant to fetch was okay.

Merlin tried the door – locked – and, glancing over his shoulder to make sure he was alone, directed a pointed stare at the lock, felt the heat of magic swell within him, and heard the rewarding clunk as the door unlocked itself. Quietly, Merlin eased the door open and peered inside, looking for any sign of trouble. “Sir Owen?” His calm, quiet voice contradicted the furious beat of his heart, that instinct that warned him of danger.

No one seemed to be in the room that the wary servant could see, so Merlin inched his way further inside, taking in the elegant but sparse furnishings, the headless training dummy in old old but obviously well-cared for armor, and the weapon rack mounted on the wall that seemed to be missing its occupant. “Sir Owen?” Merlin called again, this time a little louder.

He didn’t even have time to turn when he heard the quiet rush of footsteps from behind. The next thing he knew, Merlin was facedown on the warm woolen rug that spanned much of the stone floor, the breath completely knocked out of him. Pain lanced through his upper back, sparking like lightning between his shoulder blades. Something had hit him – hard – and Merlin’s instincts warned him that whoever it was that had attacked him wasn’t done.

Only sheer force of will allowed the warlock to heave himself over on his back just in time to see Sir Owen himself, with his normally friendly, laugh-lined face twisted into a ferocious mockery of itself, gray hair come loose from its tie, and a hefty longsword, dulled with age but still deadly, brandished in his right hand. Merlin noticed that the sword, and the hand that held it, shook slightly moments before the old man – still in incredible shape for his age, as Merlin’s screaming back proved clearly! – lunged again, this time with the point of the blade and not the flat.

Merlin rolled to the side, lungs still heaving for air after being winded by Owen’s first hit, and the point of the sword cut a frayed line in the rug right where Merlin’s head had been. Struggling to his feet, the disoriented servant tried to appeal to the knight’s sensibilities; he gasped, “Sir Owen! I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to frighten you.” Another swing of the sword, and Merlin ducked out of the way in the nick of time. “I did knock!” he insisted.

Sir Owen’s eyes, Merlin noticed, were clouded, and when the man spoke, it became obvious that he was seeing a completely different scene than what was actually going on around him. Somehow, it seemed, he thought he was back on the battlefield, fighting a deadly opponent, instead of cornering a frightened servant who had done nothing to harm him. “I won’t let you do it!” the man roared, and his voice cracked under the pressure of the rage and sorrow. “You killed my men – you take no one else!”

He advanced again, this time slowly, methodically, and Merlin backed away at the same pace, all too aware of the corner he was trapping himself in but afraid to bolt and frighten his confused aggressor into doing something he’d later regret. Raising his hands, Merlin spoke like he was addressing a small animal or a frightened child, “Sir Owen, my name is Merlin. I’m Prince Arthur’s servant. He sent me here to fetch you for the –”

He was cut off as Owen slashed forward with the sword unexpectedly, and this time Merlin wasn’t quite fast enough. Even the dulled edge was enough to slice through Merlin’s shirt and into his upper arm, and fire erupted in the wound. Blood, warm and sticky, oozed from the cut and meandered down his arm. He ignored it, more focused on staying alive.

“Liar! Traitor! Murderer!”

Merlin didn’t want to use magic on Sir Owen – from what he’d heard, the man was a genuinely good person, though something seemed very wrong with him now. On top of that, if he realized that his opponent had used magic after the fact, Merlin would be killed anyway. But the idea of being run through with a dull sword was so unpleasant that Merlin decided to take the risk. He turned to run from the next attack, allowed his eyes to flash gold, and heard his pursuer curse as his weapon somehow tumbled from his hands and skittered across the room. Hopefully, if he remembered this at all, he would put it down to losing his grip.

Now that the sword was out of the picture, Merlin felt a bit safer, but he couldn’t decide if he should try to help Sir Owen himself or run to get someone else instead. His choice was taken away from him, though, because he hesitated a second too long – in the time that Merlin had been debating his next course of action, the keen knight had made up his mind and charged bravely into battle. Sir Owen was the kind of warrior who would continue to fight with his bare hands against an entire heavily armed battalion until the very end. He never gave up, never let a little thing like losing a sword stop him.

And so he charged.

To Merlin, it was like Arthur’s prized steed had barreled straight into him, such was the force with which Sir Owen slammed against him. For the second time in ten minutes, the wind was driven out of him from the force of the blow, and he sprawled, stunned, on the chamber floor, his head rapping painfully against the stone.

Bright lights flickered in his field of vision and he tried desperately to get his body to move, but his arms and legs weren’t listening. He watched as the old knight, fury in his dark eyes, approached him, having abandoned the sword all together now that his enemy lay helpless at his feet. Merlin should have been glad that he wasn’t using the sword, but he had a very unpleasant feeling that Owen did not need a weapon to kill.

Seconds later, his unprotected side exploded in agony as Sir Owen drove his boot forward in a merciless kick. Afraid to use his magic again, forgetting everything but his basest instincts to survive, Merlin curled in on himself, nearly crying out at the pain the movement caused him. Another kick, this one to his back, and Merlin rolled away the best he could, panting in pain. Halfway to his feet, on hands and knees, almost there –

Another kick, this one to his gut, and he gagged, falling forward, face-first onto the floor. Blood welled up in his mouth – he must have bitten his tongue.

Merlin scrabbled for purchase on the cold stone, trying to regain his bearings even as every part of his body rebelled against him. He felt the man’s toe beneath his torso and sucked in a painful breath, but this time, all Owen did was flip him over. Merlin lay on his back, breath wheezing from his chest, and he was sure he had a broken rib, maybe more. Slowly, deliberately, like he had all the time in the world at his disposal, the old man knelt next to his fallen foe and leaned in close. Merlin could smell breakfast on his breath – the stink of aged cheese mingled with the sweetness of fruit – as he man hissed, “You’ll die for this – sorcerer!”

Fear crescendoed, overshadowing the symphony of pain, as Merlin realized that somehow, Sir Owen had figured out what he had done, what he was. Helplessness took hold of the warlock. It didn’t matter if he survived this encounter – which was looking less likely by the second, unless he used his magic again – his life in Camelot was over. Might as well use his magic to escape. The giant lizard was wrong, then. It couldn't be his destiny to serve Arthur and bring magic and peace to Albion. He would be on the run for the rest of his life.

Merlin focused on his magic through the pain and felt it rise within him. It slipped out of his grasp as something latched onto his hair and dragged his head up. Merlin got a single look up close at Sir Owen’s eyes, filled with the kind of suffering no sword could inflict, brimming with regrets and hatred and death, before the man slammed the back of Merlin’s head into the ground. A flash of white light – intense pain, swirling darkness.

Merlin may have blacked out for a few seconds, but it couldn’t have been long, because when he regained a semblance of awareness – he couldn’t move, so much pain, vision blurred, he was going to be sick – Sir Owen had retrieved his sword and had it poised over his helpless victim’s heart. “Rot in hell, sorcerer,” he spat, and Merlin squeezed his eyes shut, partly against the pain, mostly in preparation for death.

A voice sounded from somewhere close by, first annoyed, then panicked: “What the hell is taking so long Merlin? I– what – NO!”

The fear in the last word, unexpected and guttural as it was, was enough to convince Merlin to open his eyes. Through the haze his vision had become, he saw a red and gold blur tackle Sir Owen, heard through ringing ears the sound of a brief struggle and the angry accusation “Sorcerer!” and then there was someone kneeling over him again, and Merlin struggled to sit up, to get away. He managed to turn over just in time to vomit all over Prince Arthur’s clean boots.

To his surprise, the prince didn’t yell or order him to scrub them again, right then and there. Instead, with surprisingly gentle hands, the man eased his servant back onto the ground and began checking him for injuries.

“You idiot,” Arthur said as he probed the back of Merlin’s head, eliciting a cry of pain and frowning at the blood staining his fingertips. He moved on to check Merlin’s ribs (“Three broken, at the very least, but we’ll have Gaius look at you.”) and arm. “It’s fairly shallow,” he said, and Merlin thought he must have been giddy with pain and exertion at this point, because it sounded like the prince was actually relieved. Arthur stood, stepped out of his boots with a grimace, and ordered, “Stay there. I mean it – don’t move. I’ve subdued Sir Owen for the moment, but he needs Gaius.” A deep crevice between his brows, the prince added, “And so do you. You’re a mess.”

Merlin didn’t hear if Arthur said anything else after that. He didn’t even see the prince leave the room. The darkness had claimed him by then, wrapping its welcoming arms of comfort around him and staving off, if only for a little while, the pain and the fear of what was to come.

***

When he awoke, it was in his own bed, in his room, and he was alone. Merlin’s head hurt more than he could ever remember it doing before – even more than the time he and Will had climbed on top of his roof and he’d fallen through the thatch. He’d smacked his head on the kitchen table when he’d landed on it, but the pain he’d been in had been nothing compared to his mother’s wrath. Now, though, it was not an ache or even bursts of sharp pains – it was like a drum, and every beat increased the agony he felt. It was the kind of headache that turned your stomach against you, too, and made the world around you lose its crisp edges and stole your ability to concentrate on even the most simple of tasks. His arm, now bandaged, stung fiercely, and the gnawing ache in his ribs turned into a cacophonous mass of torment any time he thought of moving.

So he didn’t move. He lay there, head pounding, body hurting like he had been run over by a horse, and allowed his mind to wander, though with the headache he had, he really did not have much control over the direction of his thoughts, anyway. In the end, every wandering pathway of his consciousness, every thought and question and memory, all led back to the terrifying realization that Sir Owen had seen his magic – somehow – and had probably already told Arthur and the king. Any moment now, guards would barge into his room and throw him into a cold, dark cell. Or maybe they’d skip the cell all together and toss him on a pyre. They wouldn’t even have to tie him to it. He was too weak to move.

The door opened, and Merlin jumped in a mixture of surprise and terror. Even the small movement caused all of his injuries to flare up and he slumped back, face beaded with sweat, panting in exhaustion and pain, waiting for the inevitable and wondering if he should try to fight back with magic since his secret was already out anyway.

It was good that he didn’t, because it was Arthur who entered, and he was alone, and there was a strange look on his face – if Merlin didn’t know better, he would have said it was somewhere between worried and guilty, with a healthy dose of discomfort sprinkled in for good measure. “Merlin,” the prince said in surprise, and it occurred to Merlin that he hadn’t expected his servant to be awake yet. Arthur stayed in the doorway, uncertainty rolling off of him in waves. “I – Gaius stepped out for a moment, to check up on Sir Owen. He’s been in quite a state, really disoriented and worried that he hurt you badly.”

Merlin frowned, and even that hurt. “Gaius?”

Arthur stared at Merlin like he’d grown another head. “No, you moron. Sir Owen. He feels terrible about what happened.”

Perhaps it was the head injury, but Merlin found himself thoroughly confused. “So… you’re not here to arrest me?” He could hear the slur in his own words and realized that he probably looked as bad as – if not worse than – he sounded. Arthur appeared to be as baffled as Merlin. He finally moved beyond the arch of the door and into the room, awkwardly taking a seat in Merlin’s chair, near the bed.

“Why would I be here to arrest you?” His blue eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What did you do this time?”

“Uh, Sir Owen, he said…” Merlin’s thoughts were as fuzzy as his sight, and he felt that distinctive curdling in his stomach that told him he was going to be decorating Arthur’s shoes again very shortly. Arthur must have seen that tell-tale paling of the face and whitening of the knuckles, because moments later, a bucket had been shoved under his nose and he threw up into it, vaguely surprised that there was anything left to expel. Arthur had produced a cup of water from somewhere, and when Merlin finished, the prince helped him take a sip. The water was bliss, cooling his raw throat and chasing away the sour taste in his mouth.

Nausea under control for the moment, Merlin cleared his throat uncomfortably, not meeting Arthur’s eye after the strangely intimate moment (if he had been looking, he would have seen Arthur studiously avoiding his gaze as well). Merlin picked up where he’d left off, his voice cracked and timid. “Sir Owen called me a sorcerer.” Arthur did look at him now, Merlin felt his eyes, but the warlock didn’t reciprocate. Instead, in a rush, he said, “If he told you that, you have to understand–”

“Merlin.” Arthur’s voice held no malice, only concern and a heaviness that the servant did not understand. “You don’t have to explain to me that you’re not a sorcerer. Yes, Sir Owen said something about it when I was pulling him off of you, but I know he was confused.”

Cautiously, Merlin pressed, “How do you know?”

Arthur laughed, a harsh, clipped sound. “Are you saying that you are a sorcerer?”

Merlin’s stomach flipped over on itself. “No,” he lied, not sure why he had even mentioned Sir Owen’s accusation in the first place. He was making himself look more suspicious; it was just hard to control what came out of his mouth – harder than usual, anyway. “I just want to know why you believe me over a respected former knight.” There. That was reasonable, right? Merlin’s head ached, and he just wanted to go back to sleep, but he had to know, had to have some kind of concrete assurance before he could rest.

Arthur sighed. That same weight tugged at the next words he said: “Sir Owen… he was a great knight, and incredibly brave and strong – still is, for that matter–”

“You can say that again,” Merlin muttered, wincing.

Arthur glared at him, daring him to interrupt again, and continued, “But he has seen some horrible things on the field of battle. And if he thinks he’s being attacked, he lashes out. Gaius says that he somehow finds himself back in the middle of a war, fighting off his worst enemies and watching his men die around him. It’s like he’s reliving the worst days of his life. And that’s why he attacked you – he thought you were trying to ambush and kill him.”

“But that doesn’t explain–”

“I’m getting there, Merlin. For someone who looks half-dead, you sure can run your mouth like usual.” Merlin grinned, despite himself. “Oh, don’t look so proud,” Arthur ordered irritably. “It’s incredibly irritating.” But his own mouth had stretched into a half–smile as well.

“Anyway – the last battle, the one that ended his career… A sorcerer who was fighting against Camelot nearly crippled him. He lay there, helpless, and had to watch as the sorcerer killed at least a dozen of his men. One of them was his only son.”

A grim silence settled over master and servant, and a sick pit had formed in Merlin’s stomach. It was the kind of hollowness that could only exist in misery and pain, and he found himself wishing for the nausea to return.

“He thought I was that sorcerer,” Merlin clarified, heart aching for the man that had nearly killed him. “I didn’t know”

“How could you?” Arthur asked. Then he added, his voice taking on more of the guilt that Merlin had thought he’d heard earlier, “And I – well, it’s my fault,” he hedged lamely. “That you got hurt. Because I didn’t even think to warn you to knock before you entered the room. I was so focused on getting to the training field that it didn’t cross my mind that you didn’t know about Sir Owen’s flashbacks, as Gaius calls them.”

Merlin’s eyelids were heavy, and everything hurt, and he could feel sleep calling to him, but he insisted stubbornly, “I did knock.”

Arthur raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Wonders never cease. But,” he clarified, “if he doesn’t hear you knocking and doesn’t know you’re coming, then it doesn’t even matter if you did knock. I should have told you to announce yourself, or had someone go with you that knew what to do.”

Somewhere in the other room, a door opened and closed.

“That’ll be Gaius,” said Arthur, standing up. He looked down at his battered servant, hesitated for the briefest of moments, and then said, “Sir Owen sends his apologies, and he hopes to meet you under better circumstances once you’re both feeling up to it.” In a rush, he added, “And, for what it’s worth, I – I’m sorry too.”

Merlin blinked in surprise, knowing how hard it had to have been for Arthur to admit he had made a mistake, let alone apologize for it. And even though the servant truly didn’t think the prince had anything to apologize for (after all, Merlin forgot important things all the time), it was touching, and he could tell that despite his discomfort that Arthur really meant it and needed to know that all was well.

Arthur leaned over, gave Merlin’s shoulder a gentle squeeze – even that sent bolts of agony through Merlin’s body, but the gesture was appreciated, even cherished. “You did… surprisingly well in holding him off until I found you,” he admitted as Gaius’s footsteps were heard ascending the short set of stairs behind him.

“He beat me to a pulp and nearly sliced me in half,” Merlin deadpanned.

“Yes, but you’re still alive, and that in itself is almost impressive,” Arthur said, and Merlin couldn't tell if the prince was serious or not. “Anyway,” he said, backing away and making room for Gaius, who was puttering into the small room balancing a tray of medicines and broth. “I need to get to training. Gaius, make sure he’s back to work the moment he’s well enough, but… also, not a moment before he’s ready.”

Gaius nodded, patted Arthur on the shoulder in thanks, and began to treat his patient. Merlin watched Arthur leave, a warm feeling blossoming in his chest that had nothing to do with the broken ribs. He barely even heard Gaius’s lecture about propriety and taking care of himself and knowing all the facts before he walked in on a situation. His wandering, aching mind was too busy thinking about the prince.

When he’d first come to Camelot, Arthur never would have apologized for anything. Already, amazingly, Merlin was beginning to see a change in the other man, a spark of something that made Merlin the tiniest bit proud to know him. And it may have been the head injury talking, but right now, despite the irritation he so commonly felt toward his new master, the idea of this destiny the dragon had prophesied suddenly didn’t seem too terrible after all.

Maybe Arthur wasn’t so bad, either.

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demivampirew · 4 years

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Do I mean anything to you? part 2 (final part)

It started as a one-shot, but I had an idea for a second part, so here it is 😁

Soft and fluffy (and angry too) August x reader

Triggers: fighting; kidnapping; anarchism/terrorism; metions of guns, bombs, etc; crying

A/N: This is a re-writing of the movie ending.

You can find more of my writings in the Masterlist

Tag list: @lunedelorient @henrythickcavill @wolvesandhoundshowltogether @mary-ann84 @desperate-and-broken @peakygroupie @summersong69 @ivvitm1109 @madbaddic7ed @iloveyouyen @the-soot-sprite @hell1129-blog

- Did you truly think you could fool me and get away with it, Walker? - Sloane asked August, who was handcuffed into a chair in an interrogation room. They were alone in that room, but there were plenty of agents outside of the room in case their boss needed them to help to control him. August remained silent with his eyes fixed on her.

After the IMF played him to prove that he was the double agent, August allowed them to take him as a prisoner, only to allow the rest of the anarchist team to help Lane escape. They asked him many times about his location but August did not know the answer and even if he did he wouldn't help the CIA catch him. He knew that he was to value to the cause against The Apostles so they wouldn't get rid of him, and if they did it, at least his mission of freeing Solomon was a success.

- You won't talk, would you? Huh.- she questioned, raising an eyebrow- Well, let's see if I can find something that'd make you talk.- Erika said and grabbed his phone, dialled a number and after waiting for the person in the other side of the line to respond, she said "bring her in" while starring directly into his eyes. There was panic on them, anyone could have noticed it. He knew at that moment who "her" was.

Minutes went by and then the door opened. An agent grabbed you by your arm as he walked you into the room and as soon as you saw August, you ran into him. You cupped his face with your hands and press your forehead against him. He wanted to fight it. He should have pretended not to know you for that would have been the best for you, but as soon as he felt your sweet touch, he lost all the strength for resistance.

The agents in the room forced you to stand afar from him, not without a fight.

- Hurt her and I'll fucking kill you!- he shouted with burning anger. His eyes went from the agents to Sloane.

- Calm down.- the CIA leader ordered to the double agent- Tell me what I need to know and I'll set her free. Hell, if you give me all the information I need, I might consider pardoning you and allowing you to retire to live a happy life with this woman, but that's all up to you.- she offered him- So, tell me August, what are you going to do? He closed his eyes and looked to the other side. Erika sighed and gave a new order- Take her away and locked her. He quickly turned his eyes when he heard her complain about how the agent that was holding her was grabbing her too tight and made her hurt.

- Stop!- Walker shouted and Sloane looked at him. His white pearls were showing. Rage was written all over his face- You want Lane? Fine, I'll give him to you. I don't know where he's now, but I'll find him for you.- he promised her- But first, I need your word that you would let her and me go afterwards.- he said, looking at you and then his eyes were set on her again. -Fine. Considered it done.- she agreed after a moment of thinking. - She, of course, will stay here until your mission is fulfilled. Considerate a security deposit. Bring me Lane and the plutonium and you both are free; fool me and I'll kill her. Don't play with me August, you know me well.-she warned him and with a head gesture she indicated her employees to take you away- The sooner you complete the mission, the sooner you'll be back in the arms of your lovely woman.

He wanted to kill everyone there. He hated every single rat working there and he hated you. He had ideals he was fighting for...a better reality and he was about to give all that up to save you and to be with you. But, even the thought of hating on you hurt him: he loved you, more than anything. He hated himself to be honest. He hated how he allowed himself to fall in love with you and he despited himself for putting you in danger. Now was the time to make things right.

He had no idea where Solomon was, but he figured out that at least one of all the other double agents should know something about it. He found one of them and convinced him that he managed to escape or that was what he thought. The man set him a trap and a group of gunmen were waiting for him to kill him. August might be a big man, but he was quicker than he seemed. He took down the anarchists, leaving the one who planned the trap alive to make him tell him where Lane was. Walker broke the fingers of the agent's right hand, hearing his screams of pain, promising that the pain would get worse if he didn't give him the information he required.

Solomon was in a small medical camp on Siachen Glacier. He planned to explode the plutonium bombs there.

As August expected, Lane knew that Walker was a traitor. He had him surrounded by his subordinates as soon as he set a foot on the house he was staying.

- I did not have you as a weak person.- Solomon told him- what's the reason behind your change of teams?- he asked studying August's face- Let me guess, they found your lady friend, didn't they?- Walker's eyes were wide open now. He knew about her as well. - Yes, I know about her.- he replied as if he could read his mind- And I was going to finished her in you failed on the mission, but I guess they found her first.

That confession unleashed August's anger and with quick yet strong moves he took down the ten men in the place, leaving only Lane alive. He grabbed him and threw him on the floor, quickly tying him so he would no escape. After the call with Sloane, he remembered that he still needed the plutonium to complete the mission.

- What's the matter? Missing something?- Lane mocked him when he saw August focused on his thoughts. - Shut up.- he ordered him. - Do you think she's worthy of all this trouble? Tell me, do you seriously believe that you'll be able to live a happy life with that woman now that she knows what you have done? All those lives you took... people like her do no understand our mission. “There cannot be peace without first a great suffering. The greater the suffering, the greater the peace.” You'll suffer a lot her loss, true, but think about the reward. You still on time to do the right thing.- Solomon said trying to change August's mind.

- Raise your hands!- someone shouted to him. It was Ethan Hunt. He entered the house and was pointing towards Augusts with a gun. He turned around to face the IMF agent, as he did what he asked him. - I'm on your team, Hunt.- he informed him bitterly. - Yeah, sure.- Ethan answered with a short sarcastic laugh. - I'm being honest. Sloane sent me to bring her Lane and the plutonium.- he explained. - Why I'm supposed to believe that you're telling the truth?- he questioned. - Julia. - August said and he saw his enemy's eye open wide in surprise. - How do you know that name? -he requested both angry and afraid. - Don't you think I would work with you without making a previous research, did you?- he explained- Anyhow... you have your Julia, Sloane has mine. She will kill her if I don't give him what she wants. - That doesn't make you being on my team. Now surrender, I'm taking you both back to CIA.

To Hunt's surprise, Walker was quicker than he seemed and was fighting him even before he had a chance to blink. The men fight each other until August had Ethan's head trapped in his arm. The IMF hero tried to set himself free but couldn't for his arms were too big and strong. August realized that he needed to work with him if he wanted to succeed, so he had to convince him.

- Listen to me.- August shouted to the man fighting him to free himself- We need to work together. We can end this sooner and you'll save the life of the woman you love and I'll save mine. The CIA will soon be here to take him down and I'll go with them. You can come as well if you don't trust me. But I need to find the plutonium and give it back. If we stop fighting now and get to work, soon this will be over, otherwise, I'll have to kill you, because I won't risk the life of the person I love for you. - I cannot trust you, Walker.- Ethan pointed out. August sighed and grabbed his phone with his free hand and searched on his gallery, opening a folder locked with a password and then showed to Hunt. He looked at the photos: lots of photos of you - sleeping, cooking, laughing; pictures of the two of you kissing and hugging. The way August looked at you was what the IMF agent needed to know you were being honest. Your man trusted him because he knew that Hunt wouldn't allow an innocent life to be taken as collateral damage.

Ilsa Faust and Benji Dunn took the task of making sure Lane didn't escape while they searched for the bombs. One was found by Luther and Ethan's sidekick called him to let him know that the other explosive was on the house.

Lane's words were stuck in August's mind. He was on his way back to rescue you. Getting the plutonium and the anarchist was the easy part, making the love of his life, such a sweet woman to want to be with him knowing that he was not how he told her he was. He never lied to you since your relationship started, but certainly, he hid information about his other side. Could you forgive him for killing people? He knew that even if you hate him now, just the fact that you were safe was good reason enough for him to go that mission.

Sloane kept her part of the deal and released you and pardon him, with the condition that she would send people constantly to check that he was truly out of the game.

You ran into his arms and he pulled you closer to him, putting an arm on your back and the other in your head. After an inspection to make sure you were unharmed, he kissed you and pressed his forehead against yours. You hugged him tight and cry of fear for everything that had happened.

Two weeks later...

He bought a new house in a suburb using his life savings. He was used to renting apartments and move constantly, but this time he wanted a stable place for you two. After a long talk, he promised you that his anarchist days were behind, same for the CIA job. He would find something else to earn money and live a decent life with you. You, on the other hand, assured him that you would work hard to make him see the world through other eyes, so he could see why his previous belief was wrong. You'll teach him how beautiful the world could be.

#henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #august walker #august walker x reader #august walker fanfic #august walker fanfiction #demivampirew

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killjoyhistoryarchive · 3 years

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“Conventional Weapons” and the Rocky Road to “Danger Days”

In 2009, My Chemical Romance was buzzing with activity. The band performed several shows and festivals (including Summer Sonic in Japan), Gerard and Mikey Way attended San Diego Comic Con, and The Umbrella Academy was named one of Amazon’s top comics of 2009. Ray Toro held a Whopper eating contest on the official MCR website (no joke), while a certain comic series written by Gerard Way and Shaun Simon was announced in August. And at a show at the Roxy in Los Angeles, MCR performed three new songs from their upcoming album.

But while their next album seemed easily slated for an early 2010 release, MCR was about to hit a series of hurdles that would leave them with a scrapped album, a lost drummer, and a totally new outlook on where their music was headed.

On July 31st, 2009, MCR performed a set at the Roxy that included three new songs–“Kiss The Ring,” “The Drugs,” and “Death Before Disco.” Gerard was enthusiastic about the new tracks, even telling Rolling Stone that “Death Before Disco” was “the greatest song we’ve ever written.” Videos of the tracks soon appeared online, where fans eagerly devoured what they thought would be the follow-up to 2006’s The Black Parade.

As the days and weeks went on, the media blitz kicked into high-gear. While Ray Toro posted short studio clips on MCR’s website, the band gave several interviews where they gushed about producer Brendan O'Brien, discussed their new stripped-down style, and claimed that this would be their best record yet. In an interview with MTV, Gerard described the still-untitled album as a “true love letter to rock and roll,” adding:

“There’s something about being an American rock-and-roll band that we’ve kind of grown into and we’re very proud of. And I think that’s what we’re celebrating with this record. There’s no agenda, there’s no mission; it’s just about rock and roll.”

Meanwhile, Gerard Way and close friend Shaun Simon had another surprise in store: a comic series called "Killjoys.” Dark Horse Comics announced the release at San Diego Comic Con. Jeremy Atkins, the Dark Horse Director of Public Relations, described “Killjoys” as “a psychedelic rock-and-roll road trip adventure geared toward both fans of The Umbrella Academy and My Chemical Romance.” But not much else was said about the comic, as MCR’s upcoming album had become Gerard’s top priority.

As the album drew closer to completion, MCR gave fans more glimpses of what lay in store. They shared the titles of various tracks, including “Still Alive,” “Trans Am,” “Hail To The King,” “Save Yourself, I’ll Hold Them Back," “L.A. Heavy,” "The Only Hope For Me Is You,” and “Black Dragon Fighting Society.” They cited a variety of influences, including Queen, Judas Priest, Bruce Springsteen, The Killers, and Blade Runner. By all accounts, this was going to be MCR’s defining album.

In December, MCR previewed seven tracks for SPIN magazine. A month later, in January of 2010, the album–which was still untitled–was rumored to be released on March 30th. As they continued to rework the songs, they realized that the stripped-down sound wasn’t working. As NME reported in January:

Things turned around with a song called “Trans Am,” now renamed "Bullet Proof Heart,” the likely first single. And perversely, they did it by returning to fiction. Broadly, it’s about a boy in New Jersey, dressed in a Judas Priest T-shirt, called Johnny. And a girl called Jenny who might be his girlfriend, but who also (honk the pop fact sirens!) might also be the missing girl from “Jenny Was A Friend Of Mine” by The Killers.

But in the same interview, Gerard restated that the album would give "the purest, best version of the band you could ever hope for.” And in early February, MCR finally started to wrap up production, telling Big Cheese that the album would probably be released in spring or summer.

“Killjoys” also looked promising–back in January, Scott Allie had reported in a blog post that Shaun Simon and Becky Cloonan were ready to get started. Once Gerard wrapped up the album and finished working on the Umbrella Academy movie screenplay, it seemed like he’d be ready to dive in.

But February was also when the band publicly stumbled for the first time.

Before the Big Cheese interview, MCR had abruptly cancelled their appearance at the Soundwave festival in Australia. In a blog post on MCR’s website, Frank claimed that Gerard was having voice problems (he jokingly implied that it was due to coffee and cigarettes) and required treatment to make a full recovery.

Fans were disappointed, but most understood that it couldn’t be helped. But a month later, the fandom received another shock: MCR’s drummer Bob Bryar had departed the band. In another blog post, Frank told fans:

As of 4 weeks ago, My Chemical Romance and Bob Bryar parted ways. This was a painful decision for all of us to make and was not taken lightly. We wish him the best of luck in his future endeavors and expect you all to do the same. We also wanted to give you all a quick heads up on how the record is progressing. We have been writing some very powerful new songs so this week the four of us entered the studio once again, and what has been ending up on tape each night is some of the most exciting and honest work we have ever created.

The fandom was stunned. Clearly, MCR had been experiencing some behind-the-scenes turmoil, suggesting that the process wasn’t going as smoothly as fans had thought. While it wasn’t known at the time, they also parted ways with producer Brendan O'Brien, who had been hired specifically to channel their raw, back-to-basics sound. Where would MCR go from here? And when would fans hear the latest album–which was apparently undergoing rewrites once again?

It wasn’t until late 2010 that fans would finally learn what had happened to this unreleased album.

This moment, says frontman Gerard Way, looking back on what went wrong, “was the hardest part”. Guitarist Ray Toro was “home dealing with some family things”, leaving Way, his bassist brother Mikey, and guitarist Frank Iero alone in the mixing studio. “The sinking feeling was really starting to become loud that it wasn’t right - that the record wasn’t finished, I couldn’t even put them in a track order … "Thinking about it now, it’s kind of upsetting, because I just felt so lost,” Gerard says.

This was discussed in an interview with Herald Sun, where they talked about the process of starting again after the departure of their drummer and producer. Speaking to Music Radar, Ray Toro talked about the struggles the band had with original producer Brendan O'Brien, admitting that it hadn’t gone as well as they once thought:

“He was really trying; he did the best he could with us. He knew things weren’t clicking, and he’d try to rally us. I remember he said, ‘Hey, on some songs, I’d love to hear you do what you did on The Black Parade.’ Because there wasn’t any of the harmonized guitar parts or the stacking that I usually do. He was trying to get us to make one record, and we wanted to make something totally different.

Musically, we wanted to go back to our basement. But just because we wanted to do something different didn’t make it easy. In many ways, we felt as though we were holding ourselves back creatively. We were going through the motions. Some of the songs were good, but we weren’t happy with all of them.”

Needing a break, Gerard took a vacation to the desert that surrounded Los Angeles. There, as he told Terminal 5, he realized “I had started the band after 9/11 when I hated art. Black Parade had been about hiding and punishment. I couldn’t tell the truth so I’d talk about cancer instead. I had to put on a mask to show people who I really was. But now it was time to own it. To be who I was before this band started. And I had something in my back pocket: this song, ‘Na Na Na.’”

Reunited with producer Rob Cavallo, who had worked on The Black Parade, the band kicked things off with “Na Na Na.” Gerard and Shaun Simon’s comic “Killjoys,” once a separate side project that had nothing to do with the band, suddenly became the concept that they formed the album around. Fueled by fresh creative energy, the band wrote and re-wrote tracks, came up with concepts and characters like Dr. Death Defying, and shredded the limitations that had confined them. At one point, Gerard turned to his brother Mikey and said “Danger Days, here we come again!”

Not everything from the previous record was scrapped. “Trans Am” became “Bulletproof Heart”; “Death Before Disco” became “Party Poison.” A few new versions of old tracks appeared on the record, as well as the Mad Gear and Missile Kid EP that came later. But MCR’s fourth album had gone from a rock and roll record that deliberately avoided ambitious storylines, to a vividly realized concept album that invited fans into the world of post-apocalyptic California. In many ways, it was the opposite of what they had originally planned. And it seemed to be exactly what they had been looking for.

During this time, Frank snapped in-studio photos that he sold on MCR’s official website, offering one-of-a-kind peeks into the recording process. In March, Mikey Way stated in a blog post that “One day you will wake up, and nothing will ever be the same again, but it’ll feel like an old friend.” He was talking about upcoming changes to the MCR website, but in a way that statement reflected the band’s process at the time–they had completely reinvented themselves, and yet there was still a certain familiarity in the old tracks they had revamped.

The band completed the album with fresh energy, offering sporadic updates in the coming months. Fans waited with some skepticism to see what MCR had in store. And finally, one day in early September, MCR’s website disappeared and was replaced with a mysterious transmitter. The Danger Days era had begun.

But was the scrapped album hidden away, never to be heard again? Not quite.

In 2012, in a blog post on MCR’s website, Frank talked about the feelings of depression that he had faced after The Black Parade. He felt like MCR had done it all, leaving them with nothing left to accomplish. In November 2008, Gerard called him up to talk about the band. As new ideas took shape, they prepared to start recording the album that would eventually be scrapped after months of work.

Frank pointed out that while the band had limited themselves during the recording of this album, the songs weren’t inherently bad–in fact, some of them were among his favorites that the band had produced. As time passed, he developed a greater appreciation for the tracks. And when the band met up and listened to those songs, they decided to release a selection of tracks to the public–two tracks a month for the next five months, for a total of ten.

After all this time, the album finally had a title: Conventional Weapons. Tracks included “Kiss The Ring,” “The World Is Ugly,” “Surrender The Night,” and the fan-favorite “The Light Behind Your Eyes.” Listening to the tracks, it was clear that MCR had aimed for a rock album with a pure American sound–no ambitious concepts or storylines, just a set of killer tracks. Whether they succeeded is up to the listener to decide, but they provided some insight into what came before Danger Days.

Due to its unconventional release, and the fact that the album was a series of random tracks and not a finished product, Conventional Weapons is not considered an “official” MCR album. But while Danger Days was the final album, Conventional Weapons was the final release before MCR broke up in 2013. Since the split, the release of CW has caused many fans to wonder–will My Chemical Romance’s fifth (and unreleased) album ever be shared in a similar fashion? Or will it be locked away forever, like the other CW tracks that were never released?

Only time will tell. But for now, Conventional Weapons serves as an intriguing part of MCR’s history–a time when the band set out to make one type of album, and ended up making the complete opposite.

(Picture credits: 1 2 3. Other in-studio photos by Frank Iero.)

[Originally published 07.09.2017]

#my chemical romance #mcr #gerard way #mikey way #ray toro #frank iero #conventional weapons #articles #music #behind the scenes #na na na #bulletproof heart #party poison (song)#killjoyhistory #reuploads

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what-a-treat-nz · 3 years

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World Book Challenge: China

Officially, the People's Republic of China (PRC). It is the world's most populous country, with a population of around 1.4 billion. It covers approximately 9.6 million square kilometers, and is officially divided into 23 provinces, five autonomous regions, four direct-controlled municipalities (Beijing, Tianjin, Shanghai, and Chongqing), and the special administrative regions of Hong Kong and Macau.

The areas in dark green are under direct Chinese control; the areas in light green (Tibet and Taiwan) are contested. For the purposes of this challenge, I’m treating China, Tibet and Taiwan as three separate countries. Because I can.

Number of Chinese people in New Zealand: As of the 2013 Census, there were 163,104 people of “Chinese (not further defined)” ethnicity in New Zealand - 10,008 of those were in Wellington City.

Have I been there? Yes! I visited Shanghai with my Dad in December 2011. I bought a really nice coat, had tea that tasted like warm Fanta (it was oddly addictive), and got hugged by Dave Grohl. So, the usual Chinese experiences, really.

I also had Peking Duck for the first time in my life, and holy hell I didn’t know what I was missing. I’ve tried to make up for it by eating copious amounts of it since.

The books

For “China” on my reading challenge, I read three fantasy novels - Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation, by Mo Xiang Tong Xiu, and the final two books of the Poppy War trilogy (The Dragon Republic and The Burning God) by R. F. Kuang, a Chinese-American author.

Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation (魔道祖师 / Mó Dào Zǔ Shī)

(Book 30 of 2021)

Given the fact that I have an entire subsection of my blog about how much I love the live-action TV show based on this book, it probably shouldn’t be a surprise that I had Mó Dào Zǔ Shī at the top of my list of Chinese books to read.

Mó Dào Zǔ Shī tells the story of Wei Wuxian, a loathed cultivator of dark and demonic arts who resurrects 16 years after his tragic death. His return to the world brings him to reunite with the people in his first life, including his soulmate, the honored Lan Wangji (who mourned him for 16 years, during which he branded himself with the same mark as Wei Wuxian and kept his memory alive and I’m okay, I promise). Wei Wuxian then begins to remember his time before his demise 16 years ago, from his beginnings as a young cultivator to his descent to dark magic. Together, they solve a mystery linked to a dark tragedy from Wei Wuxian’s first life, then live happily ever after.

This novel was originally published on the Chinese web novel site JJWXC from October 31, 2015 - March 1, 2016, with additional side stories that continue to be released sporadically. The revised version of the main story was later published online until September 7, 2016. A paperback version was released on December 12, 2016, with a total of four volumes in traditional Chinese. The first of three planned volumes in simplified Chinese, titled Wuji, was released in 2018, but release of the following installments has stalled after the locking of the novel on JJWXC since January 2019.

Mó Dào Zǔ Shī isn’t officially available in English, and given that it depicts an explicit danmei relationship between Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji, I don’t think we’ll ever see an official version. Though there are official translations into Korean, Thai, Vietnamese, Russian, Japanese, and Burmese, and the tour for the TV traveled to Toronto, Los Angeles and New York, so maybe one day there will be an official translation.

For now though, you can read the entire novel for free at Exiled Rebels Scanlations, where it has been translated in full by a then-highschooler called “K-san”. It’s hard to actually judge the merits of the writing of the original novel, given I was reading an unofficial translation, but that was actually half of the sweetness of it. It was kinda rough - K-san tweaked the terms they used as they gained more confidence with the translation, and I enjoyed reading the translator and editor notes that accompanied most chapters - especially notes such as “we’re translating as fast as we can, stop asking for faster updates!”. It felt really organic and friendly, and the story is good (though much gorier than the TV show and good god boys, learn what lube is, it’ll make your lives better I promise).

I read the book more as a companion to the TV show though, rather than a novel on it’s own merits, so I’m not sure I can judge it as a novel on it’s own merits. Though the book did teach me one very important piece of information: Lan Wangji canonically smells of sandalwood.

Would I read it again? If an official English translation comes out, I’d probably read that. I’m more likely to watch the TV show again, or dive into one of the sesquillion Untamed fanfics on AO3 ( Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī/Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn was the most popular ship on AO3 in 2020, with 12,878 new works about these characters being published that year).

The Dragon Republic and The Burning God

(Books 34 and 35 of 2021)

I read The Poppy War and The Dragon Republic back in September 2019 (when I wasn’t counting how many books I was reading, but I did have a record of them), and I decided to re-read The Dragon Republic because I couldn’t exactly remember where the story was up to.

And it’s a good thing I did, as something I thought happened at the end of The Dragon Republic actually happened at the end of The Poppy War, so oops?

The Poppy War trilogy is a grimdark fantasy novel set in fantasy China, with a Chinese protagonist and written by a Chinese-American author. It’s spectacular. The trilogy draws its plot and politics from mid-20th-century China, though it’s atmosphere is more inspired by the Song dynasty. The conflict in the first book is based on the Second Sino-Japanese War (though this time, it’s the Chinese empire against the Japanese empire), in the second on the start of the Chinese civil war (Chinese empire against nascent Republican movement), and in the third on the end of Chinese civil war (Republicans versus not-Republicans).

It’s a massive trilogy. It’s incredibly complex, with a huge scale and massive numbers of characters, though the fact it’s all seen through Rin’s eyes (with the occasional first and last chapter from the point of view of other characters) helps.

The story follows that of Fang Runin, better known as Rin, a poor war orphan in southern Nikara who trains in secret to test into the elite Sinegard Academy. Throughout the trilogy she deals with racism, sexism, elitism...most of the isms, really. Author R.F. Kuang said that Rin's life is meant to parallel the trajectory of Mao Zedong, and I had fun trying to match events in Chinese history to the events in the book (the easiest ones to spot are the Rape of Nanjing, the nuclear bombing of Japan and the Long March).

I don’t remember Mao Zedong having the power to call on a fire god, however. It’s probably a good thing that’s not something that happened in real life China, as Mao’s policies killed enough people without him literally being able to spit fire.

I described the first book as “If Kvothe from The Name of the Wind was female, Chinese, and allowed to say fuck.” Those two books felt really similar to me - they’re very much your “outsider is accepted to elite academy, winds up pissing off most of their classmates and chooses an obscure major to specialise in before being thrown into a conflict they are key to winning.” But honestly, I preferred the Poppy War trilogy, even if the final book did get super dark.

Rin is a really refreshing character, and the world seen through her eyes is a very different place to one I’m used to reading about. Kuang said that she "chose to write a fantasy reinterpretation of China's twentieth century, because that was the kind of story I wasn't finding on bookshelves", and I’m so glad she did. The world needs more books like this. I’m as pasty and as white as they come, and I loved reading a book where the heroine was authentically Chinese. This isn’t a pakeha author trying to fit themselves into someone else’s shoes - this is someone with a deep understanding of Chinese military history and collective trauma using that understanding and pain to build a new fantasy world.

I loved it, and if you can stomach war scenes, I recommend this trilogy.

Will I read the Poppy War trilogy again? I might do. It’s a bit darker and more desperate than I usually read - particularly The Burning God - but I did enjoy them. So that’s a firm “never say never”.

Bonus book!

These Violent Delights

I read NZ-Chinese author Chloe Gong’s These Violent Delights earlier this year (book number 20 of 2021), before I set myself this challenge, so it doesn’t technically count as an entry for “China” in my book challenge. But it is amazing, and I love it, so I wanted to give it a quick shout out here (because if we’re talking fantasy reimaginings of Chinese 20th century history by Chinese diaspora authors...).

These Violent Delights relocates the story of Romeo and Juliet to 1920s Shanghai, casting the two leads as the heirs to rival gangs. It’s brilliant, it’s beautiful, there were sentences that made me stop and gasp for the sheer delight of having read them, and there’s a monster made of bugs driving the citizens of Shanghai insane. The way Gong has woven the characters from the play into their 1920s counterparts is delightful (I say this as someone who’s never actually read the play, though I think I saw the Leonardo DiCaprio movie because it was difficult to be a tween in the late 90s and not be exposed to his films).

15/10, would definitely read it again, it’s been on the New York Times bestseller list for weeks for a very, very good reason. Stop reading this blog and go get a copy. Now.

The feast

I admit, using China as my first country may have been a bit of a cop out, given my familiarity with Chinese food - though, living in a Western country, I’ve probably eaten more Westernised Chinese food than authentic Chinese food.

Which is why I was chuffed to learn that spring rolls are, actually, authentic Chinese food. I always thought they were a Westernisation, like sweet and sour pork or fortune cookies.

For my Chinese feast, I turned to The Woks of Life, a delightful Chinese cooking blog that I can’t open without being inspired to cook like 9 million things.

When I started this project, I originally was only going to cook one dish from each country. I figured I’d go easy on myself for China, and make 花生酥 (hua sheng su), a traditional sesame peanut brittle.

It’s something I’ve made before - I make little bags of it for my colleagues each lunar new year.

I don’t follow the Woks of Life recipe exactly - for example, I’ve never once roasted and shelled my own peanuts. I tend to use a mix of blanched and pre-roasted peanuts in my 花生酥, and I think it comes out okay. Next time I’m going to increase the amount of sugar I use - I find that 270g of rock sugar is not quite enough to cover the peanuts totally. Which is a pain. Next time I think I’ll use 300g, and turn the heating on in my kitchen so it’s warmer, to stop the brittle from hardening before I can properly get it into the tray to cool.

But then I changed my mind, and decided to throw a full on feast.

For the feast I threw, I made two more dishes from the Woks of Life - Easy Peking Duck with Mandarin Pancakes, and 年糕 (nian gao), or stir-fried rice cakes (though I did them with chicken, not pork, as that’s what I had in my freezer). I also cooked up some spring rolls, as I had them leftover in my freezer from my housewarming (for which I over catered, because I cannot do anything but over cater any event I throw). I should have marinated the duck longer. That one was on me.

I also made some 核桃酥 (he tao su), walnut cookies, which were delicious and I definitely want to make again. I think I’ll add some hazelnuts in as well for additional crunch, and make them slightly smaller - they were 12 very big cookies.

But delicious cookies.

Kisu was most distressed that we did not feed her anything from this feast.

The Playlist

I ended up finding this “Chinese Indie & Rock” playlist on Spotify, which I really enjoyed. I could understand none of the songs, but I enjoyed the heck out of a lot of them. I’ll probably keep listening to this playlist - they were definitely my sort of jams.

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ahatintimestorybook · 4 years

Text

AHIT Twin AU- Missing Brother

(Had to re-upload since I posted in the wrong blog)

Hey guys just an heads up. The next few chapters are going to be angst related. This one being the start to all the angst.

@winterpower98

Since day 1, since the day she met his twin brother, since the day his twin brother announced he and her were dating, since the day his twin brother saved up some money to buy a ring to propose to her, MJ never liked or trusted Vanessa Queenzel. MJ felt something was up with the woman, like an never ending blizzard when she passed by him.

Luka never felt it, he was so mesmerized by Vanessa, and MJ wished he could get into his brother’s head and find out why Vanessa was his one true love, his princess from the fairy tales they read when they were kids.

MJ had asked his brother countless times if Vanessa was the one and he always got the same answer. “She is, and I know it.” It made the older twin furious at his younger twin that he was just looking out for him. No one in their right mind can be this perfect especially someone like Vanessa.

Its been a month since MJ and Luka’s parents had died, and both twins were dealing with struggles. Luka was going to tell Vanessa to postpone the wedding till next year, and MJ was dealing with the fact their parents are gone. As you can tell stress lingered both brothers and were ready to snap at one another, despite never snapping or fighting once in their lives.

Soon Luka’s phone rang, which caught both twin’s attention. Luka reached for the phone and saw it was Vanessa was calling him. Luka gave a small smile and picked up the phone. “Hey Van.” Luka said. MJ looked up at his younger twin. His eyes showed he barely got sleep and with the glare written all over his face it made him look angry.

“Van, I need to tell you something its about the wedding.” Luka mentioned. “See, MJ and I spent a lot for the funeral, and I’m just wondering if we can postpone it till next year?” He asked giving a sheepish smile. Soon that smile faded and soon yelling was heard. It made Luka flinch, sure he’s heard his finance yell before, but never like this.

Luka sighed. “Look I know your mad, but we just spent a lot plus I just need to be there for MJ.” He tried to reason with her. Soon Luka heard the phone hang up. “Hello? V-Vanessa?” He asked. Luka looked at his phone and saw she did hang up. He groaned and slammed his head on the table.

Since their parent’s death Vanessa’s behavior towards Luka changed as well, she only comforted him when he revealed the devastating news and the funeral between that and after Vanessa didn’t seem to care about Luka grieving or trying to be there for MJ and insisted, showering him with gifts to make him feel better.

“Just don’t call her back Lu.” MJ spoke up. Luka turned to her brother giving a small glare. MJ looked up and saw his brother’s facial expression. MJ glared back, “do we have to argue about this again? Luka, the warning flags are right there!” He shouted.

Luka sighed. “Look, I know Vanessa has been...pushy lately but its only because I’ve been pushing all this mom and dad stuff onto her.” He replied as his defense.

“Its not that! She’s been like this months before mom and dad died!” MJ yelled back. “Remember she dyed your hair blonde?”

“Only because she dated you on accident! Hence why you changed your hair!” Luka replied. “Plus I didn’t mind it.” He mumbled.

MJ growled. “She did it without your consent!” Luka flinched, jumping back from MJ’s sudden anger. Luka glared and got up from the table and marched over his room to put on a jacket. “Where are you going?”

“To Vanessa’s and hopefully going to talk to her!” Luka shouted. He was about to make it to the door until MJ grabbed his arm using his magic. Luka looked down at his arm and looked up to his twin brother holding him back with his magic. “Let me go Micahel.” Luka growled, his eyes too starting to glow bright yellow.

“No.” MJ replied. “I’ve told you countless times, Vanessa is nothing but trouble. I don’t trust her! Mom didn’t even trust her! And for the past few days its nothing but you two arguing and making up!” He shouted. “Can’t you just open your eyes and see Vanessa is not the girl you should be with!”

Luka’s eyes turned back to normal but didn’t look at his twin brother in the face. MJ sighed and loosened the strings off his brother as his eyes turned normal too. “I’ll be back.” Luka whispered and slammed the door making MJ flinch. MJ stepped back, shaking that he just yelled at his brother. They argued before, but it was never this tensed.

Though MJ did understand things have gotten difficult thanks to the death of their parents and all the anger, sadness and stress just came down on both of them. He looked back at the door before heading to the couch to watch TV. “Come home safe bro.” He whispered.

By nightfall, Luka never arrived home and MJ started to worry. He checked his phone to see if Luka left him a phone call or message, but nothing only his lock screen wallpaper of him and Luka on their birthday, the last birthday to celebrate with their parents.

MJ decided to call Luka to see what’s up with him and Vanessa, but the call went straight to voicemail. Knowing Luka, he’d call back in under five minutes. “Hey Luka, listen I’m sorry about yelling earlier. Call me back where you are. Night bro. Love you.” MJ said before shutting off the phone and TV before heading to bed room.

Once there, MJ stared at the ceiling worried for his little brother. Luka should of called or even texted him by now. MJ thought Luka was mad at him for being mean to Vanessa, but he was telling the truth he didn’t trust her. The older twin felt something was wrong, Luka never ignored him or not answer his calls. This was unlike him.

MJ sighed and tried to fall asleep hoping that Luka would call him in the morning or at least show up. He hoped so.

Days passed, then weeks, until it was over a month and not a single call or anything from Luka. MJ wasn’t just scared, but horrified that something was up with his brother and he wasn’t getting anything from him. He hated to do this, but he had called Vanessa, but she would respond with:

“He’s not home,” or “He isn’t feeling too good, right now.”

Even though MJ didn’t like her, he didn’t want to fight with her. Knowing her status in town, it would make him look like the bad guy then Vanessa. Though he didn’t want to do this, it was his last resort. He needed to head on over to Vanessa’s manor.

MJ took a drive to the Queenzel manor and knocked on the door. As he waited he did his best to keep his cool so he wouldn’t go off on Vanessa. It felt like an eternity till Vanessa opened the door. “Oh MJ hi.” Vanessa said with a smile.

“Look Vanessa, do you know where Luka is?” MJ asked.

“He’s not at home, he went out for the day.” Vanessa replied.

MJ knew this was a lie, but he tried to keep cool. “Do you know when he’ll be home?” He asked. Vanessa didn’t reply and just shrugged. MJ sighed feeling his cool level head slowly leaving him. “L-Look if you see him tell him to either call me or see me!”

Vanessa sighed. “That’s only if he does show up. One night he didn’t come home for at least two days.”

MJ wanted to strangle this girl so much. He could sense she was lying. She knew something about Luka’s fate and was just staling MJ so he can leave or do something to her so she can be the victim. “Look! I may not like you, and I know you may not like me.”

“I do like you. You are going to be my brother in law.” Vanessa replied.

“But, we both like Luka. I just need you to talk to him and tell him to see me. I’m worried about him.” MJ begged. “Please Vanessa. Just let me talk to him.”

Vanessa went quiet as she looked down at MJ. “Alright.” She sighed. “I’ll try to get a hold of him and let him know you want too see him.”

MJ gave a small smile. “Thanks.” Vanessa nodded and closed the door as MJ went back to his car. Once he was back in drove back home, revealed he was out of that place and hope he didn’t have to go back there to ask for Luka again.

When he got home he slammed the door and collapsed on the couch and cried. “Where are you Luka. I miss you. I-I can’t loose you. P-please come home.” He cried and repeated those words over and over again.

MJ woke up his eyes red and a bit puffy from crying. He sniffled and wiped away the stray tears from his face. He looked outside and saw the sun was going down and that he was asleep for at least five hours. MJ checked his phone and saw no messages from Luka. MJ sighed, but got out of his thoughts hearing a knock on the door.

MJ sat their frozen hearing the knocks. Flashbacks to the day he heard about his parent’s death repeated in his head. Now the anxious older twin sat there waiting on some sign that this isn’t the police, he didn’t want to answer the door, see the officers and tell him that they found Luka’s body.

He couldn’t, he just couldn’t deal with another death! He snapped out of his thoughts when he heard a familiar scream.

“MJ! MJ!” MJ flinched, those were Luka’s screams. Quickly, he got up and unlocked the door only to be tackled by his crying little brother. MJ held his brother and slowly made back to the door to close it.

Luka was here, and alive! But where was he all this time?

MJ looked at his twin brother and was in complete shock. His hair was a mess, bloodshot and tired eyes from crying, his wrist were bruised like he was chained or something and his clothes were a mess. MJ looked at his brother from head to toe, and he just knew who did this. “D-did Vanessa do this to you?” He asked.

Luka let out a sob and nodded hugging his brother tight. “Don’t tell her where I am!” He cried. “Please.”

“I-I won’t!” MJ promised. “I won’t.” MJ hugged Luka tight holding his twin brother close to him as he cried. MJ was sad yet relieved Luka was alright, but had to suffer in Vanessa’s hands. He’d ask his brother what happened, but he just needed to comfort his little brother.

#ahit twin au #ahit au #A hat in time AU #ahit #A Hat in Time #Moonjumper #ahit snatcher #ahit the prince #Queen Vanessa #Snatcher

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cheolbooluvr · 3 years

Note

AHHHH CHRIS CHRIS CHRIS OMG CHRIS

I'M SO HAPPY FOR YOU OMG CONGRATS ON 200!!!

sjkhdilkeahjfslkresb srsly I'm so happy for you I could cry 😭😭

but dude, we gotta talk nothing serious, I swear, don't panic I'm busy once and when I finally have time again I come back to photography, a....I don't even know how to describe it, magnificent? awesome? fantastic? marvellous? fanart of yours and the most important thing - YOU HAVING 200 FOLLOWERS??

Do I have to abandon tumblr more often for about two weeks? 😭

and the almost heart attack I got when I saw that you tagged me because I had no idea for what reason lmao

I don't know how to express my thoughts and feelings, I'm just so happy for you, is that even normal? 😭

also I'm so sorry for disappearing for two weeks, I've been busy with lots of rl stuff and wanted to take time for tumblr which I didn't have, unfortunately :(

I still have to catch up on all your fics you've posted and I'm so excited to read zest of life :D I hope that's the title I'm too lazy to check rn, I beg for forgiveness 🙏

I'll answer your last reply within my next ask I just wanted to let you know I'm still alive, I'm still here and that I'm really really really happy for you :D

I hope you have a fantastic day ✨

take care <3

~ 🌙

oh my beloved 🌙 anon!!!

thank you SO MUCH ahhhh you are literally the backbone of this blog, an OG 😭 TEARS LET’S CRY TOGETHER!

as always, thanks for being here w me since basically the beginning, ugh

and adskljaskld i’m glad you liked the photos!! and the fanart hahaha i didn’t think anyone rly saw that LOL but i’m sorry for scaring you omg!! i’m glad you saw it tho :)) also yes definitely normal to be excited for your friends!! <33

also don’t apologize for disappearing!! irl stuff happens and we are all very busy ppl, i just hope you’re getting plenty of rest and hopefully some time to yourself :’(

and yes the zest of life is correct :D i hope you like it!! i went thru quite a process writing it lol but it was so much fun and i’m excited for ppl to be able to read it. i might do a sort of commentary post for it??? idk i have a lot of thoughts re: the zest of life haha aside from that one, i don’t know what else you’ve missed but i hope you like those fics as well!

i’m so happy to hear from you as always, and looking forward to reading your ask soon💖 ILY have the best day/night!!!

#cheolbooluvr asks #cheolbooluvr 🌙 anon

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falseroar · 4 years

Text

Is This Your Card? Part 20: Silver Prison

((Trapped and alone, the District Attorney receives an unexpected visitor, and Abe realizes his story isn’t over yet.

Here’s a link to the part posted earlier today, Part 19: The Actor’s Game in case you missed it, and to the masterlist for the entire series.))

The pain never stopped inside of the mirror. It pressed down on every side, within and without, making every movement no matter how small hurt, making every breath feel like your lungs were on fire, every thought slow and sluggish as your brain wanted to just shut down from it all but couldn’t.

But more than that, it felt like your heart was being ripped out, again and again, every time you remembered why you were here.

They left you here, he left you here.

You trusted him, he promised…

The room on the other side of the glass blurred, not for the first time.

How long had you been in here? It was hard to tell whether the shadow that occasionally fell across the windows was truly night or yet another storm passing by, especially when you sometimes blinked and found the darkened room was suddenly bright again without any in between.

So it was difficult to tell how long it had been, before a finger tapped on the glass.

You looked up, heart leaping at the sight of the blurred figure on the other side of the mirror until your vision readjusted.

“They really did a number on you, didn’t they?” Mark asked. His expression could have almost been mistaken for concern, if you didn’t know exactly what he was. “Who knew Damien had it in him?”

He seemed momentarily surprised by the growl that emanated from the mirror, but then he just smiled and made a show of brushing a piece of lint off of his red jacket’s sleeve. Almost casually, he remarked, “So I’m guessing they told you about my little trick at the party.”

“You did this,” you said, barely able to summon the strength to speak, much less to shout, to rage at the man behind this all, as much as you wanted to. Instead, you could only ask, “…Why?”

For a moment, you thought he couldn’t even hear you as he continued readjusting his bow tie, as though he were looking into his own reflection, but once done his expression hardened as his eyes met yours.

“Me? I didn’t put you in this mirror. I’m not the one who pulled the trigger. I didn’t steal another man’s wife, I didn’t look my friend in the eyes and lie to them, for years on end!” He leaned in closer to the mirror, the palms of his hand resting on the table underneath it, and said, “All I did was send a couple of cards and show you all what it’s like to know everyone around you is hiding something, to never know who you can trust because no matter how long or how well you think you know someone—well, apparently that doesn’t mean anything.”

“You didn’t—” You stopped mid sentence, one hand going to the glass to support yourself as a fresh wave of pain hit you, so hard that for a moment Mark and the room behind him almost disappeared.

“Then again, maybe your problem was more choosing the wrong person to trust with your precious secret,” Mark said, his voice muffled but slowly coming back into focus. “I never expected them to take that mirror card so literally, but I suppose that’s Damien for you. I wonder if the sweet, innocent mayor was tired of protecting and covering for you. And don’t even get me started on that monster hunter.”

“Don’t.”

Mark arched an eyebrow at that. “Sure, if I were being charitable, I might think the twins piloting that rotten corpse just wanted you out of the way, to keep you somewhere safe while they went on their revenge crusade against the big, bad Markiplier. I mean they could have taken your body instead with a little more effort, so that’s something. Except...then they’d have to deal with that whole curse thing you have going on, wouldn’t they? And there’s the little fact that dear Damien knows just as well as I do that this mirror was an antique that came with the house. My parents paid a fortune to have it re-silvered, brought it up all the time—did you know that mirrors are basically sheets of glass coated with silver? So, to trap a werewolf in a mirror…”

He paused, but when there was no response from the other side of the glass, he continued.

“Needlessly cruel, I have to say. But I could help you, Y/N. I could get you out of there.”

He reached toward the glass only to pause again when a second growl, deeper and stronger than the last, came from your throat. You couldn’t even stand to look at him, walking around in that stolen body, smiling with his stolen face and acting like he hadn’t ruined so many lives, much less listen to any more of his lies.

“…Or not, if that’s what you want,” Mark said, taking a step back with his hands raised. He smiled at you. “But maybe some time in your silver prison will give you some perspective. I’ll come back around, once you’re ready to learn how to heel.”

You snarled, face distorting to become more like the wolf as Mark turned and walked out the door, but once he was gone the growl faded into a quiet, desperate whine.

---

It took far longer for Abe to wake up, without someone else to help guide the way, but he did. After all, death didn’t mean the same thing here.

He woke with a pain in his chest to an empty and silent house. The gun in his hand slipped to the floor as his fingers desperately searched beneath his stained shirt and found the wound that he shouldn’t have survived, that wasn’t bleeding like it should be even if it still hurt like hell. How long had he been out?

He tried to stand and gave that idea up quickly, instead choosing to sit there while his lungs struggled against the effort of breathing again, while his searching eyes went from the sealed door to the balcony railing, scattered and fraying thoughts slowly piecing themselves back together.

The Colonel.

He shot him—which, honestly, wasn’t as surprising as the fact that he was still, somehow, alive.

Abe remembered the shock, his vision fading as he slowly slid down the wall, he remembered your scream, a sound he didn’t even know you were capable of.

And he remembered the sound of the second gunshot, the crack still audible over the Colonel’s desperate voice before everything went dark.

“Partner,” Abe whispered, and then shouted as he dragged himself over to the railing and looked through the bars at the black and white tiles so far down below, empty except for a single stain and a discarded military jacket.

It wasn’t a pretty run down the stairs, but Abe made it, one hand pressed tight to his chest, the other keeping a firm grip on his gun. The lobby area swirled and danced around him as he spun, eyes desperately searching for the one thing he was terrified to find, but there was no sign of you or your body.

“Y/N!” he screamed, but there was no answer except the echo of his own voice.

A silver bullet, straight to the chest. It was a miracle he was still alive, but you—you couldn’t be…

A shuddering gasp escaped from his chest and Abe took off again, searching every room of the house and trying, desperately, not to finish that thought. Not that it did anything to stop the tears streaming freely down his cheeks, as his voice calling out your name, calling out for his partner, went from a shout to a shaking whisper.

Eventually, he found himself standing in the lobby again, now sure that he was the only one left in this terrible, cursed house. There wasn’t even a body to hold, to grieve over, to lay to rest. The Colonel hadn’t even left him that much.

Abe pressed his hand to his chest again. The pain was still there, but he wasn’t dead yet. And somewhere out there, his partner’s murderer was still walking around, but he knew how to fix that.

After all, if there was one thing Abe knew how to do, it was how to hunt a monster.

He turned and walked out the front door, the last person to do so for years. The house sat silent and in theory empty, undisturbed until the door opened again. Until Abe heard about the reports of a break-in and strange lights coming from the house up on the hill, until he forced himself to go and see for himself the door left hanging open, the disturbed dust on the tiles suggesting the intruders only came in as far as the lobby, where the shattered remains of the mirror lay scattered on the floor.

He couldn’t know then, what it would mean for him or his long-lost partner.

Although he might have had the faintest hope of an idea, if he had seen the large paw prints leading away from the house, running in an unsteady line toward the nearby woods.

((And that’s the end of Is This Your Card? Thank you for reading, and sticking through this story. I’m not a fan of depressing endings, and for the record I don’t plan on leaving this series here. I have very definite ideas of where I want the story to go from here, but it might be a while before I’m ready to start writing it.

Until then, seriously, thank you for reading!

Tagging: @silver-owl413 @skyewardlight @withjust-a-bite @blackaquokat @catgirlwarrior @neverisadork @luna1350 @oh-so-creepy @weirdfoxalley @95fangirl @lilalovesinternet-l @thepoolofthedead @a-bit-dapper @randomartdudette @geekymushroom @cactipresident @hotcocoachia @purple-anxiety-blog @shyinspiredartist @avispate @missksketch ))

#markiplier #fanfiction #wkm au #werewolf au #monster hunter au #wkm district attorney #wkm abe #wkm mark #mirror mirror on the wall #wolf and hunter will meet again

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disastrousjest · 4 years

Text

Confessions of 2020..

(tw: covid mention, mental health mention)

I wanted to post a little something that might put out some insight for my followers, friends, mutuals alike. With the recent battle I had with some personal blogs attacking me over some posts I made because of the images, regardless of the purpose of the post. I just wanted to let everyone aware of why that sent me over the edge and why I handled it the way I did. Please note: I will not be apologizing for what I said, I do feel as though those that tried to reach out to me did not realize the purpose of the post. And while I understand now I should just tag things like that differently, I will not be apologizing for stating the fact that this is a rp blog and I do not appreciate personal blogs attacking me over something like that. That being said, I will not be bullied off tumblr or this account. Because I love JJBA and Joseph Joestar. So for future reference, if you don’t like my content, unfollow it. Don’t bother sending me nasty remarks because I do not have the time for those types of things. But I wanted to open the doorway to some insight for you all who have been paying attention or who just might care to know why I came off so incredibly outraged by that little bit. Because to me it was just the topping of a whole bunch of bullshit as is 2020. This whole shithole of a year began in March. I got promoted at work to salary. That’s 35k a year my friends and that’s a hell of an upgrade for someone who barely makes a living wage right now and came from a working poor family. I really thought my life was gonna turn around. For once my fiance and I wouldn’t have to struggle so hard and we could afford to do everything we talked about doing. Well guess what--2 weeks after the announcement of my promotion my work place shut down because of Covid-19. Nothing new, lots of people and places were shut down. So fine, it pushed back my transfer and such. That wasn’t a big deal. Enter June 2020. We re-open and my manager calls me into his office to talk to him about said mentioned promotion. They are suspending it, means it could be pushed back until we could lift the restrictions. Understandably so, I would just have to keep my old position, an hourly one, until they were called back. Now the months pass, June becomes July and enter August. I find out about a week before the company announces it at the start of August, the position I was promoted to has been eliminated indefinitely. There is a chance they could come back, but right now they have no idea when or if that’ll happen. Which means that whole part of my department no longer exists at my place of work. I mean it’s a good thing I had my hourly position to fall back into or I’d lost my job. But that salary raise? Gone.

Rewind back to July. I get very very VERY sick. And have to test for covid-19 the first time. Only because I am so sick and have a roommate with asthma I have to quarantine myself for 14 days. So 14 days I am locked in my bedroom alone, sleeping alone after 3 years of being with someone in bed. My meals are being left at the door for me and the only room I am allowed to enter is the bathroom, but only after it has been sanitized. Only for my results to come back negative. And now... we enter September 2020. Two major things started in September. The first, our old, senior dog became very ill. Started losing weight, wasn’t eating, losing hair, etc. So we knew his time was coming soon enough. Mid-September, I wake up one morning while our dog is dying mind you, and I cannot move my body from the waist down. Every time I tried, I’m greeted with a shot of pain straight up my spine that feels something like a hot poker being stabbed right through my spinal cord. Very very painful. I end up bed-ridden for a day or two because I cannot move. So once the pain subsides, I go see a chiropractor. Shocking (not really) announcement that my sway back--to which I was diagnosed with 10 years prior from a bad car accident--has gotten worse. What does that mean exactly? Well--my spine bends in like a S for those who don’t know, which means my lower back dips inward deeper inside my body and my tail bone curves out. Now along that dip there are 3 or 4 vertebrae that are especially messed up. The bones have become staggered out of place on top of one another, just from the muscles pulling the bones out of shape since my spine doesn’t flex the way it’s supposed to anymore. (And it hasn’t for years). The pain before this was tolerable, it would ache from time to time but never like this. Now I am crippled more or less. Here’s what that means: my mobility became extremely limited. At first in the am when I woke up I couldn’t move from the waist down for the first hour or two after I woke up. Then when I was finally able to move, I had to use my forearms to literally drag my lower body upright (still painful). Once I was able to manage that, I had to gage how strong my legs were to support my weight. And at first walking wasn’t terrible, but as the treatments began--doctor appointments, spinal adjustments, and physical therapy--to correct my spinal issue, nerve damage became clear. So now on top of this horrible pain, I had to deal with weak legs. Because of nerve damage, my right leg especially became weak. On days my back would hurt especially bad, my right knee would collapse out from under me. Which meant falling to the ground and not being able to stand up or walk for sometime there after. Now imagine dealing with not being able to support your own body, not being able to hardly walk and your dog dying at the same time. So while I”m trying not to focus on the fact that my mobility is limiting me on what I can and can’t do, my fiance is upset about this. Our dog (then weighed about 100 or more pounds) could no longer walk either. His back legs and hips were giving out as his health declined. I did not have the strength in my own legs to help carry him because his weight hurt me too much and would cause me to collapse. I had to watch my fiance struggle with this practically all by herself while I sat on the floor, only able to use my arms to help with what I could because my legs and back were too weak to do the work. This carried on into October. Our dog passes away and that alone is hard for me. I still kind of wonder if I wasn’t so weak when he got sick if I could have helped prolong his life just a little longer. I couldn’t hardly look at him when he passed and I couldn’t look at anyone else. I was very angry that my legs and back had failed me. They had failed everyone. So yes, that weight still lingers over me. It was so bad that when it came time to take turns digging his grave, I struggled with the shovel. Because I couldn’t stand up or be bent over to move the dirt, I got on my hands and knees and I took that shovel in my hands and used my arms and shoulders to dig. I wasn’t going to continue to be useless because of my limited mobility. I felt I already let him down and everyone else by not being able to help take care of him while he was still alive and sick. This was the least I could do. November comes. Things are calm now, for a while. Not bad. I finally get some braces to help with my back issues (which still continue). I keep on with my physical therapy, trying to heal and help my fiance through her mourning over the dog. My mobility slowly begins to improve, though the doctor informs me it will be a very slow process. Small steps he says. But he is still confident he can fix my spine without back surgery so I can walk again, like a regular person. The limit I am able to stand and walk increases with the help of my braces and I begin taking herbal supplements and drinking herbal teas to increase the rate of my recovery. It seems to be working better than over the counter medication. The rest of 2020 seems promising. Here comes December. On the night my fiance and I decide to go out on a date to celebrate our 5 years together. I get a phone call from work. One of my co-workers tested positive for Covid-19 and I was exposed. I am now suspended from work without pay until my test results come back negative. A real mood killer for the night. It gets better, we get home and despite the dinner being pretty somber the rest of the night seems fine. We watch movies and spend time together, finish wrapping gifts for Christmas. Then we realize the cat is missing. He’s been missing all day and all night. Nobody has seen him. Two days prior, I had taken my cat to the vet because he was sick. Again, weight loss, losing hair, etc. I was worried he may be sick. Well it’s cold outside and here it’s been snowing so it’s very cold. I set something of mine outside and a literbox for smell. And then a plate of food. ....that was almost 4 days ago. There’s been not a sign of him. I called the county shelter and they didn’t have him. My fiance suggests he was sick so... maybe he got out of the house and went somewhere to die. My gut tells me he’s not coming back. And my heart is breaking, again. Again. I am wondering if I did something wrong. If I would have kept a better eye on him, I knew he wasn’t feeling right. I somehow feel like I let him down. And then I logged into tumblr and saw those comments. Those asks people were sending about the damn images I posted for the 12 days to Christmas. And they just kept coming. I deleted the other ones, I stopped replying to them and finally just deleted the post. The Christmas spirit had been sucked out of me. I feel as though the world has began to mock me for believing the year could get better back in November. I know one thing, the holiday won’t be as bright this year. Not for me. I hope everyone stays safe and has a good holiday. Maybe 2021 will be more promising, but I”m not banking on it. Not anymore. Thanks for reading. I hope you all understand now why I have been so slow with my replies lately. As my mood goes up and down because I have been struggling with the weight of all this and depression, just trying to hang on from losing hope that for one I will be able to walk again normally and then just the loss of my animals... everything. I can’t write and I refuse to send bad quality responses and starters for you all. I hope this puts some insight on why I was so horribly upset the other day. So thank you to all my friends and everyone who has been so patient with me on all my blogs. Jotaro (dmgdstar) and Johnny (rotatingstar) and this one of course. I will be catching up to everything very soon. I’ve already made a good dent in them. Your patience is always appreciated.

#ooc #L speaks #my 2020 confessional #this is my yearly story #just a fragment of my cursed life

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