#because a truly civil conversation can only take place when two people are willing to listen to each other

[mondaysaglitch]

seeing a lot of posts about the new harry potter game, and people saying "oh my god thanks for reminding me to buy it!" man it's almost funny how fucked up people are now-a-days.

we're on a rock hurling through space, and we're all hurting in ways nobody else but us can truly understand, yet some people make the concious decision and put foward effort and money to add onto the suffering of others.

why is the message "don't be a dickwad to people" so controversial? why is basic human decency a thing that people are outwardly proud about lacking?

furthermore, why do some people boast about lacking the brain power to even conceptualize the fact that just because you disagree with someone doesn't mean it's a personal attack against you and you have to do everything in your power to hurt them to get back at them.

formal language and any political issues aside; if you enjoy the suffering of others who exist in real life, get the fuck away from society until you re-learn how to be kind to others. if you derive any type of joy from the agony of others, especially agony that you've directly or indirectly caused? you need to be rehabilitated for a lesson that's supposed to be taught in kindergarden.

and to clarify, no i'm not talking about something like wipeout that's meant to be entertainment. i mean if you watch gore videos for entertainment or buy a game that monetarily supports a transphobe just to get back at those 'troons'. if you get any sick kicks from people who are genuienly suffering and DID NOT sign up for said suffering? you're worse off than a literal child in terms of decency.

i get that end times are coming and violence is more prone than ever, but the fact that there's a group of humans who are downright prideful about the fact that they find pleasure from the pain of others makes me think that society deserves to collapse now more than ever.

[moodys-art]

I finally thought of my request!! Hopefully 3 characters aren't much of a count !! :"D how about headcanons for Diavolo, Risotto, and Prosciutto with a femme fatale reader? (She/her please ywy. Also she's not entirely their s/o or a part of la squadra!! She's just this mysterious mafia member no one's heard of. I'd like to see how they'd fall for her charms.) (U can look it up if you aren't familiar with the term :^) hopefully this won't be nsfw. If it is feel free to ignore this ask!!)

Thank you again :^}c

Yes, I was looking forward to your request ! I am a bit familiar with the theme, I think I get what you mean and the overall aesthetic of femme fatale, there's a lot about the subject and it can no doubt be sfw ! Notes in the tags 💗

Risotto, Prosciutto and Diavolo falling for femme fatale reader

Warnings : a bit of stalking and creepiness for Diavolo's part, but you know, typical Diavolo behavior...🙄

Femme fatale, definition : « an attractive and seductive woman, especially one who is likely to cause distress or disaster to a man who becomes involved with her.»

Risotto

No need to say, Risotto has noticed you. After all, he's a very observant man, and a very good Capo as well, so it's only normal he's aware of his surroundings and the environment in which his team works.

However, as he doesn't know anything about you, he thinks that it's only a matter of time before he has to introduce himself to you and try to assess if you're an enemy to his team or not. He's fairly comfortable with the idea of going up to you and engage in a conversation, but is reluctant to use his invisibility powers to spy on you, as you could be an ally.

Risotto isn't one to be easily attracted to people, but he has to admit that your extremely elegant and sharp looks is something he doesn't see quite often. He's really quick to guess that this is also a way for you to assert dominance in whatever mission or deal you may have to complete; you're in the mafia, after all.

He comes up to you on an ordinary day while you are out in the park, profiting from the shiny sun of the early afternoon. Risotto stays very diplomatic, sitting accross from you on the bench, introducing himself very clearly. "Should my team be involved in any business with you, and/or your teammates if you have any on your side, I sincerely hope it will be from an ally perspective." It could sound like a threat, except that the man is lightly smiling at you, meaning that he truly looks forward to seeing you again, and that if your businesses were to mingle, he hopes it wouldn't end up in you being his enemy. After discussing with you for a moment, he realizes that you're quite appreciable.

If you, on your side, make him know that you're willing to help him get some missions done - you're quite powerful, after all -, he could be interested in the offer. If it means his team can make more money, and gain an ally, why not ?

Your newly born 'work-mates' relationship is something that Risotto really appreciates, and not only that, but he also has a deep respect for the way you accomplish your work. It will maybe take a time before he finally decides to ask you out - on the account that you've already made him know that you're interested -, but it'll get there. Even Risotto cannot resist your charm.

Prosciutto

It's been a quite a time since Prosciutto noticed you in the streets of Napoli. Whether he was out in the evening, eating in a restaurant, or taking a stroll after his mission while smoking, it was difficult not noticing you.

You had an outstanding attitude, a proud look on your face, along with a very nice shade of lip color that looked like dark cherry. Prosciutto knew, someway, that you were part of the mafia as well, but he'd never heard about you in his team's reports, nor in the discussions he oftened like to partake in with a few other gangsters outside of La Squadra. No, he didn't know who was that mysterious, charming woman he'd seen several times before, but he was sure annoyed by that.

Prosciutto likes to assess people's personalities by looking at them first and foremost. Hence, that is with no surprise that both of your gazes come to meet each other a few times during the week. Except, Prosciutto holds himself to that. No more. He knows he shouldn't get involved in any other thing than work with another mafia member, as he's part of a team that has its own interests. So, no place for romance...

That is until one evening, you both end up in the same bar, sat next to each other due to nothing else than pure fate. So now that you're both here, why not seize the day ? Prosciutto thinks.

After having assessed your willingness to get involved in a talk, he'll engage in a conversation. "I've seen you around for quite some time now. What does a person like you does while wandering the streets of Napoli on her own?" It's up to you to answer him, but Prosciutto lives for quite mysterious auras like yours. He will not hesitate to make you know that he's interested.

Your bold and confident personality surprise him, in a very good way, and he doesn't refuse the drink that you offer him. Witnessing your seductive and charming manners, he can't help but to look at you, admiring how you present yourself.

If you two decide to follow-up on that encounter and to see each other more often, he's surely not against that. As the gentleman he is, one day will come when he'll be happy to invite you to eat in a nice, classy restaurant.

Diavolo

Well, it's a tricky situation, because first of all, in no way Diavolo would allow himself to let any person stay in La Passione if he feels like they are in for power and have too much ambition. Although he doesn't recruit members -as it's the job of a Capo,not a Boss-, he likes to do his own research on who is in the gang. He needs to know who could become a potential threat to him, after all.

After having spied on you from afar and collected some information on you as he does for everyone in the gang, he's a bit relieved. But for heaven's sake, he's Diavolo, so let's not forget that he still doesn't trust you, let alone anyone really.

The fact that you often encounter this pink-haired man at your local bakery is no coincidence. After a while, he'll come up to you to ask about the kind of bakery he should consider buying, because you seem like a regular here. The way you carry yourself is something that intrigues him more than anything, and maybe so much to the point of him being willing to consider letting you in in his life, - a very small part of his life at least.

Diavolo will not introduce himself. Even his outfit, for anonymity purposes, will be as discrete as possible, a dark costume and an ordinary hat. However, it will really be him, and not Doppio, unless he comes here a few times to look at you from afar. Diavolo will do everything in his power not to be noticed, or at least to be considered like nothing more than a civil; but he will allow you to ask him some questions as most people that come to you are usually from La Passione.

If you're risky enough to flirt with him, he'll maybe consider taking you out on a date. But you've got to be aware, that if you get to see his face, you'll no longer be ever alone in the streets of Napoli, and always looked over - if things turn to good, or to bad.

You two really make a classy and powerful pair. Your daring and smart looks is the spice to his overly secretive life. Watching you reapply your signature lipstick to readjust your femme fatale look makes him think that maybe, maybe, he could trust you enough to let you in the Unità Speciale and know that you will do a wonderful job.

[starlightrows]

In The Eye Of The Beholder

Chapter 3

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Pairing: Commander Wolffe x reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Oral (m and f receiving), mild anti-clone sentiments,

Summary: Commander Wolffe returns to Coruscant for a check in appointment for the study, and scores another date with you!

As time passes the irritated skin around the scar crossing Wolffe’s face begins to fade. He’s back on deployment now, somewhere in the galaxy leading his troops and carrying out orders. But he is still part of the study on the effectiveness of his prothesetic, he obviously can’t come in for case study updates in person, so instead he has scheduled holo calls with you.

The holocalls should really only take about fifteen minutes, thirty if he’s experiencing issues that require scheduling an in person appointment for adjustment or troubleshooting. But each call lands up being closer to an hour, or two depending on how much time he could truly get away with not being on duty.

You talk about your job, he talks about the war effort. You tell him funny stories from your time studying in medical school. He tells you about the stupid things he’s witnessed various memebrs of his squad (and other battalions) do. You describe what it was like growing up on your homeworld. He describes growing up with three million siblings on a planet that never had a day without rain. Food, music, sleeping habits, things you love, things you hate. The two of you never struggle to find something to talk about.

When he isn’t talking to you on holocalls, you’re always on his mind. Every little thing he sees and does, he finds himself thinking of what kind of comment you would make on the situation. Would you laugh at his brother's antics, or scold them alongside him? What advice would you provide when he is faced with a tough decision? He finds himself looking up into the night sky when stationed on far away planets and wondering just how much distance is between the two of you at this moment, and how long would it be before he could close that distance?

His answer comes sooner than he expected it would. General Plo informs him that the battalion will be returning to Coruscant for the purpose of several squads being transferred or reassigned to the battalion as well as the General needed to attend a series of council meetings in person. General Plo also mentioned that it would be best if he contacted you to schedule a check in for his prosthetic.

Briefly Wolffe wondered if the General knew of his evening he spent off the base with you, but ultimately decided two things. He probably did not, the General is a busy man with many responsibilities, too many to notice the comings and goings of every trooper (or commander) that serves under him. And, even if he did, he didn’t care.

Wolffe uses the excuse to schedule a case study appointment to take over an hour to himself in his quarters talking to you on the coms. He tells you he is returning to Coruscant, and he’ll be stationed there for at least four days. Internally he debates asking you outright to go out with him again. He doesn’t normally get much enjoyment from going out to the bars, but he had so much fun dancing with you last time. To his delight you beat him to the punch.

“So, if you’re gonna be planetside for a little while would you consider coming with me to see some live music and have a couple drinks?” You ask with a hint of heat creeping up into your cheeks. You’ve been looking forward to taking a night off to enjoy this free outdoor concert, but if Wolffe could come with you it would be all the more special.

The grouchy commander with a charming smile and quick wit has grown on you. After he tried to leave before, you were afraid that you’d made a mistake inviting him back to your apartment for sex. But he’s proven you wrong in the last couple months. He’s eager and engaged in your biweekly holocalls. And moreso, he seems eager to see you again.

“I could go for some music and drinks. You gonna dance with me again?” he teases

“Get enough drinks in me and you just might get your wish, commander”

In a few days time, you hear from him that he’s arrived on Coruscant and he’s looking forward to seeing you. Unfortunately you can’t get away from work the first day he’s planetside, with your date scheduled for the second day of his shore leave. You’re distracted throughout that day, thinking about seeing him again. You briefly considered comming him at the end of your shift to invite him back to your apartment. But you decide against it, he’s probably enjoying some downtime with his brothers or by himself, and he’s already agreed to spend time with you tomorrow.

Your assumption is partially correct. He is spending some downtime with his brothers in the barracks in the Coruscant base, they’re passing around a bottle of spotchka playing drinking games. Wolffe is having a good time, but he would honestly rather be with you.

The next morning he turns up at your office in his officers uniform for his case study appointment. You welcome him inside in a professional manner, but the second the door is closed you take his hand and lean up to kiss his cheek.

“Welcome back Commander,”

The appointment is relatively quick, just a series of eye movement tests and a questionnaire on symptoms and side effects he’s experienced since having the prosthetic placed. Though it does take all of your concentration to focus on actually collecting the data and not getting sidetracked by flirty conversation. There will be time enough for that later.

When the appointment is finished, you excuse yourself to go to the fresher and change into something more appropriate for spending the day out. You returned looking lovely in a comfortable but stylish outfit. You lock up your office and the two of you set out for the day. The concert isn’t until later in the afternoon, leaving plenty of time to stroll through the various levels of the city.

As you go along, you begin to notice more and more eyes on the pair of you. Many civilians are of the opinion that the clones should not be permitted to spend their off hours among the population of civilized planets. People are afraid of them, bred for war… the words scary, hostile, and unstable often get thrown around. You make a point to keep in step with Wolffe and enjoy every moment of your time with him. People can stare all they want, you’ve been looking forward to this.

The pair of you arrive at the outdoor venue and find a high table that gives you a good view of that stage without being too close. You order drinks and finger food to snack on while you wait for the concert to start. The sun is quickly setting, the lights meant to illuminate the stage and patio come on.

Wolffe looks dashing in his officers uniform, but you can’t decide if it is more or less comfortable than the armor. You’ll have to ask him later, because now the musicians are starting to play. The music is fun and lively, loud enough to drown out the two of you talking and laughing, but not loud enough you can’t hear each other like at the club last time.

Wolffe didn’t initially think going to see live music in a small venue like this would be enjoyable, he’s not really a music person as it is. But he has a great time, music is so much better hearing it in person, and all the more fun when you have a pretty date who likes to dance after a couple drinks.

It’s not raunchy sexually motivated dancing like before, though that was fun too, your dancing tonight is playful and fun. Your smile shines bright under the twinkling patio lights as he spins and dips you. When the concert ends there is applause from the audience thanking the musicians for their fantastic performance. Wolffe is almost disappointed the show is over, if he had it his way he would get to twirl you around and make you laugh all night long.

Well… that might still be an option in another sense.

Your apartment isn’t too far away, so you walk with your hand in the crook of his arm back to your place. When you get inside you offer him a glass of wine, and sit together in your living room.

“Thanks for coming out with me tonight,” you say warmly

“How could I say no? I love to see you dance,” he replies with a hint of a smirk. You lean in a little and hold his gaze with lips ever so slightly parted, an invitation if he’s willing to accept it.

He does, closing the gap between you to smooth his lips over yours in a kiss. You taste the wine on his lips, dark and sweet. You let your jaw slack a little as his tongue gently pushes past your lips to explore your mouth. Warmth pools low in your tummy, the hand he has placed at your waist is distracting since his thumb slowly stroking over the bottom curve of your breast. But you stay focused, you’ve got something in mind for tonight.

Breaking away from the kiss you make your move, pushing him away from you and back into the couch. “I want to do something for you,” you say in a low sultry tone, hoping he’d trust you enough to lead. He quirks a brow, curious as to your intentions.

You slide off the couch and settle yourself at his feet, pushing his knees open. He eyes you with an air of caution “You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he says. But damn does he want it, just the sight of you slipping down between his legs already has him half hard.

You run your hands up the outsides of his thighs, and curl your fingers around the top of his trousers. “I want to do this”

He nods and settles back with a smirk “You were planning this weren’t you?” He growls as you work his pants off. You give him an innocent look and bat your eyelashes teasingly. You free his cock from his grays, curving up towards his stomach, hard in anticipation.

You reach out and take him in your hand, licking a stripe up the underside of his shaft and closing your lips over the head. He lets out a groan as you take him deeper into your mouth, sucking as you go.

“Such a good girl taking my cock” he groans.

You begin bobbing your head clinging to his thighs for support. You could feel yourself getting wet with arousal too, his groans and praise getting to you. You use your hand to pump the base of his cock you can’t get to with your mouth, and the other to start massaging his balls. His grunts and moans began getting louder and more desperate.

“I’m close” he moaned “Go on baby, finish me off”

You took him down into your throat, as deep as you could before starting to gag and sucked at him, coaxing him over the edge. You could feel him tightening up, his feral grunts and moans becoming erratic and unrestrained. You pull off of him about half way and open your mouth wide, stroking his cock in quick firm movements. His head drops back onto the couch, grunting and panting as he cums into your waiting mouth.

His head snaps back forward, eyes taking in the sight of you with his cum painted over your lips and in your pretty mouth. He leans forward, reaching out to pinch your cheeks between his thumb and forefinger. You poke your tongue out just a bit, and let him admire the sight of his release.

“Swallow it” he growls

You respond by licking your lower lip and drawing your tongue back into your mouth swallowing whatever you hadn’t already. He surges forward and crashes his lips down on yours. He pulls you up from your spot on the ground, and into his lap. His hands are everywhere, roaming down your back, over the curve of your ass, around to your tummy and up to cup your breasts through your pretty little shirt. He finally breaks the kiss, panting from exertion but still riled up.

“Let me return the favor,” he growls, flipping you over, taking you down to lay back on the couch. He takes his time, peeling off your pants, stripping your top off, and undoing the clasps of your bra. He leans over and kisses you again with a kind of intensity you’ve never experienced before. It’s not exactly rough, it’s hungry and desperate. His hands massage your breasts, deftly rolling your nipples between his fingers. You moan into the kiss.

“You like that baby?” He trails his lips down your neck, and kisses them hollow at the base. You wiggle your hips, the wetness pooling in your nether regions becoming a little uncomfortable. He chuckles darkly, and resumes kissing his way down your body. He stops just at your panty line, looking up at you with a bit of mischief in his eyes.

Without breaking eye contact, he carefully bites the waistband of your panties and begins to drag them down. Your breath hitches at the sight, and you lift your hips up just a bit to help him get them off. When he gets them down to about your knees, he releases them from between his teeth and uses one hand to tear them away.

Then he’s leaning back down, and leaving a trail of wet kisses and little bites from the inside of your knee up your leg, getting closer and closer to where you need him most. His hands slide up the backs of your thighs and lifts you about an inch or two off the couch to his waiting mouth.

His tongue slides between your folds and he begins to lap at your wetness. He teases your aching hole with the most tantalizing strokes of his tongue, switches it up by nosing his way up to your clit and suckling at it, squeezing your ass and moaning into you.

You’re moaning, panting, flushed with heat and getting closer and closer to a release.

“Wolffe,” you moan “please… please… please… make me cum”

He glances up and sees your eyes have fluttered shut, your head tipped back and chest heaving with strained breath. He speeds his movements, suckles at your clit with alternating flicks of his tongue and groans at the sounds of your pleasure.

Your hands twist around the edge of the sofa cushions, needing something to cling onto as your climax overtakes you. Your moans and whimpers stall out, and your voice cuts off as you cum. Your legs tremble in his hold, signaling him to slow down his movements and pull away from your glistening cunt as you come down from your high.

He crawls back over you, catching your lips in another kiss. You taste yourself on him, and come back to reality.

“Stars….” you whisper, breaking the kiss “You didn’t tell me you had a secret talent, Commander”

“If I told you, it wouldn’t be much of a secret would it?” He kisses you again, the desperation has subsided but the hunger is still there.

“You gonna try to take off on me or are you sticking around for breakfast tomorrow?” You tease him. You get the feeling he knew he was welcome to stay again, but still make the joke just in case.

“If the offer is on the table?” He quirks an eyebrow at your comment, and gives you a smirk.

On the table you think to yourself maybe next time….

Tag List: @ems-alexandra @thefact0rygirl @ajeff855

[saturatedboy]

The Paw of a Lion (Ethan!Winters x Karl!Heisenberg)

My work can be found on AO3 (Use the title above)

Please note all this is a series and after the events of Resident Evil 8. Everyone has survived and lived. I’m still open to requests but I’m writing two stories on the side so your request may take an extra day to write.

Requests: Open

Word Count: 4.3K

Being in the chopper held no safety over the male blonde. He could have been dead, free from all this mess but plans had been changed last minute to ensure his safety. And now, he was sat next to his wife, Mia, cradling their child close to himself as he became derealisation. Just under the 24-hour mark, the male had to repeat the worse of his days once again. It seemed no matter what breaks he was given; he was never able to truly escape the grasp of lies being floated around him. Even having his child in his arms, knowing his understanding of being all mold, he felt as though something was still missing- he knew something else was missing...but what?

Light taps had been hitting his shoulder, yet he chose to ignore them. He wouldn't be able to pull out his mind for a while to come, and yet he didn’t see why his thoughts that engulfed him should be interrupted. He had every right to ignore everyone. All the thieving liars. “Ethan, we know your mad.” His wife’s words had reached out to him, leaving him to hold their child closer to his chest. The movement went unnoticed by his wife luckily. He wouldn’t let his baby girl go, not after everything that had happened to them both in this shithole of a village. “Please Ethan, speak to us.” Mia’s voice had sounded desperate, as though she truly meant she wanted to hear him talk back.

“Tch.” The simple sound left his lips as he moved to look upon his once everything, the person he was really meant to truly love yet couldn’t find the lingering feeling of that word at the given moment. To him now, it seemed Mia was nothing but a classic wolf in sheep’s clothing. “And say what exactly,” He sneered, shaking his head as he gazed down to stare at his daughter who was sleeping soundly as she cuddled closed to his sanded coat, she was wrapped in. “And say I forgive, that we can be a normal happy family.” Mia bit her bottom lip, fingers twitching to place on her clearly shaken husband’s arm, yet she didn’t dare to touch him anymore after his words directed at her show no mercy in actually wanting anything such as a civil conversation with her.

“I know I lied- many of us did to you, but we are trying to protect you!” She leaned forward in her seat, trying to capture Ethan’s attention. His eyesight never left the bundle of his girl but his facial expression shifted into furrow brow and a forced small smile.

“Protect me. Everyone says that- even in those cheap romantic movies they say that. How can I be the one to be protected when our daughter here was almost killed for someone else’s sickening needs. That someone you knew clearly well. You're protecting me? Since when have you ever protected me. All this trouble, everything that has happened was all because you let yourself get mixed up in all the trouble you see.”  

“Ethan,” A deep warning tone came from the front of the chopper. A wider male leaned his body to the side to peer over the chair he was sat in. He stared at the two partners that sat on a metal bench with an intense glare that was mostly was directed at the male. “Anger doesn’t get any of us anywhere. We have explaining and so do you.” His words cancelled out any further arguments between the married couple, leaving them all in silence as the mixed of harsh and soft breathing had been heard through the headsets they all wore.

Ethan took a deep breath in and out, calming his racing heartbeat that was making him feel slightly dizzy “Is there anything else I should be aware about,” Thankfully, he was quickly responded back by Redfield, the wider male at the front who wasted no time in explaining everything that seemed important.

“Those...Lords have been found alive and are being taken by other members of my squad to be reported back at the base. Seems you never actually killed them. We are planning to run tests on them and then we will let the higher ups decide what out next move shall be with them.” The mention of those Lords sent a sick bug down Ethan’s throat. Knowing they were alive had him questioning his own safety now. Would they want to kill him for trying to kill them? Because they are mutated like himself would he be placed to go against them, for all of them to become Lab Rats to the BSAA? What would happen to his daughter-

“I do not give any consent for my daughter to be used as some Lab Rat,” his lips became dry as the words left him. No, he wouldn’t allow his daughter to have such tests run on her. She was a baby. A small, fragile, and the only person Ethan felt like needing in his life.

Redfield had moved to face forward, not wanting to respond to the father’s words. The BSAA would surely need Rosemary for a few days to make sure everything for her was okay, was stable and that she could be placed into a society where she could be kept safe. Chris sighed and leaned back, watching as the horizon of the sky lightened up. Soon...soon things will calm down and until then, there was sure to be violence between all parties in this situation. The Lords, Mia, Ethan and of course himself. “I mean it Chris; any sort of harm that comes to my daughter I will have to do things I wouldn't regret.” The tone of venom hadn’t been ignored by anyone that was listening in on the headsets. Ethan had truly changed; he was no longer the sweet loving husband everyone knew of- instead he was rather the hunter, the lion willing to protect its cub.

Ethan stepped into the base of the BSAA. Mia had been moved by other agents to go somewhere else to split the two and to ease the tension both of them brought and Ethan was glad for that move to be made. The shining lights and its agents running about had him questioning how much actually were these people prepared for. Looking around, checking for any danger, Ethan followed Redfield and a few agents into an elevator with Rosemary in his arms still. He had refused to let her out of his sight until he knew she was truly safe. The elevator had taken them up 30 floors in total and the ride had become very uncomfortable for the standing agents. They could feel the anger flying off between the two men only for it to be cut short when they finally excited the cramped space. Ethan had once again followed Chris to a room where more agents stood and two lone white coats around a large office table with a whiteboard at the furthest end from the door. “Ethan, I want you to meet the people who would be working with you.” Ethan sent a short nod to everyone in the room, adjusting Rose in his hold to have a secure hold around her small body.  

A woman outstretched a hand towards Ethan with a bright smile. “I’m Sherley, I’m somewhat a case worker for you. Any troubles you want speaking about; I’ll will send them to our higher ups for the matters to be discussed.” Ethan ignored the hand, choosing to sit down around the large wooden table.

“I apologise for Mr Winter’s manners. He has been through a lot.” Chris responded, sending a kind smile to Sherley who nodded and began to sit down as well, sitting closer to the head of the table at the other side facing Ethan. Chris sighed and shook his head towards Ethan, showing his disappointment in the lack of manners before going to sit at the head of the office table. Other agents and the scientist sat down in the unoccupied seats, however leaving Ethan’s side empty. Raising a finger to his earpiece, Chris sent a quick message to all responsive. “Send them in.”

Ethan glared at Chris, his words finding more questions to raise into the father’s mind. Who was ‘Them’? It seemed he didn’t have to wait long for the familiar voices to catch his ears. Before Ethan could speak up in any protests, a swarm of flies had swarmed in with crackling voices. They were soon followed by the familiar Lords Ethan had tried killing- but leaving them alive. Lady Dimitrescu walked in first, her eyes ignoring the sitting blonde and instead standing behind her three daughter who had placed themselves together in three seats. Next to walk in was Moreau who held a metal container in his hands. Ethan dropped his gaze to his little Rose, who was slightly awake but dropping her eyelids to sleep again. Soon more people had entered, the high pitch doll had Ethan looking up and glaring at the doll with a glare that would’ve killed her. “Keep her quiet, my daughter here is trying to sleep.” The power of his voice sent Angie to be silent, she still knew what Ethan could do if he wanted to- she held tightly onto Lady Beneveinto finding fear for the blonde who had almost killed her and her Lady. They sat closest to Chris, Angie prompting Donna to do so, so she could stay away from Ethan’s murderous glare. There was only one empty seat next to Ethan now, and he could hear the boots of who would occupy that seat coming closer.

“Am I late to the meeting,” The voice had crackled out, stubbing his cigar against the door frame and dropping it to the ground before entering the room seeing everyone together. “Ooo, everyone looks scary,” His sarcasm had left him with an angered Vampire and a sigh from Redfield. Finding amusement in the situation, he plopped himself in the chair next to Ethan and gave him a flashy smile.

“Look at me again and I will make sure to finish the job,” Ethan smiles back, watching as Heisenberg’s face shifted from his flashy smile to a croaked smile. He slowly faced away from Ethan, his eyes landing on his ‘older sister’ who was holding back an amuse smile of her own.

“Maybe the father isn’t all bad,” She cooed, watching as Ethan messed with his daughter’s outstretched hands.  

“So, I’m glad you’re all here.” Redfield spoke, getting rid of any attention on Rose and her father. He stood up out his chair and placed his arms behind his back in a soldier-like manner. “We are all here to discuss what will happen with you all since...you know-” Chris struggled to find the words, what was he supposed to say? What should he call their indifferences?

“Because we are all monsters?” Ethan piped up, his eyes still not leaving his daughter who brought a weird warmth into his heart that only a child could achieve.  

“I wouldn’t say that but because you’re all different from regular people.”  

“Just get on with it, I haven’t got the time.” Ethan had really changed in Chris’ eyes. He was more demanding, only now taking power over any situation and wanting to have control of it. ‘Father Instincts’ Chris had brushed it off as. He was sure Ethan would go back to being the man he first met after the incident at the Baker’s house- well he hoped he would go back to that version of himself anyway.

“Right. So, for starters we are placing you all in a close proximity neighbourhood for safe checking and safety for you all. Any arguments against that?” Suddenly the Lords begun arguing and Rosemary had started to cry. Dimitrescu was stating her daughters would easily die. Moreau was stating he had no home since he was a water base monster, Angie was speaking up for Beneviento stating being close to anyone in general wasn’t good on her Lady’s health and lastly, Heisenberg had shouted out over everyone else that he had no need to be kept a close eye on as he was the safest one of them all- the statement got a lot of eye rolls over from everyone in the room. One by one, Chris had silenced them to the point he could be heard again if it wasn’t for the cries of Rose and Ethan’s gentle vice soothing her down. He raised his hands to his temple to rub away the headache he was getting from the loud noises before speaking again after Ethan had successful quietened Rose. “It’s just for now, other living arrangements may be made later on in time. Please, be the grownups you are in this society and accept what you are given. Now agents, is there anything you want to speak about with the Lords of the Village?”

Ethan watched as his daughter fell asleep, he toned out the agents talk. He couldn’t help the smile that grew on his lips, seeing his daughter so peaceful away from danger now gave him a reason to also feel safe. He will protect her, not the protection Mia had provided him but he would do better for his baby. Ethan rubbed his mutated hand against her cheek, watching her smile in her sleep and rub against the trunks of his loss two fingers. “You’re not a bad father,” A voice spoke next to him. Soon his smile changed to a scowl, he looked over at Heisenberg watching as the rugged man looked down at the sleeping Rose.

“And what would you know about fatherhood?” Ethan snarled back, keeping his voice quiet to not draw attention to himself. Heisenberg released a chuckle that only Ethan heard and leaned back further in his seat, letting himself slouched down backwards.

“I know to be a father you need to place your children first...which is exactly what you did,” He mummed out, looking back at Ethan to see him no longer looking at him and rather back at his daughter. Ethan slowly nodded, giving his face a break from having an angered look at the other and instead rested his expressions.

“If you know little, then why did you try to use my daughter as a weapon?” He questioned the Lord, looking towards him still ignoring the speaking agents who were now speaking more towards Angie than Beneviento. The room felt a little more open now, being settled around enemies was a scary thought at first to the father but now, it seemed as though he may be settling down fine with them seemingly, they all now shared a sort of connection. The Lord had lifted himself out from his slouched position and sat straight, completely facing away from having his chair facing the other side of the table to now be facing Ethan fully. Heisenberg, having his back turned facing Redfield, used this opportunity to talk to the father he so desperately wanted on his side for the fight.

“I never wanted to hurt your daughter, I’m not like that bitch Miranda. I just needed to use her to break Miranda’s powers. I’m not good at socialising with good words, I probably phrased my needs wrongly and I never wanted that. We were supposed to be a team Ethan, you and me destroying the Bitch of Crows.” Ethan fell silent, watching as Heisenberg stared at him from behind his shades.

“You need to work on your social skills.” The point that came from Ethan had Heisenberg holding back a loud chuckle. The father was right but the sudden response of that sentence had put Heisenberg off his serious demur.

“I’ll work on them one day. For now, how about we start over?” His question lingered between Ethan and himself. It took a few short seconds and careful thinking before Ethan had responded.

“Maybe...” Although Heisenberg didn’t get a full ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answer, he was still pleased either way. He and Ethan could do so much if he agreed. Heisenberg was already strumming ideas in his mind such as them building together, or annoying his ‘older sister’. So much now that he had some of his freedom he could do- and who better to spend his freedom with the man who saved them all.  

“Are we interrupting something?” Chris had spoken up with a raised brow. Ethan shook his head, staring at the other man. Heisenberg moved his chair back to its original position and also shook his head, tilting his hat to cover a little more of his face feeling the eyes on him by the agents. “Okay...so you will be going to the neighbourhood after this meeting and settling in your homes. Please note you may be moved in the future depending how well all this goes. As for you Ethan,” Ethan had physically shrunken back at the mention of his name. Why did he have to be a part of all this? “You need to decided whenever you want Mia living with you since that flight you both seemed a little distance from each other.” The blonde had wasted no time to answer, having no second thoughts.

“I want nothing to do with her.” Chris was taken back from Ethan.  

“A-are you sure? She’s your wife-”

“No. I want a divorce this minute. I can’t handle any more lies Chris. And I certainty can’t stand her own mind games.” Before Chris could ask for further explanation to his reasons, Sherley spoke up.

“I’ll have the papers sent to her straight away Mr Winters.” She had quickly gathered her own folders off the table and left with two agents trailing behind her out of the meeting room. The three daughters had begun to whisper amongst themselves, Ethan hearing the sentence of ‘what is a divorce’ coming from Bella’s mouth.

“E-Ethan. Think about this.” Chris wanted answers, he wasn’t going to be left out. He wanted to protected Ethan and now he was going to make sure that Ethan’s happiness was also something to be thought about with all this.

Ethan looked down at Rose again, not daring to look back up. It seemed Rose gave him the calmness he had been searching for all his life since meeting Mia. “She’s a bad person for me Chris. I believe I’ll be better off without her.”  

“But what about the young one?” It was a scientist that spoke up this time, pointing with a pen at the baby cradled in her father’s arms.

Ethan swallowed, he needed to think. And quick. There were really only two options to that question and he could either be a bad parent, or be the decent guy. “She can have half custody over our child, but I wish for her to not be anywhere near me or my home where I’ll be keeping Rose safe when she is with me.” The agents and scientist were jotting down notes, clearly his every movement was being recorded and Ethan was stuck thinking if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Clicking the pen down, the same scientist spoke back up.

“Okay and that’s all we needed to know. Please remember Lords that you will have tests run on you to ensure our safety as much as your own. There is only so much we can give you at the moment until you complete all tests. Your first tests will start tomorrow. Have a good rest of the day.” They all quickly packed up, leaving Chris, Ethan and his spawn as well as the Lords alone in the room. However, the room wasn’t completely private, a small camera being in the corner watching over the whole table.

“So... this is it?” Angie asked, looking around the whole table. “We will be kept alive?” Hope was evident in her tone, it seemed she was just as glad as the others to be alive.

“You are allowed to be spared. I’m not going to lie, at first the BSAA were going to make sure every last one of you were dead for caution reasons...but it seemed Winters had the better judgement of the matter and the actions has led the organisation to believe you are allowed to live because of his judgement.” Chris smiled as he saw a small amount of red leak onto Ethan’s cheek. He hated having attention brought onto himself, and Chris knew that all too well.

Moreau was the next to speak up. “So, because of him, we are allowed to live?” Chris answered with a nod of the head. Moreau started to jump up and down in his seat, clearly excited at the news. “Oh, that’s wonderful! Mr Winters, I have so much to thank you for! Even if I did follow mother’s orders a lot...”  

Ethan’s face flushed a darker red, only on his ears however as he tried his best to shake off the words of Moreau. “Don’t thank me- who knows what they’ll put you through with the tests.”

“It doesn’t quite matter yet though. You’ve practically gave us freedom we all never thought to ever have.” Dimitrescu leaned back up to stand, after leaning over all three of her daughters in the meeting, placing a hand on her hip as she faced Ethan who was sat down and trying to turn away from all the attention. Dimitrescu bowed slightly, earning a gasp from all three of her girls. As she stood straight back up, she coughed into her closed fist and gave a warm smile. “Thank you for giving us it.”

“Guys honestly, don’t thank me. There is nothing to be thankful for,” His whines came out of deaf ears as Angie was next to scream out appreciative words to be joined in with Moreau after and Dumitrescu daughters. Chris smiled, finding all this amusing and... warming almost.  

‘They really are just people at the end of the day’ He thought, frowning a little at the realisation that they are only like this because of what Miranda had done. True people stripped of their right and humanity all for a small girl to come back... it all failed either way. “As much as I’m sure Ethan enjoys the attention, it's time for you all to head to your new housing area. Leave the meeting room and agents will escort you to cars that will bring you to your neighbourhood. Any requirements you need, state them to the agents in the car and we’ll do our best to bring them to you over time.” Chris nodded his head to the room before being the first to leave. Next to follow was Angie with Lady Beneveinto, next after them was Moreau with a scowling Dimitrescu following behind complaining about the stench he was carrying. Her daughters followed her also, asking if they could have their coats that were taken off them when they set foot into the building.

Left in the room was Ethan with his child and Heisenberg who didn’t make any sort of movement of leaving. Ethan waited a few minutes before starting to get a little annoyed with his presence. “Aren’t you going to go?” He asked, looking towards the Lord who seemed to stare into space. Not getting an answer, Ethan huffed and adjusted Rose to lay in one of his arms before using the other to shake Heisenberg’s shoulder. It worked as the Lord was taken out of his mind.

“hm? What? W-What did you say?” He asked, taking his shades off and placing them into his trench coat’s pocket. Ethan resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“I asked aren’t you going to go as well, to your new home?” Heisenberg rested his eyes to stare at Ethan.  

“Are you also coming papa?” He asked back, smiling as Ethan groaned.

“Stop calling me that, just call me Ethan.”  

“Okay...Mr Winters.” The lord teased watching as the other was getting riled up. With a kick of the leg, Heisenberg laughed as Ethan laid back on his chair and started to kick one of the Lord’s knees. “You call that a kick? C’mon you hurt a lot more back in the Village.”

“Just go Heisenberg, you got your freedom now go.” Ethan stopped kicking the other Lord, resisting the urge to smile. It felt nice to be playful...even if it was with an enemy of the past. Heisenberg had a kind smile, it wasn’t his usual smirk but something much different, a lot better.

“And do I get the honours of spending my freedom with the man who gave me it?” The question left Ethan speechless. Heisenberg wanted him to be spending his life with. The lack of an answer left Heisenberg's smile to falter a little, seeing the father so hesitant with his words. “It’s aright if you don't want to. I get it, you got a lot going on and I’m sure me being there will worsen things-”

“We are neighbours remember?” Ethan spoke up, standing out of his seat and looking down at the shorter male. “I suppose you can pop around whenever, just don't do anything that will get you into trouble with me.”  

Smiling again, Heisenberg stood out of his seat with much enthusiasm and nodded sharply. “Yes, sir no sir, there will be no trouble with me.”

“You’re an idiot,” was Ethan’s last words as he spoke in a happy tone before he left the meeting room with Rose cradled in his arms just about waking up.

“Wanting to be your idiot.” Heisenberg spoke to no one, plotting more ideas for himself and the father. Maybe after tomorrow’s first test, he could give the blond a visit.

[dexi-green]

Okay so wrap up thoughts for ep. 4:

Where is Zemo? Do not let this man loose. Also bless marvel for releasing the longer cut of Zemo dancing earlier 🙏🏽

We love the Dora. However I wonder if the arm thing was a gag or if it’s going to come back. I could definitely see Buck having some questions and beginning to wonder whether they actually freed them or just put him under Wakanda’s control with a longer leash. He obviously has reason to be skeptical about people’s intention with him (see; how Zemo used him) I can definitely imagine them explaining that it was impossible to wipe out the WS controls but rather they just changed them and just never intended to use them, making him a sort of unintentional sleeper agent White Wolf for Wakanda. He is clearly very thankful and grateful to them, and is very close to the Dora, especially Ayo, so I could see that distrust being a good future character arc. But I stand by that with T’Challa in charge they would never seek to take advantage of Buck in that way. Also I was never a HUGE fan of Stan’s acting, I felt he got too hyped up for just brooding, like he was good but not Oscar worthy as some on here tried to say (you can just say you think he’s hot, you don’t have to lie about his acting to justify your adoration of him and watching his whole filmography, it’s okay I promise), but that scene at the beginning was actually amazing. I love the change between fear to relief and realization. Chef’s kiss.

As I mentioned several times, I love that this show is carefully exploring warring ideals, and actually saying them pretty plainly. It’s giving me what Civil War could’ve been. In Civil War there was just too many blatant misunderstandings and things that could’ve been cleared up if the Avenger’s didn’t share one (1) brain cell and it somehow ended up with Peter Parker who had homework to do. In this show, the ideals come from very understandable different perspectives, different lives lived. I know I want a conversation, but that alone won’t truly solve this like it would’ve in Civil War. It comes from very real criticism of our very real govt and society which I thinks helps cement this so much more in reality in a way that isn’t boring to watch like some other comic things that try to be gritty and realistic. The only part that has taken me out so far was the so very subtle cop scene in the second episode, which leads me into my next point

ISAIAH BRADLEY! Loop his story back in, let’s get some backstory and information and all that good stuff. Obviously Isaiah has made it pretty dang clear he wants nothing to do with any of this but obviously that’s not gonna happen, and it’ll be a tremendous waste of an absolute amazing and groundbreaking story to just bring Eli in at the end in some shoehorned way or something. Isaiah needs to be a part of whatever solution this story/season comes to. I’ve seen a theory floating around about either Isaiah being Wakandan (either like killmonger with one or both of his parents being from Wakanda, or more distantly) or perhaps Erskine’s secret ingredient for his serum was derived from the heart shaped herb (which would’ve made Cap White Panther 😬) which I think would be an interesting way to completely tie in Wakanda but perhaps a little unnecessary, specifically the first theory, we don’t need every future black person in the MCU to be secretly Wakandan. I just need his story to be more prominent then it has so far. It’s very important and not something that should just be a basically D grade side plot at this point.

I feel like we have shifted away from much focus on Sam. But I feel like the focus has pulled more on Zemo, Karli, Walker and Buck. Like Sam is doing what he needs but we aren’t getting as much insight into him as we did in the first episode. Which is why I think I liked his talk so much with Karli. We went back to his history of counseling and got to see how it uses it, how he calms down a situation, and his own insight into Karli’s ideals, he agrees but wants to go about it in a different way. We have constantly seen him offering help to others, but hasn’t really received much in return. I feel like now every time the shield comes up it’s just Bucky being all pissy that Sam gave it away which really turns me off his character. Sam already explained that maybe he made a mistake, but also Buck is so set in his way and his ideation of Steve that he can’t for a second consider Sam’s side. Like at this point it’s getting kind of annoying how Buck is being with Sam about it. I want more insight into Sam’s feelings about Steve, and Cap, and all that. Hopefully these last couple episodes with shift the focus back. At this point I feel I know more about Karli and John as people than I do Sam and that’s not great considering the title of the show. This was one of my earliest concerns for the series when it was announced, that it was going to focus too much on Bucky who has had his story almost front and center for almost all of the Cap films, they almost all in some part revolve around Bucky. Perhaps I need to rewatch and there has been some bits of Sam’s I haven’t appreciated enough, but it feels unbalanced, not in favor of him.

Sharon is being sketchy I fear. I do kind of like the idea that she is the power broker, but it’s hard to wrap my head around her threatening Karli like she has been. I mean she obviously has changed a lot, but if she is the power broker her motives have to be something different than what she is trying to lead people to believe. I think what’s more possible is her working for the power broker or perhaps working for/as the power broker as a cover for Fury or some other person/organization. She’s worked undercover for Fury before, she is obviously loyal to him, which might’ve changed since she talks to much about being abandoned by everyone, but I don’t know. It’s obvious something else is going on with her character, and while I love if she had just pivoted to this crime lord role, I just think of her speech at Peggy’s funeral and her loyalty to Cap and Fury in TWS. It’s possible she flipped on a dime like that because everything done to her and what she’s been through, and it may be too predictable for her to have the exact same storyline as TWS but who knows... that or she’s a skrull, always a possibility, can’t be too careful.

John Walker is clearly becoming the actual Anti-Cap. They are getting storybeats to line up. A ‘good’ soldier, turned propaganda tool, turned govt lap dog, serumed up, best friend dies, then what? Switched on by society? I love the moment with him and the flag smasher. It brought me back to when I was in the theater watching Civil War and I swore Steve was going to chop Tony’s head off with the shield. Steve just smashes the arc reactor of course, but John straight up murders this guy. And people are watching, the world is, people were recording. Definitely some purposeful similarities to our very real recording of police brutality irl. Which makes me think what will the govt response be? Will they spin it and try to get him out of this (which will feel really...weird? With the trial going on rn) or maybe will they abandon him completely and leave him high and dry? Hopefully we will see whoever the current MCU president is (prolly maybe Thaddeus Ross??) speak on it as well as the flag smashers and GRC. Walker is obviously not a good person at heart. I theorized before that he had already been given the serum, which clearly isn’t true so he has just taken it but there is something about his background that needs to be revealed. It has to be more than just “‘we did bad stuff while we were deployed” like... yeah it has a profound and damaging effect on people, but I feel like when he was talking to Hoskins it felt like they were remembering what went down slightly differently. I don’t know why, I’ll have to rewatch the scene. Either way, I think there is some stuff we still don’t know about Walker, something so terrible about him that made the serum change him like that. He was already clearly on edge, feeling insecure about people not giving him the respect he thought he deserved just from putting on the suit and carrying the shield, feeling that same imposter syndrome Sam did/does, and his pride was clearly DECIMATED by the Dora. He has this seeming obsession with super soldiers... he’s just giving weirdo vibes.

One thing I noted is that I think this series is taking apart Steve/Cap and spreading him out over several different people, and having them all pick at and dissect what makes/made Captain America the symbol he was, and what happens when you dig a little deeper. Karli seems to be the embodiment of the kindness/concern for others. She is fighting for the people, to protect them, as Cap was. But she is not holding back and is willing to put everything on the line, but where Cap was putting himself in the line of fire to protect people, Karli is putting others. Buck may be the classic idealism and Steve himself, I’m not 100 sure, but he seems to embody the kind of idea that people need something to put hope in, something to lean on, the idea of true good. He always brings up what the shield means and represents, doesn’t ever actually get specific though which is interesting. This may be because Bucky has a hard time separating Steve from Cap, since he saw the two grow up, when he talks about the shield and Cap he IS talking about Steve, there is no symbol or hidden meaning, just the Steve he knew. He conflates it all together. So I guess he represents whether or not the classic ideals can survive, the idea of hope, and Young Steve. Sam I think could be change. Where change is unwavering, like Cap’s fight for freedom never changed, but also where it is inevitable, in Steve and Cap’s place in a time that isn’t their own. How the idea of Captain America needs to be updated for modern times, or whether it should be thrown out altogether. I don’t know this is all ramblings. I though I had something but it’s almost 5am 😩

I believe we have 2 more episodes left so it’ll being interesting to see what they do with it. Fingers crossed 🤞

[glassworkspiderlilies]

the earth shudders at the tower asunder (1/4)

Genshin Impact | Lumine & Aether | AO3 Summary: Not all gods have long memories.  (Primordial!Travelers AU, in which Lumine and Aether are not just gods, but amongst the oldest ones.) Notes: oops, forgot to post this here yesterday, so voila. approx 4.5k words. not a holiday fic, but happy holidays!

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Their first memories are these: the expanse of bright blue sky, the glow of gentle light. Their true names. Each other—recognition of you, me, brother, sister. We, us, together. 

And a voice, a soft, kind echo of stay together, now. 

It is a long time before they settle on names in the human tongue, but when they do, they cycle through many, though Aether and Lumine they tend to favor. In the early days, it is only the two of them. They learn to walk and run and fly together; they learn to speak, though in a language only the two of them understand, and more than half of it nonverbal regardless. Not long after, they learn to traverse through worlds too, though at first they did not realize they were doing so, having only crossed into open plains and isolated forests for some time. It is only until they are found by humans one day and taken in as spirits to be worshipped that they grow to be a little more like them through observation.

Two shimmering, golden twins who, somewhat inadvertently, brought fortune to the small village...it wasn't long before they were hailed as gods. 

The then-nameless twins decide to stay out of curiosity, and as they watch generations come and go, they learn about the blessings and trappings of mortality. There is still a barrier; they cannot feel wholly what it is their human friends feel, but they continue to learn, and recognize that perhaps, some things are not so different between them after all. Love, loyalty, joy…the villagers are eager to please their gods, and feel relief to see that pleasure reflected on the twins' faces. All this too is a language, and the twins are ever evolving. 

Life around them flourishes. The twins bend their surroundings to ways that please them: clear skies, warm sunlight, light breezes. An abundance of flowers and other flora. Bountiful harvests for the seeds sown. They read the earth and temper the ley lines, and the lives that they have come to lead, which in turn is that of the village's, is mild and peaceful. In the beginning there was only two of them, but since then they have gained much, and they are grateful for it. 

It does not last. 

The village grows into a town, and then a city. The times change, the people change, and the values change. The twins, now sequestered in their aging temple, watch and feel the energies shift. The earth groans, the ley lines diminishing slowly. The so-called god-twins haven't been forgotten, no, but the eyes that are turned upon them are hungrier, more calculating, and sometimes, even malicious. The priests that tend to them range in the service, too; in the past, they did not have priests, just friends who helped them of their own free will. Now, those who tend to the twins are either careless or fanatic. 

It is tiring. The world is no longer as they know it, and it is no longer comfortable to stay. But they have seen this city grow from the cluster of huts it used to be, and so, is it not what humans call “home”? But time continues to pass, and the energy continues to bubble and burst in unpleasant ways. What the twins can do for the people is no longer enough; their own values are too outdated, and what they are and aren't willing to do is not understood by humans who lead such different existences.

The twins have grown too mortal-seeming for the people to be intimidated by any aspect of them anymore. And so the day comes when an organized group breaks into the temple and shackles them, with the intentions of forcing them to do their bidding, for the good of the city, or so they say.

It is a new pain, the cold iron chafing their ankles and wrists, the spite turned towards them, the abandonment by many of those whose ancestors they could easily trace back to someone they liked. There is pain on their mortal flesh, too; if the men no longer believe in the gods, they do not think twice of striking them. That they bruise and bleed seems only to reinforce that they are not so special; there are others with abilities now, and the twins have not shown all their hands—and even less of them, with the times.

Lumine licks the blood from her lip and looks to her brother, who spits his own blood from his mouth.

They were born of the sky and light; they do not want to be contained like this.

They cannot, and will not be contained like this.

“This is no longer home,” the sister says, her eyes melancholy.

“Let’s go,” the brother says, his eyes angry, and the twins join hands.  

“Goodbye,” they say together, their voices—one wistful, one disgusted—echoing across the city, and in a shimmer of light and a puff of wind, the twin gods are gone.

The shackles hit the ground with a damning clatter.

They do not return, though many, moved by the farewell and feeling their abandonment, pray and hope for years after.

The changes in the city are not so explicit, but noticeable. There is a certain life missing in the city, a certain protection, and a certain watchful tenderness.

The people lament and regret their hubris, but it is too late.

By the time the civilization falls, the twins are past looking back.

Stay together, now.

The first lesson is the hardest. In the end, they only have each other.

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They are more careful, the next time they stay longer in a place. They traverse through several worlds before they decide to again, and it is because of a young boy who saved their life—or is under the impression he did, anyway—from animal traps in the woods.

It starts, as always, with a curiosity; the boy, Idris, excited by their foreign clothes and manners, wants so badly to hear their stories.

The other townspeople are warier of them, but as the twins get to know the boy by entertaining his requests, it is slowly revealed by his aborted sentences and the scars on his arm that his home life is…not good. He sneaks out to escape his family, and his talks with the travelers from places he’s never heard of before are the highlight of his life.  

They cannot take him with them. But they can, at least, stay.

Unfortunately, there is not much they can do for him besides tend to his wounds and keep his spirits up, but that is enough for Idris.

He grows from a boy to a teen, and then a young adult, and runs away from home. Aether and Lumine aid his escape, and the joy on Idris’ face as they shoot through the woods brings them joy that they had not felt so keenly in a long time.

Idris eventually grows to lead a simple, comfortable life at the edge of a faraway town. Aether is amused that Idris never tires of listening to his and Lumine’s stories, and that he even asks for some to be repeated. They spar with him and teach him better ways to defend himself so he is not subjugated again, the twins themselves having been taught by both peasants and masters alike as they traveled through worlds.

In turn, Idris teaches them to cook—properly, with pots and pans and assorted seasonings. He teaches them other recipes over the fire too, but the fascination the twins show with what he considers regular home cooking makes him laugh.

The three spend their days living as simple huntsmen, though Idris performs more of the day-to-day business transactions. Though the bond between the twins is—something sacred, Idris grows to be something of a brother, too. They note how easily he smiles and laughs now, compared to his reservation as a boy, as well as his growing strength and his eternal kindness, and are glad.

And then—he becomes King.

Soldiers come to their little house in peace, with a representative to explain Idris’ history. A child was lost in a storm and presumed dead, but the body was never found, though his mother the Queen’s was. The information was hidden by the first prince’s faction, who was quite a few years older, and already quite prepared to be heir. But a few months ago, the first prince had been assassinated, and the news that the second prince might still live was revealed due to the sudden lack of succession.

And so, a hunt was mounted, and now, finally succeeded.

His return to the King’s side is not a mere request to be denied, and so, pleading that Aether and Lumine go with him, they are all escorted to the royal castle posthaste.

As it turns out, the King does not have much time to live, hence the increased desperation to find his lost heir. Idris is, of course, baffled and confused, but there is an instant—and real—fondness between father and son, who have such little time between them, and surprisingly more in common than the first prince had with his father.

The King’s last days are filled with conversations with Idris, both personal and official. Idris is unprepared, but he has his father’s last minute lessons and his most trusted advisors, and—though in his heart, he thinks this position is not for him—he cannot back down from the expectations placed upon his shoulders.

No one knows what to do with the strange twins that come with him, but Idris’ first command is that they not be bothered. Aether and Lumine are free to do as they please—he is adamant about this, because he always, and continues, to know them as travelers, even if they have been with him for so long and grown near and dear to his heart.

The twins sense the distress at his position under the brave façade he puts on, however, and continue to stay, much to his relief. In their travels they have seen kings and queens and various types of rulers; though this is the first time they have truly spent their time in the company of one, they can, at the very least, share stories that may help, as they always have.

In time, they become King Idris’ closest and most trusted advisors. He becomes a wise and benevolent ruler with their assistance, the kingdom flourishes—and the air feels once more like home.

Yet—as years go on, the twins, no matter how venerable they are, begin to be regarded with wariness and suspicion.

They do not age.

For a long time, Idris had simply accorded it to good genes; there have been others who look younger than they are. His own Queen is one of them. But as he grows into a proper man while Aether and Lumine still look like adolescents…he would be a fool to continue making excuses.

Still, no one asks. The twins have served well, and have done nothing to give doubt to their character. If they are spirits or fae or gods, then it is in their better interest not to offend them by probing unnecessarily. This uneasiness and curiosity sinks into the background anyway when the Queen finally gives birth to her first child after many difficulties, and there is joy all around at the arrival of a new prince.

And then—war begins to brew.

Small skirmishes around the border begin to grow into larger battles. Villages on the outskirts are razed to the ground; hostages are taken. Full-scale invasion looms, and quickly the kingdom prepares to go to battle with their neighbor.

The King dons his armor, prepared to lead his armies, and yet…and yet—

He looks at his firstborn child with desperation. His Queen cries on his shoulder; the King is a good man and an able fighter, but he is no skilled warrior, and the tides of the battle are not optimistic. The few sorties he’s led are nothing compared to what is to come. Idris looks at his wife and child and wonders if he is a weak man for not wanting to die in battle, no matter how glorious the cause.

At night, after his son has been settled and his wife has fallen into a tearful, exhausted sleep, he prays.

He prays, and as he does, has a thought.

There is a tower that the twins favor, as it is the highest point in the castle. Oftentimes they have been seen perched precariously on the topmost point of its roof—and it is a mystery how they get there, every time. Some swear that they must have flown, but the twins have never been caught in the action, and so it had become something of a joke.

But…perhaps…it is not a jest, after all.

They are not on the roof when he finds them but on the balcony proper, and their eyes are somberly luminous in the moonlight. That they say nothing, their faces blank as they wait for him to speak, makes him nervous. Suddenly there is a gulf between them; they’d been so close for so much of his life, but as he became more comfortable in his role as king and confident in his own decisions, he had sought them out less and less. And now…now, he is about to ask the impossible, his heart beating so loudly surely they must hear it.

Idris licks his lips and steels himself, squaring his shoulders.

“Aether. Lumine. Will you go to war with me?”

A pause, and Lumine’s lips twist into a sardonic smile. It is a severe expression on her young face, but her eyes are much older than her appearance belies.

“That is not,” she begins quietly, “The true question you are asking, is it?”

Idris flinches as if slapped, and Aether leans against the balustrades with deceptive nonchalance.

“Well?” he prompts, his faint smile matching his sister’s, and Idris covers his face with his hands, the accumulating stress from the past few months crashing down upon him all at once.

“Forgive me,” he rasps out, his voice raw, “Will you fight this war for me? It’s true, what they say, isn’t it? You aren’t…aren’t human. Gods, perhaps. If it is you two, surely you could turn the tides. I have…I have my people to think about. And my wife and child. Call me selfish if you must, but I cannot…we cannot win this battle alone. I am desperate to keep the peace and prosperity we have built. We have come too far to lose it all now…and if this is my only option…I will beg for it if I have to. So please…”

His voice cracks, and tears prick at the corners of his eyes.

“I beg of you…save me and my kingdom from our fate.”

He lowers his head and waits, squeezing his eyes shut, the tears falling without reserve, afraid of what will come next.

“We will fight your war,” Lumine whispers.

Idris’ head snaps back up, gratitude on his tongue, but freezes when he catches her expression.

Sorrow.

“But it will be the last thing we do,” Aether adds, holding his gaze.

His face is grave, though there is no accusation.

Idris’ throat is tight.

“I understand,” he says, “Thank you.”

The twins walk past him without looking at him again, and the King feels his heart break. But the choice is made. He will not regret it.

He cannot.

(On the battlefield, too few moons later, the twins walk ahead of Idris’ main army and cross their swords with each other’s at the first wave of enemy soldiers.

“Turn back,” they call, voice echoing across the terrain, and of course it is met with crude jeers and hollers before the opposing army charges.

None think to question just why it is the twins’ voices carry so far, with the wind whistling sharply and the dark, cloudy sky rumbling with thunder.

Wings of shimmering light burst out of the twins’ backs; both the King, his soldiers, and the enemy gasp at the otherworldly sight, the charge slowing just for a moment.

“We gave our warning,” the twins say sadly, and the field erupts into light.

It is over quickly, all things considered. By the time the light fades completely, many of their opponents are dead, and the remaining stragglers who do not flee are taken care of swiftly with plain swordsmanship.

They grant mercy where they can.

Rain turns the ground to mud as the battle comes to an end, and the twins return to Idris’ side streaked in blood afterward.

“Goodbye,” they say, their voices flat.

Idris means to say—something. I’m sorry, or thank you, or I hope to see you again. But the words stick in his throat, and the twins walk past him once more. This time, when he turns, they are nowhere to be seen.

Gods, or a kingdom? Idris is only mortal, and so must make a mortal choice.

Love for his land, love for his people, love for his family…there are things he wants to protect.

The twins cannot fault him. After all, they would have chosen each other, too.

.

But they sleep, for some years after that.

.

(“You forgive them, don’t you?”

“Ah, Lumi…it’s not about forgiveness. It’s about letting it go. We just…aren’t mortal, right? What good will it do to carry it with us?”

A pause. She presses her lips together, then sighs.

“I can’t help if it hurts,” she admits, turning her face away, and Aether chuckles.

“Well,” he says, ruffling her hair, and she immediately reaches over to ruffle his in revenge, “If it displeases you so much, then just forget, little sister.”

“Don’t call me that,” she snaps, but her tone is merely mildly annoyed. The creation of his physical form a few scant questionable seconds before hers has been an age-old argument between them.  “Fine. I suppose you are meant to just…accept.”

“And it’s both of our so-called jobs to just be. Isn’t it? But if you can’t let go, then just let it be, and let time take care of it. We are made of time.”

A silence.

“Why are we here, Aether?”

He smiles. This, too, is a question his sister asks often.

“Why worry about it, when we already are? Come. The sun, the flowers, the air. Isn’t that enough to live for?”

Lumine doesn’t have an argument. She sighs again.

“So be it,” she says, with a faint smile. )

.

When they wake, the landscapes are different, both earthly and spiritual. There are more spirits and gods and other celestial beings, and—

They don’t know if this is less lonely.

For a while it is, at least; the lesser spirits greet them mostly with fear or awe, and some brave ones with curiosity. (There is a small wind spirit that is unequivocally bold, circling around them for some months with brazen interest, and the twins miss its company as soon as it is gone. Wind is a free, fickle thing, after all; the twins had not expected it to stay, and the few months it was with them was already considered long.) The more powerful gods are wary, and greet them with respect and obedience, though not all are happy about it. The twins know not what it is they sense, that they think the two more powerful than them, but nor do they know enough to contest it. They travel, and roam, and bend the world in what they consider minor ways; surely these other newer gods can do more than that—and do what they hope is better by the humans who have grown more numerous. Many of these new gods have a people to watch over and guide with care—more than the twins can say for themselves.

Time passes, and the challengers begin to come.

The different gods of battle and weaponry and other such related things request duels. The twins win every time, for many years, treating these fights with polite amusement. Some take those losses with respect, others take it with anger, feeling belittled. But Aether and Lumine are not aggressive beings, so why should they respond with aggression?

Nonetheless, their behavior draws ire as year after year as they accept these duels and continue to win. Lumine’s style is clean and efficient, Aether’s is flashy and acrobatic. Those who are foolish enough to challenge them together see only a flash of light before they are flat on their backs, swords crossed at their necks.

“Must they persist?” Lumine asks her brother one day, as they start hiding from challengers.

Aether laughs.

“They must enjoy the challenge,” he says, spinning his blade, “It gives them something to live for, when life is so long.”

“And us?” Lumine asks, “What is there to challenge us?”

Aether pauses.

“Each other?” he says, grinning slyly. “Why, sister, if you wanted to lose, you need only ask.”

She throws her sword at him for that. He dodges as she summons her weapon back, and lunges forward just as her fingers close around the hilt.

They spar.

A mountain is flattened for their trouble, and the Lord of Mountains expresses his displeasure at them loudly, later. They take his scolding with good graces.

Making friends amongst gods is easier, truth be told; especially with the lesser ones. The Lady of Flowers and the Lord of Birds are among those they are closest to, the both of them having more placid natures, and also rulers of things the twins love best.

Among the stronger ones, they have a polite relationship with the God of Blizzards, and a slightly warmer one with The God of the Woods. The God of Storms they avoid, for he and the twins always seem to clash when they meet. They care not for the flavor of energy he cultivates, and he dislikes many things that are stronger than himself.

Somewhat surprisingly, they get along well with the newly minted God of Commerce, who is already starting to go by many names—including the God of War. He may be young, but his power grows at a rapid pace…and perhaps too quickly. Still, he is level-headed if sometimes rash, and the twins feel at ease watching someone be so sure of their place in the world.

Among the gods, even despite—or simply including—the annoyances, life is fuller. They share the same—or at the very least, similar—time; lasting friendships are formed, abilities are challenged and grow, and the twins laugh more easily in the skies.

And then, the gods start dying at the hands of one another.

Lesser gods go first, and it is a dark day when the twins see the Lady of Flowers wither away.

The God of Crags dies by their hand.

It accomplishes little, but nor can they bear to let such a thing go.

The cycle continues to turn, and grow more vicious; some spirits rise to power in these gruesome times, their potential unlocked by adversity. Some gods grow more powerful as they slay their friends and brethren.

As the Archons rise, the twins finally feel something new: their own abilities draining.

It is a disconcerting feeling. They retain the core of their abilities—their flight, their weapon-summoning, their attacks drawn from light. But something in their existence wavers, like a hazy mirage, and they know something within them is quickly being lost.

In their confusion, they retreat as far as they can from the continuing war between gods, and for a long time, are forgotten.

.

Among their last memories of each other is this: their hands, grasping each other as they feel the pull of spiritual essence leaving them, whispering to each other don’t leave me, do not go without me.

We must stay together.

The nausea passes, and as they start traveling through worlds once again, they feel like they are running from something, instead.

It finds them anyway.

Teyvat is on the cusp of being consumed by war, and almost immediately after they touch down, they make the decision to leave. No, no more; enough of this. It sickens them, and they are already gathering the energy to shift elsewhere. However—

“Outlanders, your journey ends here.”

They do not know this god, but they can feel her power, and briefly, they think, perhaps, this is how others felt about them so long ago.

The twins summon their swords and their wings as the Unknown God attacks, weaving in and out of her red streaks coiling through the sky.

They are still very skilled, but they are aware: over the millennia, they have grown so weak.

And so, as decreed, their journey ends.

Lumine watches as Aether is swallowed up, and she screams for her brother when he meets her eyes in horror.

Stay together, now.

She doesn’t remember moving, already behind the white-haired god; lightning crackles in her hand, and she yells as she lunges with her blade, the sky exploding into fire upon impact.

She almost, almost grabs her brother’s small prison out of the Unknown God’s hand.

But she fails, and as Lumine too is swallowed up by black and red, she screams for her brother’s return as the red god watches on, mercilessly.

(After all, the gods do not listen to the ones who do not belong.)

.

Lumine wakes, cold and alone—without her brother, without her wings, without her powers.

In the end, we only have each other.

But that’s not quite true, is it?

“Aether,” she whispers, trembling, her voice cracking.

How is it that there is more to the end, and without him? They were never meant to be separated. They were never meant to exist alone.

“Why are we here, Aether?”

“Why worry about it, when we already are? Come. The sun, the flowers, the air. Isn’t that enough to live for?”

The sun, the flowers, the air. The world tilts around her, and all she can see is utter darkness, despite the blazing sunlight.

She has lived long, and much of it among mortals. She has felt sorrow, and joy, and anger.

But for the first time, as she stares up at the sky, bereft of everything that has ever mattered to her, she feels crushing, consuming despair.

[dickgrcyscns]

Champagne Problems (Part II)

Champagne Problems, Bucky Barnes. This is the second part to an imagine I wrote earlier last week called Champagne Problems. This one is definitely much happier than the other one!

Summary: Relationships will always be hard, what's harder is watching the person you love have their heart shattered. And maybe it was time to think about having one. 

Champagne Problems Part I

Set During: AU of civil war

Word Count: 1417 words

Gif used is not mine!

Bucky stood in the middle of the room, his eyes watching your figure as you left the room. He looked down to the drink sitting in his hands, heart clenching in a way he had never felt before. The music continued on in the background as he looked down to his drink, fingers tapping on the delicate glass that both of his hands had been wrapped around. It was something he could break so easily, with one wrong move it could shatter just because of his fingers. And that was what worried him about being with someone. Pushing himself out of his comfort zone was something he had to do — he needed to do it. But putting you in danger to do it? He refused. 

And instead he let himself break your heart.

Watching you walk away from the party, eyes threatening to spill a waterfall of tears, it struck something deep within him. He had caused that. He was the reason. And there was no way to go around it. It was like watching that night all over again. He watched you walk away from him once and here he was doing it again. Part of him screamed to follow you. But then, what would he do after that? Bucky Barnes was a quiet man naturally, he had a lot on his mind and he found himself constantly going through it. You had always been someone who said exactly what was on your mind. 

The two of you couldn’t have been more different. 

And yet, you were hopelessly in love with him. Your heart had been his for long it almost felt criminal. Looking back at the party as you reached the door to your room within the compound, you let out a sigh. In moments like these, you couldn’t quite configure the words to explain how you were feeling. Closing your eyes, you slid down your door, hugging for legs close to your chest. 

Bucky found himself taking a few steps, making some lame excuse to Steve about how he was tired and headed to bed. But they believed him. They had no reason not to believe him when he said that. Bucky always found a reason to leave a party early, finding that his social clock had run down and he was past the point of being comfortable with everyone else around them. His room wasn’t his destination, although, and he knew that. Heart heavy in his chest, he made his way to your room. 

The formation of an apology resting on his tongue. 

He was afraid of falling in love. Or maybe he was afraid of being in love and that’s why he said what he did to you. Because he had already fallen — it was the idea of hurting you or doing something to you that caused him to freak out. He wanted nothing more than to wrap you in his arms, whisper sweet nothings, and have that domestic life everyone craved for in the forties. Not that it was traditional anymore. But it was what he believed to be the epitome of a perfect life. A house out in the country, large enough to build a playhouse for the one to two children a traditional family had.  It was the American Dream when he was growing up. 

You two would never be able to have that though. Even if you tried. There was never going to be a world where you could be together in that manner. Being an Avenger and Bucky being an ex-assassin meant there would always be targets on your back. Yet, there was part of him that would be willing to try to have something close to normalcy with you. And deep down, it was in you as well. You had no idea what you really wanted in a future, for a while you thought your future was going to be defined by being alone.  

Bucky’s metal hand knocked softly on your door, his voice following suit, “Y/n? Are you in there?”

You quickly stood up from the door, pushing your dress back down and trying to make yourself look presentable. Opening up the door just a little, you looked out at Bucky who stood outside of it. “Hey Bucky, what’s up?”

“Can we uhm,” Bucky placed his hands in his pockets. “Can we talk?”

“Sure,” you smiled at him, opening up your door more. “Come on in.”

The room stood silent as the two of you looked at each other. “So,” Bucky teetered on the balls of his feet, “I saw you left the party early, everything okay?”

“Oh uh,” you looked down at your feet, “yeah. I was just getting tired, a little rundown.”

“Right,” Bucky nodded. You sat down on the couch in the front part of your room, offering Bucky the place next to you which he took. It was silent for a moment between you two, like you were trying to get accustomed to being near each other. Looking over at him, his mouth dropped open wordlessly. “Listen, things have been awkward between us after what happened a few weeks ago. Which, was to be completely expected, so I’m not trying to make out like that’s an issue. Because it’s not. But I’ve always had a hard time expressing myself and I feel like I did very badly doing so. I mean like, I hurt you and that was the last thing I wanted to do.”

“Bucky, you’re not ready, I can respect that.”

“It’s not that I’m not ready,” Bucky sighed. “I’m just afraid of being in love with someone. Having the possibility of putting you in danger and hurting you because of our feelings. Those thoughts drove me up the walls, Y/n. That’s why I started distancing myself from you before the situation a few weeks ago.”

You stared down at your thumbs, rubbing one of them against the knuckles of the opposite hand. “Buck, seriously. I get it, it’s okay, you don’t need to apologize.”

“You’re saying that, but the thing is, I do need to apologize. I broke your heart,” Bucky sighed, hand coming to cup your cheek. “I know I did, I can see it in the way you act with everyone else. The way you shy away from any conversation where my name is brought up. I hate that I was the one who did that to you, Doll.”

“Buck,” a sigh escaped your lips. “It’s fine. I’ll be okay.”

“I don’t know if I’ll be okay, though.”

“What?”

“Watching your heart break the way that it is,” Bucky rubbed a circle on the apple of your cheek, “it’s breaking mine too.”

“You don’t mean.”

“I was afraid of hurting you, truly. But trying to stop something from happening led to hurting you more. So, I guess in the end I failed. And it got to the both of us. You’ve had my heart for a while Y/n.”

You stared at him for a moment, mouth slightly agape as he let a smile form on his lips. “I,” the words began to stumble from your lips, “don’t really know what to say right now.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Bucky’s smile grew. “Honestly, take your time. It’s not a race.”

“I’ve been in love with you for almost a year now,” you decided it was quicker to get it over with and then deal with the repercussions later. “But I knew you had a lot going on, after all of the, you know. So I was never going to say anything because you didn’t need to worry about other people and feelings, you know? It just, I don’t know. What happened a few weeks ago, some part of me that had been holding onto the hope broke. And here you are sitting in front of me saying things that have that hope coming back. Bucky, I don’t want to have hope again only to lose it. So if you’re coming in here to tell me you love me but then do nothing about it, you can leave. I can’t,” you felt the tears threaten to spill out from your eyes as your lip quivered. You looked down to your lap, trying to stop any of that from happening.

Bucky tilted your head up, fingers placed gently underneath your chin. He smiled, “I’m not planning on leaving anytime soon Doll. I, this is weird for me to say out loud, I love you too.”

[dettiot]

Of All the Spice Joints in the Galaxy . . .

A Casablanca AU, featuring Obi-Wan Kenobi and Satine Kryze. Enjoy!

XXX

With the coming of the Galactic Civil War, many eyes turn hopefully or desperately towards the freedom of Mandalore. Corellia was the great embarkation point, but not everyone could reach Corellia directly. So by corvette or freighter, peoples all around the galaxy make their way to Onderon. There, with money or influence or luck, the fortunate ones can obtain exit visas for Corellia and then to Mandalore.

But others must wait . . . and wait . . . and wait.

XXX

Captain Quinlan Vos waited for the sleek transport to touch down and for the landing ramp to be lowered. Then he put on a smile as Major Sheev Palpatine of the Empire stepped out onto the landing platform.

"Major Palpatine, welcome to Onderon," Vos said, not meaning a word of it.

"Thank you," the major said, all smiles and smoothness. "I am ready to learn more about these exit visas that were stolen."

"Oh, we'll find out tonight at Club Obi-Wan. Everyone goes to Obi-Wan's," Vos said, leading the major to a speeder.

Palpatine nodded, looking thoughtful. "And what is this news about Garm Bel Iblis escaping the Empire and trying to make his way to Corellia?"

"We've been tracking his moves, but his way to Corellia is cut off. He will be able to go no further than Onderon," Vos said.

"Well done, Captain," Palpatine said approvingly. "I doubted the ability of any Jedi to be loyal to the Empire. But clearly, you have turned your back on that ancient religion."

Vos nodded and stayed quiet. Because he didn't want to say anything--not when he felt guilty over his actions. Was surviving worth it if he was more wracked with guilt than he had ever expected?

XXX

Club Obi-Wan was the most bustling nightclub on Onderon. It was due to three elements: the only-slightly-rigged gambling tables, the excellent music provided by the piano player Anakin Skywalker, and the complete outlawing of all political discussions. People of all affiliations were welcome at Obi-Wan's, and thus everyone came to Obi-Wan's.

The man himself was sitting at his normal table, his eyes focused on a chess board yet still aware of everything happening in his club. With coppery hair and a matching beard, dressed in a fine set of clothes, he fit in among his patrons yet stayed distant from all of them. He never drank with his customers or even joined them at their table. He was strictly neutral and refused to stick his neck out for anyone. Which meant in the upside-down world of Onderon, everyone trusted Obi-Wan.

Quinlan Vos was one of Obi-Wan's oldest friends, so he knew what to expect when he brought Major Palpatine in that night. But he was still surprised by what he observed when Garm Bel Iblis walked in.

First, the former Senator and leader of Imperial opposition was accompanied by a lady. Tall, blonde, with aristocratic features, she was a stunner.

Second, Obi-Wan noticed the woman immediately and rose to his feet, walking over to the couple. And he proceded to escort them to a table and sit down with them.

XXX

The moment Satine Kryze walked into his bar, Obi-Wan Kenobi wondered if karma was finally coming for him. Because how else to explain the appearance of the only woman he had ever loved, walking into his nightclub just like this?

She was even more beautiful than she had been, during that year they had spent together on Mandalore. Back then, she was thinner, angular, with an equally sharp tongue. Her beauty had matured and she had grown into her interesting, dramatic features.

He didn’t know why she was with Garm Bel Iblis, a man he couldn’t help admiring. But he didn’t really care why Bel Iblis was here or why that mattered to Vos. All he cared about was Satine.

Even to the point of breaking one of his rules and sitting down with them. 

“It’s been a long time, Obi-Wan,” Satine said, gazing at him. “We haven’t seen each other since--”

“Since we were at Te Mesh’la Vaar’tu,” Obi-Wan said. “The day the Empire was declared.” 

Satine nodded, the sadness making her blue eyes appear darker.

Obi-Wan wanted to kick himself for reminding her of what she had lost, but . . . but it was just so good to be near to her. Even with the galaxy’s hero sitting between them.

XXX

Rising to his feet, Vos ambled over to the table and clapped a hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. "My, my, what is this? A precedent has been broken tonight!"

Obi-Wan shrugged off his hand while Bel Iblis rose to his feet and held his hand out. "Good evening, sir. Garm Bel Iblis."

"I'm well aware of you by reputation, Senator Bel Iblis," Vos said. "I am Captain Quinlan Vos, formerly of the Jedi Order and the administrator of Onderon."

"I see," Bel Iblis said, his eyes only slightly narrowing in reaction.

Vos didn't think anything of it, instead turning to smile at his female companion. "Good evening, mademoiselle."

"May I present Satine Kryze," Bel Iblis said.

"Enchanted," Vos said, bending over the hand that Miss Kryze presented to him.

"Good evening," she said in a rich yet light voice.

His old friend was hanging on every action of Miss Kryze, while hiding it from anyone who didn’t know him very well. Which made him wonder just what was going on here.

XXX

When Anakin Skywalker got the message that Satine Kryze wanted to talk to him, he braced himself. He had been there, playing the piano at Obi-Wan’s last club, when he had reconnected with Satine. That made him a first-hand witness to how Obi-Wan had fallen apart when Satine had left him with no word. 

It had been luck that allowed Anakin to get Obi-Wan to Onderon, to a degree of safety. Obi-Wan hadn’t cared about his safety, but Anakin did. 

So while he liked Satine, he didn’t really trust her. But he was also a romantic, and since Satine was here . . . might as well do what he could to help out. Especially since Obi-Wan had taken Satine’s escort up to his office, leaving the lady in question all alone.

“Hi, Satine,” he said, moving his piano into position and setting down the bench.

“Hello, Anakin,” she said, giving him a soft smile. 

“It’s good to see you,” he said, letting his fingers play something soft and sweet and a little sad. 

She nodded, brushing back a lock of blonde hair. “Thank you.”

Anakin kept playing, letting the music swirl between them, hoping it would prompt Satine to ask him the question he knew she wanted to ask.

“How is he?” 

“Obi-Wan?” Anakin asked, glancing at her. “He’s . . . well, you know him. He’s running this place. Keeping busy.” 

Another silence, filled only with his music, stretched out between them. And then, to Anakin’s surprise, Satine said, “Play it, Anakin.” 

“You sure about that?” Anakin asked, raising an eyebrow. He would get in trouble with Obi-Wan for sure, since there was one song he was forbidden to play. 

But Satine just nodded, and . . . well, it was her funeral. 

So Anakin tilted his head back and began to sing along with the music. 

“You must remember this/a kiss is still a kiss/on that you can rely. The fundamental things apply . . . as time goes by.” 

XXX

Obi-Wan leaned back in his chair, looking at Garm Bel Iblis. The man was a legend: a crusading senator from Corellia, speaking out against the Republic’s decline, leading the opposition to the Empire. Thought dead multiple times, yet always able to escape and turn up. 

If the man didn’t have a lick of Force sensitivity, Obi-Wan would think he had Jedi training. 

“I understand you recently came into possession of two exit visas,” Bel Iblis said. “I am interested in them. For myself and Satine.” 

“Is that so?” Obi-Wan asked, hearing the slight slur in his voice and cursing it. He had never had a problem with holding his liquor. Perhaps he was just drunk on Satine. 

“Yes. I’m willing to pay any price,” Bel Iblis said. 

Obi-Wan huffed. “So you can get away? Keep fighting the good fight?” 

“To get Satine home,” Bel Iblis said. “She has a duty to her people. They need her.” 

“While the galaxy needs you,” Obi-Wan pointed out. 

Bel Iblis sighed softly. “I suppose that’s true. But I hope it isn’t. If the death of one man is all it would take to doom the opposition, then perhaps the fight against the Empire is a vain one. Perhaps the Empire is truly what the Empire wants then.” 

“Perhaps,” Obi-Wan said, swirling the Corellian whisky in his glass. “Well, I’m sorry I can’t help you, Senator Bel Iblis. But I don’t have any exit visas.” 

Bel Iblis frowned. “I see.” 

“Sorry I couldn’t help you,” Obi-Wan said, rising to his feet and making it clear the conversation was over. 

“Of course. Thank you for your time,” Bel Iblis said, also standing and allowing Obi-Wan to escort him out. 

It couldn’t happen fast enough, because Obi-Wan just wanted to be alone to drink himself under the table. But since he never got what he wanted, Vos was waiting outside the door, wearing a stupid smirk on his face. 

“Obi-Wan, my friend!” Vos said, nodding to Bel Iblis and then sauntering into the office. 

“Vos . . .” 

“Oh, come now, Obi-Wan,” Vos said, picking up the bottle of whisky and pouring himself a glass. “You keep the best booze up here.” He settled down into a chair and sipped his drink, looking at Obi-Wan over the rim of the glass. 

Closing the door with a sigh, Obi-Wan sat back down in his chair. The best way to deal with Vos was to let him say his piece, and then he’d get out. 

“You know, when you arrived on Onderon, I had a full dossier on you,” Vos said, leaning back in his chair. “Twenty years ago, you fought on the side of the New Mandalorians. Fifteen years ago, you served during the Invasion of Naboo for the Nabooians. Eight years ago, you fought against the Separartists before they formed the Empire.” 

“I got paid well for each job,” Obi-Wan pointed out. 

Vos raised an eyebrow. “The winning side would have paid much better.” He took another sip. “You’re an idealist, Obi-Wan. You might pretend to be pragmatic and realistic, but I can recognize a former Jedi.” 

“Is that so?” Obi-Wan said. “And what would you know about the Jedi Order? With how you turned your back on them and saved your skin?” 

The blow hit home, Obi-Wan saw. And suddenly, he was done with all of this shavit. 

“Get out, Vos,” he said, taking a healthy swallow of his drink. 

“Very well, Obi-Wan,” Vos said, standing up and swaying slightly as he made his way out. “But be aware: Major Palpatine of the Empire is much less forgiving than I am.” 

XXX

Satine took a breath as she climbed the steps to Obi-Wan’s office. It was the middle of the night and the club was dark and quiet. It was actually a bit creepy, but--but none of that matter. Not when more important matters than her heart were on the line. 

Squaring her shoulders, she knocked on the door to the office. After waiting a few moments, she pressed her ear to the door and heard nothing. 

The Obi-Wan she had seen tonight wasn’t the same man she had known twenty years ago, or five years ago. The man she had fallen in love with so long ago. He had probably drunk himself to sleep. Which meant she could search the club, looking for those exit visas . . . 

Garm said Obi-Wan had denied having them, but Satine knew the man. He had them and he just didn’t want to give them to Garm. To her. 

But stealing them from Obi-Wan would be like trying to turn two wrongs into a right. That was beneath her. 

And Obi-Wan deserved to know the truth. 

So without any further delay, Satine stepped into Obi-Wan’s office, spying the man slumped in a chair. 

When she closed the door, she heard a sound. Turning around, she gasped when she saw Obi-Wan standing in front of her. 

“My dear duchess,” he said, sounding utterly drunk and mad as hell. “To what do I owe the honor of such a late-night visit?” 

Satine tilted her chin up, drawing upon all her aristocratic heritage. “I came for those exit visas. And . . . and to explain what happened five years ago.” 

“I’m afraid, my dear, that neither of those things matter,” Obi-Wan said. “Since I don’t have the exit visas, and I don’t give a damn what happened five years ago.” 

“I would disagree,” Satine said, sticking her nose in the air. “On both counts.” 

He stared at her, pickled in liquor, his eyes full of anger, but looking closer, Satine could see more. The regret, the heartbreak. 

“So maybe you’re right,” he said, holding on to the doorframe. 

With a nod, Satine took a step back from him. Solely because of the smell wafting off him--not because being near to him turned her body into a flame. 

She wanted to turn away and wrap her arms around herself as she spoke, but she would not show weakness. And she wanted to look at Obi-Wan as she told him the truth.

“Five years ago, when we reconnected . . . it was like something out of a dream,” Satine began. “I’ve loved you since we first met, and meeting you again, I felt the hand of fate at work.” 

Obi-Wan snorted softly. “So what changed? How did the hand of fate move you away from me?” 

Satine gazed at him. “Because I was married to Garm Bel Iblis.” 

He blinked at her, then shook his head. “What?” 

“I married him seven years ago. To secure an alliance for Mandalore with a powerful Core world, to show strength as the New Mandalorians were arguing against having a female ruler,” Satine said. “It was a political marriage, but Garm . . . he’s been good to me. He’s taken care of me. He’s supported me every step of the way. Just like I’ve supported him.” 

Her knees felt weak and she sank down on a chair. “He had been arrested before we met again. I thought he was dead. I thought . . . I thought I could be with you. But then, the day we tried to leave, I found out he had escaped. And--and I had to go to him. And I couldn’t break your heart, by telling you the truth. So I just ran and hoped you would get over me.” 

Now she bowed her head, the weight of her cowardice hitting her once again. How could she call herself a Mandalorian when she had acted so weak? 

Swallowing, she looked back up at Obi-Wan. “Please. Give Garm the exit visa, so he can leave. And I will stay with you. I will do whatever you ask, if you only give him the visa. He--he can’t stay on Onderon much longer, not with how Major Palpatine is watching his every move.” 

Obi-Wan stared at her. The silence stretched between them, thick and uncomfortable, and Satine stood up and started walking towards the door. 

“You would sacrifice your people for him?” 

Her back stiffened at Obi-Wan’s anger . . . and at his disbelief. “I would sacrifice them for the good of the galaxy, yes. But I was also willing to sacrifice them for you. Even though you’re not the man you used to be, Obi-Wan.” 

And with that, she walked out of the office without a backwards glance. 

XXX

This was crazy. Lying to Satine, lying to Bel Iblis, lying to Vos . . . there was no way he was going to be able to pull this off, Obi-Wan knew. 

And when Major Palpatine stood before him, putting in a holo call to prevent the use of the stolen exit visas, Obi-Wan knew what he had to do. 

Without any hesitation, he drew a blaster and shot Major Palpatine at point-blank range. 

It was like the galaxy let out a deep breath as the major dropped to the ground. Obi-Wan pocketed the blaster as Satine and Bel Iblis clutched each other and Vos gaped at him.

Then Vos chuckled. “Didn’t know you had it in you, Obes.”

A guard ran up. “Captain Vos, I heard a blaster--” His eyes fell on the major’s body, then looked at Vos. 

“Major Palpatine has been shot,” Vos said. He paused, then continued, “Round up the usual suspects.” 

The sound of the transport starting its engines made Obi-Wan snap out of his daze. He turned to Satine and Bel Iblis and said, “It’s time for you to go.” 

Satine blinked. “Go? Obi-Wan, what--”

Obi-Wan shoved the two exit visas into her hand. “You’re going with him. For the sake of your people. It’s your duty, Satine.” 

As she looked up at him, her eyes filled with tears. Obi-Wan swallowed. “The problems of two people don’t matter much in this galaxy. And if you stayed, you’d regret it someday.”

“Obi-Wan, please,” she said, lifting her chin. “We had a deal.” 

“You only thought we did,” Obi-Wan said. “Now go. You have your duty and I have mine.” 

Bel Iblis, showing more of that noble, gentlemanly attitude, stepped towards the transport, giving them a moment. Obi-Wan searched Satine��s face and lowered his voice, not sure if he wanted her to hear what he had to say, but wanting to say it regardless. 

“I would have left the Jedi Order for you.” 

A tear streaked down her face. She reached out and touched his cheek. “I have loved you always. I always will.” 

The lump in his throat kept him from saying anything. He just leaned into her hand until she took it away and hurried towards the transport. 

His eyes stayed locked on her form as she climbed aboard the transport. He could feel Vos come to stand beside him, and the captain said, “You know, Obi-Wan . . .” 

“Wait until the transport leaves, Quinlan,” Obi-Wan said. 

Showing that he wasn’t completely bitter and jaded, Vos did just that. Obi-Wan watched as the transport rose into the air, moving through the atmosphere, taking away the love of his life. 

“Well,” Vos said. “It would seem that we’ve both declared war on the Empire.” 

Obi-Wan looked at him. “You still have plausible denialability, Vos.” 

Vos waved a hand in the air, brushing aside Obi-Wan’s objection. “There’s an opposition outpost at Ord Mantell. And I just happen to have the perfect ship. If you can pay our expenses.” 

Letting out a soft huff of laughter, Obi-Wan said, “Our expenses? Quinlan, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

End.

[curlyhairedhoseok]

{prologue} {chapter one} {chapter two} {chapter three} {chapter four} 

~word count: 1.7k 

~warnings/notes: no smut, sorry, also i didn’t edit this super well so sorry for typos. 

~synopsis: namjoon is an ambitious prince who is vying for the same throne his two brothers are. namjoon is dedicated and prepared to be the heir no matter the sacrafices it takes. 

The many voices of your advisors droned on and on. You were finding it difficult to keep your eyes trained on each of them as they spoke. Your mind kept wandering to the places that Namjoon’s hands were the previous night and you found yourself getting lost in your head until Taehyung spoke of the civil war that was going on in Kim.

“Civil war? What are they fighting for?” You asked, cutting him off in the middle of a sentence.

“Support for Jin to become King,” Taehyung said. “Some believe he shouldn’t take the throne. I thought you knew. You just sent some of your guards there last week to help keep peace.” Taehyung finished. He handed you the letter that you had supposedly sent to Kim, and there on the bottom of the page laid your royal seal. You turned your head to your personal advisor, Mr. Altiesa, and his eyes held confusion.

“Before we continue, I have a few things I would like to say,” You began. “Everyone in this room is here because I trust you. I admire you. I admire everything you have done for your country and mine. But how can I trust any of you when things are hidden from me?”

“Your Majesty, I thought you knew, I handed it to-,” Taehyung started

“Taehyung, any matters concerning Kim and Alurie need to be handed directly to me. For the rest of you, I should not have to scold you like a child. I will be finding new advisors, and for those of you who are visitors, you will no longer be welcome in my court if this continues.” You snapped at Taehyung.  

Everyone nodded quickly.

“Now, please, continue.” You gestured to his many documents placed out in front of him. Taehyung droned on, and you listened carefully to Kim’s current state. “Taehyung, who do they want to become king?”

“Namjoon, but it is only because he was brought into the city everyday for schooling. They feel as though they know him. I love both my brothers but Jin is the one who learned from our father,” Taehyung admits. He bowed his head in respect and as a sign to let you that he was finished.

You dismissed them all except your head advisor Mr. Altiesa.

“Your Majesty, I do not know who was given those papers but I had no idea that it was even a proposal. You know I have been a good and loyal man to your family. I was your father’s advisor and now your’s.” He rattled on.

“I know you have, you are so much more than an advisor. You are a friend. Which is why I am putting you in charge of finding out who put my seal on that paper. You know better than anyone that by sending my people there I have publicly announced that I am supporting Kim’s government and their petition to make Jin king.” You expressed concern since you knew that if you wanted any marriages to work you could not be showing favoritism to certain kingdoms.  

“Of course,” He bowed, “I will find out who did this.”

He left the room and while you were gathering your thoughts there was a soft knock at the door. Hoseok’s head popped in the room and you couldn’t help but feel a smile crawling on your face.

“Hello, is there anything you need, Hoseok?”

“Well I wanted to see you before I left but I wasn’t sure I would get the chance,” He confessed. His soft smile made a slight blush creep on your face.

As Hoseok stood before you, you couldn’t help but hear Enya’s voice urging you to take him as your husband. You couldn’t find one reason not to, especially after hearing about the civil war in Kim. His eyes held nothing but kindness and his voice was always filled with determination. His compassion was never ending whether he be talking about art, nature, and even politics. He truly was a noble king.

“I am free for the rest of the day if that is what you wish,” You offered.

“But you are the queen, you must have things to attend to.”

“I am tending to my duties by making sure that a guest in my court is having his needs met.” Hoseok laughed as you made up an excuse to spend time with him. Hoseok was more than fine with spending time with you since he knew that him leaving early meant returning to Jung without a queen. He knew that if he left early he was risking any chance he had.

“You are the most attentive queen I have ever met,” He teased. “I would love to have a meal, just us two, if that is alright.”

“Of course, if you would like I can tell them to bring lunch into the garden. Hopefully it will offer some privacy,” You offered. Hoseok nodded and he extended his hand to you. As you walked the halls of your palace, with Hoseok on your arm, your mind couldn’t help but entertain the idea of a traitor in your court.

As you both reached the garden, you had to show him the way to the table that sat in the middle of the sea of flowers. Hoseok looked at ease as you both talked, you found it easy to confide in him about recent issues. It wasn’t until you let it slip about your suspicions that he finally dropped his smile and gave you a more serious look.

“So you think someone has a copy of your royal seal?” He asked.

“They couldn’t have a copy as there is only one, which is why I am confused as to how my seal ended up on that letter.” You explained. Hoseok was silent for a few moments before he finally spoke again.

“I remember Namjoon telling me about your letter that you sent to Kim and he was surprised to see your support for Jin. Perhaps it was Jin. While Jin has been nothing but loyal to me, I still think it would be worth your time to look into it,” Hoseok mentioned. The conversation moved on quickly as Hoseok began talking about what he had to do in Jung, and the reason for him leaving. He was leaving in the morning and you knew that you should have been going with him but you clearly had business to handle here.

As the midday meal came to an end, you softly touched Hoseok’s hand before you got up to leave. “Hoseok, please come by my chambers later tonight, after dinner. I would like to talk to you again before you retire for your last night here.” You said in a quiet tone. Hoseok’s eyes had a hopeful glint in them as he stood and nodded.

“Of course,” He quickly said, almost as if he was scared you would take it back as quickly as you said it.

As you were headed towards the exit of the gardens and towards the castle, you noticed Enya standing there with your other sister, Kaiah. She offered a small smile and you returned it, mostly out of guilt. You still felt bad about the little spat you both got into the previous night. You had used your position against her and that was something you didn’t want to do again.

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

The rest of your afternoon was uneventful as you just spent it reading correspondences between yourself and allies. You requested that dinner be served to you in your study so it had been a while since you had seen anyone.

Time flew by and it wasn’t until there was a knock at the study doors did you notice the time. You called out to them and once again you were greeted with King Hoseok’s infectious smile.

“I’m sorry, I got carried away while reading some letters,” You sheepishly apologized. He only had a small smile and he shook his head as if to dismiss your apology.

“I just wanted to see if you still wanted to speak with me,” He mentioned. Your hands began to clam slightly as you remembered your past confidence.

“I just wanted to let you know that I had thought about your proposal and I am not saying yes or no.” You explained. “I understand that you wanted to return to Jung with a queen but please understand that I wish to get settled into my rule. If you are willing to wait then I am prepared to be the queen you and your kingdom deserve.”

Hoseok slowly moved around your cluttered table and took your hand in his. He offered a soft smile and nodded.

“If that is what you need then we can arrange something and in the meantime I will just have to wait.” He assured you.

“Just promise me one thing,” You demanded, “I want you to write to me often, and I mean actual letters. I want to get to know you outside of a treaty or arrangement.” You backed yourself up.

“Of course,” He deadpanned. Hoseok understood your desire for communication and he was very pleased to know that you valued him as more than just a political piece. Your study was quiet since neither of you knew what to say next but Hoseok took a step back and let out a slight chuckle. “Is there anything else you wanted to discuss?”

“No, that was all,” You replied, “Is there anything you wanted to ask. I mean I’m sure our advisors will speak with one another and such.”

“No, I will let you be now. I didn't mean to be a distraction,” He slightly teased. He brought your hand to his and gently kissed it as you rolled your eyes at his cute gesture. He said goodbye quickly after but gave you a charming smirk on his way out.

In Hoseok’s mind, he was the luckiest guy in the palace yet you started to feel unnerved the more you thought of your promise to the young king. You could only hope for the feeling to fade since you knew that Hoseok was the right choice and you truly believe that you could love him one day, which was rare in a royal marriage.

[jennygirl2014]

Just Deserts~Chapter 3

I got a message last night requesting the next part, so I actually just banged it out since it was halfway done. Excuse the lack of editing plz.

Chapter summary: Tawney is struggling to juggle working her job and working for Ransom. The picture becomes clearer on how he treats the people surrounding him, including women. He gives her a nickname she’s not quite fond of. Warnings: language, themes surrounding racism

Chapter 3

August

              Tawney had been working for Ransom for three weeks, and she was really starting to regret her decision.  But it wasn’t much of a decision, was it?  She was so tired she could barely remember how everything played out.  All she knew was that she would never text and drive again.  If she had just kept her eyes on the road for another couple seconds, the accident would have never happened.  She wouldn’t be losing her mind working two jobs.  She wouldn’t be struggling to stay awake during the day. She would feel like she had some resemblance of a life. 

              And Ransom, oh God.  What a nightmare.  It was like he was purposefully trying to make her life a living hell while she was at his house.  His little side remarks, his looks of disapproval, the way he was constantly judging her and her work.  It felt like he was rubbing his lifestyle in her face at all times.  With his careless early morning or late-night messages about food, or complaining about something she had done, or not done.  “The mashed potatoes were too lumpy”, “Asparagus is disgusting, don’t put it on the list anymore”, “Don’t be late today. You were five minutes late last time”. He was blowing up her phone more than anyone.  He was the biggest asshole she had ever met.

              Of course, his car had been patched up and was like brand new.  Meanwhile hers was still a mess, and the door was getting worse by the day.  She ended up having to use a bungee cord to hold the door closed once she climbed in.  If she wasn’t so busy trying to keep up the pace at work, and trying to keep up with Ransom’s ridiculous demands and standards, she would have had a mental break down.  But there truly was no time for that.   She had to keep her head held high, she would not let Ransom get to her, or her idiot hot-headed boss.

              Tawney had somehow managed to fall asleep while icing cupcakes.  Her boss had come in and found her with her face down, icing squeezing out of the bag and making a mess on the counter top.  He must have truly enjoyed the way she jolted awake when he shouted at her, her eyes as wide as dinner plates and blue icing stuck to the side of her face. And then he truly did enjoy lecturing her for ten minutes about her mess.  “If this new job is keeping you from performing up to standards here, then you need to seriously reconsider your commitment to this company.” He had told her, sternly.  She hadn’t told him about her arrangement, and she wasn’t going to.  Truthfully, she was starting to hate both jobs equally.  

              It was her day off from the catering company, but that just meant that she could get over to Ransom’s earlier and hopefully be done before noon.  The thought of being free for an entire afternoon to do nothing but sleep had her ecstatic.  With her head and sprits low, she marched up to Ransom’s door and rang the doorbell. While she waited for the door to open, she looked to her left and saw a gardener trimming the hedges.  The poor man was older, with kind eyes and wrinkles that spoke to his possible wisdom, but above all things, she noticed the darker tone of his skin.  She wondered, did Ransom get a kick out of having “help” that didn’t look like him? She wondered if this man of Hispanic decent had ever stepped food inside that house.  She wouldn’t have put it past Ransom, to keep the divide between the haves and the have-nots, or rather the privileged and the under privileged. The man truly seemed to get a kick out of rubbing his lifestyle in other people’s faces.  Secretly, she thought that it was the mark of an empty man.  What did he have to show behind all of those designer clothes?

              The door flung open and caught her off guard, but it was who answered it that truly shocked her.  On the other side of the screen door stood a pretty blond woman with bright blue eyes, wearing nothing but a man’s crisp white button-down shirt.  Her hair was messy, but her pink lips were curved up in a sarcastic smirk.  Tawney couldn’t help but notice that the shirt barely hit the woman’s thighs.  She looked away instinctively, not wanting to get too familiar with this strange woman.  The screen door swung open. “You must be the help.” The woman’s perky voice carried through the air. When the words hit Tawney’s ears, she turned back to the woman and gave her a perturbed look.  While she knew what she wanted to say, she knew better than to actually say it.

“I’m the chef.” Tawney corrected her.

“You make the food.” The woman spoke again.  And again, it felt like she was trying to take a slight dig at Tawney.  Of course, birds of a feather flock together… and fuck each other.  

“Right, that’s exactly what a chef does.” Tawney didn’t mind letting her claws out a bit that time. This floosy wasn’t about to talk down to her, she didn’t work for her.  

              Tawney pushed past the woman and stepped inside the house, hurrying to the kitchen to get away from the broad.  She was far too tired and lacking the patience to deal with some air-headed trick trying to talk down to her.  The woman followed her, stepping lightly in her bare feet, but staying hot on her heels.  Tawney could feel the woman’s eyes on the back of her head.  She huffed as she set down her knife bag and unrolled the assortment of cutlery, almost daring the woman to keep disrespecting her. The woman came up and tapped her perfectly manicured nails on the marble countertop.  The sound was grating on Tawney’s ears, and she sarcastically put her hands up on the marble and turned to the woman with a fake smile.

“Can I help you?”

“I’m vegan, just so you’re aware.” The woman replied, sounding ever so prideful, “What breakfast recipes do you have for vegans?” and then she licked her lips, “I worked up quite an appetite.” The fact that she was trying to brag about having relations with the dickhead that owned the house made Tawney audibly snort.  The two women eyed each other, perhaps sizing each other up.

“Never been one to cook a lot of vegan foods.” Tawney made one last attempt to be civil.

“Yeah I bet, you look like you enjoy your fried chicken.” The woman insulted her.  

Oh hell no.  Tawney wasn’t about to let that one slide.  

“Look, trick,” she started, “I’m not sure if your comment was supposed to be racist or about the size of my ass, but if you think you can stand there looking like any other common house whore out of a lifetime movie and insult me…you can kiss my fat, black ass.” She leaned in closer and glared at the woman, “I don’t work for you.  And you say you don’t eat meat, but I’m willing to bet, since you’re sporting a guy’s shirt like some dumb trophy, that you had some meat in you not too long ago.  And if you’re that hungry,” Tawney reached out to the fruit bowl in front of her, picked up an apple, and tersely set it down on the counter in front of the other woman, “Here ya’ go.”

The woman’s eyes went as wide as dinner plates and she opened her mouth, preparing to come back at her with something, but Ransom’s hardy laugh cut through the air and stopped the situation from going any further.  Tawney turned and saw him strutting into the kitchen, with all of his usual pride.  He eyed both of the women as he approached the counter.  Tawney looked him over, curious to see what a rich man wears when he first gets up.  He had some jersey black shorts on, and a loose-fitting red shirt.  Maybe they didn’t look expensive, but she was sure they had designer labels on them.

“Hugh…you tell this….!” The woman started, surely about to tell him to kick Tawney out.

“Relax, sweetheart.” He cut the woman off. “How about you two just kiss and make up?”

Gross.  And apparently the other woman thought so too, because her face showed absolute disgust, and she huffed as she stormed away. Tawney’s face remained the same, and she stood there without budging, waiting to hear what Ransom had to say to her.  She wouldn’t have expected anything less from this man but to act like a pig, apparently this other woman didn’t know the man all that well.  What else should have been expected?  Tawney eyed Ransom, who in return leaned on the counter and gave her an amused look.

“You really know how to make friends, don’t you?” he spoke sarcastically.

“She started it.” Tawney placed the blame on the bimbo. “And I thought only the help calls you Hugh.” Her tone emphasized the grandiosity of his ego.

“She did help me, quite a lot in fact.” Ransom joked as he walked around the island and to the fridge.

“Oh God.” Tawney lamented loudly into the air.  She didn’t need to know that.

“Just wish I remembered her name.” he said as he twisted the cap off of the orange juice and took a swig right from the jug.  Tawney scoffed, audibly showing off her disgust again.  But of course, it wasn’t surprising.

“Well you might want to try to remember it, and apologize to her if you’re hoping to get her in your bed again.”

“Won’t happen again.” Ransom confirmed as he placed the jug back in the fridge. “Lousy lay.”

“I really didn’t need to know that.” Tawney was sick of the conversation.

“Just slice up an apple and make her some toast.  She’ll be on her way in a bit.” He said as he ran a hand through his ruffled hair.  “But I’m starving.  How about you whip me up an omelet? Peppers, onions and cheese.  And some bacon on the side.” He walked out of the kitchen and back towards the hallway, but stopped and turned around. He pointed a finger in her direction, “And just a warning…watch your attitude.” And he turned and walked out.

“Dick.” She muttered under her breath.

              Tawney fixed breakfast for Ransom, and the trick, and just as he had said, she was out the door.  Tawney watched on as the scene unfolded from where she stood in the kitchen, making aioli.  The woman was back in what had to have been her clothes from the night before, a skin tight black sequin dress with a low back and Christian Louboutin pumps.  To think that those shoes cost as much, or maybe even more, than her rent was a daunting reminder of the world she was serving in.  She may have sparred with the woman, but that pretty blond was in a whole other league. She was the kind of woman who would look down at her, shrug of firing her without even an ounce of knowledge or understanding of what life was like in someone else’s shoes.  The only common ground between them was evident when Ransom casually told her he would consider giving her a call, and avoided kissing her goodbye.  Both women knew what that meant, and the blond shot her one last look before she turned and walked out the door.  In that moment, she felt bad for the woman, and knew that she would likely be driving off with a broken heart.  Race and class may have set them apart, but every woman can relate to that empty pit of a feeling of being used by a man.  

Every woman, except for Tawney.  But she knew what a broken heart felt like.

“Well,” Ransom piped up as he unceremoniously shut the door behind the woman and approached Tawney again, and something in her stirred, something that made her feel like she had to worry, “Now that that’s over, we have other matters to get to.”

“Like what?” Tawney was afraid to ask.

“Like my friends coming over later for dinner.”

“You’re supposed to give me 24 hours’ notice.” She reminded him, curtly.

“Well it was kind of last minute.”

“Why?  To share last night’s adventures with your buddies?” Tawney realized she overstepped her boundaries as soon as she had said it. But the look on the woman’s face as she left had her momentarily siding with her opponent.  Ransom cut his eye at her.

“A gentleman never kisses and tells.”

“Nobody calls you a gentleman.” She should have bit her tongue, probably.  Ransom’s brows bounced with a little shock, and maybe a little entertainment.  

“That sass is going to get you in trouble, Tawney.” He warned her again, and then his expression changed to a more humored one.  “You know, I think I’ll start calling you Tea.”

“Tea?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s not my name.” she shot back.

“Yeah no shit.  But it suits you.  You can be hot or cold.” He smirked, “I kinda like it.  Besides, what kind of a name is Tawney?” they had had that very discussion previously.  She drew in a deep breath and slowly released it, trying not to get ruffled.  “Oh, come on, it suits you!” he tried to defend himself. “You’re either burning someone with that attitude or icing someone out. But you know what? As long as your sweet to me, everything is fine.” He tilted his head, “Like sweet tea.” He chuckled. “Yeah, it works.”

“You were saying about dinner?” she wanted to get him back on track.

“Six people including me. It’s a hot day, so something not too heavy.  But not sandwiches.” He thought more, “If you need something, call Maria.” And he walked away and into the living room.  Tawney sighed and leaned back against the sink.  She was tired, physically, mentally.  Her hopes of having an afternoon off were dashed in a matter of seconds.  Who gave this man the right to change the rules on her?  And who gave him the right to call her something other than her own name? How much longer would she have to do this?

“Hey,” she called out to him from the kitchen and he turned from where he was sitting on the couch and looked at her. “How much longer do I have to work for you before my debt is paid?” she finally asked him.  His eyes darted around and then back to her.

“I don’t know.” He replied, sounding annoyed that she had asked.

“Yeah, well, it’s been four weeks.  I’m exhausted.  Trying to balance this on top of my other job is killing me.  I’m barely staying awake at work.”

“Then quit your other job.” He made it sound so simple.  Her skin started to boil with anger.

“I have to work!  I have to pay rent!  I’m barely getting by as it is!  But you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?” she snapped.  She looked at him as he eyed her in return.  “You like to talk down to me, but you have no idea how hard I work.  I work my ass off.  Your car is fixed.  Mine is still a mess. I know you may not think my time is as valuable as yours, but I have a life, you know.”

“A few more weeks, we’ll be even.” He turned back around, dismissing her concerns.  She glared at the back of his head, grinding her teeth and wishing she could throw that last apple at him.  Instead, she turned back to the sink to collect her thoughts.  

              She looked out the window at the sink and saw the gardener working outside.  He was on his hands and knees pulling weeds, wiping the sweat off is his brow with his forearm. His wide brimmed hat might have kept the sun off of his face and neck, but it was a hot and humid day, and it wasn’t even noon.  Tawney immediately felt bad for the poor man, it was sad to see someone his age even working that hard on a hot day like he was.  While she was unfortunate enough to be caught up the web of this affluent asshole, the man outside still had it worse than she did.  

              Without giving it another thought, Tawney filled a tall glass with water, ice, lemon juice, a teaspoon of sugar and a lemon slice. She stirred it vigorously, making sure all of the sugar dissolved and didn’t just sink to the bottom.  She made her way towards the door, walking past Ransom as he sat on the couch, watching TV.  He glanced up at her.

“Thanks.”

“It’s not for you.” She retorted as she let herself outside, not giving him another second.  

She marched around the house until the old man saw her and slowly got to his feet. He looked unsure, concerned about why she was approaching him.  She held out the glass, which was already collecting condensation from the heat of being outside, but the lemonade was still cold.  The man eyed the glass, and then her, but eventually took it from her and guzzled it down in a few gulps.  He handed the glass back to her with a nod. “Gracias.” His accent was heavy.  Tawney took the glass and smiled.

“De nada.” She replied. The man’s eyes lit up.

“Hablas español?” he sounded hopeful.

“Oh, no.  No, I’m sorry.  Just that tiny bit.” She apologized for getting his hopes up.

“Ah…okay.” The man smiled and nodded, saying he understood.

              Tawney gave one last small smile and walked back around the house, feeling proud of herself for thinking of the poor man. She felt good about her deed.  Upon walking back into the house, her eyes went right to Ransom, who was also staring her down.  “Cute.” Ransom commented from where he sat.  She shrugged and headed back into the kitchen. “And I’ll take one too.” He called out after her.  She had to bite her tongue, again.  

              She made dinner as quickly as she could, keeping in mind what was available.  Deviled eggs, Caesar salad, a linguini with shrimp, tomatoes and zucchini.  For dessert, she got creative, enjoying the space to try something she hadn’t in a while.  She grilled up some peaches with a honey glaze and made an amaretto flavored whipped cream.  Of course, she had to store it all in the fridge, which meant giving Ransom instructions on how to serve it.  She wondered if the man-child would throw a minor fit over having to lift a finger.  “The appetizer and dinner are to be served cold, the linguini can be hot or cold.  For dessert, simply place one of the peach halves on a plate, top it with the whipped cream. You can even drizzle some of the juice over it.” She instructed him as she finished wiping down the counter.  

“Fruit for dessert?” Ransom sounded off put.  

“You said light, so I went for it.” Tawney replied, rolling up her knives.  She looked up and saw him standing there, staring at her.  “It’ll be good, I promise.” She reassured him. With her steps quickening, she headed for the door, not wanting to be around when his friends showed up.  She could barely stand him.  Or his female company.  She hated to see what his friends were like.

“Tea,” Ransom stopped her as she gripped the doorknob to leave.  She winced, wondering what else could possibly need her attention.  She was surprised when she turned back to see him standing there with his hand outstretched to her, and a $50 bill in between his fingers.  She eyed the money, then looked back up at him.  “Just take it.”

              She was suspicious, almost scared even.  But that $50 was already spent in her mind, she was already calculating which bill to put it towards.  Fixing her AC unit, filling her gas tank, putting it towards rent, so many things.  So many things that a measly $50 didn’t cover.  But it would help.  She licked her lips, cursing at herself in her mind as she took the money from him.  Was this a tip?  Would she owe him her life after taking that money?  She grimaced at the idea of him rubbing her face in it, but it was too late, the money was in her hand.  

“See you tomorrow.” He bid her goodbye, like nothing had changed.  He had to have been used to handing money to many people, valets, waiters, hopefully his gardener who was practically melting in that heat.  She stepped out, tossing the idea around of handing the money back to him, but he had closed the door before she could even try.

She looked down at the cash in her hand, feeling a strange combination of anger, guilt, shame and somehow, gratitude. Maybe the money was for entertaining him in some sick way.  She didn’t want his money, she wanted to get her life back on track.

Previous chapter here.

[weekendwarriorblog]

The Weekend Warrior Christmas - New Year’s Edition – WONDER WOMAN 1984, NEWS OF THE WORLD, PROMISING YOUNG WOMAN, ONE NIGHT IN MIAMI..., PIECES OF A WOMAN, HERSELF, SYLVIE’S LOVE and More!

Welcome to the VERY LAST Weekend Warrior of the WORST YEAR EVER!!! But hopefully not the last column forever, even though I already plan on taking much of January off from writing 8 to 10 reviews each week. It just got to be too much for a while there.

Because it’s the last week of the year, there are a lot of really good movies, some in theaters but also quite a few on streaming services. In fact, there are a good number of movies that appeared in my Top 10 for the yearover at Below the Line, as well as my extended Top 25 that I’ll share on this blog sometime next week. I was half-hoping to maybe write something about the box office prospects of some of the new movies, but after the last couple weeks, it’s obvious that box office is not something that will be something worth writing about until sometime next spring or summer.

(This column is brought to you by Paul McCartney’s new album “McCartney III” which I’m listening to as I finish this up… and then other solo Beatles ditties picked for me randomly by Tidal.)

First up is easily one of the most anticipated movies of the year, or at least one that actually didn’t move to 2021, and that’s WONDER WOMAN 1984 (Warner Bros.), Patty Jenkins’ sequel to the 2017 hit, once again starring Gal Gadot as Diana Prince. I reviewed it here, but basically the sequel introduces Wonder Woman arch-nemeses Barbara Minerva aka Cheetah, as played by Kristen Wiig, and Pedro Pascal’s Max Lord and how an ancient artifact gives them both their powers, as well as helps to bring Diana’s true love Steve Trevor (Chris Pine) back despite him having disappeared presumed dead in WWI. As you can see by reading my review, I thought it was just fine, not great and certainly not something I’d make an attempt to see a second time in a 25% capacity movie theater. Fortunately, besides debuting in around 2,100 movie theaters across the nation, it will also be on HBO Max day and date, which has caused quite a stir. Being Christmas weekend with no work/school on Monday, I can see it still making somewhere between $10 and 12 million, but I can’t imagine it doing nearly what it might have done with most theaters only 25-30% full at the maximum and that theater count being roughly half the number it might have gotten during the “normal times.”

Paul Greengrass’ Western NEWS OF THE WORLD (Universal) reteams him with his Captain Phillips star Tom Hanks, this time playing Captain Jefferson Kidd, a Civil War soldier who travels from town to town in the Old West reading from newspapers to anyone who has a dime and time to listen. After one such reading, he discovers a young girl (Helena Zengel) on her own, having spent the last few years with a family of Native Americans who were killed by soldiers. Together, they travel across America as Kidd hopes to bring the girl to her last surviving family members.

I already reviewed Greengrass’ movie for Below the Line, and I also  spoke to Mr. Greengrass, an interview you can read that right here (once it goes live), but I make no bones that this was one of my favorite movies I’ve seen this year, and it’s not just due to the fine work by Greengrass and his team. No, it’s just as much about the emotion inherent in the story, and the relationship between the characters played by Hanks and Zengel.  

I’ve watched the movie three times now, and I’m still blown away by every frame and moment, the tension that’s created on this difficult journey but also where it leaves the viewers at the end that promises that there can be hope and joy even in the most difficult and turbulent times. It’s a wonderful message that’s truly needed right now.

Listen, I’m not gonna recommend going to a movie theater if you don’t feel it’s safe – I’ve already spoken my peace on this at a time when COVID numbers were much lower – but this is a movie that I personally can’t wait to see in a movie theater. I honestly can’t see the movie making more than $3 or 4 million in the open theaters considering how few people are willing to go to movie theaters. Obviously, this isn’t as big a draw as Wonder Woman, but it is a fantastic big screen movie regardless.

Also opening in theaters this Friday is Emerald Fennell’s directorial debut PROMISING YOUNG WOMAN (Focus Features), starring the wonderful Oscar-nominated Carey Mulligan as Cassie Thomas, a woman who has revenge on her mind. Cassie spends her nights picking up guys in bars by pretending she’s so drunk she can barely walk, then humiliating them and presumably worse. When she encounters an acquaintance from med school in the form of Bo Burnham’s Ryan, the two begin dating, though he ends up awakening a darker side to Cassie that seeks revenge for something that happened back during their school days. (Honestly, if you’re already sold, just skip to the next movie. That’s all I want you to know before watching it.)

I was ready to love Fennell’s movie when it opened with a disgusting shot of gross stock market bros in loose-fitting suits gyrating in slow motion before one of them tries to pick up a totally soused Cassie at the club. It’s a scene that really plays itself out quite well, and then leads into Mulligan’s character allowing another clear scumbag (played by Christopher Mintz-Plasse, maybe as a slight-older McLovin?) before turning the tables on him as well.

There’s going to be a lot of talk about this movie after people see it, since it’s one of those great films that begins a lot of conversations. I imagine most women of a certain age will love it, but some men might see themselves in some of the characters (even Burnham’s) and wonder whether Cassie just won’t take crap from any man or if she’s a full-on misandrist. One thing we do know a lot is that she does this sort of thing a lot, and there’s something from her past that has driven her involving something that happened to her female friend in med school. I’m going to stop talking about the plot here, because I definitely don’t want to spoil anything who hasn’t seen the movie, but the second half of the movie is as deeply satisfying as Tarantino’s Kill Bill in terms of the surprises.

You’ll realize while watching what a treat you’re in for when you first watch Mulligan’s amazing transformation from pretending to be drunk to being completely cognizant and just all the emotions we see her go through after that. Of course, we never really know what she’s actually doing to the guys she lets pick her up -- she keeps a notebook with guy’s names and a quizzical counting system, so we can only imagine.

Fennell’s screenplay is fantastic but her work as a first-time director in maintaining the the tone and pacing of the movie is really what will keep you captivated, whether it’s the amazing musical choices or how Cassie dresses up to lure men. There’s also a great cast around Mulligan whether it’s comic Burnham in a relatively more serious role, but one that also allows him a musical number. (No joke.) Fennel’s amazing casting doesn’t just stop there from, Jennifer Coolidge as Cassie’s mother to Laverne Cox as Gail, her workmate/boss at the coffee shop – both of them add to the film’s subtle humor elements. Alfred Molina shows up to give a show-stopping performance, and Alison Brie also plays a more dramatic role as another one of Cassie’s classmates. I can totally understand why the Golden Globes might have deemed the movie a “comedy/musical” (for about two days before going back) , but putting so many funny people in dramatic roles helps give Promising Young Woman its own darkly humorous feel. All that darkness is contrasted by this sweet romance between Cassie and Ryan that’s always in danger of imploding due to Cassie’s troubled nature.

The biggest shocking surprise is saved for the third act, and boy, it’s going to be one that people will be talking about for a VERY long time, because it’s just one gut punch after another. I loved this movie, as it’s just absolutely brilliant – go back and see where it landed in my Top 10. As one of the best thrillers from the past decade, people will be talking about this for a very long time 

Promising Young Woman hits theaters on Christmas Day, and presumably, it will be available on VOD sometime in January, but this is not one you want to wait on. If you do go see it in theaters, just be safe, please. No making out with random men or women, please.

Regina King’s narrative feature debut, ONE NIGHT IN MIAMI... (Amazon Studios), will ALSO be in theaters on Christmas Day, and though I’ve reviewed it over at Below the Line, but I’ll talk a little more about it here just for my loyal Weekend Warrior readers.

Yet another movie that made my Top 10, this one stars a brilliant quartet of actors --  Kingsley Ben-Adir, Leslie Odom Jr., Aldis Hodge and Eli Goree—as four legendary black icons: Malcolm X, Sam Cooke, Jim Brown and Cassius Clay, on the night after the last of them wins the World Boxing Championship against Sonny Liston in February 1964. The four men meet in Malcolm X’s hotel room to discuss what’s happening in their lives and the world in general, as well as Clay’s decision to join the Nation of Islam, just as Malcolm X is getting ready to leave the brotherhood due to philosophical differences with the group. In fact, all four men have philosophical differences that are discussed both in good humor and in deep conflict as they disagree on their place in a white-dominated world in a year before the Civil Rights Act would be signed.

First of all, there’s no way to talk about this movie without discussing the Kemp Powers play on which it’s based, and we can’t mention that without mentioning that Powers also co-wrote and co-directed Pixar’s Soul, which will be available on Disney+ this Friday. It’s a fantastic script and King put together a fantastic cast of actors who really give their all to every scene. In the case of Leslie Odom, Jr., you really can believe him as Cooke, especially in a number of fantastic performances pieces. Likewise, Goree looks a lot like Clay both in the ring and out, carrying all of the swagger for which he would become more famous as Ali.

I’ve seen the movie twice already and if you’ve looked at my Top 10, then you already know this is another one that made my cut, so I don’t think I need to give it a much harder sell. I’m sure you’ll be hearing a lot about this one on its journey to Oscar night when hopefully, King becomes the first woman of color to be nominated in the directing category. Or rather, she’ll probably tie for that honor with Nomadland director Chloé Zhao.

If you don’t feel like going to theaters for this one, you’ll be able to catch it on Amazon Prime Video on January 15, too… you’ll just have to wait a little longer.

Also, the new Pixar animation movie, SOUL, directed by Pete Docter (Up, Inside Out) and co-directed by Kemp Powers (remember him?), will hit Disney+ on Christmas Day, and I reviewed it here, so I probably don’t have  lot more to say about it, but it’s great, and if you have Disney+, I’m sure you’ll be watching it.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t get a screener for Matteo Garrone’s PINNOCHIO (Roadside Attractions), which also opens in about 700 theaters on Christmas Day. This adaptation stars Robert Benigni as Geppeto, who famously starred as Pinocchio in his own version of the classic fairy tale from 2002. That other movie was “Weinsteined” at a time when that just meant that a movie was ruined by Harvey Weinstein’s meddling, rather than anything involving sexual assault.

Another great movie hitting streaming this week is Eugene Ashe’s SYLVIE’S LOVE, which streams on Amazon Prime Video today. It stars Tessa Thompson as Sylvie and Nnamdi Asomugha (also a producer on the film) as Robert, who meet one summer in the late 50s while working at Sylvie’s father’s record store. He is a jazz musician who is on the rise, but their romance is cut short when he gets a gig in Paris but she refuses to go with him. Also, she’s pregnant with his child. Years later, they reconnect with her now being married with a young daughter (clearly Robert’s) and they realize that the love between them is still very real and true.

This is the first of three movies I watched this week where I went in with very little knowledge and absolute zero expectations. Like everyone else on earth, I am an avid fan of Ms. Thompson’s work both in movies like Thor: Ragnarok and smaller indies. She’s just a fantastic presence that lights up a screen. While I wasn’t as familiar with Asomugha’s acting work – he’s produced some great films and acted in a few I liked, included Crown Heights – there’s no denying the chemistry between the two.

What’s kind of interesting about the movie is that it combines a few elements from other great movies released this week, including Soul and A Night in Miami, but in my opinion, handles the music business aspect to the story better than the much-lauded Netflix movie, Ma Raimey’s Black Bottom. Frankly, I also think the performances by the two leads are as good as those by Boseman and Davis in that movie, but unfortunately, Amazon is submitting this to the Emmys as as “TV movie” rather than to the Oscars, so that’s kind of a shame.

This is a movie that’s a little hard to discuss why I enjoyed it so much without talking about certain scenes or moments, or just go through the entire story, but I think part of the joy of appreciating what Ashe has done in his second original feature film is to tell the story of these two characters over the course of a decade or so in a way that hasn’t been done before. That alone is quite an achievement, because we’ve seen many of those types of movies over the years (When Harry Met Sally, for instance).

What I really liked about Sylvie’s Love over some of the other “black movies” this year is that it literally creates its own world and just deals with the characters within it, rather than trying to make a big statement about the world at the time. Maybe you can say the same about Soul in that sense, but you would be absolutely amazed by how much bigger an audience you can get by telling a grounded story in a relatable world, and then throw in a bit of music, as both those movies do.

So that’s all I’ll say except that this will is now on Amazon Prime Video , so you have no excuse not to check it out while you wait for Regina King’s equally great One Night in Miami to join it in mid-January.

Hitting Netflix on Christmas day is Robert Rodriguez’s WE CAN BE HEROES, his sequel to his 2005 family film The Adventures of Shark Boy and Lava Girl – not his best moment -- which follows the kids of the Heroics, a Justice League-like super group. They’re all in a special school for kids with powers but they have to step up when the Heroics are captured by aliens. Want to know what will happen? Well, you’ll just have to wait for Christmas Day for when my review drops to find out whether I liked it more or less than Rodriguez’s earlier film which SPOILER!! I hated.)

The first thing you need to get past is that Shark Boy and Lava Girl are now man and wife, and just that fact might be tough for anyone who only discovered the movie sometime more recently. There are other familiar faces in the Heroics like Pedro Pascal, Sung Kang, Christian Slater, Priyanka Chopra Jonas and more, so clearly, Rodriguez is still able to pull together a cast.

The movie actually focuses on YaYa Goselin’s Missy Moreno, daughter of the Heroic’s leader (Pascal) who has also retired. Just as aliens are invading the earth, Missy is put into a school of kids with superpowers, all kids of various Heroic members. Sure, it’s derived directly from The X-Men and/or Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children, so yeah… basically also the X-Men. We meet all of the kids in a great scene where we see them using their powers and learn their personalities, and honestly, they really are the best part of the movie.Probably the most adorable is Guppy, the very young daughter of Shark Boy and Lava Girl, played by Viven Blair. Oddly, Missy doesn’t have any powers so she feels a bit fish-out-of-water in the group even though, like her father, she proves to be a good leader.

As much as I really detested Rodriguez’s Shark Boy and Lava Girl movie, I feel like he does a lot better by having a variety of kids in this one, basically something for everyone, but also not a bad group of child actors. (There’s also a fun role for Adriana Barraza​.) There are definitely aspects that are silly, but Rodriguez never loses sight of his audience, and wisely, Netflix is offering this as a Christmas Day release which should be fun for families with younger kids who might see this as their first superhero movie.

More discerning viewers may not be particularly crazy about visual FX, all done as usual in Rodriguez’s own studio but some of them look particularly hoaky and cheap compared to others. (I mean, that’s probably the appeal for hiring Rodriguez because he’s able to do so much in-house. In this case, he got all four of his own kids involved in various capacities of making the film.)

We Can Be Heroes is clearly a movie made for kids, so anyone expecting anything on part with Amazon’s The Boys will be quite disappointed. It’s probably Rodriguez getting slightly closer to Spy Kids than he has with any of his other family-friendly movies, but one shouldn’t go in with the expectations that come with any of the much bigger blockbusters released these days. Personally, I enjoyed that fact, and I totally would watch another movie with this superteam.

Michel Stasko’s BOYS VS. GIRLS (Gravitas Ventures) is a fun retro-comedy that follows a war between the male and female counselors at Camp Kindlewood, which has just gone co-ed. At the center of it all is Dale (Eric Osborne) and Amber (Rachel Dagenais) as two teens who are in the middle of a meet-cute romance in the middle of a inter-gender competition called “Lumberman vs. Voyagers,” which I have no idea whether it’s a real thing or not.

I probably should have known I’d like this one from the catchy New Order-ish song in the opening credits, but listen, Wet Hot American Summer is one of my all-time favorite movies, and that was basically made to satirize ‘80s movies like Meatballs. This one falls more towards to the latter in terms of humor, but it also feels authentic to the ‘80s summer camp experience.

It helps that the grown-ups at the camp are played by the likes of Kevin McDonald from New Kids on the Block, Colin Mochrie from Whose Line is It Anyway and others, but it’s really about the younger cast playing teen boys and girls in the throes of puberty, something we all can in some way relate to. The young cast play a series of stereotypical young but there are a lot of funny tropes within them, as each of the cast is given a chance to deliver some of the funnier gags. This isn’t necessarily high-brow humor, mind you, but I love the fact that you can still make a movie about a time where you could still make fun of girl’s periods in school. (I’m kidding. I just put that in there cause I feel like I need to throw things like that into this column just to see if anyone is ACTUALLY reading it.)

The presumably Canadian Stasko is another great example of an independently-spirited filmmaker who has an idea for a fun movie and then just goes about making it, regardless of having big stars or anything to sell it besides many funny moments that can be featured a trailer, so that those who like this kind of movie will find it. Listen, Wet Hot American Summer wasn’t a huge hit when it was released. I still remember it having trouble getting a single screening at the multiplex in Times Square when it was released but over the years since it became sort of a cult hit (kind of due to Netflix having it to rent on DVD, I think).

Besides a fun script and cast, Stasko also find a way to include tunes that sound so much like real ‘80s songs we would have heard on the radio but aren’t quite the big hits that would have cost him thousands of dollars, but I really just enjoyed the heck out of the tone and overall fun attitude that went into making this movie.

Also on VOD now is Ian Cheney and Martha Shane’s fascinating and funny doc, THE EMOJI STORY (Utopia), which I saw at the Tribeca Film Festival when it was called “Picture Character.” (That’s what “emoji” in Japanese means, just FYI.) As you can guess it’s about the origins and rise of the emoji as a form of communication from its humble beginning in Japan to becoming one of the biggest trending crazes on the globe. I’m not that big an Emoji guy myself – I tend to use the thumbs up just for ease, but I do marvel at those who can put together full thoughts using a string of these symbols, and if you want to know more about them, this is the movie you should watch.

Now let’s cut ahead to some of the movies that will be opening and streaming NEXT week…

Hitting select theaters on Wednesday, December 30 and what really is my “FEATURED FLICK” for this column is Hungarian filmmaker Kornél (White God) Mundruczó’s PIECES OF A WOMAN (Netflix) before its streaming premiere on Netflix January 7.

Written by Kata Wéber, who also wrote Mundruczó’s earlier film, it stars Vanessa Kirby (The Crown) and Shia Labeouf as Martha and Sean Weiss, a Boston couple who lose their baby during a particularly difficult home birth and follows the next year in their lives and how that tragic loss affects their relationship with each other and those around them.

As you can imagine, Pieces of a Woman is a pretty heavy drama, one that reminded me of the films of Todd Field (Little Children, In the Bedroom) in terms of the intensity of the drama and the emotions on screen from the brilliant cast Mundruczó put together for his English language debut. I’m not sure I could use the general plot to sell anyone on seeing this because it is very likely the worst possible date movie of the year after Netflix’s 2019 release, Marriage Story, but it’s just as good in terms of the writing and performances.

At the center of it is Kirby – and yeah, I still haven’t watched The Crown, so shut up! I’ll get to it!!! – who most of us fell in love with for her role in Mission: Impossible - Fallout, but what we see her go through as an actress here really shows the degree of her abilities. But it also shows what Mundruczó can do with material that (like many movies) started out as a play. For instance, one of the first big jaw-dropping moments is the home birth scene that goes on for a long time, seemingly all in one shot, and Kirby is so believable in terms of a woman going through a difficult birth, you’d believe she has had children herself. (She hasn’t.)  I also don’t want to throw Shia Labeouf under the bus right now just because that seems like the trendy thing to do. (Without getting it, I believe FKA Twigs… but that doesn’t deny the fact that Labeouf is just the latest great actor that everyone wants to cancel.)

Anyway, to change the subject, we have to talk about Ellen Burstyn, who plays Martha’s meddling mother, who is quite clingy and overbearing, so when the couple lose their baby, she steps in to take to task the midwife she deems responsible (played by the highly-underrated Molly Parker). Or rather, she hires a family lawyer (Sarah Snook) to take her to court to get compensation for the loss of her daughter’s baby. The film’s last act culminates as their case goes to court.

Again, the film covers roughly a year after the tragedy and deals not only with how Martha and Sean’s relationship is affected and how it emotionally affects Martha in particular, but also how others around them start behaving towards them. It feels so authentic and real that you wonder where the screenwriter was drawing from, but Mundruczó has more than prove himself as as filmmaker by creating something that is visually compelling and even artsy while still doing everything to help promote the story and performances over his own abilities as a director. Doesn’t hurt that he has composer Howard Shore scoring the film in a way that’s subtle but effective.

Listen, if you’re looking for a comedy riot that will entertain you with funny one-liners and pratfalls than Pieces of a Woman is not for you. This is a devastating movie that really throws the viewer down a deep spiral along with its characters. The first time I watched it, I was left quite broken, and maybe even more so on second viewing.  (As we get closer to Oscar season… in four months … I hope this film will be recognized and not just thrown under the table due to Labeouf’s involvement. That would be as big a tragedy and misjustice as much of what happens in the movie.)

So yeah, in case you wondered why this also made it into my prestigious Top 10 for the year, that is why. :)

Also in theaters on Wednesday, December 30 is another terrific drama, the Phyllida Lloyd-directed HERSELF (Amazon Studios), co-written and starring Clare Dunne, as Sandra, a mother of two young girls, trying to get out of an abusive marriage, while making ends meet and providing shelter for her kids. One day, she learns about a way that she can build her own home, and one of the women she cares for offers a plot of land

Another movie that I really didn’t know much about going into, other than Phyllida Lloyd being a talented filmmaker whose movie The Iron Maiden, which won Meryl Streep her 500th Oscar, I enjoyed much more than the popular blockbuster hit musical, Mamma Mia! This is a far more personal story that reminded me of Ken Loach’s I, Daniel Blake, a smaller and more intimate character piece that shines a light on British actor Clare Dunne, who as with some of the best and most personal movie projects, co-wrote this screenplay for herself to act in.

There are aspects to the film that reminds me of many other quaint Britcoms in terms of creating a story where one person’s challenge is taken up by others who are willing to help, and in this case, it’s Sandra’s desire to build a house for her two quite adorable daughters while also trying to keep it secret from her abusive ex.

Dunne’s performance isn’t as showy as some of the other dramatic performances mentioned in this very column, but she and Lloyd do a fine job creating an authenticity that really makes you believe and push for her character, Sandra, surrounding her with characters who can help keep the movie on the lighter side despite very serious nature of spousal abuse (which also rears its ugly head in Pieces of a Woman). Oh, and don’t get too comfortable, because this, too, leads to an absolutely shocking and devastating climax you won’t see coming. (Well, now you will… but you’ll still be shocked. Trust me.)

Still, it’s a really nice movie with the house being built clearly a metaphor.  I know there’s a lot of truly fantastic movies discussed in this week’s column but don’t let this wonderful British drama pass you by, because you can tell it’s a labor of love for everyone who made it.

Herself will be in theaters for roughly a week starting December 30 before streaming on Prime Video on January 8.

In select theaters and on VOD on New Year’s Day is Roseanne Liang’s WWII thriller SHADOW IN THE CLOUD (Vertical/Redbox Entertainment), starring Chloë Grace Moretz as Flight Officer Maude Garrett, who is assigned to deliver a top-secret package on the B-17 bomber “The Fool’s Errand” with an all-male crew that throws her into a turret “for her own safety.” She ends up getting trapped down there as the plane is attacked by a creature that no one believes is out there, as they fight back against the unseen enemy, many secrets are revealed.

This is yet another movie I didn’t know that much about other than it has Moretz on an airplane, but there’s so much about the movie that both had me scratching my head but also has me quite deliriously amused that filmmakers could get away with some of the craziness that we witness. Maybe it’s not a surprise that the movie was co-written by Max Landis -- not exactly the most beloved screenwriter in Hollywood these days, and certainly not a critical favorite.

Again I really didn’t know what to expect so after Moretz’s character gets on the plane and is trapped in the turret under the plane, I thought that maybe I was seeing something similar to the one-location thriller 7500, starring Joseph Gordon-Levitt, which I wasn’t too big a fan of even though the actor was good. Moretz continues to be quite a phenomenal actor, but the mix of Mahuia Bridgman-Cooper’s music, which borrows as much from Soulwax (look ‘em up on Spotify) as John Carpenter, and the sexist attitude by the male crew towards Garrett made me unsure of what the movie was meant to say.

Much of the movie just has Moretz on her own with the men’s voices over the comms, which is not something that could possibly sustain a whole movie. Part of it is borrowed from a very well-known episode of “The Twilight Zone,” in fact.

but fortunately, it breaks from out of that deceit but then just starts getting crazier and crazier. I’m not even gonna tell you about what happens or what’s in the box Garrett is carrying or where things go, because honestly, I don’t think you would believe me.

I haven’t seen any of Ms. Liang’s previous films but when you realize how much crazy stuff she’s able to get way with, I’ll be really interested what she does next. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen any movie that’s quite as crazy as Shadow in the Cloud or one that makes me want to watch it again for that very reason.

Oscar-winning Icarus director Bryan Fogel’s doc THE DISSIDENT (Briarcliff), which opens in theaters Friday then will be On Demand January 8, follows the horrific assassination of Washington Post journalist Jamal Khashoggi in Turkey in September 2018, thought to be the work of the Saudi kingdom and Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman aka MBS.

I’m really fascinated by movies like this one and Ryan White’s recent Assassins – both which could be in the Best Documentary race at the Oscars in April, by the detective and investigative work done by both filmmakers to get to the bottom of murders that shouldn’t be possible and find those that are responsible. I’ll admit that I didn’t really pay much attention to this story when it was happening a few years back, so I don’t know how much of the details are new and exclusive to Fogel’s doc. He does get access to Kashouggi’s fiancé Hatice who had gone with Jamal to the Saudi embassy in Turkey to get proof that he was single and could marry when he vanished for days and then turne up dead.

Fogel also meets with another Saudi dissident now living in Quebec who goes through the events that led up to Kashouggi’s murder that involved a social media campaign against the journalist within a country where 80% of the population is on Twitter (!).

This is another fascinating doc by Fogel that I’m sure some will be more interested in due to its subject, but when it comes to investigative pieces that really take a deep dive into news from the headlines, Fogel has created another unforgettable doc.  (Also, it was absolutely little surprise to me that Fogel’s film is co-written by Mark Monroe, who has been involved with some of the best docs I’ve seen over the past 15 years or so…  just look up his IMDB credits!)

Opening at the Film Forum Virtual Cinema in New York for a one-week qualifying run is Russia’s movie for Oscar consideration, Andrei Kochalovsky’s DEAR COMRADES! (NEON), a black and white dark dramedy set in 1960s Kruschchev-era Russia. It involves a strike by locomotive workers when the government raises food prices, leading to chaos and a massacre that leaves a Communist party loyalist,  Lyuda (played by Julia Vysotskaya) who the film then follows. Unfortunately, I had a choice of either writing this column or watching this two-hour movie. I opted for the former (obviously) but I do hope to get to this later in the week and should be adding more on this movie once I do.

Also streaming in Film Forum’s Virtual Cinema starting next Wednesday, December 30, is Mario Monicelli’s 1960 film, The Passionate Thief.

Unfortunately, I also wasn’t able to get to Two Ways Home (Gravitas Ventures), In Corpore or Fire Will Come, which will open in Metrograph’s digital ticketing system.

Metrograph will also continue showing Tsia Ming-Liang’s Goodbye, Dragon Inn, Fruit Chan’s Made in Hong Kong, and lots of great programming over the holidays. It would be a great time to get yourself or a loved one a digital membership for just $50! (James Gray is also programming some of his own films like Little Odesssa and other favorites, like Richard Quine’s Strangers When We Meet, over the holidays.)

By the way, if you read this week’s column and have bothered to read this far down, feel free to drop me some thoughts at Edward dot Douglas at Gmail dot Com or drop me a note or tweet on Twitter. I love hearing from readers … honest! 

[stagofwar]

All things considered, the Fellowship would have been the most unnerving thing to Sauron if he’d ever found out.

-We have Aragorn, who’s heir to the throne of Gondor, in whom the blood of Numenor runs ‘nearly true’; that would be ok, because Sauron pretty thoroughly trashed that bloodline the last time he got involved with them, but Aragorn is not only from the line that didn’t fall to his tricks - he’s from the line that managed to hide out from and survive the hilariously hostile world of Midle Earth long enough to see Sauron’s return. In other words, he’s a cockroach with a holy sword and a legitimate claim to a kingdom with something like five thousand years’ worth of legacy of defying Sauron more ably than anyone else in the world.

-We have Gimli, who is a warrior able enough to be considered worth sending to the Council of Elrond despite being centuries younger than every other Dwarf there. He’s loyal to a fault, perfectly willing to open his mind to other cultures once he’s had a chance to think about it for a minute, and probably the most charismatic person there short of Merry and Pippin - and they can’t control it. And he knows the meaning of politeness, which so many Elves think Dwarves don’t have. He is here for those he loves, always, and if they number all of Middle Earth by the end, so be it. Moreover, his body count over the course of the books is somewhere in the hundreds - if there are more like him, and there are (his family held off the Orc army invading the Lonely Mountain around the time of the Battle of the Black Gates), and if they come looking for blood, things are going to get hairy.

- We have Legolas, who is tied with Boromir for being the biggest jock - except instead of fighting skirmishes against groups of orcs, he’s been fighting spiders the size of a car since he was probably fifty. Going by the movies he’s an acrobat with flair and a sharpshooter hard to match; going by the books he’s keen-eyed and ready to throw down. The only Fellowship member with a higher kill count than him is Gimli, unless they’re tied, and he’s also the first Elf in centuries willing to have a civil conversation with a dwarf. Add on the fact that his entire royal line came entirely out of left field the last time Sauron tried to muster an army and changed its course, and you’ve got an unpredictable ball of arrows and backflips with blonde hair. Life is what he loves, and let none fail to understand that fact.

- We have Boromir, who is almost the least able member of the Fellowship for accomplishments, as far as the Big People go, but even he (least gifted member of his family, in terms of strange abilities) was enough of a strategic thinker to manage the Gondorian army and retake Osgiliath while his father was in the process of declining. Considering what his brother and Dad can do with powers he doesn’t even have, and considering what it took to kill him, and considering why he *threw his life away in the first place* (love, it’s always love, and that it’s for a pair of helpless non-warriors doesn’t diminish it whatsoever, what more would his people do for their country and their world, what more is Sauron failing to account for), then what in Eru’s name can his brother do? (The answer is bringing down an Oliophant with arrows and stealth. He lost Osgiliath because of the Nazgul and a too-small force, nothing less)

- We have Gandalf, who has made enough of a nuisance of himself over the course of two thousand-odd years that he is hated by most of Middle Earth’s major players and done enough good in that period that none of them consider killing him a good idea without a significant amount of insanity. Operating on limited information, zero prep time, and once again love, he killed a Balrog; he stood up to a creature forged in the most horrific days of Melkor’s madness out of insanity and fire, one trained in a war that lasted long enough for kingdoms of men and elves and dwarves to rise and fall and neither buckled nor broke. He stood on among figures as feared as Gil-Galad, Glorifindel, and Beren, and then he came back stronger than ever before. Stronger than one who had spent centuries *seeking* strength, where Gandalf had only sough to help. Stronger indeed than any one of the Nazgul, given a moment to prepare.

-We have Merry, who is kind and concerned and very, very smart. He and Pippin don’t get enough credit in the movies, but in the books he was clever enough to figure out what Frodo was planning with his move from Bag End and decided (he’s brave too, and here love comes back) to come along. He is a son of the Thains, and will be a Thain himself in time; he is the newest branch of the roots of the Shire itself, which found that it is made of steel and stone and willpower twice - once against a cold bad enough to see a summer turned to winter, and once against the spite of a fallen angel. He is willing, without thought, to come to the aid of his friends; his honor is no less than Dwarves and Elves and Men. And should you tell him no? He will come all the same, as Theoden learned to his benefit.

-You have Pippin, who is oh so very young - indeed, the youngest member overall! Not even forty! And who came along knowing nothing about what he was walking into, besides that his friends needed aid. So very very far from home, he did not shine against the greatest darkness things beyond men can muster; he shone against *fear*, and *indifference*. First when Treebeard thought that he was beyond the wars of men, where he showed him that some things are worth fighting for, and then again when Denathor found himself so thoroughly insane with fear that he thought death better than that old, familiar Human need to stand up against that which comes to consume and say, ‘no’. Pippin said no, and he said it in defiance of a leader all the others cowered before.

-We have Frodo, who is the wild card. First the bearer of the ring the very first time it is given up willingly - which is the last thing that was ever supposed to be possible when it was held. Then, again, when every great, strong, powerful being gathered to see it destroyed cried that none of the others were worth or strong enough, Frodo said oh so quietly - “I will take the ring - though I do not know the way.” We call Sam brave, and oh he is, but Frodo took a leap of faith that proved Sauron’s undoing. How could a being who claimed such mastery of greed understand self-sacrifice? One again, Love comes forth.

- And we have Sam. Always, the Hobbits are considered less than the others. Less interesting, less brave, less strong; and among Hobbits, Sam defined that role. He was the lowly gardner, tagging along out of duty and, as always, love. Love first. Love most. But duty as well, because he made a promise - “Don’t let him out of your sight, Samwise Gamgee.” And he doesn’t intend to. Sam, who defined the forgettable, kind, somewhat simple nature of Hobbits and, therefore, the incredible, depthless strength they hide. Stone lies beneath soft, tilled earth, and the softer the earth the harder the work to get it there; so Sam was always stone beneath it all. He could not carry a burden for Frodo, but he could carry Frodo himself, and even when all hope for their survival was lost he reached out for Frodo’s bleeding, mutilated hand and told him - Don’t you let go. He did not let go.

So yeah. Sauron would have been afraid, had he ever truly looked.

[natsubeatsrock]

So, I watched Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood, and...

Not unlike a lot of things that aren't Fairy Tail, I want to talk about it. In a month, I'm going to spend every day for 4 whole weeks talking about things that aren't Fairy Tail. I will talk about Fairy Tail now and then in some of the posts, but the focus of them isn't Fairy Tail. As a warm-up for that, I decided to talk about Brotherhood.

Recent events in the news have made me think about what I like to call "the Scar philosophy". The name obviously comes from my own reasoning about how Scar ought to have seen his quest for revenge. This is the topic of a lot of interesting and often disturbing conversations between fans, especially in regards to Scar's status as hero or villain, within the narrative. I like to divide things into three categories, based on different groups of people related to this whole situation.

The first category consists of only one person: Solf J. Kimblee. He is the man directly responsible for the death of his family. If all Scar wanted to do was find and kill the Crimson Alchemist, this post would be over. I think most people would be fine with his motive and actions. There might be some debate over if he should actually kill him, but considering this is Kimblee we're talking about, I think it would be fine if he did kill him.

The second category is where things start to get interesting. This is where I put anyone else directly involved in the genocide of the Ishvalans. Remember my wording of this category as it will be important later on. The most obvious people in this group are the members of the military who killed soo many Ishvalans. However, this also includes Envy who started the conflict in the first place.

Now, as I see it, this is a section that requires nuance to talk about. Envy and many of the soldiers and alchemists involved were bad and ought to have been punished for their willful and gleeful participation in the slaughter of a people group. However, many of the people who were part of the army recognized the problems with their actions and those above them. They wanted to change the system that was ultimately responsible for the genocide. 

With the end of the series, Roy Mustang prepares to rule the country by learning about the Ishvalan people. If Scar were to kill all of the people in this group, he would lose out on finding people willing to help sustain the restoration of his people beyond their current state as refugees and wanderers. 

One of the big issues with Scar's plan and goals is that it doesn't do much for his people after he's done. Once the state alchemists are done, then what? His rage is satisfied, but the system that he took issue with doesn't change. If anything, his actions could have been used to justify even more oppression for the Ishvalans. 

Now up to this point, the argument can be made that Scar's actions are justified, at least to some degree. Even though people like Roy and Alex Armstrong are sorry for what they did and would like to change things for the better, they still have blood on their hands. In the eyes of some that might be enough for their deaths to the justified by Scar. Their best attempts can never truly replace what was lost. After all, what can equal the value of a human soul? 

That being said, the third category is where my patience for those who argue that Scar was justified ends. This, of course, refers to everyone else who was caught in Scar's path of revenge. The actions carried out to people in this section are what make Scar, at least for the beginning portion of the series, an antagonist. There are two big examples of characters in this group.

The first is the Rockbells. Even as they were working with the military, they were kind enough to treat people, regardless of what side they were on. Ironically enough, it's because of this mentality they were killed. While I am slightly partial to the 2003 explanation for their death, I can't say it was a bad idea to have Scar kill the Rockbells. While it could be argued that Scar did this in a fit of rage, he's willing to let Winry take out her own form of vengeance on him.

Of course, this goes nowhere because of the next example, the Elrics. Remember how the last category was people who responsible for killing Ishvalans? That wasn't the ultimate target of Scar's revenge. His ultimate goal was the death of all state alchemists. That is an important distinction.

While that goal makes sense considering the war got as bad as it did once the state alchemists were involved in the fighting, Ed presents yet another challenge to the logic of Scar's actions. If his ultimate motivation was revenge, then going after the Elrics was useless. If it was the destruction of a group responsible for killing his people, Ed and Al were training with Izumi Curtis when the war happened.

Even becoming a state alchemist is more of a means to an end for the Elrics. They don't enjoy the system they're a part of. They're only using their status for its benefits to their search for the Philosopher's Stone. If there were other ways to get what they needed, I'm willing to bet becoming a state alchemist wouldn't be a part of their plan in the first place.

To be crystal clear, I am not arguing that Scar does nothing right or that he was totally unjustified. The actions committed against the Ishvalans were devastating and unjustifiable. Knowing as much as we do about what happened to make Scar do what he did makes it hard to say that his rage was wholly unjustified.

However, Scar's judgment was still clouded by his vengeance. He purposefully ignored his cultural and religious teachings to hurt people that, at best, acknowledged their wrongs and wanted to make amends for the actions and, at worst, had nothing to do with his reasons for revenge. Even as I would say that Scar's motivation makes sense, he was far from doing the right thing. And it's ultimately because of people that can empathize with him that real change can happen for his people, outside of his search for revenge.

This is one of the many things that makes Hiromu Arakawa's writing of Fullmetal Alchemist so incredibly masterful. Scar's rage at injustice is still wholly justified by the end of the series and his people can start rebuilding. However, he recognizes that there are better ways to achieve a better state for his people than killing people. 

One of the craziest things about this whole theme I realized reflecting on the situation is that his final fight with him isn't against Kimblee. His fight on the Promised Day is with Wrath, otherwise known as King Bradley. Interestingly, his final fight isn't with the man who's directly responsible for the death of his family. It's with the man who, for most people, would represent the ruling powers during the Ishval Civil War.

We do well to learn from this example. The world is a messed up place. The past events of this year alone have been enough proof of that on several levels. Yet, the real issues are, more often than not, with systems and structures that perpetuate injustices. We do well not to castigate all those in said systems and structures without recognizing the many ways that some work to subvert those systems from within. We also especially shouldn't involve people who aren't part of the real problems we're trying to solve. Doing either is more often than not counterproductive to the end goal of true justice.

These thoughts have been stewing in me for just over two years since starting and completing Brotherhood. Between then and now, I've seen a lot of people talk here about Scar's actions on both sides of the "Scar did nothing wrong" debate. And, under normal circumstances, I’m not sure that I would be inclined to add to this discourse, if I’m adding anything to over a decade of discourse by making this post.

However, the real inspiration for this post has come from the more recent events regarding the murder of George Floyd. The outrage is beyond justified and many have made peaceful protests against his death and the system that caused it across the country and even the world. However, many innocent people have been hurt and even killed during the various riots surrounding the Twin Cities.

If you're interested in specific ways to help, click here for a list of funding drives and charities related to the aftermath of what's been happening. This list includes the official GoFundMe's for George Floyd's family and daughter.

[sinsbymanka]

Fic prompt 74 because I have got to see what you do with it.

I decided this would be my inauguration into @dadrunkwriting so I hope y'all enjoy! (@thatdreadbitch asked for this one too!)

Prompt was: "it's only just a little bit illegal."

Pairing: Cadash/Varric, but mostly centered on platonic friendship Cadash/Cassandra.

Modern AU set in same universe as GwtAT.

Enjoy!

"I'm sorry." Hawke's sharp elbow slammed onto the table and she cupped her pointed chin in her hand, staring incredulously at the Seeker. "You've never committed a crime?" 

From the corner of her eye, Maria examined Cassandra's color rising with a surge of fond amusement. The woman accidentally tipped her abysmal hand in Maria's direction as she answered. "I have not." 

Cassandra discarded one card and retrieved another rather stiffly, but Hawke’s attention had been caught. Maria watched the woman narrow in on the chink in the Seeker’s armor with brutal efficiency. 

"Speeding? Illegally downloading music?" Hawke supplied, her meager attention span finally falling away from the game completely. "Andraste's chafed nipples, Seeker. Everyone has committed a crime." 

"I have never illegally downloaded music and I have always used appropriate signaling devices in an emergency requiring high vehicle speed." Cassandra sat, ramrod straight, and Hawke swung her bewildered gaze to Varric beside her. She moved so quickly, long human arms flailing in shock, she very nearly toppled both their beers. Varric caught them with barely enough time to spare, piercing the human with a chagrined expression Hawke ignored. 

Maria deftly used the distraction to slip the card under Cassandra's discarded one up her sleeve while drawing her own. Four knights it was, she thought smugly. 

"Varric!" Hawke mock whispered, blissfully unaware of Maria’s cheating and scheming. "You found me a unicorn." 

Dorian barely hid his smirk behind his own cards. Bull actually laughed out loud.

"Many people do not commit crimes." Cassandra answered in a mechanical, clipped tone, still blushing under Hawke's wide-eyed scrutiny. 

"Not in this room." Varric muttered under his breath. Since the two of them still weren't exchanging much beyond death glares, Cassandra ignored him. 

"Gotta point, yeah?" Sera mused, tapping her cards impatiently on the table. "How much time in the block you think we all could get between us?" 

The amount of lyrium Maria smuggled all over Thedas alone had to be worth at least twenty five years. To say nothing of her sundry other crimes. Hawke warmed to this new subject immediately, casting her bright blue eyes around the table. "Right! So, we've got three witches who've never seen the inside of a circle, that's a crime. Plus one unregistered spirit… familiar… whatever.” Hawke waved away Cole airily. “Varric here has bribed everyone and their mother in addition to..." 

"Try not to throw me under the bus, Hawke." Varric asked genially. Hawke sighed with an air of weary martyrdom and skipped the rest of Varric’s criminal resume to eye the skinny elf instead. 

"Vandalism, theft, and some assault charges for Sera. Me too, if I'm being honest. Madame de Fer over there has probably had at least three people assasinated…"

"If I did, they'd never prove it darling." Vivienne gingerly folded her cards and shook her head. "I fold." 

"Bull, I'm willing to bet you’ve broken some asshole’s bones. At the very least, you haven't paid for music in twenty years." Hawke guessed. 

“I refuse to answer any potentially incriminating statements.” Bull folded ages ago and seemed content to simply watch their group chatter. He, at least, knew better than to gamble with Maria. Nobody else seemed to have learned, yet.

“Every Grey Warden I know seems to have a penchant for criminal activity of some sort, so we’ll assume Blackwall’s guilty. He’s got the long, sad face for it anyway.” Hawke’s smile, brilliant as always, seemed just a bit more sharp when she pointed it in Blackwall’s direction. Although for the life of her, Maria couldn’t understand what the issue was. 

“I fail to see…” Blackwall grumbled. 

“And you…” Hawke gestured in Maria’s direction with a card and a rather softer smile. Maria raised an eyebrow silently, inviting the critique with no hidden amount of amusement. “Lyrium smuggling. Assault. Illegal weapons. Possession of drugs with intent to distribute… That’s just what’s on your rap sheet, but I bet…” 

“Is this really necessary?” Cassandra prickled defensively, shifting so that her body was angled just a bit towards Maria’s, giving her another sneak peak at the Seeker’s cards. 

“You have at least one library book you never returned.” Hawke finished with a mischievous grin, tossing the card in Maria’s direction. “And I think it was one of Varric’s.” 

It was too outrageous not to laugh at, so Maria allowed Hawke’s irresistible charm and charisma to wash her away as everyone else erupted into laughter as well. Tears of mirth sprung to her eyes and she wiped them quickly, watching Varric’s hands vanish underneath the table in the ensuing chaos. 

She banged her knuckles on the gleaming surface, grinning at Varric’s disgruntled look in her direction. “Varric Tethras put that card back in your pocket or so help me.” 

Varric sighed, exasperated. Hawke frowned and rolled her shoulders apologetically in his direction. “Sorry Varric, I tried.” 

She knew they were trying to gang up on her. With a mumbled curse, Varric threw a card on the discard pile and scowled at the one he picked up. Maria turned her attention to Cassandra.

“Fold.” She ordered, plucking Cass’s cards from her hand. “Before you end up losing your shirt.” 

“But I…” Cassandra protested. 

“No you weren’t.” Maria stated firmly. “Trust me. Chances of you drawing that card are slim to none.” 

Maria would know, after all. She had it in her other sleeve.

“The only way to get better at cards is to commit more crimes.” Hawke pointed out. “Solid fact. You’ve clearly never lived, Seeker.” 

Cassandra’s color rose even higher and Maria wondered if, perhaps, the teasing had gone on long enough. After all, Maria suspected that there was a healthy dose of romanticization in Cassandra’s view of the Champion of Kirkwall. That would, of course, be Varric’s fault. And she didn’t think Hawke truly meant to be a little cruel, but nobody was immune to the tension between their favorite author and Cassandra. Hawke couldn’t be expected to not pick a side. 

“Alright then.” Maria laid her own cards, face down, and stood from her chair. “I’ve got an idea.” 

A brilliant, reckless, and unbearably pleasant one that would derail this entire conversation and make Hawke lay off Cassandra. 

“What kind of idea?” Cassandra asked suspiciously. 

“Crime.” Maria supplied helpfully. “C’mon, up you go.” 

“I cannot…” 

“Does this mean you’re forfeiting, Princess?” Varric asked smoothly with a smug grin. 

Maria could have let him win. A tiny part of her, in fact, kinda wanted to. The rest of her, unfortunately, was far too competitive to listen. Besides, Varric could have tried to reign Hawke in too. He didn’t, and therefore, she showed no mercy. 

She leaned over the table, completely aware of the way her shirt dipped and exposed her cleavage. She pulled the next card from the deck, secretly gloating that she’d indeed counted them right when she shuffled and it was the Angel of Death she revealed. Varric groaned when he saw it and rubbed his chin with his hand gruffly. Maria maintained her steady eye contact and flipped her own cards over in triumph. 

Four knights, which certainly beat the two songs and a serpent she thought Varric had. 

“Damnit Cadash.” Varric swore. “Where are you hiding all these cards?” 

Hawke broke into guffaws and nearly toppled off her chair. Maria spun elegantly and just about hauled Cassandra out of her chair. “Let’s go.” 

“Can I come?” Sera asked pertly, scrambling her own long limbs out of her chair. “Love crime! It’s so good, yeah?” 

“Inquisitor…” Cass pleaded. 

“Course you can.” Maria declared. “Everyone can. Any property damage can go on Varric’s tab, it’ll be a small dent in the money he owes me.” 

She dragged Cassandra down the hotel hallway, cheerfully disregarding the boisterous noise that echoed from their party. The good thing about mass civil disruption and zombies crawling from a lake somewhere had to be the good prices they got on mostly empty hotels. In fact, Maria was fairly certain nobody else but them and the lone staff person, hopefully sleeping somewhere at this time of night, inhabited this hotel halfway to Crestwood. 

She pressed the elevator button and waited, arm linked in Cassandra’s to keep her from fleeing. The Seeker’s expression in the steel doors looked rather grim. “I am only going along with this to keep you out of trouble.” 

“Sure you are.” Maria agreed breezily. 

“The history books will paint me as a zealot led astray by a dwarven madwoman.” Cassandra continued to mumble.

“Could be worse.” Maria pointed out with a sly smile aimed up at Cassandra’s stony features. “You could be the Dwarven madwoman in the tale.” 

Despite herself, Cassandra’s lips twitched in a ghost of a smile. “The Inquisitor was hilarious. That will be what they remember, mark my words.” 

“Ancestors, I hope so.” The doors opened and Maria tugged Cassandra in, the rest of their group piling after until she began to worry they’d far exceeded the maximum weight capacity. She ended up pressed rather tightly between Blackwall and the Seeker in the corner. 

“What floor is this mayhem taking place on?” Hawke asked brightly. 

“First floor, please.” Maria shouted back. The door shut and the elevator lurched threateningly. 

“I do hope nobody has discovered a sudden fear of tiny, enclosed spaces.” Dorian decreed waspishly. “Fasta vass, Bull, can you please remove your armpit from my face?” 

“Only if Sera gets her bony ass out of the way.” 

Solas sighed, wearily, from the opposite corner, although she certainly couldn’t see him. Maria craned forward, brushing Blackwall’s side as she craned to watch the numbers dip. 

They spilled out of the too small box immediately and Maria shoved past everyone with Cassandra still held tight in her grip. She marched forward toward the scent of chlorine, the strong chemical odor pervading this floor. 

She didn’t stop until she got to the glass doors, fogged on the inside, with the neat little plaque spelling out the hotel pool’s hours of operation, which ended promptly at ten pm. Maria reached for the door handle with her other hand and tugged, found it locked just as she thought it would be.

“Well, Cass.” Maria bent double to examine the lock closely. A simple, cheap little mechanism she could have undone in two seconds flat. “Are you ready to do a b and e?” 

“A b and e?” Cass echoed. 

“Breaking and entering.” Maria reached for the lockpicks in her coat, wrapped in the pretty little leather case with the Inquisition’s symbol on it. She could have laughed when she saw them. Only Josephine would think to order such classy accessories for their not-quite-reputable Inquisitor. 

She loved them to death, the same way she loved the chattering laughter around her, the way she loved Cass’s semi-skeptical glare. It felt… it felt like being alive again. For the first time in ages. “You were serious.” Cass stated. “About the criminal portion of the evening.” 

“It’s only just a little bit illegal.” Maria soothed. Really, more of a trespassing than a breaking and entering. She slipped her picks into the locks and rotated them deftly. She grinned up as she felt the tumblers release, swinging the door open and waving Cassandra through it. “Congratulations. You’ve now committed a crime. Or at the very least, you’re an accessory to one.” 

“Has the void frozen over?” Hawke asked from somewhere behind them. “Has anyone checked?” 

“Pft. Can’t check the void, but Solas can tell you how wibbly the veil is.” 

Resigned, Cassandra stepped into the hot, humid air. With a cheer, the rest of the group surged forward. Sera whirled around, taking in the sheer, glimmering liquid glowing in the dim lights above. “Now we get naked, right?” 

Maria wasn’t going to let that challenge go unheeded. She dropped her hands to the bottom of her t-shirt and tugged it up, over her head with one sensuous motion. Sera whooped with joy and began tearing off layers, shoes and her leather jacket flying in all directions. Maria tossed her own shirt onto an abandoned pool chair and looked over her shoulder at the gawking members of her team. 

Her team. Dorian was trying not to laugh, Vivienne simply sighed and meandered to a pool chair of her own, and Solas was hiding his amusement behind his palm. Hawke rushed forward as quickly as Sera did, whipping her own shirt off and tossing it with the same joyful exuberance. Bull nonchalantly began undoing his pants at the same time Maria dropped her fingers to her jeans and met the eyes of the two men staring at her with unreserved heat. 

“Can’t go swimming like that.” She huffed, turning her back on them. She could still feel the smooth, fiery gazes tracing her form. Blackwall and Varric acted like they’d never seen a half naked dwarf before. That could, she supposed, be true for Blackwall but it certainly wasn’t for Varric. 

“Pale. Pretty. Light that dances through the air. Sun rising in the east. Trace her ribs with my knuckles, shoulder with lips, make her…” 

“Maker’s balls.” Blackwall swore. “Cole!” 

Varric simply chuckled, low and breathless as Maria slipped out of her jeans. 

“This is more inappropriate than criminal.” Cassandra crossed her arms over her chest, but her disapproving glare was leveled at the men behind her instead of Maria herself. 

“C’mon Cass. All work and no play makes us all one hundred percent more likely to give up and let the world go to shit.” Maria cajoled. “Tell them to turn around if you don’t want them staring.” 

“You heard her.” Cass snapped waspishly, although that certainly wasn’t what Maria meant at all. They could stare if they wanted, Maria had nothing to hide. Still, Cassandra nodded and ripped her own tank top over her slender, muscled form. Just in time for it to avoid getting wet as both Hawke and Sera raced past, jumping into the pool together and sending splashes of water everywhere. Cassandra sighed as she slunk out of her own trousers and tossed them with Maria’s. 

“Madwoman.” Cassandra repeated gruffly. 

“Zealot.” Maria challenged. Cass laughed, a small huff as they approached the edge of the pool. “On three?” 

“One.” Cassandra started with the same fatalistic determination she brought to slaying demons. 

“Two.” Maria counted, reaching to grasp Cass’s hand in her marked one and looking up with a smile she hoped was encouraging. 

Cassandra’s returning smile was almost fond. “Three.” They said together, leaping from the edge, the water embracing them. Maria surfaced almost immediately, feet scrabbling on the slick bottom. She could just barely keep most of her head out if she stood on her tiptoes. Cass surfaced nearby, sleek as a seal. 

“It’s very warm.” Maria called out, pulling herself to the edge on her folded arms, impishly grinning at the remaining party staring at them. “Come on in.” 

“Well.” Varric smirked, unbuttoning the rest of his shirt while Maria tried not to observe with rapt fascination. “Don’t mind if we do.” 

Cassandra kicked away with a disgusted noise and Maria couldn’t quite hide her grin. Andraste, the two of them would drive her nuts if they kept this up. They were both so damn stubborn, so convinced Maria needed protection from the nefarious designs of the other one. As if they both didn’t have gooey soft hearts underneath it all. 

As if she wasn’t beginning to trust them both more than she trusted almost anyone else. 

Maria played at examining her fingernails with an air of casual disinterest as Varric slipped his own pants off and swaggered to the edge of the pool. He didn’t jump in, like the rest, but leisurely lowered himself down, giving her plenty of time to ogle his rippling muscles, the sturdy broadness of him, the dense hair covering his chest, his arms, his legs. 

Off limits, she reminded herself. He was a friend because that’s what they both needed, what they both wanted. A simple, uncomplicated friendship. Anything else would be a crime, a sin. 

But there wasn’t anything wrong with looking.

Nor, she thought bitterly, was there anything wrong with a bit of crime. 

[daddysfangirls-marvel]

Misjudged

Request

Warning: language, angst, fluff

Summary: Could you do Steve Bucky & reader where the reader is mutant like mystique but not blue. They both fall in love with her but are ashamed to admit & give her a hard time instead. Like mutant shaming, not listening to her when she has something to say, etc. Even team isn't that welcoming but they're better. Until one day she literally takes a bullet for them. All angst but maybe a fluffy ending.

(Y/n)’s life didn’t start out good she was born a mutant with the ability to shapeshift and be anyone. Her parents didn’t like that and as soon as the realized that she was tossed on the streets. At a very young age, she learned to survive on the streets which lead to a criminal lifestyle and meeting some unsavory people one being her older husband who she married at the age of 17 when he was 32. Two months into their marriage she learned he was involved with Hydra at first she didn’t care business was business the bills were made and she thought she was in love. But after a while, the love fade and she started to see Hydra for what it truly was. After three years She eventually left her so-called husband and Hydra returning to the criminal lifestyle but Hydra had already started a file for her which the Avenger then got a hold of.

And that is why she is where she is today as an Avenger. Fury took a look at her file and determined she would be a good addition to the team. The team didn’t like it but what Fury says go. To say the team didn’t like her was an understatement everyone was hostile towards her. It was understandable considering her history.

A liar, a thief, a killer, willing participant of Hydra. Everything she had done, she was not ashamed of the things she had done and would do them again in a heartbeat if it meant she would be where she was today that was the main reason everyone was uneasy with her. Because she’d do all the made things again without hesitation, she never hesitated.

She thought maybe Natasha would understand but no not even she could understand. Bucky and Steve understood but still kept their distance on a count of her Hydra past and husband. It was all a bit messy really. She was all alone even more so than when she was on the street.

And today was no different from any other day.

-

(Y/n) woke up to the sound of banging on her door “training lets go” Natasha screamed through the door. She would be training with her today and she was dreading it. Everyone took turns with training with (y/n) in their own ways alway leaving her feeling stupid, bruised, and broken afterward every day. Today was Natasha’s day and she was sure she would bleed. 

And looking at the floor where droplets of blood fell from her mouth wiping her mouth she stood up straight getting into a fighting stance. 

“Did you eat breakfast?” Steve asked off to the side watching the match.

“yes” no, no she hadn’t everyone else was in the kitchen she heard them laughing and talking and didn’t want to disturb them. Everyone had a habit of stopping conversations when she walked into the room and she didn't want that to happen so she simply skipped breakfast. And they knew that but they didn’t care.

While she was trying to steady herself again Natasha delivered a roundhouse kick to the face successfully knocking out a tooth. She heard a round of oohs and laughs as she fell to the mat her vision fading out as she saw a smiling Natasha stepping over her.

(Y/n) woke up an hour later to find herself alone on the floor covered in dry blood with a killer headache. The lights were off the room was cold. 

“Friday?” the lights came on” Thank you” 

Friday was the only ‘person’ in the tower that spoke to her kindly and didn’t ignore her. But then again Friday wasn’t really a person and she could never really provided (Y/n) with comfort.

“Ms. (l/n) it appears you have a concussion. Would you like me to call someone?”

“NO...no, I’m fine. I’ve got it... I’m good.” She sighed sitting up slowly trying to ground herself.  She didn’t want anyone else to see her right now she didn’t want to give them something to talk about.

“Oh my, what do we have here” (Y/n) laughed as she heard Bruce come in “A damsel in distress. What shall we do with her?”

“Help her to her room and leave her to die” he helped her to her feet.

Bruce was the only person that treated her civil and not ignore her. Although in the room with others he wasn’t as nice and ignored her. Bruce wasn’t a man of conflicted and tried his best to stay out of it he didn’t like to upset people. So to stay in everyone's good grace he treated (Y/n) like a person when they were alone and ignored her in the presence of others. But she didn’t mind she’d take any kind of human contact whenever she could it was better than being ignored and abused on a daily base.

Honestly, the Avengers were just a bunch of bullies.

“You should have eaten before you came down. You know Natasha is rough” Bruce said as he let her to the elevator.

“What have I done to her, why does she hate me?” she said as she leaned on the wall sliding down and curling up in the corner.

“I don’t have that answer sorry” he pats her head gently in a show of comfort.

“It’s okay I didn’t suspect you would. Do you know what I can do to make it feel better?” Before Bruce could give an answer the elevator door opened and in walked Bucky and Steve. (Y/n) pushed herself further into the corner as they came in. The elevator fell into a tense silence.

Well as all the Avenger treated her poorly Steve and Bucky didn’t even acknowledge her exists unless it was an absolute last resort necessary. This made it difficult during missions says they’d never listen to her and often put her on the back burner during missions. And due to this, she did little work for or with the team which leads to more dislike from others.

In the beginning, she tried to get to know the two thought she could get through to them. Even flirted with them a bit because she liked them both. But after months of being ignored and getting nowhere with anyone she gave up on making friendships and tried to just survive and be useful when she could. 

When the elevator stopped at the lab Bruce shot her a weak smile before stepping off and leaving her with the two super soldiers. She stayed curled up on the floor in the corner until the elevator stopped on her floor she slowly stood up and quickly brushed passed them on to the girl’s floor.

She let out a sigh of relief once the doors closed. Slowly making way to her room where she collapsed on her couch exhausted.

“Ms. (l/n), I must warn you still have a concussion”

“Hey Friday, put on some mindless tv, please”

“of course” That’s why she ended up watching reruns of the Big Bang.

-

Two hours later her mindless tv watching was interrupted. “Ms. (l/n), Captain Roger’s is calling for a meeting” (Y/N) sighed and slowly made her way to the conference room where she knew the meeting probably already started without her. Oh boy, was she wrong.

When she walked in all eyes were on her because well they were waiting for her.

“Nice of you to join us,” Tony said obviously irritated. But then again he was always irritated with her presences. She gave a nervous smile and took a seat next to Bruce.

“Alright, we got a mission. Hydra base in Ukraine Shield has never been able to penetrate it or get much intel until now. The base is moving due to this in recent weeks security has started to drop and more files are out. We need someone to go in and pick up some important files for us. (Y/n) that’s your job” she was shocked but also a but giddy Steve was addressing her and giving her a job.

“Everyone else going in as back up. This base is known to have mutants as well as some experimental weapons. I don’t want to engage in action here but if we must we will”

“Translation (L/n) don’t fuck up,” Tony said as he got up rough patting her back. Yeah, no pressure.

-

The jet was landed a good ways away from the base. They found the road into the base Steve and (Y/n) hoped into a passing truck inside was one person. Steve quickly knocked them out and she shifted into their form he kicked them out of the truck letting  Thor drag him off the road. Just as Steve was about to jump out the back he looked back at her.

“Be...don’t fuck up” and with that, he jumped out. 

(Y/n) walked through the Hydra base with her disgusting Hydra uniform she greeted a few people in the usual Hyra fashion she learned years prior. Going further into the base she was starting to look out of place she quickly finds a female scientist in a lab not hesitating she knocks the woman unconscious setting her up like she was sleep and she took her form.

Walking through the base she stops and walks backward around the corner putting her back against the wall. Around the corner talking to a few soldiers was her ex-husband Luke, there wasn’t actually any divorce papers but she was high hell done with him a long time ago. (Y/n) cursed inside her head this was bad he was the only person to ever be able to figure out who she was when she was someone else apparently she had habits that she cared but didn’t notice. Taking a deep breath she straightening her stance she counted to three in her head before she rounded the corner and swiftly walked pass him. She cheered in her head as she walked passed him without getting caught.

“what’s taking so long?” Tony complained to her on the coms

“sorry Stark but can't just run through the building that would be suspicious. I’m almost there a few more seconds please.”

“Speed the fuck up” Tony shouted.

(Y/n) huffed as she finally entered the room happy that it was empty. Plugging in her flash Drive she quickly downloads all she can while that was happening she looked around the room pulling out files and taking a few pictures that she hoped would be useful. She then hacked into the system and took down the shields as well as the big guns around the building.

“Yo (y/n) the fuck did you do? These guys are running around like there’s a fire on their ass now.”

“I..um-”

“(Y/n) what did you do?” Bucky sounded mad and she didn’t like that.

“I took down the shields and all the big guns around the building. I didn’t think they’d notice they weren’t using them now. I’m sorry”

“way to go Two-face,”  Tony said 

“(Y/n) get out of there now”

“yes Captain”

Quickly finishing downloading what she could she pulled the flash drive and putting everything back the way it was. She opened the door. 

“well, aren’t you handsome. Miss me, darling.”  She didn’t even answer him immediately kicking in the crotch when he caught her leg she punched him in the face and pushed him bag stepping on his chest she took off running. 

“(L/n), where are you?” Steve asked she could hear gunfire in the background

“Running”

“I thought running was suspicious” Tony teased she chooses to ignore him.

Running through the base and blending into the soldiers who were running outside to face the Avengers. On the way out she shot a few soldiers before ducking behind a few trees. “ I got the stuff and I’m out,” she said shooting more soldiers changing back to her own form she finds Bucky. 

She waved at him then noticed that the person coming up behind him within the tree. She quickly took off running towards him. Pushing him out of the way she takes three bullets to the chest. 

“FUCK” Bucky screamed  

(Y/n) heard a loud bang. There was a loud ringing in her ear and burning pain in her lungs she felt like she was choking placing a hand on her chest she felt the blood seeping through her wound. She looked to the side to find her husband Luk on the ground with a signal bullet wound between his eyes. Her vision was going blurry. She suddenly felt weightless like she was floating. Was she dying?

Suddenly she was breathing again she felt heavy again she could hear voices around her.

“(Y/n), (y/n), sweetheart can you hear me?” something bright came across her eyesight.

“Bruce?” he smiled down at her as she hooked her up to some morphine and giving it a few squeezes to make sure some got into her system.

“Speed it up, Tony. Don’t worry we’re going to fix you up. Dr.Cho is on site waiting for you. She’s going to help” Steve was sitting next to her putting pressure on her wounds. Bucky was on her other side head in his hands.

“why do you hate me?” (Y/n) asked the jet fell into silences as tears started to fall down her cheeks “what did I do wrong?”

“sweetheart-”

“I’m sorry “ She cried then her eyes fluttered closed.

“She doesn’t have a pulse. Guys, she doesn’t have a pulse.GUYS” Bucky started to feel for a pulse everywhere he could but couldn’t find it. Sam pushed him out of the way and started to perform CPR.

“TONY FASTER” Steve screamed. As everyone rushed to find something to save (Y/n).

-

They had arrived in the nick of time reviving her just before they landed she was swept away by doctors she was in surgery now. The team sat around in the living room waiting for news. Out of everyone, Bruce was the most distress Wanda was next to him giving him comfort and keeping him calm.

“Why does she think everyone hates her ?” Peter asked. He was very out of the loop with the everyday situation of (Y/n). All he knew was she was apart of the team kept to her self and Mr.Stark warned him to keep his distance from her but he didn’t know why.

“I don’t know kid”

“BULLSHIT” Bruce shouted standing up “everyone in this room treated her like shit for no god damn reason.”

“She’s got a pretty spotty history, Bruce. I think that’s good enough reason” Natasha said

“You’re going off a file. A file that was made by Hydra. Has anyone in the room taken the time to actually sit down and talk to her... She’s a really good person-”

“She’s a thief, killer, she worked with Hydra”

“she did what she had to do to survive and so did you. Might want to check yourself before you go start judging others, Agent Romanoff.” He basically growled her name before he stormed off. No one followed him knowing he needed time to cool off. They just sat in silence just reflecting their time with (Y/n). Actually, Peter just sat there awkwardly as he didn’t really understand fully what was going on, he was an innocent little bean.

Days later (Y/n) surgery had gone well but she had fallen into a coma and hadn’t woken up yet. Her missing presence was affecting the entire team as the tower had fallen into a gloomy silence.

“What’s her story?” Tony asked one day as everyone was eating a silent breakfast “you seem to know the most about her so what’s her real story?” His question was directed to Bruce who had just sat down with his oatmeal. He sighed 

“do you really want to know?” everyone nod giving their own round of yes. “okay...um...She was born a mutant but her powers didn’t come in until she was seven years old her parent, very religious people, didn’t like that they thought she was the devil a monster. Her dad wanted to kill her but her mother convinced him otherwise they threw her out on the streets. She was a begger at first begging on the streets with the homeless but that wasn’t enough especially when other homeless people stole the money she was given. She turned to pickpocket, stealing, robbing, lying, and odd jobs for bad people. She got involved with the underworld bad people she had no choice. Whereas she could hide her friends could not she had to do bad things to keep them safe. In the end, they died anyways she couldn’t save them in the end. 

She was going to commit suicide but ended up meeting a man name Luke Sladderman she was 13 at the time. He then spent 4 years whispering in her ears, raping her, selling her, taking advantage of her, grooming her... When she turned 17 they got married. She eventually found out he was part of Hydra but didn’t say anything because he said he was doing good, he was taking care of her, and the bills were paid she couldn’t complain. That is until he tried to get her involved after that she finally saw who Hydra and Luke truly were.

It took three years but she finally escaped and went back to hiding on the streets. Then Fury found her and brought her here to join our team and family. She thought we would understand and be kind to her but we weren’t we were cruel and sick and we were bullies. We are heroes and kids look up to his but we were bullies. Someone was looking for a home and people to take care of her. That’s not what happened. We’re treating her like shit and she’s taking bullets for us... That’s some bull shit” 

With that, Bruce lost his appetite getting up and throwing his food away. He was halfway out the door when he was stopped.

“Her husband? what happened to her husband?” Steve asked suddenly standing up he was clearly angry and he needed something to direct that on who better than her deadbeat husband. Bruce slowly turned around and looked at him.

“He shot her Bucky shot him. He’s dead.” and then he was gone.

-

“You think she’s going to wake up anytime soon,” Bucky asked as he sat in a plastic chair across from Steve putting his feet in his lap both seated at the side of (y/n)’s bedside. They were waiting for her to wake up both of them had something to confess but didn’t know the other's confession. 

“I don’t know” Steve answered honestly and sadly

“what are you going to tell her?”

“what are you going to tell her?” Steve looked at him confused  I know you’re here to tell her something, just like me. What are you going to tell her?”

“sorry for everything and anything I’ve ever done to her and...I love her” Bucky tensed up as he heard Steve’s words. Said man was in a daze staring at (Y/n) as she slept. He slowly pulled his legs out fo Steve’s lap.

“I do too,” he said closing his eyes

“what?” Steve asked tearing his eyes away from (Y/n) to Bucky who seemed to be in a bit of stress.

“I love her too” he opened his eyes and looked up at Steve who just smiled. Reaching forward he found Bucky’s hand and gave it a squeeze and gentle smile.

“That’s okay.”

“But it does make this complicated” They flinched startled by the new voice they look up to find (Y/n) wide awake and looking at them with a small smile. She slowly sits up” But before we even discuss that  I’d like to know why? Why did you treat me so poorly”

“I didn’t know about the situation with your husband. You were married but I still loved you and I felt guilty of that. And I believed you were a willing participant of Hydra. At the end of the day, I felt ashamed.” Steve confessed first getting teary-eyed as he spoke (Y/n) reached forward and took his hand giving it a gentle kiss.

Bucky watches the two as they looked into the eyes of each other and smiled like they were already in love. He felt like he should leave like he didn’t belong like these two were already together and he was not necessary but he knew he couldn’t because she already her his confession. Plus she deserves an explanation for all his bullshit and attitude during the time she has been here.

“Um...I didn’t know what I was feeling in the beginning so I ignored you hoping it would go away that it was some faze. Then I finally understood what my feelings were and I was scared. I’d hope if I ignore you it would all go away. I wasn’t ready for all that...I’m sorry”

“It’s okay I understand” (Y/n) reached forward slowly and gently putting her palm on his cheek. He leaned into her touch 

“what happens now?” he asked looking at them both.

“I don’t know. But we’ll figure it out “

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@acupofhotlatte

[arcticdementor]

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been asked why it is that the Woke won’t seem to have a debate or discussion about their views, and I’ve been meaning to write something about it for ages, probably a year at this point. Surely you’ll have noticed that they don’t tend to engage in debates or conversation?

It is not, as many think, a fear of being exposed as fraudulent or illegitimate—or otherwise of losing the debate or looking bad in the challenging conversation—that prevents those who have internalized a significant amount of the Critical Social Justice Theory mindset that prevents these sorts of things from happening. There’s a mountain of Theoretical reasons that they would avoid all such activities, and even if those are mere rationalizations of a more straightforward fear of being exposed as fraudulent or losing, they are shockingly well-developed and consistent rationalizations that deserve proper consideration and full explanation.

…

There are a number of points within Critical Social Justice Theory that would see having a debate or conversation with people of opposing views as unacceptable, and they all combine to create a mindset where that wouldn’t be something that adherents to the Theory are likely or even willing to do in general. This reticence, if not unwillingness, to converse with anyone who disagrees actually has a few pretty deep reasons behind it, and they’re interrelated but not quite the same. They combine, however, to produce the first thing everyone needs to understand about this ideology: it is a complete worldview with its own ethics, epistemology, and morality, and theirs is not the same worldview the rest of us use. Theirs is, very much in particular, not liberal. In fact, theirs advances itself rather parasitically or virally by depending upon us to play the liberal game while taking advantage of its openings. That’s not the same thing as being willing to play the liberal game themselves, however, including to have thoughtful dialogue with people who oppose them and their view of the world. Conversation and debate are part of our game, and they are not part of their game.

…

The first thing to understand about the way adherents to Critical Social Justice view the world is just how deeply they have accepted the belief that we operate within a wholly systemically oppressive system. That system extends to literally everything, not just material structures, institutions, law, policies, and so on, but also into cultures, mindsets, ways of thinking, and how we determine what is and isn’t true about the world. In their view, the broadly liberal approach to knowledge and society is, in fact, rotted through with “white, Western, male (and so on) biases,” and this is such a profound departure from how the rest of us—broadly, liberals—think about the world that it is almost impossible to understand just how deeply and profoundly they mean this.

In a 2014 paper by the black feminist epistemology heavyweight Kristie Dotson, she explains that our entire epistemic landscape is itself profoundly unequal. Indeed, she argues that it is intrinsically and “irreducibly” so, meaning that it is not possible from within the prevailing system of knowledge and understanding to understand or know that the system itself is unfairly biased toward certain ways of knowing (white, Western, Eurocentric, male, etc.) and thus exclusionary of other ways of knowing (be those what they may). That is, Dotson explains that when we look across identity groups, not only do we find a profound lack of “shared epistemic resources” by which people can come to understand things in the same way as one another, but also that the lack extends to the ability to know that that dismal state of affairs is the case at all. This, she refers to as “irreducible” epistemic oppression, which she assigns to the third and most severe order of forms of epistemic oppression, and says that it requires a “third-order change” to the “organizational schemata” of society (i.e., a complete epistemic revolution that removes the old epistemologies and replaces them with new ones) in order to find repair.

…

Bailey’s point is clear: the usual tools by which we identify provisional truths and settle scholarly disagreements are part of the hegemonically dominant system that, by definition, cannot be sufficiently radical to create real revolutionary change (a “third-order” change, as Dotson has it). That is, they can’t reorder society in the radical way they deem necessary. The belief, as both scholars explain in different ways, is that to play by the existing rules (like conversation and debate as a means to better understand society and advance truth) is to automatically be co-opted by those rules and to support their legitimacy, beside one deeper problem that’s even more significant.

The deeper, more significant aspect of this problem is that by participating in something like conversation or debate about scholarly, ethical, or other disagreements, not only do the radical Critical Social Justice scholars have to tacitly endorse the existing system, they also have to be willing to agree to participate in a system in which they truly believe they cannot win. This isn’t the same as saying they know they’d lose the debate because they know their methods are weak. It’s saying that they believe their tools are extremely good but not welcome in the currently dominant system, which is a different belief based on different assumptions. Again, their game is not our game, and they don’t want to play our game at all; they want to disrupt and dismantle it.

…

Debate and conversation, especially when they rely upon reason, rationality, science, evidence, epistemic adequacy, and other Enlightenment-based tools of persuasion are the very thing they think produced injustice in the world in the first place. Those are not their methods and they reject them. Their methods are, instead, storytelling and counter-storytelling, appealing to emotions and subjectively interpreted lived experience, and problematizing arguments morally, on their moral terms. Because they know the dominant liberal order values those things sense far less than rigor, evidence, and reasoned argument, they believe the whole conversation and debate game is intrinsically rigged against them in a way that not only leads to their certain loss but also that props up the existing system and then further delegitimizes the approaches they advance in their place. Critical Social Justice Theorists genuinely believe getting away from the “master’s tools” is necessary to break the hegemony of the dominant modes of thought. Debate is a no-win for them.

Therefore, you’ll find them resistant to engaging in debate because they fully believe that engaging in debate or other kinds of conversation forces them to do their work in a system that has been rigged so that they cannot possibly win, no matter how well they do. They literally believe, in some sense, that the system itself hates people like them and has always been rigged to keep them and their views out. Even the concepts of civil debate (instead of screaming, reeeee!) and methodological rigor (instead of appealing to subjective claims and emotions) are considered this way, as approaches that only have superiority within the dominant paradigm, which was in turn illegitimately installed through political processes designed to advance the interests of powerful white, Western men (especially rich ones) through the exclusion of all others. And, yes, they really think this way.

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Secondly, the organizing principle of their worldview is that two things structure society: discourses and systems of power maintained by discourses. Regarding the systems of power, their underlying belief is genuinely that of the Critical Theorists: society is divided into oppressors versus oppressed, and the oppressors condition the beliefs and culture of society such that neither they nor the oppressed are aware of the realities of their oppression. That is, everyone who isn’t “Woke” to the realities of systemic oppression lives in a form of false consciousness. Members of dominant groups have internalized their dominance by accepting it as normal, natural, earned, and justified and therefore are unaware of the oppression they create. Members of “minoritized” groups have often internalized their oppression by accepting it as normal, natural, and just the way things are and are therefore unaware of the extent of the oppression they suffer or its true sources. In both cases, though in different ways and to different ends, the falsely conscious need to be awakened to a critical consciousness, i.e., become Critical Theorists.

Adherents to this worldview will not want to have conversations or debate with people who do not possess a critical consciousness because there’s basically no point to doing such a thing. Unless they can wake their debate or conversation partner up to Wokeness on the spot, they’d see it as though they’re talking to zombies who can’t even think for themselves. Unwoke people are stuck thinking in the ways dominant and elite powers in society have socialized them into thinking (you could consider this a kind of conditioning or brainwashing by the very machinations of society and how it thinks). We will return to this aspect of the problem further down in the essay.

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Again, it is difficult to express from within the liberal paradigm (to their point, I guess) just how fully and profoundly they believe this. Their view constructs, in fact, a metaphysics of discourses that, in some sense, becomes the operative mythology underlying all of society and its operation. Because of the already critical orientation of the postmodernists and then the further amplification of taking on Critical Theory much more fully later, Critical Social Justice views this metaphysics of discourses in a very particular way with regard to the moral valence of how discourses are constructed.

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That’s a bit complicated, I admit, and so a simplification of this idea is that adherents to Critical Social Justice see discourses—ways we think it is legitimate to talk about things—as the true fabric of reality and thus the core site of ethical consideration. This is their mythology, in a nutshell. As such, they will not be willing to participate in any process that reinforces, maintains, upholds, reproduces, or legitimizes the unjustly dominant discourses, as they see them. Supporting those is, in fact, just about the highest sin one can commit in the Woke faith. The discourses must instead be engineered into a state of perfection—God’s Kingdom through Perfect Language—and it would not be permissible to engage in any behavior or process that allows oppression to be spoken from or into our discourses. Conversation and debate with people who speak from and in support of the dominant discourses would certainly therefore be considered highly problematic, and anyone who participates in it intentionally or even neglectfully would similarly be problematic.

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Thirdly, adding to this is a theme we draw out significantly in the eighth chapter of Cynical Theories: they believe all disagreement with them to be illegitimate. If we followed from Dotson in the paper named above and another slightly earlier one (2011) about “epistemic violence,” it could be pinned on what she calls “pernicious ignorance.” Robin DiAngelo would call it “white fragility” to disagree. Alison Bailey refers to it as an attempt to preserve one’s privilege under the kind of term George Carlin lived to make fun of: “privilege-preserving epistemic pushback” (four words, twelve syllables, one hyphen). Further, Bailey said all attempts to criticize Critical Social Justice thought, because they come from that “critical thinking” and not the “critical theory” tradition (within which they’d obviously agree), generate “shadow texts” that follow along but don’t truly engage (in the correctly “critical” way; i.e., agreement with her). Barbara Applebaum said similar in her 2010 book, Being White, Being Good, wherein she explains that the only legitimate way to disagree with Critical Social Justice education in the classroom is to ask questions for clarification until one agrees (which, you might notice, isn’t disagreeing at all).

In general, as mentioned a bit earlier in the essay, if you disagree, you either have false consciousness or the willful intention to oppress, and so your disagreement isn’t genuine. Only disagreement that comes from a Critical Theory perspective would be genuine, but this isn’t actually disagreement with the Woke worldview, only with superficial aspects of how it is playing out. The Woke view genuinely is that unless you agree with the Woke worldview, you haven’t disagreed with the Woke worldview in an authentic way, and therefore your disagreement cannot be legitimate. Read it again: unless you actually agree, you didn’t disagree correctly (cue Jim Carrey as the karate teacher defending against the knife attacker).

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Fourthly, the Critical Social Justice view sees people who occupy positions of systemic power and privilege and yet who refuse to acknowledge and work to dismantle them, to the full satisfaction of the Critical Social Justice Theorists, to be utterly morally reprehensible. They are racists. They are misogynists. They hate trans people and want to deny their very existence. They are bigots. They are fascists. They are “literal” Nazis. Not only that, they are willfully so, and their main objective is to defend and spread their hateful ideology in the world. If you truly believe this about the people you’ve been asked to have a conversation with, would you be about to help them do that by giving them a platform and lending your own imprimatur to them? Of course not. Such views are not even to be tolerated, much less entertained, engaged with, platformed, or amplified.

Furthermore, because of the theories of complicity in systemic evils that live at the heart of Theory, such a stain is automatically contagious, in addition to whatever real damage it does to further its advancement into the world. As they tweet, so they are: “ten people at a table with one Nazi is eleven Nazis at a table.” And not only are they supposed to endorse the platforming of that by sharing a stage with people they see this way, but they’re supposed to do it in ways that the dominant system, which is all of those things as well and their guarantor, approves of and advances its own interests through. These horrible ways include civil conversation and debate, which aren’t happening.

To give you some idea of just how extreme they are in their fear of being associated with people “on the wrong side of history,” there is a (somewhat fringe) concept within the Critical Social Justice worldview called “non-consensual co-platforming” (two words, nine syllables, one hyphen). What this concept describes is the following situation. Imagine that a Critical Social Justice Theorist were to publish an essay in the New York Times Opinion column this month, and a couple of months from now, I were invited to do so and did. Now we’re both people who have essays published in the New York Times Opinion column. The logic of “non-consensual co-platforming” would be that the editors of that column did a bad by putting me, a known undesirable, in the Opinion pages where there is also a Woke purist, obviously without having first got her consent to have been “co-platformed” with me in the same publication. (This example is rare, but more common is the same claim made about being platformed to speak at the same conference.) Now, the Woke purist is in the unpleasant situation of having been published in a place that is willing to sully its own reputation later by the publication of some deviant rascal. This is how seriously they take the stain of guilt by association.

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As a fifth and final point, since this is getting pretty long already, remember that Critical Social Justice activists tell us more or less constantly how exhausting it is to fight this constant uphill battle in which no one takes them seriously (read: fight shadows of their own nightmarish projection). They tell us constantly about the high emotional labor costs of doing the “work” they do (and never being taken seriously for it). To invite them to a public conversation or debate is to ask them to get exploited in this way for other people’s benefit by getting up on stage in a dominance-approved paradigm with a bad-faith moral monster who just wants his opportunity to reinforce the very dominance that exhausts them in front of an audience who not only doesn’t but can’t actually get it, unless they already do. Again, that’s not happening. Even if very handsomely (read: ridiculously and exorbitantly) paid for their “emotional labor” to subject themselves to this situation, the other four points make it a nonstarter (and would drive up the price to basically literally infinity).

In Sum

One of the biggest mistakes we keep making as liberals who do value debate, dialogue, conversation, reason, evidence, epistemic adequacy, fairness, civility, charity of argument, and all these other “master’s tools” is that we can expect that advocates of Critical Social Justice also value them. They don’t. Or, we make the mistake that we can possibly pin Critical Social Justice advocates into having to defend their views in debate or conversation. We can’t.

These principles and values are rejected to their very roots within the Critical Social Justice worldview, and so the request for an advocate to have a debate or conversation with someone who disagrees will, to the degree they have adopted the Critical Social Justice Theoretical ideology/faith, be a complete nonstarter. It’s literally a request to do the exact opposite of everything their ideology instructs with regard to how the world and “systemic oppression” within it operates—to participate in their own oppression and maintain oppression of the people they claim to speak for.

These facts about the Critical Social Justice ideology extend from the microcosm of engaging in debate and conversation to each of those specific “master’s tools” a—science, reason, epistemic adequacy, civility, etc.—every bit as much as they do to the whole system that these tools combine to form: liberalism in the Modern era. This is a system that advocates of Critical Social Justice repeatedly tell us must be dismantled in the sparking of a “critical” revolution that replaces the whole of it, including its basic epistemology and ethics, with Critical Theory.

The hard truth is this: if you don’t yet understand this, you don’t know the fight we’re in or have the slightest idea what to do about it.