#because he's also a stone cold badass

[flannelepicurean]

OH MY JIMBLES MCGLIMBLES U GUIYGZZZ.

STOP.

STOP WHAT YOU'RE DOING.

I just had another idea in the whole Samurai Bravo headcanon set of ideas that I'm having on account of A Dream I Had, and honeybees, it is a doozy.

Okay. So. We all know Johnny took Jack on the not-a-date to the sushi place that was well-intentioned but kind of a bust. And we KNOW that Johnny took Jack on that "let's go to the beach and get corndogs" thing to course correct. And we KNOW that Jack did the whole, "I'm do something nice for you, too, I'm gonna cook you some actual Japanese food," thing and started to fall a little bit in love, even though he didn't actually know that's what it was, yet. Flashback to this whole set, okay? But friends.

FRIENDS.

When Jack starts to have an inkling about his own feelings...

He remembers Johnny's whole "king of the jungle" motif thing and somehow PORTALS HIM TO A FUCKING JUNGLE WORLD SO THEY CAN SWING ON SOME VINES LIKE FUCKING TARZAN.

He lets Johnny piggyback on him for a while till Johnny gets the hang of it (Jack is not blushing, not at all, not even a little bit). And then they are OFF. Wildin' out. Johnny's sheer fucking ✨GLEE✨ is both precious and infectious, they are having a blast.

Jack starts feeling a little goofy for this dude. JACK SAVES HIM FROM SOME ROBOTS! Johnny gets to see JACK be super lightning fast and badass, and his big ol' king gorilla heart does the Monkey, and the voice inside his sunglasses goes, "Saaayyy... I think I wanna swing with this fella a little more often."

And THAT'S when he starts subconsciously doing all that biz that makes that little red-haired girl eventually point out that he's actually turned into Real Boyfriend Material, but he's pointed it all in the direction of that nice guy from out of town who goes all sweet like mochi when Johnny's not looking DIRECTLY at him, and boy howdy, they sure do hang out a lot.

[comicaurora]

what’s your opinion of the relatively rare trope/scene where the protagonist is ordered to be captured alive so they pull out a gun or a knife or something and hold themselves hostage?

also minor shout out to the otherwise terrible borderlands Telltale game that had a pretty funny bit where the protag does this and his two guards respond by also putting their guns to their *own* heads and instigating a tense reverse Mexican standoff where you have to intentionally fail a QTE in order to chicken out and let the guards just shoot themselves.

It's an interesting one! I think the reason it's so rare is it requires the protagonist to be the type of person who'd unhesitatingly threaten to do that (and be believed by the bad guys) AND wouldn't instead use that badassery to just fight their way out. A character with even slightly normal levels of self-preservation would probably rather take their chance to be able to escape later. It's a slightly delicate balance to strike, which means you either get it in stories that are a little bit internally wacky and can get away with the protagonist doing something deeply silly, like your borderlands example, or in cases that are played dead serious when the protagonist is a stone-cold badass AND the threat of capture is so uniquely horrible to them that they wouldn't hesitate, which is a rare character beat.

I've been recently rewatching Stargate Atlantis, and they actually did a minor variant on that trope in the episode "Sateda" - the protagonists had been captured by some vengeful bad guys who wanted to turn one of them over to the Wraith as punishment for him accidentally leading the Wraith to their settlement years before while they were hunting him, on the assumption that if they turn him over the Wraith will appreciate the gesture and spare them all, and he responds by immediately holding himself at knifepoint and demanding they let his friends go first. It's a notably more-unhinged-than-usual move for the character in question, and an indicator of how bad he thinks the situation is.

An easier-to-execute variant is probably the one where the protagonist's ally immediately takes them hostage when they hear they need to be captured alive, because that can run the spectrum anywhere from "this ally is morally dubious and may legitimately be ok with making good on that threat" to "the ally is the protagonist's best friend and they're just having a great time hamming it up together to scare off the bad guys"

[vintagetvstars]

Diana Rigg Vs. Nichelle Nichols

Propaganda

Diana Rigg - (The Avengers, Diana) - Honestly? Just check her out as Emma Peel in any episode of The Avengers. The character herself was a legend - an exceptional spy, wonderful fighter, certified genius, a true feminist role model - not to mention a renowned sex symbol (that leather catsuit... heavens help me...) and fashion icon. As for Diana personally, she was once described by Michael Parkinson as "the most desirable woman he ever met, who radiated a lustrous beauty". She could pivot from funny quips and endearing jokes to stone-cold badassery like it was nothing, and she looked stunning either way. Whenever I look at a pic of her, I have this feeling she's planning some fun mischief and I get the strongest urge to ask her to take me along. Need anything more? Here, have some pics: (pics below the cut)

Nichelle Nichols - (Star Trek) - She speaks for herself. Legendary, iconic, at the forefront of feminism and civil rights in the 60s, she is a triple threat who did so much more. She volunteered from 1977 to promote recruitment diversity within NASA, including some of the first female and ethnic minority astronauts. Martin Luther King Jr. compared her work on Star Trek as a 'vital role model' to the civil rights marches. She refused to be dismissed, fought for visibility and shone whilst doing so. As a woman in stem, and simply a woman she means the world and stars above to me.

Master Poll List of the Hot Vintage TV Ladies Bracket

Additional propaganda below the cut

Diana Rigg:

When people think of The Avengers, they think Steed and Peel (or they think the marvel property but that’s neither here nor there). I know people who thought Mrs. Peel was the ONLY woman Steed worked with, Diana Rigg was Just That Good (she was only on two seasons!). She was one of those actors that could so perfectly play comedy in any form, her dry, sardonic wit was marvelous, but so was her physical and slapstick comedy, and she could do drama too! If you’ve seen her in interviews you’d also know how fabulously humble and kind she was. I don’t know if I’ve ever been more attracted to a TV woman than I’ve been to Diana Rigg. Some photos of her:

the SMILE!!!!

I like a woman that could kill me in one shot

tell me she's not endearing I DARE you

Gorgeous, sexy, competent, superior, so much leather. Diana Rigg as Emma Peel in the Avengers was foundational to my sexuality and personality. She's classy, she's cute, she's cocky, in one episode she whips a bunch of guys while wearing a corset and a spiked collar...

excuse me I'm overcome with sinful thoughts

 hello 911 I think I'm having a heart attack

Here's an interview I fell for her in:

Diana Rigg | Interview | The Avengers | Good Afternoon | 1974 | Part one

Her first appearance in The Avengers (In series 4, if you can believe it):

The Avengers: Emma Peel First Appearance HD

Nichelle Nichols:

She is the original badass babe. She was a black woman in a leading role on TV in the 60s, a trailblazer for black actresses for years to come. She is so beautiful and so awesome.

she's fantastic. have you seen her? paved the way for black actresses on TV even while her lines and scenes were being cut and improvised the most iconic uhura line in the series. (sulu: "I'll save you, fair maiden!" uhura, pushing him away: "sorry, neither!") she's incredibly talented and it's a crime the show didn't give her more screen time (or make her sing more often because she also has a beautiful voice!)

“Sorry, neither” in response to “fair maiden” was ad libbed by her. There’s a lot more I could say but what else do you need??

A sci-fi icon!

She was such a trailblazer, and Uhura was such an important character for so many people to be able to see on TV. Apparently Mae Jemison (the first African American woman to go into space) cited her as a reason she wanted to become an astronaut. She was just an absolute legend!

The story of Martin Luther King telling her not to quit Star Trek gives me chills. Representation matters. “Thank you so much, Dr. King. I’m really going to miss my co-stars.” Dr. King's smile, Nichols recalled, vanished from his face. "He said, 'What are you talking about?'" the actress explained. "I told him. He said, 'You cannot,' and so help me, this man practically repeated verbatim what Gene said. He said, 'Don’t you see what this man is doing, who has written this? This is the future. He has established us as we should be seen. 300 years from now, we are here. We are marching. And this is the first step. When we see you, we see ourselves, and we see ourselves as intelligent and beautiful and proud.' He goes on and I’m looking at him and my knees are buckling. I said, 'I…, I…' And he said, 'You turn on your television and the news comes on and you see us marching and peaceful, you see the peaceful civil disobedience, and you see the dogs and see the fire hoses, and we all know they cannot destroy us because we are there in the 23rd Century.'"

She shared the first interracial kiss on Star Trek, helped propel real life African American women into space-related careers, and looks divine in a mini skirt.

HOW DID UHURA WALK BACKWARDS SO FAR??? WOW!

[accio-sriracha]

No because what even are the Marauders? Like the dynamics are just so absolutely wild with these four characters.

Okay so we have Remus: Literally a werewolf, stone cold sarcasm, could kill a man with one look, sharp mind and sharper tounge, like 6'4 and could 100% tower over you, in general just does not give a shit.

But we also have Remus: Soft Boi, tall and lanky, incredibly socially awkward, just wants naps and chocolate all the time, blushes furiously, way too stressed out about absolutely everything, can't go twenty minutes without complaining that he's cold.

We have Sirius: Punk Rock Badass tm, drives an illegal flying motorcycle, has the coolest animagus form to date, scary dog best friend privileges, the most Noble and Ancient House of Black reject, could kill you without hesitation if you look at his friends wrong, could tower over you even though he's shorter??, his voice is somehow even more threatening when it's quiet.

But then we have Sirius: Perpetual gay panic, will willingly fling himself off a bridge if any of the marauders told him to, terrified of Lily Evans (who's the shortest of all of them), sings along to Dancing Queen every time it plays, needs affection or he'll die, will break down crying because he cant get his eyeliner right, absolute hot mess.

We have James: Over protective, strong enough to manhandle someone easily, also incredibly tall, doesn't care what anyone thinks of him, popular jock, secret charms genius and could come up with a spell to haunt you forever, known for being a Prank God, is best friends with the House of Black reject and a literal werewolf, the untouchable quidditch captain, could probably down eight firewhiskeys and still shoot a quaffle perfectly through a hoop, his angry glare could melt fucking steel.

Then we have James: chased after the same person for seven years, crooked glasses and always messy hair, big doe eyes, literally and figuratively deer in headlights, won't stop whining about everything, takes an hour long shower because he needs to find the right playlist, refuses to eat sandwiches with the crusts on, wears mismatched socks, such a mama's boy, wears croptops for fun, likes being choked.

Well... and then there's just Peter: Not a mean bone in this kid's body, he will bring the snacks to the study group and there is nothing you can do about it, likes cheese, always down for a road trip, desperately needs validation, pins photos of all his best friends to his wall, likes cheese, can make you cry just by pouting at you, literally just a big tedy bear, needs at least three hugs a day, LIKES CHEESE.

[vanvelding]

I'm going to say one of the nicest things I can about a show about Star Trek: Lower Decks

They played us like a string quartet.

(Spoilers for 4x09: "The Inner Fight")

Lower Decks was sold a Star Trek/Rick & Morty mashup from the start. The first scene is a drunken Mariner literally harming her sidekick, Boimler. It practically screamed, "Mariner & Boimler a hundred tours! Double-u, double-u, double-u dot Mariner and boimler dot com!"

But of course, it also had Star Trek references. One of the earliest is "Who would win in a fight? Khan or Roga Danar?" Why would anyone else in The Federation know or care who Roga Danar is? And there's no imagination on display for the oldest referential paradigm, "Who would win in a fight?" Lazy. Bullshit.

Of course before the end of season one, Lower Decks showed us it was more than that. Boimler was gaining the kind of experience he needed. The story hinted very strongly that Mariner had been in Starfleet a LONG time. She wasn't a omnicompotent mary sue; she was a Commander with her own philosophy/trauma that compelled her to remain an Ensign.

It was a good show and it stood on its own. The references were used well to create interesting stories ("Twovix"), as part of the setting ("Hear All, Trust Nothing"), or just as a gag here and there ("Kayshon, His Eyes Open" and, like a dozen others). The references to the setting become the background radiation, remarkable in how deep a cut they really are (Vendorians?). I've described it to many people as "Star Trek, but everyone has watched Star Trek."

What it wasn't, was related to its namesake. "Lower Decks" was a surprisingly heavy episode about the younger members of the Enterprise crew and their perspective on the missions of galactic import that the viewer usually enjoys an omnisicent view of.

Lower Decks mentions our main cast don't have that omniscient view, but Mariner is a stone-cold badass, Rutherford was part of a secret effort to develop artificial intelligence, Tendi is the Mistress of the Winter Constellations, and Boimler--actually Biomler is no more exceptional than any other Starfleet officer.

So when we get our main cast and the senior officers into a room and they mention Nick Locarno, our thought is, "LOL, another reference. This one from TNG. Not particularly deep. LOL, Boimler is a Beverly Crusher fanboy. I guess it makes sense, they have the character model from the episode with Tom Paris. Clearly, Robert Duncan McNeil is happy to do some voice work. We'll probably make a reference to how much he looks like Tom Paris.

"lol"

Look, if you figured it out then pat yourself on the back. Me? I filed away another reference. I didn't realize that Nick Locarno was connected to the episode of TNG that was this entire series' namesake. The characters even say, "Who?" which is one of the first times they don't get a Star Trek reference. Because Nick Locarno isn't a part of the Star Trek universe they view with an enthusiastic fandomness; it's part of their dramatic history, whether they know it or not.

"ha-ha, I guess Nick Locarno is too deep a cut for the show that called back to Morgan fucking Bateson."

But whatever, A-plot/B-plot. Gags about Starfleet habitually rolling up to seedy establishments in uniforms while looking for information, which is subverted by Captain Freeman being fucking genre savvy (also, wasn't she going to be promoted before getting arrested at the end of season two? I guess getting framed for a crime was deemed to be not very 'admiral-able'). Mariner ends up in a cave with a Klingon taking shelter from a crystal rain.

The pieces are there. Mariner was an ensign during The Dominion War. Two to three years before The Dominion War, Wesley Crusher left Starfleet, our Nick Locarno expy Tom Paris was recruited to Voyager, and Sito Jaxa was an ensign.

And Nick Locarno is in play.

We could have figured it out! We're in the narrative and emotional third act of this series (Tendi gave us the "We'll always be friends" speech last week)! Everyone regular just sat in a room trying to figure out how to help Mariner; we were one fruit salad analogy away from an intervention with Dr. Migleemoo!

Mariner escapes from Cardassian interrogation chambers for fun!

But Locarno is just another TNG reference, like Beverly Crusher. Background radiation. The season's story arc is something original to Lower Decks, which it's proven it's unafraid to do at this point. The series has no relation to "Lower Decks"

And then they fucking hit us with it; Beckett Mariner knew Sito Jaxa. They were friends. Then Jaxa died.

That's Mariner's trauma (that and The Dominion War).

And I didn't see it because I came to see Lower Decks as a series that stood on its own merits as a show while calling back to earlier Treks in a light, non-committal way. And I credit that solely to the writing of the show which leveraged both of those qualities to make an entertaining show that I like before, but now respect.

Just amazing stuff.

[madwomansapologist]

Shan Yu obsessed with you would include

Masterlist | Rules | Taglist | Personal blog | More Shan Yu | AO3

synopsis: For Shan Yu, it was love at first sight. For you, he was the man that kidnapped you. Oh, young love.

warnings: female!reader. badass!reader. kidnapping. nudity. in this house we hate the misogynist version of Shan Yu in Mulan (2020).

• Villages on the border are not usually targeted by the Hun army, as they are mostly built and maintained by the effort of the population itself. They are part of China, but it would take weeks for the Emperor to be updated on the situation of these villages. There's no need to attack them, and it's not useful either. After all, everyone needs to rest. It is an agreement between the army and the city leaders: peace is maintained if they are well received and well fed.

• It was suppossed to be a quick stay. After a long battle, the army needed to eat and rest. And so needed the horses. Soon after, they would continue their journey. After enjoying the feast offered by an inn, Shan Yu decided to ride alone along one of the mountain trails. This battle showed that the Chinese army is well organized, despite being smaller. As tempting as counting victory is, deluding yourself can be a fatal mistake. Shan Yu needed to think, and he needed silence.

• Hours after leaving the inn, a noise caught his attention. A sneeze. And the sound of running water. Shan Yu searched for the source of the sound, comanded by his own curiosity. It was almost like his body was warning him: This is important. He jumped off the horse and followed his ears, finding a lagoon hidden by ash trees. It's water was dark because of the stone banks, filled with a few carps and low vegetation. Then you emerged.

• Shan Yu almost fall into the lagoon. He never thought he had weak legs, but they were shaking. He couldn't feel knees, but he did feel his heart. It was aching. Like something sharp hold onto it. It was such a hurting feeling, but he never want to not feel it. Because he knows exactly what this mean. Shan Yu just fell in love.

• He saw you whole. Reflecting the moon, water falling down your body, he saw every inch of your skin. Your curves, your beauty, your smile. Your scars, your freckles, your marks. Shan Yu saw your body, but also saw your soul. The way you moved into the water, having fun, even tho you were shivering. It was so, so cold. But you didn't mind. You wanted to swin, so you did it.

• You were brave. Certain about your desires. Resistent. And your laugh... That sound was deserving of a thousand praises. People should give their lifes for the chance of hearing you. Of seeing you. Of being near you. And it would be a pleasure. A small price for such a great gift.

• Then you sneezed. And again. And again.

• Shan Tu quickly notice your clothes stretched on a rock. It appeared to be made from a nice tissue, but he couldn't let you wear something like that. So he came out from among the trees.

• You got scared. Who wouldn't? Even if you didn't knew who he was, you probably heard about him, a man appearing out of nowhere is really frightful. You dived up to your chin, on a attempt of covering your body, and walked away from him. Even scared you were the most beautiful thing he ever saw.

• Shan Yu was glad the inn offered him a bath before the feast. His mustachioed was trimmed, his hair combed, his skin cleaned. You couldn't look away, did you notice his yellow eyes? Did you like it? Shan Yu hopes you does.

• Slowly, without breaking eye contact, he took his wolf fur coat and left it among your clothes.

"Do not approach!" You yelled at him, thinking he was undressing to join you. "I'm warning you: I can fight."

Shan Yu chuckled. If he wasn't sure before, now he knows that you were made to be his. You were deciding between running or fighting, but he turned away. "What the hell," you said to yourself.

Walking back to his horse, Shan Yu did his speciality: he planned.

• The stay was extended. Shan Yu ordered his best warriors to watch you. To discover who you were, where you live, what you do. To make sure you would always be safe. Within days, he already knew your routine, your family, your name. And as time went by, Shan Yu decided to act.

It was a quiet night. Snow started to fall, no more travelers for some good months. After spending the day helping your mother keep the house clean and teaching one of your younger friends how to cook a congee, all you wanted was to sleep. And so you did.

But you woke up with breaking glass noise. You jumped out of bed immediately. And when you noticed the silence, you thought you just had a realist nightmare. You lay backdown, snuggling under the sheets, and closed your eyes to sleep again... and someone pulled you by the feet.

You couldn't see who was hurting you, all candles were out, but you felt it's tight grip around your ankles. You felt on the floor, your neck started to burn, the person pulling while you screamed. You bet he didn't think you would react, 'cuz on the moment you had a chance you kicked the man so hard he fell back. Then you kicked his head, putting him to sleep.

You runned to your parents room to get them out of here, but it wasn't a solo job. Three big man guarded the corridor. Moonlit, you noticed that nothing was damaged. That wasn't just a robbery.

"Touch me," you smiled at then, sure they would see it. After tucking a lock behind your ear, you positioned yourself to fight. "And I will beat the shit out of you."

All you remember after was the sound of bones breaking, blood gushing from noses, screams of pain. They tried to get you, but you always knew how to protect yourself. "I've warned you."

You managed to open your parents' bedroom door, and found them gagged on the bed. As brave as you were, you knew you couldn't release them and defend you three. "I'll be back," you promised. Hearing the sound of people entering your house, you opened the bedroom window. "And with help."

And then you jumped.

Barefoot in the snow, you had only one goal: to reach the bell on the wall between the houses. It is only used in emergencies, its ring is almost an announcement of calamities. No one would ignore it.

You just didn't count that more than five men guarded the perimeter of your house. Now it was clear that the Hun army was attacking you, although you didn't understand why. There was only one thing left to do: run.

You managed to contain them, after all that was the land of your house. You knew where every hole, stone, obstacle was.

Climbing the ladder that connects the walls, there was so little left for you to reach the wire and show everyone what was happening. But your foot was pulled, and you landed hard on the floor.

Breathing was difficult. It burned. It was like someone muzzled your chest and asked you to take a deep breath. It hurt so much that you couldn't protect yourself as they lifted you off the ground, pushing you towards something.

When you started to get used to the pain, you tried to run. But someone grabbed your shoulder and kept you still. After a few seconds, you heard steps. The gate of your house was opened, and your blurry vision couldn't focus on the man marchingon your direction. Less than a minute felt like a decade.

"Who hurted her?" A deep, eery voice asked.

As he come closer, you reconized him. The man that handed you his coat on the most creepy way possible. Now, looking closer and without water on your eyelashes, you understood who he really was. And that scared the shit out of you.

A eagle landed on his broad arm. He was armed, but even if he wasn't it would still give you the creeps. He looked like a predator. A big cat ready to attack. He lived up to his fame. That makes you a prey? Shan Yu was looking at you, and you didn't know if he was the last thing you will ever see.

Whoever was holding you decided to let you go. Shan Yu got closer, but you didn't step back. You wanted to, but didn't. If he want something from you, than he better undestand that you will never submit.

"I'm not hurt." It was a lie, but it wasn't just thay. It was you challenging him. "What do you want from me?"

Shan Yu smiled. He wasn't that close to you, but he made you feel so small. It's impossible to look at Shan Yu without feeling weak. "Are you always that brave?"

"That's me being reasonable" you answered. "In order to be brave I would need to be scared. What do you want from me?"

"Your heart." He took a step back. "Care to join me?'

You did, but you also didn't have an option.

Shan Yu led you to his legion. Surrounded by silence, you saw when the four man stepped out of your house. You didn't know what to do or what to expect, but there was something more important then your future. "Did you kill my parents?"

"No." Shan Yu was succinct. "I ordered them to bring you to me, not to hurt you. They will be punished. I promise you."

"I'm not hurt", it was all you were able to say.

Shan Yu sighed. "You can fight, but you can't lie."

After walking for a few minutes, you saw the Hun army. And they were ready to travel again. Thousands of them ready to invade China.

Your parents are safe. If you run, you can go back to your village and warn them about what happened. You could've try, but you didn't.

What they would do? Fight a whole army because one family was attacked? You wouldn't start a war that you know you can't win. You can fight, but not like the Huns. They just didn't expect you to fight back, but they are bigger and stronger than you could ever be.

"You need to rest", Shan Yu woke you up from your thoughts. You noticed that those other men following you weren't there anymore. Your bravery faded away little by little. "Come here."

You could see now where he is walking you. Compared to the others, it was the biggest carriage. The prettiest. It was long, driven by ten horses, made for sleeping. Shan Yu was leading you to his carriage, and that made you want to vomit.

Shan Yu opened the door, and gestured for you to come in. You stepped back. "I won't be your whore."

He frozed. If you have paid attention, you would've noticed the pain in his eyes. But you didn't. "You won't. I would never do this."

"Don't lie to me!"

"I've told you the truth." Shan Yu licked his lips. He never felt so scared. He would... he would never do that. "I will only touch you if you want me to."

"You kidnapped me!" You shout at him. "You hurted me. You hurted my family. Why would I ever believe on what you said?"

Shan Yu moved foward to you. He bent over, looking at you from your height. "I will give you China as a dowry."

You stumbled back. "What did you said?"

"You will be my Empress." Shan Yu smiled at your response. "My heart is yours. I will wait, don't matter how long it takes, for your reciprocal. So please, rest."

You didn't knew how to react. His face, so close to yours, made you swallow hard. It makes no sense. Why would he do that? You ain't a noble or rich or anything like that. That must be a lie. But why would he bother lying?

You walked past him, completely unsure of what to do. You ignored his eyes, scared to see that he speaks the true. Now your surprise was greater than your fear. This can only be a very weird dream. You pinched yourself, but nothing happened.

Inside the carriage, you realized that everything was actually... beautiful. You'd think an army would have no room for beauty, but Shan Yu's gigantic room proved otherwise. Intricately finished wooden tables with maps and plans, sheets of warm, hard-to-sew fabrics, gold religious items. Everything was beautiful. And probably more expensive than your house and everything in it.

Shan Yu closed the door. It wasn't a quiet night anymore.

• You woke up to footsteps in the carriage. You don't remember falling asleep, but at some point you did. It was cold, you were tired, and it was such a comfortable bed. When you got up, you saw people arranging chests in the center of the room. A lady placed a tray on the table, the food on it looked delicious. They were all just smiles for you, a warm feeling almost didn't take over your body.

• Those trunks had your new clothes. Appropriate clothing for cold weather and long trips. It wasn't a dream. No, it really wasn't. Shan Yu is... in love with you? What a weird kind of love. He really chose to kidnap you rather to talk with you? If feels like a story from a fantasy book, not something actually happening on your life.

• But Shan Yu is honorable. Somehow. You saw him fighting: Shan Yu seens to be joking with others life. Sometimes he allows his enemies to have some kind of advantage, just so he can win in a more humiliating way. But he never touched you. Or disrespcted you. Or let anyone treat you badly. And he also care for his army, for his people. So, yeah, honorable. Somehow.

• Shan Yu slept in the same carriage, after all it was his carriage, but not in the same bed. It was strange, but he said he wouldn't leave you alone at such a vulnerable time. You laugh about it, saying that he wouldn't be able to protect you or anything like that if he was sleeping. That very same night, when you both slept together for the first time, you woke up because of the horses. Within a second, Shan Yu was awake, asking if something had happened. Light sleeper: you will be safe.

• You participated in discussions about strategy. And always sitting next to him. One of his trusted men explained the vocabulary you didn't know. Shan Yu insisted for you to be there. Whether it's battle strategy, discussions about money, meetings with the different troops, mapping the path: Shan Yu wanted you there, paying attention and learning.

Riding down the montain on the sorrel he let you choose, Shan Yu was particularly relaxed. "Who taught you how to fight?"

You were also feeling just fine. The weather was mild, the sun warmed you, and riding had finally become second nature. The night before they held a feast in celebration of the end, and victory, of a battle.

"I was an angressive child, and my grandpa always taught me everything he knew." You smiled, but it was a little bit sad. You miss him a lot. "But I don't really know how to fight. I just hit where it hurts, and then I run as fast as I can."

Shan Yu guffaw. "That strategy is... not enterily wrong." His words were positive, but Shan Yu didn't notice he shook his head. You did. "I can teach you."

"Do you have time for that?" Soon your honest question turned into a joke. "Because I can beat you ass anytime."

As time went on, you kind of forgot that you were angry with him. Shan Yu was surprisingly a good listener. And even his coldness could be funny. And he was honest. Never hurted you or forced you to do anything. You don't love him, but you understood your life beside him would be interesting.

You've learned about war, economics, you can tell what each officer in the army does, and you've learned a thing or two about Huns history. Much more interesting than cooking, cleaning and going out to do something that, deep down, was just a way to make yourself more attractive to a good husband. This was no longer a concern. You could be stubborn, annoying, angry, petty: but you don't have to behave to attract a man's gaze. You could just exist, and it was enough for him. It is... liberating. You miss your family and friends, you miss them so much it hurts, but it's not all bad.

"I will take that as a yes."

• The storm changed everything. It was impossible to set a camp down. Shan Yu was leading his army, as he always will, but not even a man strong as him can defeat nature. In a few days with the cold water giving him no time to rest or eat, everyone around Shan Yu could see that he was sick. But he didn't admit it. Saying that he was just fine, he continued to lead the troops.

• His determined nature didn't allow him to rest, but his body couldn't take anymore: he fell of the horse. Shan Yu was treated with the finest medicines, but he didn't woke up. Didn't even move a finger. You stood beside him the whole day, and when the moonlit touched your skin... You were shaking.

• How could he done that to you? Everytime you went out he made you go back to the carriage so you wouldn't get sick. How could he not care about himself the same way? How could he get so hurt without allowing anyone to help him? Shan Yu is a liar. He told you he would never hurt you, but look what he did to you! You can't breath, you can't think, you can't even look at him without feeling that your chest is about to explode. How dare him lie to you?

• Crying, you lay down next to him. You tucked your head onto the chest that moved slowly with shallow breathing, and hugged his broad waist. Your fingers drew disjointed shapes on the boiling skin, your lips murmured prayers to all the gods and ancestors who could hear you. You just wanted a sign that everything was going to be okay. And muttering prayers as you caressed his skin, you fell asleep.

• You woke up to a caress at the small of your back. Your mind took a while to understand what was happening, but as soon as you opened your eyes and saw him, everything ceased to matter. Shan Yu was awake. And he smiling.

"When did you woke up?" You tried to sit down, but his arm around your waist didn't let you. "You need to eat. I gonna call the maesters. How are you feeling? Why didn't you woke me up?!"

"Calm down", his weak voice almost broke your heart, but his tone showed you that Shan Yu was back. "Stay this way. Just a little longer."

"Do you know how scared I was?" You feel like you were about to cry, so you didn't look into his eyes. "Let me go. Let me help you."

"You've never touched me." Shan Yu caressed your cheek, tucking a strand behind your ear. It was so intimate, it made your stomach ache. But it wasn't a bad thing. "You're warm. And soft. And you smell like tears."

"I thought you..." You couldn't say the words. "You didn't react to anything. I thought you were about to die."

"I would have come back to you." His fingers slid to your chin. A delicate touch, too delicate for someone so rough, made you look into his eyes. "I would crawl out of my grave. Not even death can put us apart."

"I missed you." You admited. "I missed you so much. How terrible it is to love something death can touch."

"You love me?" Shan Yu didn't gave you time to answer. "Love me." It wasn't a demand. Shan Yu wasn't ordering. He was begging. "Please."

"I have your heart." You got closer to him. "And you have mine. Don't break it."

"I wouldn't dare."

Next part!

GENERAL TAGLIST: @suakemi @notanalienindisguiseblink

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

[heyclickadee]

Saw another “why would Tech even be interested in Phee” take out in the wild, so here’s a partial list of Phee’s many attractive qualities, because the double standard of every other character vs Phee is exhausting:

(Quick disclaimer—this isn’t me saying anyone has to like the ship. You don’t. It’s fine. Don’t ship things you don’t want to ship. Dislike the way it’s been written in the show if you want. Ship these two with other people or with no one if you want. I don’t care. This is just me being tired of people being weird about Phee):

1. She’s smart. She can improv her way through dealing with death traps and she’s got an area (areas) of expertise that Tech knows relatively little about. That makes her interesting. Also hot.

2. She’s gorgeous. Look at her. She’s ridiculously pretty.

3. She’s a great storyteller. Yeah, she changes her stories every time, but that’s at least part of why Tech is paying attention, because he notices that.

4. She’s a stone cold badass. And she’s a FUN stone cold badass. Disarmingly charming stone cold badass.

5. She’s a remarkably good person. She steals artifacts so that refugees can hang on to a bit of their culture in diaspora. This seems to be what pushes Tech from, “Oh, she’s interesting,” to, “OH. SHE’S BRILLIANT AND I MIGHT BE IN LOVE.”

6. She’s not nice, but she is kind, and that’s honestly a quality that she and Tech share. Phee isn’t soft, she’s not going to talk in therapy speak, she’ll push a little hard sometimes, but gosh darnit if she isn’t the person who would always stop to help someone with a flat tire (or respond to finding out some friends are broke, jobless, and on the run by immediately taking them back to her secret refuge so they can rest and recoup).

7. She’s incredibly direct and unafraid to speak her mind and…okay. This is going to get long. And I know some people will disagree with this, and that’s fine because everyone is different, and wants different things. But. Speaking personally from my point of view. The fact that Phee gives as good as she gets would be a really reassuring quality to have in a partner. I see a lot of myself reflected in Tech, but one of the many, many ways in which we’re very different is that I’m a consummate people pleaser, and Tech is very much not. At all. I don’t think he has a people-pleasing bone in his body.

But, here’s the thing—about half of my people pleasing comes from being terrified that I’ll say or do something that inadvertently hurts someone, and that person won’t just tell me or give me the chance to explain or make things right. And for how that relates to dating, I had people—friends and family—keep trying to set me up with incredibly shy men through most of my early twenties, no matter how many times I objected, because they had this perception that I was soft, wishy-washy, and needed to be treated with kid gloves. And…no. I’m opinionated as hell. I’m relatively confident about certain things. I just shut down my ability to project any of that because I was terrified of running roughshod over people without meaning to. But when I’m around someone who I know is willing to disagree with me, who I know will explain why, and who I know will push back if I take something too far? About 90% percent of my people pleasing and social anxiety evaporates. I know I don’t have to walk on eggshells around them—and that they aren’t going to walk on eggshells around me, either. They’re going to be direct about their issues and treat me like a freaking adult.

And, honestly, the fact that Phee doesn’t walk on eggshells around Tech (who also gives as good as he gets—Tech isn’t soft, nice, or shy and retiring; he’s confident as hell and he should be, because hot damn)—is. I don’t know. I like that she’s direct, and that she will recognize and pull back if she’s gone too far. This is projecting a bit, but, speaking personally, I would rather be with someone who treats me like an adult and tells me what’s up even if it’s uncomfortable than someone who never, ever tells me when they’re upset because they’re afraid of hurting my feelings and just lets me stew in social confusion all the time.

8. She can more than hold her own in a fight and she carries a sword around. That’s hot, I’m sorry.

9. Phee’s fantastic with Omega. She talks to her like she’s a person, she doesn’t ever shut Omega down, she’ll tell her stories, she’ll joke around with her, and she’s generally very respectful while also not holding her to the same standard she would if Omega were an adult. She’s even a little protective of Omega, even though Omega isn’t at all her responsibility. I think the moment that took Phee from ‘cool’ to ‘fantastic’ for me was towards the end of ‘Entombed’ while the Deadly Giraffe of Death was collapsing; Phee’s right there trying to shield Omega alongside Hunter. And. Like. Omega is Tech’s baby sister, he’s probably going to notice that how Phee treats her. Massive points in her favor for this.

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Shameless

requested: Azriel x reader. but reader is like this super cool and confident and amazing and badass and competent general in like another court. And every now and then Az just gets a glimpse of her while they’re fighting on the same side. and he like looks up to her. utter awe. and then they meet meet one day. and he’s flustered which is so ooc and he doesn’t know what’s happening. i just need to feel powerful tbh

a/n: Okay, I should probably apologize because this really took a turn but I just pushed the gas pedal and zoomed at 250 down the highway with it. I hope you'll still enjoy it. 🙃✨🤍✨🤍✨🤍✨🤍✨

warning: mention of sexual interactions

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Let's get one thing straight. Azriel is not a male who you could rile up easily. He doesn't get flustered. You can't get him out of line. It's always a wall of calmness there. Unreachable, stone-like face. He's an observer. Collecting information from the hubs of the rooms, shadows, and dimly lit corners. He doesn't use his voice if it's not needed. Doesn't waste a breath on a little silly conversation. So when you strolled into his life and his walls suddenly trembled, the sheen of coldness only seemed to thicken.

You were quite a character. With your strikingly sharp features and the way, you carried yourself. Your gaze seemed to pierce souls. The smile made males weak in their knees. Not to mention the sound of your laugh, which could chase death itself away. But then again, Azriel told himself constantly that he shouldn't like you. Any part of you. There shouldn't be a single feature of yours that appeals to him. After all, you were a Vanserra. The cousin of Eris Vanserra, the male Azriel, probably hated the most in this world. You two shared foxy-like features, both being extremely intelligent and calculated. Well, you were, at least. Eris didn't matter to Azriel. But it's the power you had in the court as the General of the Autumn Armies. The one and only. Unstoppable. People only graciously bowed their heads as you walked by. Some males tried to challenge you. Take your position and power away from you. Yet no one ever came close. Sentencing themselves to lifelong embarrassment and humiliation. Most meet their end or shuffle pig shit afterward.

Azriel had seen you on the battlefield as well. He had fought with you multiple times since differently from Eris or Beron, you had always been close with the Night court. And gods give him strength; you were like nothing Azriel had seen before. There was just something about the way you moved. The way you took your steps felt almost too perfect. The way you didn't even huff as you cut through the field. The way enemies on the battlefield field considered whether they should try to fight you. Hoping you wouldn't get in their way. Hoping not to see that bloodthirsty smirk.

After that first battle together, you approached the spymaster. He and his mysterious ways also caught your interest. "You were good out there, spymaster," you muttered, hands slipping through your matted hair as you gazed at the male. The playful, adrenaline-pumped kind of look on your face. Something inside Azriel's chest twisted. He had imagined you talking with him for a while, even if he would deny it. "As an Illyrian bastard to an Autumn scum, I don't care", Azriel wanted to bury himself alive after those words slipped out. Your eyes dimed instantly, lips thinning into a tight smile. That fire that ran through your veins grew instantly hotter. Azriel hoped you would have said something. Completely and utterly mixed him up with the dirt, but you just turned around as you hurried through the camp. And the shadow singer knew that he might have just made the biggest mistake of his life.

Even more so Azriel knew he shouldn't think about this as he walked through the halls of autumn residency with his brothers. Not when you were only a couple of doors away. But he had spent over a hundred years rethinking that moment. The chance that he had. He had sentenced himself for the backstage view at that point. For years of watching you with Cassian. He tried to ease the jealousy by simply telling himself that you both were generals. Most of your businesses ran similarly. Most meetings were shared. But there was more there. There was always more. And it was this that drove the spymaster insane. How every female he desired ended up in the hands of his brother instead.

The loud squeal echoed through the hall, followed by the hurried sound of steps. Azriel lifted his head right as you jumped into Cassian's arms, and the Illyrian spun you around, laughing lightly to himself. Azriel's face instantly turned sour, and if not for Rhys, who stood there with a pleasant smile, the spymaster would have thrown a punchy remark already.

"Your hair has gotten longer," you said, twisting your fingers through Cassian's curls, looking him over. You had been away on a mission for multiple months. To say that you missed that silly bastard would have been an understatement. "Any new cool scars, or were you the one handing them out?", the general teased, twirling you around. It was a rare occasion to see you in a dress. You much more preferred light shirts with corsets and pants. So this was quite a treat, "Oh, you know me too well, general", "Did you send my hellos to Summer?", you let out another laugh that pierced through Azriel's chest. "He just said this," you showed a couple of vulgar gestures to Cassian, and now even Rhys joined in the laughter. "Well, come along. Eris is waiting in the study", you move in that direction, falling into a light conversation with Rhys on your way there. 

Even if he doesn't want to admit it. It pained Azriel that you didn't acknowledge him. Not a single hi, or a little nod. Nothing. You had been polite all this time with one another. In all honesty, you probably had long forgotten about it, and it was only Azriel who was still hanging onto it. But then again, you only spoke to him in meetings. A word here and there if you visited Night, but only if the conversation was flowing around the table with everyone.

"I would say it's lovely to see you, but we all know that would be a lie," Eris said, motioning for the males to sit down. However, only Rhys accepted the invitation, leaving the other two males standing on either side of him. "I'm quite delighted personally unless you have bad news to share," Rhys chirped, leaning back into the plush chair. Eris poured the high lord a drink with a smirk on his face, as you leaned against the armchair he sat on.

"My lovely cousin has been away for business", Eris stated, "Let's say the situation is more serious than we thought". The fireling turned to you, giving his silent approval for you to take over from here. "You made some enemies, it seems. Troops are forming", Rhysand frowned at your words. Even Azriel did because he hadn't heard anything about this, and he should have if this information was true. You moved to take out some folded papers before handing them to the high lord, "They are mostly targeting your high lady. She's seen as your weak link."

A scowl on Rhys's face only grew as she turned page after page. "Why am I only now hearing about this?", the male growled. "Be thankful you're hearing about this at all; it appears your puppets are pretty clueless," "Eris!" you warned. Even if his word was final, you never allowed him to get out of line. He might have little respect for his opponents, but you were there to keep the lordling's toes on the ground.

"This seemed like a drunken scum slur for a while. I doubt they are capable of much", you continued, "But out of the procession, I would like to stay in Night". "If you're playing some games, Eris," Rhysand warned the Autumn heir, "It was Y/N idea to share this with you, I'm not too fussed," you instantly cut into Eris's words, "I did what I could to kill off the initial gatherings. Did it without informing you so fewer ears would hear about it". The lord nodded his head, his mind still clouded with what he had heard.

The two of them wanted a private conversation soon after. Leaving you three to stand behind the door. "So, sleepovers at night, huh?", Cassian wiggled his eyebrows at you. You two had your history, marked my endless amount of drinks and messing around. "If I remember correctly, you still owe me a drink or two," you purred, turning a dagger between your fingers, also a gift from the general. "Azriel can join us; he's been awfully uptight lately," the spymaster nearly wiping his head towards Cassian, his face turning into a frustrated grimace. "Like, look at him. I'm growing worried," the male continued to tease. You let out a chuckle, and Azriel's eyes fell on you. And here it was again. That feeling that he simply didn't have good enough words to say. Gaping at you both for a minute more, he turned to leave with one last word, "And you... You're juggling two females? Told her that already?"

Azriel knew it was petty. For all he knew, you and Cassian were never together. Well, not as a couple, at least. Plus, his brother suspected the attraction that brewed in Azriel's heart. And with Nesta now very much in the picture, the spymaster knew that Cassian's priorities lay with her. He moved to the shadowy end of the hall. Even if he didn't want to, his gaze returned to you from the shadows. Your eyes grew wide, your hand reaching to cover your mouth as you listened to whatever Cassian had to say. And then once more, Azriel knew that he shouldn't snoop, but he did send a shadow to listen in. In a way scared that maybe Cassian confessed his undying love to you or that he spilled Azriel's secrets instead. But it was neither of those two. It was Nesta Cassian told you about it. His obnoxiously stubborn mate, "Maybe you could talk or something," Cassian muttered, your hand moving to rest on his shoulder. "I'll have a word with her. Plus, if we train there, she might get curious herself."

That's how the next couple of weeks went. Your time was divided between training with the girls, keeping an eye on Feyre, and attending meetings regarding the security of Velaris. It was almost strange how well you blended into the dynamics of the inner circle. As if you were always a part of it, just temporarily absent. Azriel continued to watch you from afar. Admiring you and how the power you had hadn't gotten to your head. How you shrugged all of your achievements to the side when Cassian would go on yet another praise cycle about you. At moments like this, with a glass of wine in your hand and a lazy smile on your face, you seemed like the most basic townie. Not someone who had huge responsibilities on their shoulders. That was also the side of you that Azriel loved the most.

After swimming through his thoughts on the balcony at the house of wind, Azriel made his way inside. Considering that it was rather late, he was sure that everyone was already asleep or at least occupied by other activities. However, a faint gleam of light from the living room caught his eyes. A breath seized in his throat as he stepped into the room. You were spread out on the sofa, humming to yourself as you looked at the ceiling. It was impossible not to look at you. To not get lost in the shape of your body. The shadow singer was about to turn away, but then, "Oh, what an honor, the spymaster himself."

His heart fluttered just a little, but he tried to keep his face unreadable. Azriel tried not to run into you too often. It was bad enough he had to watch you spar with Cassian. Watch his brother try to tackle you while you straddled the Illyrian and pressed the blade against his neck. Or your sweaty body glistening in the sun. Things like that drove him mad and made him think thoughts he knew he shouldn't. Azriel had messed up, and keeping hops of any kind was foolish. The spymaster quickly shook his head, trying to get the images of you out of it. "I was only going to get some food. I see you are enjoying yourself", gods strike him. You let out a giggle. 

Turning to lay on your stomach, the material of the dress you wore crunched up beneath you, tightening around your now even more highlighted breasts. That dress in itself was a curse, not leaving much to the imagination, but with you lying like this, "You would be mistaken then," you purred, and Azriel quickly lifted his gaze from your body. Looking up only to meet your eyes. Eyes that had been watching him "Why... Why is that?", the spymaster swallowed hard, already feeling the heat rising. You let out a chuckle once again, "I'm so lonely here," "I could give you... I mean, I could get one of the girls for you," and Azriel wanted to curse himself for this flustered chaos he was becoming. If this continued, he would be a red mess soon, and he knew you would be enjoying that. It's the same Vansera foxiness that ran through your blood. Made this a game for you. A little chaise.

You swirled back down onto your back, hair falling over the edge of the sofa, head hanging over the side. "What could you give me, shadow singer?", you purr yet again, hands lightly holding the material of the necklace, just so you wouldn't give him a full view of what's underneath. "Some more water; you've drank too much," Azriel said firmly, but he can't help himself. Eyes wondering all over. You're a couple of steps away, and you're acknowledging his presence. The answer doesn't please you as you scrunch up your brows.

"Help me up, would you?", you asked him softly. Azriel hesitated at first, but with you like this and him all hot, it could all go downhill really quickly. But he walked closer to you anyway. Your fingers were already reaching for his hand. Yet right before he fully steps closer, you turn around once again, grasping both of his hands as you drag him onto the sofa. The fall is soft due to the pillows, yet Azriel's eyes are as big as the moon in the sky. His breathing was uneven. A low growl escapes his lips as you move to straddle him, fiery eyes watching him. "Caught you off guard, huh?", you mumbled, leaning closer to him, and Azriel was left there hoping that he would be able to resist this. His mind was racing with the desire to move his hands over your exposed thighs." I...you," the spymaster rasped out, trying to keep his eyes on your face. You let out a laugh, head falling onto his shoulder for a moment, "You caught it bad...".

But Azriel is shaking his head, and you raise your eyebrows at his reaction. "What if I kissed you here?", you lean in, pressing a kiss to his shoulder, fingers quickly moving to unbutton his shirt. Azriel only swallows thickly, his hands gripping the cushions behind him. The lack of reaction on his behalf makes you narrow your eyes at him and ask, "What about here?" Leaning in once again, you leave a wet trail of kisses down Azriel's neck. Nibbling on his skin here and there. Azriel's hands move to grip your legs as a low moan escapes his lips. Your lips curve into a pleased smirk, "Such a good boy you are", "You're dangerous", Azriel muttered, still lost in the feeling of your lips on his skin. "Oh come on, you want it", you tease, hooking your finger behind yet another button of his shit. "Tell me, do you want this? Do you want me?", your eyes meet his, and for a moment you two just look at one another. "I...", the spymaster mumbles but it's no longer the flustered stutter. There's something more. You pull away instantly, climbing off of his lap, and now it's Azriel who is suddenly confused.

"I don't get you. You stalk me all around the place, but you just", you gesture to him, shaking your head, "When I get close to you, you go all ridged as if you stank of shite." How could he not? You were the woman of every man's dreams. "I... just...you", Azriel was trying so hard to make his head snap into place. "I, I. You, you. What the heck is going on with you?" you whine in frustration. Azriel runs his hand through his hair, taking a couple more breaths. "I bloody fancy you; that's what's going on. You just messed up my brain waves. I can't think," he blurted out, now standing right in front of you. Your eyes fall on him again. You can practically see his heart beating extremely quickly in his chest.

"Ain't I an Autumn scum?", "No, I was so stupid. Those words have been eating me alive," Azriel says, reaching for your hand, and you let him take it. The silence falls onto the room again, but this time it's not that uneasy kind. "So... all this time you were just acting like a teenager?" Azriel rolls his eyes at your words, yet he can't deny it; his actions weren't all that mature. "You're not quite a regular female, what do you expect?", "True... Tired of males drooling anyways, this is way more entertaining", you hum, smiling up at Azriel.

 "Am I... Are we...fuck", the shadow singer shakes his head at his stutter, but you only giggle softly, "Me, you, I, yes, we can continue", going on your tippy toes, you wrap your hands around his neck bringing him closer to yourself. Azriel gently taps your bum, signaling for you to jump up, and you do just that. His hands host you closer to his body. "You stutter mid-strokes too?", a smirk on your face was way too big for Azriel's liking. "Be careful with your words. I have the biggest wingspan for a reason, vixen."

[earlgraytay]

The Author's Darling

So I follow a lot of people who post a lot about OC/self-insert positivity. And that's genuinely great. I love people's OCs and self-inserts. But occasionally, I will see someone, in an attempt to Defend The Honour of OCs and self-inserts, defend a particular kind of writing mistake. And that pisses me off, because it does everyone a disservice.

There are plenty of people who write OCs and self-inserts who do not make this writing mistake, and equating the two is unfair to every OC writer who works hard at their craft. There are also plenty of people who write canon-character-only fanfic or original fic who do make this mistake-- and that hurts both them and their potential readers.

The mistake I'm talking about? Writing a sort of character I'm going to call an Author's Darling.

I'm going to talk about what Author's Darlings are, why they're bad, how you can avoid writing one, and what an Author's Darling isn't. I put a cut in this post, because it's long.

What is an Author's Darling?

An Author's Darling is a character who cannot fail at anything that matters to the author of their story.

What this looks like in practice depends on the author-- different authors prioritize different things. Some authors think their Darling should be stone-cold badasses and never lose a fight. other authors are fine with their Darlings getting knocked out every time they try to throw a punch, but would be very upset if their Darling got rejected romantically.

Plenty of characters succeed at most things they try. Superman wins most of the fights he takes on, but he's not necessarily a Darling. But if you look at a character and you can say, "oh, this character would never lose a fight", or "everyone loves this character and would never get mad at them"? You've got an Author's Darling on your hands.

And- especially in fandom- a character can be a Darling in the hands of one author and a perfectly fine character in the hands of another. Steve Rogers/Captain America is an example of a character who gets Darling-ified a lot. Captain America is supposed to be a shining example of The Best that humanity has to offer- he's virtuous, strong, brave, and oh so pretty. It's easy to fall into the trap of making him incapable of failing at whatever you want him to do, whether that's "punching a lot of Nazis" or "supporting Bucky in his recovery". But a lot of writers manage to thread the needle and write Cap as the lovable, flawed person he's supposed to be.

Why are Author's Darlings bad?

Well, two reasons:

Writing an Author's Darling is a really good way to give yourself writer's block, especially when it comes to the plot. If your character can't fail at anything important, this means that it's really hard to build tension. If your character is going to automatically succeed at anything that's important to the plot, all you're writing is "and then they win, and then they win, and then they win". It can get pretty monotonous pretty quickly, especially if you're writing genre fiction. You can run out of ideas, or your inner critic can go "this isn't how stories work???? the FUCK???" and block your creative flow. If your character can't fail at anything- important or not- it's hard to come up with a good story for them at all. You know how sometimes you get a character rattling around your head but you can't get a plot for them at all? One of the first steps in fixing that is making sure you're not writing an Author's Darling.

Writing an Author's Darling makes people not want to read your work. Now, look. I know everyone says "you should write for yourself, and screw anyone who says otherwise!" But let's be honest here: it sucks to spend hours working on a piece of writing, post it, and then get, like, 2 hits and no kudos, or 1 tumblr like from your friend who likes everything that crosses their dash. It's incredibly demoralizing. Author's Darlings are one of the big factors that make people stop reading a story. As soon as a reader gets the sense that the protagonist can't screw up- that they're "too perfect"- the tension in the story is gone. There's no reason for them to keep reading, because they know the character's just going to Press The Win Button And Win. So they'll click out without saying anything, and you'll wonder why no one's reading your fic.

What isn't an Author's Darling?

This section is haunted by the ghost of Mary Sue. If you're reading this list and you're new to fandom/young, you might wonder why I'm calling out certain specific things; this is a fandom war you missed, don't worry about it.

An Author's Darling is not a character of any specific gender. Male, female, and nonbinary characters can all be Author's Darlings.

An Author's Darling is not necessarily an OC. In the current fandom climate, it's way more likely that a Darling will be a 35-year-old canon male character the writer calls "babygirl".

An Author's Darling is not necessarily a self-insert, but it's really easy to make a self-insert into a Darling. There's a reason people recommend that newbie writers avoid self-inserts- it can be really hard to write a character based on yourself that screws up something important. It takes a lot of vulnerability and courage to write, and it's not something you want to show everyone.

An Author's Darling is not an "overpowered" character or a "cool" character. Your character can have sixteen katanas and do air dashes and still not be a Darling- and your character can be a powerless human in a superhero setting and be the biggest Darling to ever Darling. Having "too many" powers or standing out "too much" in the setting is often a symptom of a Darling- if you don't want your character to fail at anything important, and being The Coolest Person In The Room is important to you, you're going to make your Darling overpowered and good at everything. But it's not the thing that makes an Author's Darling bad.

An Author's Darling is not a 'perfect' character, or a character without flaws. There's a lot of overlap in the Venn diagram, don't get me wrong... but you can load up a character with "flaws" that don't matter to you. A lot of dudebro male writers, for example, will make their Darlings emotionally constipated, mean, and Bad At Relationships. These genuinely are character flaws... but these writers don't give a flying fuck about the character's relationships. They're happy to let their Darling fail at this stuff to prove he's FLAWED!!!- but try and make them write a fight scene their Darling loses, and they'll break out in hives.

Why should I care? Writing is supposed to be fun, and writing characters failing is not fun for me.

Writing is a craft. It is no different from knitting a sweater, making a stop-motion film, or trimming a bonsai. There are ways to do it well, and there are ways to do it poorly.

It can be fun and rewarding to knit a shitty sock with holes in the heel where you forgot how the pattern works and weird lumps in the calf. It is more fun and rewarding to get good enough at knitting that you knit socks you can wear.

Similarly, it can be fun and rewarding to deliberately write stories about overpowered Author's Darlings that are boring to read for anyone who isn't you. But it is more fun and rewarding to get good enough at writing that you write stories other people will want to read.

And you know, maybe you don't care about that. Everyone needs a hobby that they're bad at and have no interest in getting better at; it keeps you humble. Maybe writing is yours.

But plenty of writers do care. And tarring every writer who writes OCs and self-inserts with the same brush- the brush of "this is supposed to be fun! we're writing deliberately bad things! yay!"- is an insult to anyone who writes OCs and cares about their craft.

If you want to write well, you should be aware of what an Author's Darling is, and if possible, you should try to avoid writing them. If you don't care about writing well, that's fine- but please avoid implying that every OC or self-insert character is badly written in this particular way.

[runninriot]

Inspired by the prompt Love is the only thing we can take with us by @thefreakandthehair for @steddielovemonth day 24

Only Love

wc: 1646 | rated: E | cw: canon typical violence, blood & blood drinking, talk about death, sexual intercourse with a monster | tags: Kas!Eddie Munson, Monsterlover!Steve Harrington, Sad Love Story, but it is still a love story

minors, this one isn't for you

If someone had told Eddie he would one day go into battle against interdimensional monsters, he’d have laughed and called them insane. Had the same person told him, he’d lose said battle against monstrous bats out of hell, he’d maybe have used the idea for one of his DnD campaigns or maybe wrote a song about it because it sounds kind of cool, pretty badass to think of a character having to fight eyeless, bat-winged creatures with vine-like tails to strangle you with and tiny, sharp teeth that can rip through skin and flesh like a knife through soft butter.

Doesn’t sound so great anymore once you know they’re real. Doesn’t sound very heroic either to tell the tale of almost getting eaten alive by a swarm of angry, flying monsters.

It’s a sad story, really, if you think about how young Eddie was and how little of his life he got to truly enjoy.

But it’s also kind of funny to think that fate chose someone as clumsy and cowardly as Eddie to become something better, something superior. A creature of the dark, a godlike creation forged in the Upside Down to bring horror and harm to a town that, to be honest, would’ve deserved his rage for all they’d done to him.

But lucky for the puny people living in Hawkins, there was one thing Vecna couldn’t take from him when he made him turn from human to monster. And while his heart might not be beating anymore, sitting stone cold in his chest now where it once was the source of life – one thing remained.

The thing that made the monster turn against his master in the midst of a raging war, spilling blood and guts, tearing apart every screeching thing that dared to come too close. One monster against an army of many until he came eye to eye with the One, the evil incarnate, and finished him once and for all to protect the people he loved.

Love was the one thing he took from life to death and beyond.

Love for a girl he couldn’t save but will remember for the rest of his days.

Love for a kid that has more courage in his left foot than Eddie ever had in his whole body.

Love for a group of nerds and losers that made him want to be a better person for them.

Love for him.

Eddie turns his gaze away from the full moon shining through a gap between the treetops when he hears the rustling of leaves in the distance. He doesn’t need to see Steve to know that it’s him, could scent him from miles away, but still he smiles when the other man finally steps out of the shadows and into the faintly lit space where Eddie has been waiting for him.

   “Hey baby.”

Steve takes the hand reached out to him, lets Eddie pull him close against his body.

   “Hey.” Steve looks up at him through hooded eyes, enthralled by the vision Eddie is.

Still so fascinated by Eddie, his transformed self, the demonic version of what he once was. Tall, much taller than before. With broad shoulders and strong arms. His whole body covered in thick, opal skin. He’s got sharp talons and even sharper fangs. Wings, black and leathery, reminiscent of the creatures that took his old life and gave him a new one.

Eddie leans down to plant a kiss on Steve’s waiting lips, just gentle – for now.

   “Missed you so much.” Steve sighs as he crawls deeper into the cradle of Eddie’s arms, would melt right into his skin if he could.

And God, how Eddie missed him too.

They never get enough time together, can never stay as long in each other’s presence as they both would like.

It comes with the curse of being the thing he is now but they both take it as it is because it’s better than not having each other at all.

Just one night every full moon is all they have. All Eddie allows himself to have. Because with Vecna defeated, he is the one now ruling the Upside Down, lonely like the Devil reigning hell, making sure the creatures of this other world stay trapped where they belong.

It’s a price he’s willing to pay to keep his loved ones safe.

To make sure the young man in his arms has the life he deserves – peaceful and quiet, not fighting wars that aren’t his to fight.

   “Missed you too, my love. Couldn’t wait to have you in my arms again.”

Eddie pulls him closer, feels his boyfriend’s heartbeat thrumming in his chest, healthy and strong. He can hear the rush of Steve’s blood running through his veins; it’s singing to him, soft and enticing like a siren’s song. He can smell the natural scent of Steve’s warm skin, mixed with the deep fragrance of the forest ground and brittle wood.

It’s intoxicating, mind numbing, addictive.

Steve pulls away, knows what Eddie wants, wants what Eddie needs.

   “Take it,” he says. Unafraid and always so ready to share what keeps him alive.

A rush of ecstasy takes hold of Eddie’s senses, makes it seem like the world around them shifts, turns reality into a dreamlike sequence. Moonlight falls on Steve, illuminating his angelic form with a silvery glow, makes him shine like Sirius in the night sky.

   “My pretty boy.”

Eddie’s voice is nothing but a growl, deep and dangerous, resonating in his own ears like the sound of a hungry beast.

Steve bares his throat, offers himself to the monster that takes hold of the few remaining pieces of humanity that Eddie has left in him.

Eddie opens his mouth with a hiss, makes way for his teeth to grow, ready to take what he’s being offered so freely. The pointy tips of his fangs pierce easily through Steve’s skin, breaking enough of the protective layer to let blood spill out. It’s like drinking pure light, tastes better than anything else. The world’s most expensive wine couldn’t compete with it, no fruit could be sweeter than Steve. Every drop is a burst of flavour on his tongue, slowly dripping down his esophagus in a warm and steady stream.

He’s greedy for it, sucking the precious liquid into his mouth with fervour until he feels Steve’s body go limp in his arms.

He pops off with a wet sound, licks over the wound to soothe the stinging pain.

   “Kiss me, please,” Steve begs, voice weak but demanding.

And Eddie does. Kisses him with blood stained lips, painting Steve’s mouth dark red with it – sharing what he took from him.

   “Love me,” Steve whispers into the kiss and Eddie tries hard not to ravish him instantly.

He lifts him up, strong arms wrapped protectively around Steve, and carries him to their favourite spot. Here, where the ground is overgrown with tick layers of moss and clover, he lays Steve down gently.

   “Love you so much.”

They fuck on the dewy forest floor, hidden away from the world, covered only by the night as their blanket. Steve is trembling, shaking uncontrollably as Eddie splits him in half, careful not to hurt him anymore than necessary. His new form isn’t made to easily glide into the depths of this frail human body; it’s rough, almost brutal but he knows that Steve wants him like that. Writhing and crying, so perfect and soft, Steve begs him for more:

   “Deeper, baby. Go harder. I can take it.”

It’s beautiful, the way Steve’s tears glisten in the moonlight as he loses himself in the harsh rhythm of Eddie’s hips slapping against his skin. Deeper and deeper Eddie thrusts into his hole, fucks him hard and good. He pulls out a beautiful whimper with every push, viscously dragging his inhuman size along Steve’s inner walls, hitting the right spot over and over again. He’s got one hand curled around Steve’s hardness, gliding spit-slicked and in merciful contrast to his otherwise torturous movements up and down the length of it; giving Steve what he needs to find relief.

When Eddie can feel Steve tripping over the edge, he finds his neck again and bites down once more just for fun, just to take in all of Steve. To feel his warm blood on his tongue and his slick release on his fist, fills him up in return as a reward, a thank you, a sign of his undying love – you’re mine, I am yours, we are one in this unholy union.

Steve comes down slowly, held tight in Eddie’s arms with his wings wrapped around them to keep Steve warm against the cool night air.

It’s almost midnight, they’ve got only got a few more hours together. So they do what they always do – stay close, hold each other, kiss. Eddie listens to Steve talk about his life, his work, his friends (‘They miss you. It’s hard not to tell them you’re alive.’ – ‘Well I’m not really, am I? It’s better that way. I’m only here because of you.') Steve cries and Eddie feels his pain tenfold.

   “Please stay.”

It’s the same desperate plea every time. And Eddie wants nothing more than to give in, wants to stay with Steve in this beautiful, dark dream but they both know he can’t.

   “I’ll come back.”

Before the moon begins to make way for the rising sun, Eddie carries a sleeping Steve back to his home, lays him gently down on his bed and kisses his lips once more.

And like so many times before, the only thing he can take with him into the darkness he made his own prison to keep everyone safe, is the love that keeps him alive.

   “I’ll come back,” he promises again, “I’ll always come back to you, Steve.”

[taddymason]

Taddy I know you said that Kaida doesn't refer to Jay as "Dad" like. At all.

BUT I can't stop thinking about a scenerio [that I wanted a write a ficlet about but I don't have the time due to uni work :sob:]

Where after Kaida and Jay are with the Ninja but Jay doesn't have his memories fully back yet.

And Kaida gets caught off guard by the enemy or something and is taken by them as bait. [I know, very unlikely]

And she tries to act cool about it but she is terrified on the inside because shes still just a kid and god Jay is not coming for her.

He got his real family back- he doesn't need her around anymore- shes alone again- shes got abondened again- why should he care about her anymore?

Meanwhile Jay is LIVID.

This is a man who does not remember the honor code of the Ninja.

A man who killed a dragon by himself.

A man who possibly killed way more than a dragon.

A father whos child was taken from him as bait and is in danger.

He's ripping through everything in his path that is between him and his daughter, and the rest of the ninja are terrified as they can only watch the lightning without restrain destroy everything in his path.

Kaida doesn't understand whats going on outside,there are explosions and yells and she can't help but flinch away as someone points a gun at her face.

But then there is a loud crack as the room flashes in the brightest light ever.

And when she opens her eyes back up again, all the men are on the ground twitching in pain.

And Jay is there.

He's sparkier than usual.

And covered in more blood than usual.

And kinda blurry on the edges, his eyes and hands and body burning way brighter with lightning than she ever saw.

[As if he's almost lightning itself]

But he's here.

He came for her.

He didn't leave her.

He didn't leave her.

She can't even say anything before he's suddenly next to her checking her for injuries as his hands shake from the adrenaline and fear of almost losing her.

And she chokes up with tears upon seeing him so scared, terrified of what could have been and lets out a choked up "Dad..."

Suddenly he's hugging her and she can't help but bury her face onto his chest like a baby as shes trying to not to cry, not to be weak, shes picked up and he mumbles a soft "I got you kiddo. Let's get you home." And that's when she breaks down.

And Jay refuses to let go of her during all the way back to the monastery, and if the rest of the ninja see both of them cry at some point none of them say anything.

KEN KEN KEN THIS IS SO GOOD!!!!?!? I LOVE THIS!! THANKS FOR THIS!!! HUSJFBAF

I LOVE THIS IDEA SO MUCH (Like, Kaida definitely addresses Jay as "dad" in situations like this) THAT I HAD TO WRITE AND DRAW SOMETHING RIGHT AWAY BECAUSE I LOVE TORTURING THESE TWO. Also writing Angry Badass Jay is entertaining

I hope I did justice to this scenario because I wrote this really really quickly so I hope you like it

Home

Words: 2.9k

TW: blood and violence.

When Kaida first wakes up, she is in a room with cold lights and no windows, with unknown people moving back and forth through thick bars. She feels tired, her eyelids are heavy with a sickly feeling, and her palate tastes like moldy cotton.

She tries to remember the name the ninjas had given this thing. She thinks it's called Vengestone. A stone that can disable elemental powers.

She had never seen anything like it and terror floods her veins with ice when she realizes that what they said turned out to be true. She didn't know that there was something capable of suppressing that energy that has been in her blood for years. Uselessly she pulls on the metal on her ankle, looks for a way to break or open the lock with some of the tricks she knew, even tries to see if there are any loose bricks in the wall, and only manages to draw blood from under her nails, adding to what already covers her clothes.

She tries not to get scared. She tries to calm down and breathe even though they look at her like little more than an animal and she has no way to defend herself. She wishes she had her gun in her hands, even the knife she always kept in her boot, but even that had been taken away from her, and all she had left as a weapon was to uselessly insult them.

She tries not to panic, but finds it difficult to control her breathing when she can't see through the walls to those approaching and she feels blind. Everything looks dark and she feels stupidly weak when people approach her and without her powers to see them; they look like corpses.

"They are anyway" she tries to tell herself to calm down. They are if Jay was looking for her.

If he was looking for her. If he hadn't already decided she was a burden. Because she is, she knew it.

As the hours pass, the voice she tries to ignore in the back of her head reminds her that she is essentially a nuisance that he went to too much trouble to care for. She is essentially a girl for whom he only felt sorry, and now with the way things are, he may finally want to take a burden off his shoulders and stop having to worry about her.

She knows that she is the reason why he decided to continue working in a place as miserable as the Administration, the reason why he could not return home for so long, the main reason why he was separated from his family. If he had had his memories from the beginning, he wouldn't have even stayed there in the first place.

It's a burden, and if he had finally realized that he had his real family waiting for him, maybe he wouldn't even bother looking for her.

"How do you feel?" one of them ask her with a smile in his voice. She was pretty sure she's been there for a day already.

“Fucking great.” she spits, crossing her arms to try to look confident. If being a ninja included being captured by crazy people like these, she didn't understand why the bother.

He seem to ignore her mockery as he analyze her carefully. That guy, who must be some kind of leader if the way he's the only one talking is any indication, approaches. “You are the elemental master of spirit, aren't you?”

She stares back at him dryly without even bothering to respond. They had asked her name before and she hadn't even given them that.

The man waits in silence for a few seconds before continuing. “I know all ninjas have pretty interesting powers, the main reason why they are so annoying to us. As far as I heard, kid, you can steal someone's soul, right?”

She shakes her chained foot while frowning. “Why don't you take this shit off me and figure it out yourself?”

He smiles and then steps back, leaving the cell as if the exchange had bored him. "Not yet. We have to keep you alive until your friends come after all.”

And then he leaves, and she is alone. Again.

She rests her head on the wall behind her, trying futilely to keep track of the idiots hovering back and forth with threats that leave her shaking inside, and her hand clutches the yellow pin to her chest.

---

Jay's head is somewhere else during the eternal passage of days in which they search for clues to Kaida's whereabouts. He doesn't sleep or even eat. His concentration is solely on the battlefield and clinging to any possible clue. He is determined and alert, aware enough to be able to duck when necessary and able to dodge when shot.

But that's all. He feels nothing when he uses his powers over and over again against them without holding back his blows. It is like a storm that continues to build up until it explodes and he doesn't take into account who it lets that brutal rain fall on.

And the rest of the team isn't much help.

When they stop him for the fourth time to tell him they need a plan, his patience breaks.

He already has a plan; find his kid.

Lloyd, who Jay had learned that he was a kind of master on the team, harshly reprimands him at the end of an interrogation of one of the stupid bastards responsible for taking Kaida. Once the line of questioning ends with the man writhing on the ground in a haze of burning flesh, everyone looks at him with growing horror and fear.

He has no regrets, neither for this one nor for the others before him or for what is yet to come. If it were up to him, he would pull out what other pain that bastard has left to feel.

The green ninja, however, is unfazed by the anger crackling in his eyes and matches it with a stern glare. "Jay, I understand you're worried, but taking it out on them won't solve anything. You can't do that."

He breathes shakily, his hands, covered in blood that is not his, clenching and opening at his sides with sparks still cutting and hissing through the air.

"You are not my leader." He spits tiredly between his teeth. "Don't tell me what to do. You don't understand anything. If you really think I'm going to spare their lives for some stupid ninja shit I don't know about-"

"Jay, relax." The black ninja, Cole, steps forward, his voice heavy and wobbly. He approaches with his hands outstretched toward him, and he hates the anguish in his words, he hated that they acted like they knew him when he couldn't even remember anything about them. He hates all of this, and can barely speak with the guilt creeping down his throat. This would not have happened if they had not left the Administration. “We understand, we really do.”

Jay turns around, can't help but wave his arms in the air in exasperation, his voice rising to the edge of a shout as he shakes his head. "No, you don't. I don't need your help. If it were up to you, we would still have no fucking clue where she is. It's like you don't even care- “

A hand on his shoulder stops him, cutting off his speech as he flinches, and only then does he realize how much he's hyperventilating. The anger that makes his hands shake is as intense as the fear in his chest, and without a target to aim for so long, one becomes stronger than the other. When he turns around in his stupor, he finds the water ninja staring at him with one hand still on his shoulder.

Nya looks at him with understanding and sympathy, a deep grimace creasing her face even though her eyes otherwise remain calm. Her hand squeezes his shoulder tightly, almost as if she wants to hug him instead, and he hates how much they seem to really know him. He only has a vague idea of what they are supposed to be to him (his friends, his brothers, his yang) and that's it, they're still just strangers.

His real family, all he has left, is far away.

“We'll find her, Jay. I swear. You are not alone in this.” she emphasized firmly, and somehow, like a memory washed away by the tide, something in his chest calms at her words. The others look at him the same way, that anxious, worried look that loosens his jaw as his frown softens.

His hands were still shaking, and the power on his skin had not stopped crackling for even a second since they had begun their search. He pulls away from the touch on his shoulder somewhat abruptly, knowing it's probably not good to touch any of them while he's like this, and the others stare at him expectantly.

He takes a deep breath, barely closing his eyes for a fragment of a second where all he sees is bright white, and when he opens them to look at them, he can almost let himself believe that these people are his family.

"Alright." he chew the words through air that is too harsh and cold. His tongue is filled with the taste of ash and blood. “We know where these bastards' base is. Take us there.”

They all nod and leave, and Jay doesn't let anything stop him from getting to his daughter. His first and only priority.

---

Kaida loses track of time while there. She stops trying to count the minutes that pass and any hope she has left slowly dissolves.

And maybe it was for the best anyway. She knew she was a bait. A small fish to catch a bigger one. It was better that they didn't come for her. There was no reason for him to risk it when he already had his real family with him.

The men here don't linger with her any longer than necessary. They need her alive after all. One breaks her ankle so she doesn't even try to flee. Another hits her head particularly unpleasantly against the wall when she spits in their faces and things get confusing from there. It reminds her too much of Boarding School, and if she closes her eyes, she can practically feel the rivulet of blood running down the side of her face from her left eyebrow.

They seem proud of themselves when they finally manage to force screams of pain through her teeth, even if she doesn't even cry. Don't you dare cry. Don't you ever cry, she said in her mind over and over again.

And she tells herself that's not even the reason she's so terrified. It's not because she was deprived of her powers, or because of the pain that was pounding in her body, or because of whatever stupid plan these sons of bitches had, but because of the fact that she knows deep down that no one is coming for her. She knows she deserves it and that's what leaves her shaking as she stares straight ahead.

They should never have left the Administration, if they had stayed home instead of getting involved in saving the world and that stuff, none of this would have happened.

She feels selfish for thinking about it, but she can't help it.

She wants to go home, but she knows it's not even safe to go back there anymore. She hates how much those ninjas always had the power to take him from her, and now they finally did it.

And suddenly, the guards patrolling next to her cell hastily leave. All the people she can see through the bars share worried looks, frightened murmurs as they run to the left with weapons in their hands. Her heart races and all she can do is wait. She cannot see a single soul behind the walls when they all disappear.

There is an icy silence, one that builds in her cell the moment everyone leaves her alone, but that finally breaks when she begins to hear distant screams in the distance.

She stands suddenly, leaning against the wall, ignoring the pain clawing at her ankle and the damn chain that only makes it worse, and concentrates on listening.

She hears gunshots, hears high-pitched cries slowed by the walls. She's heard those screams before, the kind that come up just before a person's light disappears. She knows that they are coming from very far away, she knows that they are from the direction in which everyone ran, and from one moment to the next, the silence of her prison becomes a cacophony of screams that increases the tension that shakes in her chest.

There is also a growing ringing that pulses in her ears, which sounds too much like a muffled roar. A snake crawls across the ceiling, and when she looks up, she notices how the lights shine full of energy, turning on and off at the pace at which everyone runs desperately. That hum goes down and up constantly while the lights flicker until they finally break, exploding loudly. Glass and darkness hit the hallway.

Kaida can only watch open-mouthed, her mind barely able to comprehend the meaning of it when one of their leaders enters her cage with a gun in hand and a look full of anger.

“What the fuck is going on?” Kaida asks, pressing herself against the wall, hating the way her jaw trembles as the guy approaches her. “Is this also part of your plan, you idiots?”

The mockery comes out weak and raw at the end when she sees how the man removes the safety of the weapon and places it in his hands without hesitation. A knot of anxiety tightens and unravels in her chest until it reaches her mind, and her face pales.

“Looks like your friends are already here, kid. Now you are as useful alive as dead.” The gun is pointed at her face. If she had her powers, in less than a second, she could steal any excuse for soul that this guy had until he was an empty shell, take because that's what she always did. Only she doesn't have them, and the man's index finger is already on the trigger. “Unfortunately for you, I could use getting rid of an elemental master right now.”

The man points the barrel close to her forehead, far enough away that she can't even try to grab the gun from him.

Kaida steps back, her gaze focused somewhere in front of her, and she prepares for the worst with her teeth clenched together.

She's just not prepared for the way the man's body suddenly shakes violently. The grip on his gun loosens and he lets go. Collapsing heavily to the ground with white ribbons that run through his limbs until they fragilely disappear along with all traces of life in his gaze.

There is an echo of thunder behind it that conquers every struggle between silence and screams, and it is only when she looks up from the body at her feet that she finally sees Jay staring at her surprised on the other side of the cell. His hand still raised firmly forward, red and glowing as if snakes of light ran down his arm.

Her vision is blurry, either from the pain in the back of her head or from the held back tears, but it was definitely him. Through the cloudy haze, she can see how his reddish hair is more bristly than usual and the blood that practically covers him from head to toe.

She looks around, behind Jay, she sees completely still bodies scattered on the ground. She's not particularly fazed by it, she's seen worse, they've done worse. But the fact that he did this for her, that he took the risk to do it, leaves her reeling with a thread of breath.

Before she can register it, Jay quickly crosses the distance between them, dropping to his knees beside her so he's level with her. His trembling hands, whose skin over his knuckles she can see are slit and raw, grab her shoulders and he frantically search for any kind of wounds. She barely registers it, barely hears him speaking in panic at a mile a second.

Instead, she was still processing the fact that he was there. That he had come back for her.

“I've got you, kiddo, it's okay now,” she hears him say. His voice sounds more scared and agitated than she's ever heard.

His hands briefly touch her face and only then does she realize she was crying. She doesn't know how long she's been crying.

“Dad-” nothing but sobs come out.

He holds her close, reality finally hitting her as she buries her face against his chest, inhaling as she cries. Her forehead is pressed against that stupid blue gi, staining blood and tears and who knows what else, but she can hear his heart beating, fast but steady, and he's here and he didn't abandon her.

“We're going home,” he murmurs, as shaky as his breathing, and she doesn't care where that is anymore. All she really cares about is that he's here, and that's enough for her.

[t00thpasteface]

As a fan of both Batman the Brave and the Bold, and Adam West's Batman, its always nice seeing a chipper goofier batman with your art.

!!! (⁠ʃ⁠ƪ⁠＾⁠3⁠＾)

i'm always so happy when people think my sillier batman is fun and charming, instead of... flippant, or shallow.

i do think batman has a unique ability to tackle heavier themes that a lot of other superheroes can't, as someone with no powers raising equally ordinary adopted kids. btas's moody noir tone is just delicious. and like in btas, i also think that these darker themes shouldn't come at the cost of batman/bruce's entire personality and sense of humor. just because he's dealing with heavy subjects doesn't mean he has to growl and bark like solid snake the whole time.

if anything i think making him an unfeeling wall of permanent anger and grief impedes his ability to handle those themes. tragedies don't only happen to the stone-cold badasses. when you see batman grit his teeth and hold back tears, i think it has a greater ability to hit home if you've also seen bruce genuinely laughing and smiling with his family, friends, etc. and what's more, you also need to be able to see him laugh afterward, too, however long it takes. otherwise what's the message? it gets worse forever? bruce is that child in omelas?

and i've said it before, but the most depressed, traumatized people i know also have the strongest senses of humor and the most brilliant creative minds in the local art scene. at the end of the day, laughing despite everything is the only way to get through it.

anyone doubling down on "realism" and trying to make batman "more like real life" needs to recognize that life doesn't limit itself to one genre. life won't wait for you to finish laughing before it makes you cry, but it also won't wait for you to finish crying before it makes you laugh, too.

[asukaskerian]

uuugh i wish there was someone who already knew about my old dynastic hatefuckers ofic so i could ramble about my new ideas to fix the jor fic without having to explain the seventy pages of worldbuilding and the original idea first XD;;;;;

really my biggest problem with jor and nanuk (that i need to rename but nothing feels right but that is ANOTHER issue) is that this is supposed to be a enemies to lovers romance with badass action on the side and instead it's the "jor is a weird hermity shrimpy gremlin and also a stone cold badass" show with nanuk only yearning in his own pov off to the side which is never going to be shown on screen because! jor is only interested in four people TOPS in his life and you need a sledgehammer to make him notice people and care about their inner lives! humans are not necromancy OR animals so his baseline level is he doesn't give a fuck.

so i have an idea how to make the first meeting impactful by moving a later scene around and making it his first impression of nanuk, but after that i would have to replot everything.

everything.

oh and also i would like to one day find the drive to finish the immanuel/dhalion fic which is so cool and almost FINISHED jgbljhhhg why brain. why did you do me dirty like that.

[lethalchiralium]

No More | [5] | Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader

a/n: fellas. fellas i know where i want to be but i have to write to get there????? disgusting. this is probably a filler but idk idk you need to know you’re a badass 😡😡😡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡 also flashbacks of the old life… cause why not.

word count: 5400ish

warnings: FLASHBACKS IN ITALICS UNTIL MISSION. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Mentions of suicidal thoughts, mentions of domestic abuse (not from anyone from 141!), mentions of medical attention, canon-typical violence, cussing

summary: It was supposed to be an easy operation, but now you’re being hunted - you aren’t for sure. You’re hoping that the 141 isn’t compromised, because that means Laswell will send you to the one place you don’t want to be sent. Ghost is trying his best. OR, your flashbacks are getting worse, and the operation goes…crazy.

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Turn off the light.

Your eyes burned, even if they were closed. It was hard to even move your eyes, let alone any one of your limbs.

God, someone turn off that fucking light.

They felt like they were set in stone, lungs burning as they took in oxygen. Concrete poured right over your skin, your tongue dry and throat scratchy. You pressed your eyelids together before trying to open them, only to wince at the fluorescent light. Your sight was hazy at best, glancing around what looked like a hospital room. You could almost make out a purple lamp across the room, along with slumped bodies of slumbering people.

You felt movement on your right hand, your eyes flickered to it - you blinked a few times, and felt your heart settle in your stomach.

Bradley Bradshaw held your hand in his own, his face pressed into his elbow as he slept in an awkward position. You knew it was him, the dark blonde hair and mustache gave it away.

It hurt to see him sitting beside you like this, after watching him do the same with his mother years ago. Watching her sit in a hospital bed, weak and frail - you grew up with his mom, almost raised by her. You knew it had to hurt him to sit here with you, waiting for you.

You had thought about this when he had made the suggestion of getting back together after almost four years of being broken up - what if either one of you had crashed? Been injured or killed? He was your best friend, you’ve loved him almost all of your life. You thought you were going to marry him someday, but this was bigger than the kindling of a childhood love. This was life, and life had you by the throat and in a hospital bed.

You remembered the prayers you said in the village. The prayers that they’d find your bones, not your rotting corpse. Prayers that they wouldn’t find your cold body so Bradley and your father wouldn’t have to identify your decrepit face, prayers that they would identify you by your tags and DNA from your bones. They were prayers that you would never wish to leave your lover’s lips, prayers that would put you in the grave if he ever whispered them.

You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t stay with him if you knew you could hurt him in ways you’ve seen others do.

Someone murmured your name, your eyes moved from Bradley and to one of the figures across the room. You blinked, trying to clear the haze but they stood from their chair, moving towards you.

Maverick.

His hand grabbed yours, going to reach for a cup on the tray beside your bed. He put a straw into the plastic lid and moved it to your lips, you greedily took sips of water. The cool burn of water in your scratchy throat made you feel a little better.

“Slow down, bug.” He whispered, moving the cup away but you gave him a sharp glare. He set the cup on the tray. “You’ve been out for a few days.” You stared at him in disbelief. “Are you in any pain? I can get the nurse.” The twitch of your head to the side made Maverick nod, his eyes moving to Rooster. He looked back to you.

“Hasn’t moved an inch. Thought he was going to go out screaming when I made him take a shower in the bathroom.”

You felt tears prick at your eyes, gazing at Rooster.

You were supposed to be married by the time he had graduated college, both Naval Aviators and wingmen until the end - that was the idea, the focus of the relationship you two had created freshman year of high school. But the dream had crashed and burned by his junior year of college, your first year in flight school. The Rooster and his Hen had broken up because she learned to fly first.

You stayed friends. How could you not? He knew your every thought, dream, wish like you did for him - he stayed silent when you introduced him to Jake Dakota, a Naval Lieutenant that you fell in love with. Rooster held his tongue as you spoke about spending your life with this new man, but he didn’t take a step back when the bruises began. He never willingly left your side when you mysteriously ended up with a broken arm. He drove the nine hour drive in five hours to the Fallon Naval Air Station in Nevada when you called, crying and terrified that the man you chose after him might kill you. Carried you to the ER in town, though you barely remember half of it as you were bleeding pretty bad from your head and chest, blood soaked his clothes.

It took you six months to even feel comfortable without him being near you, without your father or his on and off girlfriend, Penny Benjamin. The constant time with Rooster in the air and on the ground, you felt safe again. Safe with him in the air, safe in his arms. You wanted to give the Rooster and Hen Show another shot, and he had said yes. He would always have a key to your home and your heart.

Now he sat in the chair beside your bed, hand holding yours as if to make sure he was the first to see you wake up. Now, he was peacefully sleeping, not knowing the pain he was about to experience.

You couldn’t take it anymore. You couldn’t get back in a jet, you couldn’t put him through more pain than you ever have before.

“Honey.”

Your teary eyes looked back to your father, your mouth opened to speak but only a small sob left your lips. Your left hand barely squeezed his hand, but he felt it. He sat beside you on your bed, his free hand petting down your unkempt hair before coming back to his side.

“You’re okay, honey. You’ll be okay.” His eyes met yours, yet his sentiment didn’t reach his eyes. He wouldn’t know if his daughter would return to how she was before or completely change. He wouldn’t know yet, but he have to watch you walk away from him, from your best friend, from your home because you had to fly away. You had to leave and shed the skin of Reaper to become something new, someone he wouldn’t know for years. Mercy.

Your father’s eyes said it all. He had told you before you launched that it was dangerous, that you shouldn’t do it - you had wave him off. He said he couldn’t do this again. You knew he was talking about his wingman, Goose, who died in an accident. He still blames himself for killing Rooster’s father.

A whimper left your lips and there was a gasp from your right, your eyes looked to Bradley, your neck too stiff to move your head still. His eyes were wide, his own tears rolled down his face. His free hand settled on your cheek, a smile broke on his lips.

“Hi, Hen.”

Your heart broke into a million pieces, splintered into your skin and drawing blood as you breathed.

The sound of ice shaking in a drink made you look back to your father, he moved the drink towards your face. You took small sips of the ice water, moving away from the straw before staring at the ceiling. Tears stung your face, outlining Rooster’s hand as they fell down the right side.

“Mini Mav.”

Your gaze flickered to the foot of your hospital bed, recognizing the silver hair from afar.

Iceman.

Your tears fell faster.

“You’re gonna be okay, kiddo.” He patted your foot, you hiccuped as you felt sobs begin to claw up your throat.

“H-Home.” The word that fell from your lips broke all of the men’s hearts, the way you could barely say it clearly. “Go.” You coughed, trying to clear your throat. “Home.”

Ice looked to Mav, who looked to Rooster - whose eyes had never left your face in the first place. Your father and godfather both looked back at you, Maverick spoke, “You want us to go?”

“I want.” You took in a small breath before continuing, “To talk… to Roos. Alone.”

Maverick and Iceman both looked at their dead friend’s son, then to each other. A quizzical look from both of them made you look away to your lap. Mav gently pet your head before he pressed a kiss to your hair. “We’ll be down in the cafeteria then. We won’t be too long.”

Ice let go of the bottom of the bed as Maverick moved by, both men walking out of the door without a word exchanged or a sound made. The door clicked back into place and you took a deep breath.

It was like those prayers for death were wrapping around your skin; tearing, burning and ripping tendons - branding for your bones with words of despair. You didn’t want that for him, these words weren’t ones that could be washed away. They were tattoos in gold ink, bold and toxic and they would never be meant for him.

“I am so sorry.” He spoke first, his hand squeezed yours. You looked up to him, seeing tears fall down his face. The face that has smiled at you for years, laughed alongside you, cried with you. “I did the funeral run. If I had known you were alive, I would’ve-“

“Bradley.”

“I thought I lost you.” His voice cracks, his hand squeezed yours just a little too tight. “I’m so sorry I left you out there, I didn’t know.” His tears fell fast, just like rain in a storm. “I’m sorry.”

You wet your lips before squeezing his hand back.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

Bradley’s face dropped, eyebrows furrowed and eyes widened. “What? Like being here?”

Your eyes met his, you felt the sting of imaginary tears. “Us.”

It was like you could see into his head like an x-ray, because you watched his entire world shatter through his eyes. Splintering his chest with glass and porcelain, shredding his heart like paper - pain he’s felt before but never from you.

“What?”

You took in a breath, a reflex to try to calm yourself before you broke into pieces. “I hurt you.”

“No, no, baby, I didn’t know that you were alive, there was no-“

“We always end up like this.” You coughed roughly, your free hand began to slowly move towards your face. “I can’t keep hurting you.”

“You’re not hurting me.”

You stared at him. “It’s easier to grieve friends than lovers.” Your throat began to burn but you continued, taking breaths after every few words. “I can’t hurt the love you give me. I’m,” A cough, your throat scratchy and hoarse while you breathed out. “A Maverick. I’ll get you killed.”

“You won’t get me killed, Y/N.” He answered immediately, gently squeezing your hand. “You’re not your father.”

Your head moved for the first time as you lulled it to the side, a whisper escaping your lips, “But you are yours.”

It was like you could hear the relationship exploding, burning by how his face dropped. His eyebrows furrowed, betrayal set in his skin. But, there was also understanding. He understood your fear. “We can make this work.”

“I love you but I can’t do it.” Another cough escaped your throat before you continued, “We were always better as friends.”

His other hand went and wiped those heartbroken tears from his face. “Please don’t do this. Not when I just got you back.”

“Please go.”

The fire had consumed him, burning his skin like the tears he shed. But he didn’t argue with you, he knew it would be pointless. Once a Maverick, always a Maverick. He only gave your hand a squeeze before saying, “Can I kiss you?” Just one last time?

You nodded and he instantly pressed his lips to yours, the dance of your lips was familiar yet needy, the last time you would ever kiss Bradley would be in this hospital room in Miramar. He pulled away after just a moment, his free hand cupped your cheek as he made you look into his eyes. “I will always love you, even if you’re scared to love me. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you, all you have to do is just ask.”

There wasn’t another word exchanged before he let go, moving away and towards the door without a glance at you. Then, you were left in silence.

The light was still too bright, your lungs felt like sandbags and your tongue hurt from speaking, even if it wasn’t much. It was only a few seconds before the door opened, a gaggle of nurses and doctors waltzing in. Taking your temperature, asking you questions, upping the dosage of morphine. Your hand moved to grab your cup of water, a nurse moved to hand it to you. You nodded in thanks before looking back to the doctor, his words going in one ear and out the other. The blanket was peeled back to assess wounds, you got a look at them. Your body was covered in white bandages, it made you feel sick so you looked up to the ceiling as they put the blanket back.

The doctor - Doctor Choi? - cleared her throat to catch your attention, you moved your head back down and glanced to her. “You’ll be back in the air in two months.”

Those words would have been a comfort two months ago, but now, it made you viciously nauseous. It bloomed the quaking feeling in your stomach and up your throat. You would only crash again if you got back into a jet.

“Thanks.”

Doctor Choi nodded before ushering the large group of medical staff out of your room, you took a small sip of your ice water. You didn’t even notice that someone had stayed behind, but it wasn’t Rooster. No, Rooster did not carry himself with such… grace.

“You’re incredibly impressive, Lieutenant Mitchell.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. “Survival…or flying?” Your shaky hand held the cup of ice water, staring at the man who moved to stand at the foot of your bed. The man who you almost shot, the man who rescued you.

Captain John Price was a man made of steel, melted and carved into a well-rounded leader - you could tell by the way he held himself. Not in the way that he was too ignorant, but the way that he oozed confidence. Just like you used to. Could your fractured hull ever be repaired and floated back out to sea?

Price clasped his hands behind his back. “You survived 23 days without getting yourself killed, killing threats with your bare hands to conserve ammo. You hunted animals for sustenance, fought off what looked like two rounds of Russian scouts and only had one bullet wound. I’ve trained men that would only be able to dream about having any of those skills.” He nodded to you. “Not to mention the stealth kills. It’s easy to see that most of them didn’t struggle.”

“Was gonna be a Navy Seal medic before I went Aviation.”

“I’m sure you would be able to get back into the program.”

“Excuse me?”

“Your flying skills are excellent, don’t get me wrong, but you would be an incredible Special Forces Operator.” He cleared his throat. “No one has ever pulled their gun on me that fast before without me catching it, it was impressive, Y/N. Especially when they’re wounded and starved.”

“Thanks…?”

“I’m looking for someone like you to be a part of a Task Force, and from how you seem to be traumatized from flying,”

Your eyes narrowed. “How did you-“

“I’m giving you a way out, to still serve your country but just using different tools.”

You stared at the Captain, eyebrows furrowed. “How did you know about…that?”

The Captain only shrugged. “I would be traumatized too if the one thing I trusted more than myself had failed me.” He then moved towards the tray table next to your bed where you had just sat down your drink. He fished something from his pocket and held it up - a business card. “If you ever need an excuse to stay on the ground, call me.”

He placed the paper on the table before turning away, footsteps almost silent as he made it to the door. Your hand reached for the card, the soft card stock felt weird when you took it between your fingers. His name was hastily written, but the international phone number underneath it was written slowly, as if to make sure you could read it. You kept your eyes on the number.

“Captain?”

He stopped, hand on the door handle before he turned back to you. “Yes, Lieutenant?”

You looked up to him. “I don’t have to be Reaper anymore, then?”

Price shook his head. “It’s your decision.” With that, the man had left you alone in your hospital room. You flicked the paper between your fingers before flinging it back onto the tray table.

It didn’t take you more than twelve hours to dial in the number, and you were placed underneath Captain John Price’s wing.

—

The stock of the rifle against your shoulder was a comfort, your eye watching through the scope as Soap weaved through the building, making sure to keep tabs on his position as he cleared every room. There were only three floors of the building in Istanbul, both Price and Gaz sat with their own rifles on two other buildings that sat across from the target. Comms had been quiet for the most part, only muttering a “Clear!” every few minutes. Any information they could get their hands on was put in a backpack which would then be sent to Laswell for decoding. Soap had done his internal sweep of the floor, now making sure he stayed in your sights as he cleared the rooms with windows. You watched as he dug through files on a desk, scanning through files. The room to the left held Alejandro, he was typing in a computer as Ghost stood watch at the door.

“Nothing that even talks about the target.” Alejandro muttered into the comms, you could see him inject a flash drive into the PC. Your sights drifted to Soap again, seeing that he had began to move out of the room.

“Clear.” The Scot muttered, your scope then moved back to Ghost.

“Clear.” Alejandro spoke, the men then moved into the building, making you lose visual.

“Delta 0-4 lost visual on Alpha Team.” You spoke into your radio.

“Bravo 0-6, gained visual on Alpha Team.” Price echoed, you settled back and moved your head from your scope for just a moment. The Russian sunshine felt bittersweet, the cold brushed over your clothes as the warmth of the sunlight burned into them.

“Gaz, we’ve got a remote locked blast door in here, do you mind?” Alejandro asked, your eye went back to your scope and your rifle moved to gaze to Gaz’s position, across the plaza on another roof - a laptop with him.

Gaz ducked from his rifle, head down underneath the ledge as he most likely pulled up his laptop. “Not at all. Bravo 2-6, losing visual on the west side.”

You cleared your throat, scanning his surroundings on the roof of the old apartment building. “Delta 0-4, covering Bravo 2-6.”

There was a moment of silence, you could almost hear the birds chirping before Alejandro spoke again, “Gaz, can’t you make it open faster?”

You saw Gaz’s head pop up from behind the ledge, looking onto the building as he answered, “Negative, sir. But you can try pullin’ on it if it makes you feel better.”

Price chuckled on the line. “Cheeky bastard.”

“Here for everyone’s entertainment.” Gaz laughed, ducking underneath the ledge again. “Looks like there should be a stairwell behind the door, leading down into the basement. I have visual on Alpha Team via cameras. They might know you’re there.”

“Be careful, boys.” Price commented. “When you go down there, you’ll only have Gaz on visual. Watch each other’s backs.”

Soap. “Yes sir.”

“Bravo 0-6 losing visual on Alpha Team.”

“Bravo 2-6 gained visual on Alpha Team.”

You moved your rifle to the right, scanning Gaz’s rooftop again. You moved your eye from your scope again, gazing down into the fairly unpopulated street. The building Alpha Team was in looked old, barely kept up with - nothing new for your line of work. Limestone had cracks, the windows cracked and the engraving above the front door had faded. There was no one lingering around the streets in front of the building where you were looking, you were sat on an office building roof directly across from it.

Once your eyes flickered to the direction of your captain, you felt it. That chill that crawls up your back when you know something’s wrong. You looked back through your scope to your captain, scanning his roof before looking back to Gaz.

You didn’t even hesitate when you saw the man with a rifle, about to shoot Gaz from across the roof. The shot hit the man in the forehead, his body crumbled like sand - Gaz jumped out of his skin as he shouted into his mic, “What the fuck, Mercy!?”

You pulled back the bolt on your rifle, reloading a shot as you kept your sights on the open door to the roof. “Just saved your life, Sergeant. We might be compromised, gentlemen. Grab what you can and get out.”

“We're daein' oor best.” Soap grunted, you kept your eyes on Gaz’s roof.

“Eyes on hostiles moving into the building.” Price commented, it felt like a timer began. You didn’t even dare to look down at your watch, you kept your eyes on Garrick as he began to navigate the team through the labyrinth that was the basement. “No clear shots yet. Delta 0-4, keep eyes on Bravo 2-6.”

“Rog.”

“We’ve got something, Captain. Basement is clear.” Ghost’s voice was low, the grip on the handle of your rifle grew just a little tighter. “Gaz, is our exit clear?”

Another few seconds, Price piped up, “Enemies spotted, green light on weapons hot.”

“Three targets heading towards the basement, LT.” Gaz confirmed, you watched as he then grabbed his rifle again, scoping towards you. “Targets spotted covering the exits, we may needa lift out of here, Captain.”

“You hear that, Nik?” Price called into the comms, you heard a very chirpy, “Yes sir!” from your favorite Russian pilot.

“Get to the roof, there is a staircase right outside of the basement door that goes all the way up.” Gaz had ducked back down to his laptop, you kept your sights on him - only moving your scope to make sure the fucker that almost killed him was still dead.

The chill hadn’t gone away yet, the knot in your stomach that kept tightening and making you feel sick. Your scope left from Gaz and went to Price, quickly scanning his area to see that he was also clear. That meant-

You rolled to the right, hearing a knife loudly crack against concrete. Your hands were already on your own knife, leaping onto your foe and holding their arm away from you. They were dressed in all black, black war paint over their eyes as they tried to buck you off. Anger seeped through your skin as you slammed your knee into their stomach, making them temporarily unfocus; allowing you to plunge Ghost’s black knife into their throat. The blood was hot, splattering against your hands as you twisted the knife and wretched it from their skin, the squelch from the inhalation of blood would’ve made you squirm, but your adrenaline was all you felt.

Thank God for your sixth sense.

“I’m compromised!” Your fingers coated your radio in blood, you wiped the remaining blood and skin off of the knife onto the leg of your enemy. You sheathed the knife and grabbed your rifle, sliding the stand back onto the sides. You pressed the button again. “Almost got kebabed, we need to exfil now.”

“Nik, what’s your status?” Price barked, you quickly slung your sniper rifle over your shoulder - hands grabbed your the assault rifle hanging from your vest. You cocked the gun and turned towards the exit of the roof, clearing the landing before heading down the stairs, gun still raised.

“Five minutes out, Captain.”

“Gaz, Mercy, rendezvous at the secondary location.”

“Rog.” You confirmed.

You made quick work of securing the staircase as you descended, your footsteps quiet on the concrete as you kept your finger beside the trigger. It was only five flights of stairs, but the taught string in your stomach told you it would be a long way before you even made it back to your team. This was supposed to be easy, you thought, I do not feel like getting hunted for sport.

When you opened the door back to the street, you pressed your body against the wall beside the doorway so you were able to look a little farther down the street - nothing. No one, not even civvies. It was weird. You cleared both sides of the street before exiting the building, keeping your hands on your rifle.

The street was filled with old buildings that looked like they came straight out of the Soviet Union, with beige concrete and cookie-cutter styles. You didn’t pay any mind to the emptiness of the street, but your eyes kept moving to the windows of residential apartments as you began to quickly jog down streets.

It was only two klicks away and you were making record time, making sure to keep tabs on your surroundings and looking over your shoulder every once in a while. The prickle in your spine began to not go away, it felt familiar - not in the sense that it was Ghost, but in the sense that it felt predatory; the way you felt under the gaze of your abusive ex-boyfriend.

Extremely dangerous.

You swung around, thinking that a threat would be behind you but there was nothing but open, dusty street.

Tick, tick.

You felt water on your face, you glanced down at your rifle to see that rain had began to paint it. You grunted in annoyance before turning back around, running now. If someone was going to hunt you, they were going to have to be fast.

“Bravo 0-6 at RV, Gaz, what’s your status?”

“Almost there.” Gaz answered, sounding out of breath. The concrete under your boots was growing uneven as you darted through back alleys and side streets, rain began to splatter against every inch of your uniform. The knot in your stomach still tightened, it didn’t take that much to convince you that you were being followed.

You cocked your rifle as you reached a street corner, darting to the left and using the building as cover before you peered out to find the enemy. It didn’t take long for a man the size of Soap to appear, but it definitely wasn’t Soap. The man was geared up from head to toe, leaving his ginger hair without a helmet. He had an assault rifle in his hands, keeping it pointed up at he scanned the street. The rain began to get faster, drenching the man and giving you the perfect cover to close your scope on his forehead.

The body hit the ground quickly yet was silent against the sound of the rain, you lowered your gun and turned away, scanning your environment. Another street up and you would be at the van, where Price and Gaz hopefully were.

“Alpha Team has extracted, Bravo Team, what is your ETA?” Ghost’s voice almost scared you, you bit your tongue as you darted forwards, keeping your rifle raised. Your finger was poised beside the trigger like a puma, ready to pounce.

“Waiting on Mercy.” Gaz answered.

“Copy.”

Your socks were soaked by the time you rounded the corner, seeing the familiar silhouettes of your coworkers halfway down the street; they were waiting in the rain for you. Your tightened heart warmed a little, you didn’t stop running until you were twenty feet from the van, jogging.

You called to Gaz and Price, “Delta 0-4 at RV.”

Price nodded to you before radioing into Alpha Team. “We’ll be at the LZ in ten.”

-

It wasn’t long before you were back in Nik’s helicopter, the knot that was so tight in your stomach had loosened, but you still felt the anxiety. Something bad was happening, dread made its home in your sternum. You spent that flight back to the small base in Poland trying to flesh out how they knew you were there.

Everyone had cleared the recon spots before Alpha Team even made advances towards the target location, there was nothing to tip off anyone. Gaz hadn’t detected any security cameras for blocks, all three buildings you, Price, and Gaz used were cleared. There was no way they could’ve known the teams were there, especially you and Gaz. Something isn’t right.

Alejandro sucked in a breath as you pressed a little too much hydrogen peroxide to the slice on the side of his hand. You mumbled a weak apology as you moved to bandage his hand.

“¿En qué estás pensando?” The Colonel murmured, your eyes glanced up before looking back down at the wound.

“Podemos estar en peligro.” You answered, Spanish just a little slower than you liked. Your brain was going faster than a freight train, you relied on your muscle memory to continue caring for Alejandro’s wound. “No había forma de que supieran que íbamos a estar allí arriba.”

Alejandro nodded. “Sé que tienes razón, pero tuvieron suerte.”

“Algo anda mal, Ale. No puedo evitar este sentimiento.” You gently began to wrap the white gauze around his palm.

Alejandro nodded and smiled. “The sign of a good soldado. Preparados para lo peor.”

You tucked the end of the bandage far from the wound before nodding at the Colonel. “No es una bendición.”

Your friend cocked his head to the side, eyebrows furrowed. “Te mantendrá a salvo.” His eyes then flickered to the skull-masked man a seat down, typing away on his laptop. “Tienes que cuidar tu sombra, parece un perro pateado.”

“Ha cometido errores, está aprendiendo.” The finality of your words made Alejandro nod again before getting up, moving back to his original spot across from you. He shrugged, mouthing a ‘Gracias’.

The rest of the ride was silent, Ghost breaking down firewall after firewall of the laptop they retrieved while Price kept his phone pressed to his ear, lower conversations barely heard over the roter. Dread carved out words of warning on your bones, your fingers fidgeting with your vest as you kept glancing to Ghost. He had sat back in his seat, hands looking like they were shaking as they typed on the keyboard.

It didn’t take you more than a moment to move a seat over and take one of his hands, he almost instantly retched it away. You looked up to him, seeing the wild look in his eye.

“What are you doing?” His voice was low, almost angry. His words bit like a rabid dog, deep and hollow.

Your eyebrows furrowed. “You’re shaking.”

“‘m fine.” He scoffed a little, hands trying to go back to the keyboard but you had stopped them with your own. His eyes held an icy fury.

“You need to relax.”

That seemed to click something in his brain, circuits electrifying and gears clicking together. He seethed, “You almost died.”

Your hand subconsciously found purchase on his knife in your vest sheath, almost pulling it out to give it back. “And you gave me the weapon I saved myself with. So quit being an ass and listen to me.”

The man made of cold stone moved his hands from the keyboard, his eyes narrowing.

You took one of his hands, squeezing it a little. “Just take five minutes.” Your voice lowered a little. “For me.”

You had hope, just a little.

But it was crushed when he pulled your hand away, typing on the laptop again. You turned forward, eyes staring at the floor of the helicopter.

One step forward, five steps back.

———

some tags had to be deleted as i couldn’t tag, i’m sorry!

@luhvbot @ladystarfishnut @chris3tom2pau1rdj @kat-nee @efsa-lks @angelsquidd @marytvirgin @medivalpersephone @ramadiiiisme @blueoorchid @guiltyconfessions @abbiesxox @lockleywife @nicomactavish @nose235678 @multi-fandomlovers-world @holyfeck @thriving-n-jiving @kgive @simonsdoll @crazyfandomist @ryunniez @sofasoap @depressedacidtest @angelinathron @dindjarinsbby @lazyperfectioniste @keiva1000 @jellyedkazoo @1sam1 @erensonly @sunniiiiiiiiii @thekuroinsomething @lake-145 @badpvn @guineapigzwei @qualitypudding @s0meth1ngs-n0t-r1ght @doodle-cat16 @5seastar @horniestbutterfly @allaboutirem0 @zechie-spams @zoraclover777 @joanne-uwu @miss-i-ship-it @merakiaes @multitargaryen @sweetybuzz25

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Copyright © 2023 lethalchiralium. All rights reserved.

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Copyright © 2023 lethalchiralium. All rights reserved.

[averseunhinged]

what are your top ten favorite klaroline fics?

hello, friend! so glad you asked. this is more than ten, and i have more in my bookmarks, plus there's stuff on ffn, but this has been 90m of my life, because i am incapable of brevity or culling. i'll probs do a part two? maybe? idk. i'll try.

fine china and dull silver by@yespumpkindoodlesthings

wrote a review here!

where it begins: by endoftheline7

i've been trying to write a review of this for fic rec friday for a month, but i just have so many incoherent screamy thoughts about it. it's one of my favorite reads on both klaus and caroline and plays with the idea that vampires are always a little bit the age they were when they died, no matter how old they get, and spins it into a sort of teen summer romance. klaus is mostly awkwardly thrilled to hang out with caroline, but still has a moment of oh, right. he's batshit and full of murder. caroline's less perfect qualities aren't glossed over. they're fully confronted and caroline doesn't just accept those things. she begins to learn how to turn them into strengths. also, i think about that conversation between rebekah and caroline at the beginning a lot. the whole thing about it not being their responsibility to correct the behavior of the awful men in their lives, but the alternative is to let those men burn themselves out, and that option sucks, too. very hmmmm. so much thoughts.

a statement for the masses (series, but it's one longer fic plus a short one shot) by but_seriously

i don't usually like human au in this fandom, because i think it's hard to make klaus human and in character without him being more awful than i can stand. like he ports pretty well to a shitty billionaire, but ew. corpo romance. not for me. rock stars, however? perfect. i love the rivalry. i love the family drama. i love the complicated relationship between rebekah and caroline.

leave the dust behind by whirly

tons to say about this, but it's mostly all about the ending for me. it's open, so if you like a strict hea resolution, it's probably not going to be a satisfying read for you. but i love this sort of slow ticking over of caroline's thought progression while she figures out what her relationship with klaus could or should be. there's a sort of balance between her own developing moral code and klaus's atrocities that needs to be struck. most of all, i love klaus's faith in her and his belief that they'll figure it out eventually.

someone that'll look like you by @cupcakemolotov

i probably don't need to talk this one up, but whatever. it's super popular for valid reasons. it has a number of my favorite things. amnesia! a more interesting augustine society! enzo! caroline being a stone cold badass! the dichotomy of klaus being both ancient and immovable and willing to bend for what caroline needs! all delicious things.

there's a devil on my shoulder where the angels used to be (and he's calling me the queen) by meet_the_girl_who_can

my favorite no humanity caroline fic. i have such a love/hate relationship with the humanity switch. it could have been so interesting, but tvdu mostly made it silly and samey and boring. this is more in line with what i can see caroline getting up to with her humanity off. like why would she just hang around mystic falls? other than the shitty budget of this shitty show, i can't think of a reason why she would. and i really enjoy how smart klaus knows he has to be with her. she's still caroline, but she can't be careful with him with her humanity off, and that has to be a scary prospect, because she was capable of hurting him badly when she did reluctantly care about him.

the fate makes for a lousy poet (longer fic plus a short one shot companion) by @stars-and-darkness

so. like so many of us, i love soulmates au, and this is probably my favorite in this fandom. but the part i go back to the most is the second fic. i love elena so much, because of that dichotomy of compassion paired with a near total inability to relate her own feelings and needs to those of other people, not in spite of it. she's a really interesting character and ella's treatment of that is so deft. elena absolutely cannot equate her own situation with caroline's, despite it being so obvious from the outside, because she's so mired in her own suffering and the indulgence of almost everyone she's ever known. she's simultaneously cruelly selfish and extraordinarily selfless and it's a wonderful read, as is the first caroline + mikaelsons fic. ella always writes concepts and does character work in a way that makes me go YES THAT EXACTLY THAT.

like the sun shines by @lalainajanes

this is like my #1 wish it wasn't unfinished fic, but i also absolutely do not care that it isn't finished, because it's just so much fun. canon barely goes here, which is so very favorite. i love a mostly everyone lives (contemptuously with each other) au. and i love caroline traveling the world. and i love caroline and bonnie in new orleans with secret, (probs) very important business. and i love a klaus who is still kind of the worst.

lost in the right direction (again, a series) by @kirythestitchwitch

there is nothing i love more than klaus and caroline traveling the world together and just doing stuff. all vibes, minimal plot. this series is A+++ murderfluff and it's enormously engaging, watching them figure out themselves and each other and whatever they have the potential to be together. totally one of my comfort reads

feel the madness closing in by yokan/@galvanizedfriend

this one is ugly and sad and awful and such a realistic take on caroline in new orleans during the events of the originals. i love so many things about it, but caroline's thoughts about whether he's been cursed or gone mad or if it was simply that klaus wasn't capable of loving someone without treating them like a possession are on point.

leave my rage to the sea and sun by sophisticatedfangirling

another ugly one. as much as i love that klaus never compels caroline, i can't help but think if he fucked up badly enough and felt like he'd lost everything else, too, he'd probably do it. this is so sad and slides pretty seamlessly into canon.

bride by brombones

this is one of those surprisingly layered, literary flavored fics. i'm planning on writing a dedicated review at some point (lololololol), but the very basic gist is caroline runs an experiment with klaus's blood and manages to completely fuck up her life to the point where she'll never be able to escape him, even if he never finds out the results. it is WILD with a fantastic use of silas that makes me want to shriek incoherently.

[invisiblefoxfire]

Wait. Stop. Listen. I need to talk about Willy’s Wonderland.

Most of you haven’t seen this film. If you’ve heard of it at all, you probably caught wind of “Nicolas Cage Plays Five Nights At Freddy’s” as the basic premise. And that is correct. But.

BUT. What you might NOT have heard.

Is that Nic Cage’s character in this film is 100% autistic coded, to a degree that it cannot possibly be an accident, and every single one of his autistic traits is portrayed as badass. I swear whoever came up with this character must have made it to show to someone autistic in their life to prove that the traits they get made fun of are actually very good and cool.

The film is a goofy horror thing and there is blood and gore and violence, and that is for sure not for everyone. Unfortunately there are also a few scenes with flashing lights (especially near the end), and some of the fighting scenes get pretty screen-shaky, which is a real shame. I recommend checking doesthedogdie.com for details if you have things you need to avoid. But if you are cool with those things (or have someone to watch with who can tell you when to turn away and look back) you MUST see this film.

Not sold yet? Minor spoilers lie ahead, but Nic Cage’s (unnamed) character:

Is 100% non-verbal. He communicates solely through slow nods/head-shakes and slow, deliberate actions. This is played as him being a quiet badass. It is also hilarious because when he doesn’t speak and just dead-eyed stares at all the other characters who talk to him, they get uncomfortable and just keep talking and spilling all the film’s backstory in big infodumps which actually make sense under the circumstances, instead of feeling shoehorned in.

Has apparent sensory issues. Wears sunglasses outdoors at all times even though it’s cloudy or dark out the whole time. At one point he seems to get sensory overload, which only slows him down briefly before he returns to being a badass again, except now a very pissed off one.

On the other hand, appears to be hyposensitive to some things. He has no apparent startle reflex despite many things that would jump-scare a normal person out of their skin. Also does not react much to pain.

Seems very concerned about keeping clean. Washes his hands before each break and changes his shirt whenever it gets dirty (like when it gets drenched in blood and animatronic fluids for example). Sands down his fingernails to keep grit out of them. He is meticulous about the cleaning job he’s been given, down to every spot of graffiti and drop of blood and the tiniest bit of grit.

Has a flat affect and blank facial expression pretty much at all times. Again, this is played as him being a stone cold badass (which he is).

Follows instructions very precisely, almost obsessively. No matter what tries to get in his way. He has a Job To Do at this place and he Does It and if that involves fighting off a horde of murderous animatronics then I guess he has to do that too.

Follows a very precise schedule. One of his instructions is to take breaks, so he sets an alarm that goes off at regular intervals and stops working to play pinball for a few minutes before returning to work. Even if that means walking away from a big fight to do so.

Seems to have a special interest in pinball which involves a number of stims. When he finds the pinball machine he looks like he has fallen in love.

Has one single brand of beverage that he drinks. He has a can of this beverage, same brand, same flavor, at every single break. His car has a case of it in the trunk. The beverage is called “Punch” and there is a picture of a fist on the can, and he crushes each can before throwing it away, so it is, again, badass as hell.

On top of all of this, the neurotypical characters in the film are portrayed as being overly chatty idiots. They never stop talking. They constantly make bad decisions based on emotions (and their sex drives) instead of logic and reason. They know about the danger they’re in yet they make every cliche horror film mistake. They’re all so obsessed with “saving” this guy that they don’t seem to notice that he doesn’t need any help.

In conclusion, Nic Cage’s character in Willy’s Wonderland is the autistic hero we’ve always needed and I need everyone to go watch it and tell their friends to watch it and spread the word.

Take any one of his traits and tweak it slightly and you have something that autistic people have been made fun of for all their lives. Needing to eat/drink the same things all the time. Needing a precise schedule. Following instructions to the letter. Beating possessed animatronics to death with our fists. Not speaking, or speaking very little or very strangely. Wanting things to be clean and feeling uncomfortable when they’re dirty. Obviously not every autistic person has all of these traits, but they are all common, and they are all used as examples of why we are broken, or inferior, or tragic.

Well fuck that noise. Next time someone shames you for that shit, put on Willy’s Wonderland and ask them if they’d say the same thing to our good buddy Mr. Cage.