#because that's just beating a dead horse. for three years straight now | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thatforgottenbasilisk · 11 months ago

Text

Beat the Dead Horse (You'll Get Red White and Blue Confetti)

fandom: marvel

word count: 3521

(AO3)

Some people say that you die the same way you're born. They extrapolate this point to different ends- alone, the more sheltered or depressed folk say; screaming and covered in someone else's blood, say those with a bit more humor, or else those who've lived violent lives; surrounded by loved ones, say all the civilians who have never and will never go to war, who hope to die old instead of young.

Steve doesn't agree with any of them. He was born on July 4th, amid fireworks and celebrations in the still heat of Brooklyn, with both his parents there and already full of love, just a few short years before his Pops passed on, and quite a few more years before Ma joined him. Now, he's sitting alone in the cockpit of a plane hundreds of miles from Brooklyn- but fast closing that gap- in the sharp cold of midwinter. His closest loved ones are only reachable over radio, not that he wants any of them here with him.

Peggy stays with him to the end. He can still hear her voice as the jet hits the water, and he knows that his own radio cutting out on her end must feel something like the tiny breeze he felt against his hand as Bucky just barely missed it; it must feel like finding out about the 107th when he was still just a dancing monkey for good old Uncle Sam; it must feel like other things, too, but Steve can't really think around the burning cold of the water all around him, flooding the whole jet and swallowing him whole.

---

"Steve Rogers was an American hero, there's no doubt about that. He lives on in comic books and archived propaganda films, in childhood memories and history books alike. Captain America is, some say, more myth than man by now; there has even been some debate on whether or not Steve Rogers's transformation under Dr. Erskine's formula was exaggerated in government propaganda (Rich, 1967), or whether there was even a successful test of the Super Soldier serum that took place at all (Waters & Meyer, 1966); some more contemporary and less mainstream authors have even questioned if Steve Rogers was a real person at all, or merely a government prop to aid in the propaganda effort during a time when morale was at a low (Bouchard & Wright, 1971).

Despite these debates, it cannot be overstated the impact that both Captain America's life and loss meant to the American populace, both during the war and even having a substantial ripple effect to the modern day. How many high schoolers are currently writing essays in their English classes about how this author or that poet uses him as a symbol for war, peace, or hope itself? Depending on which books they're reading, it may even be all three at once; and yet, at the same time, how many television advertisements have you seen today that feature Steve Rogers in support of this or that product, his likeness Xeroxed straight from the comic books for the occasion? The man is everywhere. He lives and breathes in your living room, at your kitchen table, on the radio waves and air waves alike.

It can make you wonder, sometimes, if you love him or hate him. He did nothing to most people who are living now, didn't murder any grandfathers- at least, no grandfathers that anybody would be proud to talk about- and yet you can hear the kids and the talk radio men chattering about him, about his legacy, about how backwards America is because of it. How he's gone from 'hero' to propaganda machine for the more Conservative folk, how he represents all that's wrong with the world today, how he stands up for nothing but racism and war and staying in 1955 for everybody's lives ad infinitum.

It's absurd. It's ahistorical. It's shaping modern culture as we know it."

- Richard Elliot, "A Second Transformation of Steve Rogers," February 1973.

---

The light is bright enough to be seen even through his closed eyelids.

He's not sure of when, exactly, he becomes aware of this fact. For all he knows, the light's always been bright, and he's just closer to the surface than he thought he would end up.

Is he dead? He doesn't even feel particularly awake, so that's not an unrealistic possibility. Maybe he's floating in front of the gates of Heaven, though he honestly feels more like he's lying on an Army cot more than floating anywhere. He'd thought that clouds, especially the Holy kind, would be a bit softer, but maybe there's some divine meaning behind it. There's a divine meaning behind everything, that's what his Ma used to say, and he's not about to question her or her faith now.

It's a long moment before it actually occurs to him to open his eyes and start tuning into the world around him. Everything is syrupy and slow, like it's just a bit too early on a winter morning and he's trying to think through the fog that's accumulated on the horizon and over the river. He feels like his brain's a car engine that's in dire need of oil, and the second he opens his eyes is when a mechanic finally pops open the hood of the car.

The lights are too bright, almost like they're pumping too much electricity into them at once. How much power is this building using? It can't be as much as the lights alone imply, because the bedding and the room both insist that this is nothing more than a military hospital- and they wouldn't waste money on the lights when they could be using that same money for more weapons. He jumps up off the bed, because something isn't right, and either something's happened or he's being played for a fool, probably both.

He looks out the window to see New York, from a few floors up, but it doesn't smell of the usual factory smoke and he can't hear any cars or people on the ground. The skyline looks too flat, and the window is situated such that he can't look down at the city, just at the windowsill. The only sounds that he can hear are coming from the radio, which is tuned to a baseball game that he idly listens to for a few moments as he steps back from the window and towards the bed.

After a moment, he realizes that the game sounds familiar; he remembers sneaking into it with Bucky just before he was drafted, sitting in the back of the stands with a terrible view but a view nonetheless, because they'd both gotten the day off from their respective jobs- Bucky at the docks, and himself at the local grocer's- and they figured it was a decent way to spend the day. He wouldn't forget that game even if they'd cut his head open and plucked the memory out of him.

Somebody's definitely trying to play him for a fool, but before he can think of what to do about it, the door to the room opens. In walks a woman, her tie done up all wrong, and all that he can do is demand answers for where he is, who's taken him, what's happened.

She denies everything, tells him that he's in a military hospital, and he truly commends the Germans on being able to fake American accents so well. Did they recruit a real American, he wonders? No, they couldn't have, because if this woman was truly American, she'd know how to tie her tie in the way that American women are supposed to. She looks like a man tied her necktie, so not American.

He's sick of this already. If he's being taken prisoner, at least respect him enough to tell him that instead of doing a stupid song and dance routine of trying to trick him into thinking he's safe. He moves past the woman and starts running for an escape, barely paying attention to the kind of compound they've put him in, only that there are a lot of windows and a lot of people in black suits. He runs out, hoping against hope that there will be backup, somewhere, or at least some kind of information on where he is and who's found him.

It feels like five seconds and five years before he stops. It's the middle of a busy street, with cars that look like Howard Stark personally engineered each and every one of them, while the buildings climb higher than any he's ever imagined. They're covered in screens, with what looks like hundreds of different colored film reels being projected on every one.

... It's still the same Manhattan, the man he later learns is Fury tells him. Just seventy years after you left it.

---

"Ronald Reagan's economic system is unsustainable, as stated far earlier than this publication by far better economists than I. Since I am not an economist, I feel that I should instead apply my own expertise to our current climate: American Nationalism is now higher than it's been since 1956, and that's not a coincidence.

Ronald Reagan, now famously having played a minimal role in the film, "Captain America: Siberian Takeover" (Russo & Russo, 1954), has become a symbol for both the American Right and America itself- though in a capacity greater than that of the acting President. His liberal use of Steve Rogers' likeness in his campaign makes his platform obvious to those who have studied the man in depth: he's practically synonymous with the caricature "Uncle Sam," and in a time of dwindling faith in the government and in America as a whole, in a time of disillusionment with the establishment, here he- and, by extension, Reagan- is to save the day against the Communists instead of against the Nazis.

So he wins the election, and all of a sudden everything is prosperous and the economy is booming. Everyone's buying cars, everyone's buying houses, everyone's buying everything and the 80's are already a time of hedonism and plenty mere months after his election. Captain America wins again, at least until this bubble pops and we all swing back the other way on the political pendulum."

- Megan Oher, "Reaganomics, Nationalism, and Captain America," December 1983.

---

It only takes two weeks before they need him again.

Two weeks to mourn everyone he's ever met. Two weeks to acclimate to the peace he was assured that he would have, only for it to be torn away.

He didn't miss the military.

---

TOM: Is that- is that the real Captain America? Fighting the Chitauri, there in the video, you see that?

KATIE: I do see it, Tom. I'd heard that they found his body about a month ago, but nothing on if he was actually alive all this time. We'd have heard, we're the number one source of information in New York, there's no way we could have missed this.

TOM: Well, either we did, or they managed to clone him. How long does it take to grow a man in a test tube?

KATIE: More than a month, I think.

TOM: Probably. But modern science is a wonder!

KATIE: I think they might have just figured out the serum from his body and given it to someone else, decked that guy out in costume instead. Seems less time-consuming than an entire clone, and besides, wouldn't a clone of Steve Rogers wind up like the pre-serum guy? He was shorter than me and scrawnier than you!

TOM: Yeah, unless it went into his DNA, they'd waste their money on a clone... the serum sounds about right. Unless it's just a really buff guy they found at some gym.

KATIE: He swears he doesn't do steroids or anything.

[STUDIO LAUGHTER]

TOM: Oh, no, of course not. Totally legit, just as strong as Captain America but completely naturally.

KATIE: Of course, of course.

- Transcript of the talk show, "Ragging On with Katie and Tom," Season 7, Episode 6; October 2012.

---

There's a press conference afterwards.

There are actually several press conferences afterwards, but they all blend together after a while, all the same information to different people and phrased in different ways. Yes, the Avengers are under SHIELD jurisdiction, or Yes, Loki is contained and there is no danger of him coming back and wreaking more havoc on New York or anywhere else.

There are also the fun ones, the ones that he'd thought were public information up until now.

Are you the real Steve Rogers? is a common one. He considers, for half a second the first time, lying and telling them No. He knows that if he's honest he'll never have a moment's peace again, he can never drop the act of Captain America, he'll always be beholden to upholding this title that's grown far larger than he could have ever imagined. His name is in history books, his costume worn by every actor who managed to claw their way into it both on Broadway and in the cinemas, every moment of his life before 1945 dissected and consumed by everyone who's gone through any American History class. He could shuck that weight off right now, he could pretend to be just the latest in a long line of actors and liars alike.

The temptation only lasts for a fraction of a moment, though, and then he remembers himself. Yes, he says, then and every time thereafter. I am Steve Rogers.

---

REPORTER: What is your opinion on Steve Rogers coming back to life out of the ice?

MELANIE: Well, um, I don't- I don't think I like it very much.

REPORTER: And why is that?

MELANIE: I mean, the last time things were so much about Steve Rogers, it was 9/11 and everybody started hating anybody who wasn't the same shade as printer paper, or- or dressed just slightly too masculine or slightly too feminine. Everyone was scared of everyone, and that was already going to happen after all this alien business, but I think the man himself coming back just makes it all worse.

REPORTER: So you think he shouldn't have been unearthed at all? Just left to rot?

MELANIE: I mean- I mean, he's still a person, and of course he deserves to live and all that, I just wish it weren't so public. I wish he just... didn't do all those press conferences, or helped out in New York but not in costume, or lied and said he wasn't really Captain America. It's not even his fault, he didn't even do anything, he's a product of his time and everybody putting his face all over everything doesn't help, but I wish that he wasn't the biggest signal that me and my friends all need to find somewhere to hide. I wish his face wasn't a sign that someone's going to start committing hate crimes against me, or worse.

- Interview Transcript, "Channel 9 News, Chicago," January 2013.

---

Steve doesn't understand why people seem so wary of him.

It's not the same kinds of people that used to be wary of him; instead, it seems to be reversed, with polite society welcoming him with open arms while the people on the outskirts skitter away like rats from a cat. When did it change? Even in 1945, it wasn't this bad, because he still easily got the trust of all the Howling Commandos- though, that might have been aided by his reckless rescue of all of them from Hydra.

Still, the Commandos had thought of him as one of them, an outcast from the military and society same as the rest of them.

Tony says the reason can be found online- or, more accurately, he'd said, Google it, I'm not explaining a half century of history when Wikipedia can do it better. So, here he is, typing away at a computer and routinely forgetting that he can backspace and correct his typos, only to remember when the machine spits back strange answers to his searches.

Everybody seems to think he's someone he's not. Everything he's getting back is telling him that Captain America is nationalism in a nutshell, which was true when he was filming all those propaganda movies and punching Hitler from California to France, but nationalism's come to mean something different now. Nationalism now means racism, means fear, means hate; and, again, it didn't not mean those things seventy years ago, but it's all the more apparent now that this is what he, as a person, has been reduced to.

It all comes back to the root problem: he's not a person anymore, not really, and now there's almost nobody who knows that anymore. There's nobody who hasn't grown up hearing about him, there's nobody around who he can just be any other man with rather than Steve Rogers, Captain America, and all the baggage that that entails. There's nobody he can talk to about Bucky, how they used to be something that wasn't quite best friends and was more along the lines of what he was on his way to being with Peggy after they'd ended that; there's nobody he can talk to about Peggy, either, and she's her own kind of legend, too, untouchable just like him.

Everybody thinks he's someone who would hate people like himself, which is ironic and at least a little bit funny. He thinks Tony would laugh at it, if he didn't hate Steve from the start of all this. Still, he's the one of all of them best acquainted with the future and how to make people think in the ways he wants them to think from a public relations perspective; if Steve wants people to stop associating him with that kind of regressive hatred, Tony is the best man for him to call, and he doesn't hate him so much as to give him bad advice on purpose.

Would people stop thinking that I hate minorities if I tell them that Bucky and I used to go out? may not have been the best thing for Steve to open that phone call with, though.

After quite a bit of coughing on Tony's end of the line, followed by an aggressive line of questions that inadvertently reveal quite a bit about what stories Howard chose to pass along versus what he chose to omit, Steve has his answer of Yes, but the PR people will hate you forever if you don't talk to them about it first. Steve is of the opinion that many PR people would rather he not say anything about that, and it's not really something he feels like bringing up, considering that they'd both broken it off long before he met Peggy or had the serum, but it does seem like an easier bomb to drop on everyone than the other option of insisting that he doesn't agree with the way his image has been used for the past seventy years and very slowly winning people over with that. He'd rather set the record straight immediately.

There isn't an opportunity for a while, and in that time, he finds the word bisexual and thinks he likes it quite a bit- and then he thinks of the irony in the knowledge that many people think he'd hate anyone who likes that word, too. He has to say something soon; immigrants are afraid, every kind of minority is afraid, and the conservative politicians are having the same heyday they've been having for months.

Finally, finally, there's a press conference scheduled by Tony, one that he doesn't tell anyone the purpose of, and for that Steve is eternally grateful. He thinks he's starting to bridge the gap that Howard built between them, constructed of distorted memories and insistence that Steve would have supported this or that when in all reality he wouldn't.

I am Steve Rogers, he says, mirroring the first thing he ever said to this particular public, far removed from his own public in his own time. I am Steve Rogers, and my mother was an immigrant to this country. I am Steve Rogers, and I am bisexual. These things are not congruent with the things that many politicians say that I am, or say that I support. I keep having words put in my mouth, and I am here today to stop it. I do love my country, but I do not love the things that my country has done in my name. I do not support the hatred or the oppressive agenda that my country has used my name to further. Thank you.

Reporters are practically screaming over each other, trying to get their questions answered. The lights are brighter than they've ever been, with camera flashes blinding him better than any fluorescents ever could.

Steve was born again the moment he woke up alone in that too-bright room in SHIELD a few short months ago. Now, in this too-bright room full of a cacophony from far too many people, he's killed something that's been alive far longer than he ever was.

#my writing #marvel #captain america #steve rogers

7 notes · View notes

boricuacherry-blog · 2 years ago

Text

Saturday, September 22

To Dr. Ruth Beuscher:

Your letter came today, at a most needed moment, and I feel the way I used to after our talks - cleared, altered, renewed. I am really asking your help as a woman, the wisest woman emotionally and intellectually, that I know. You are not my mother, but you have been midwife to my spirit.

The end - the end for me at least - just blew up in this week. I have been very stupid, a bloody fool, but it only comes from my thinking Ted could grow up, and my wanting to give us a new and better and wider start.

I was prepared for almost anything - his having the odd affair, traveling, getting drunk - if we could be straight, good friends, share all the intellectual life that has been meat and drink to me.

I was ready for this, to settle for something much different than what I had thought marriage was, or what I wanted it to be.

Even our professional marriage - the utterly creative and healthy critical exchange of ideas and publication projects and completed work - meant enough to me to try to save it. But Ted made even this impossible, and I am appalled.

I am bloody, raw, nerves hanging out all over the place, because I have had six stormy but wonderful years, bringing both us, from nothing, books, fame, money, lovely babies, wonderful loving, but I see now that the man I loved as father and husband is just dead.

I realize, stunned, that I do not like him. Although he is handsome, I can hardly look at him, I see such ugliness.

After the first blow-up, Ted came home and said the affair was kaput. I believed this.

He said he would be straight, now that I wouldn't be tearful or try to stop him from anything - he only wanted to go up to London on drinking bouts with a few friends.

He went up half the week every week. The minute he came home he would lay into me with fury - I looked tired, tense, cross, couldn't he even have a drink, what sort of a wife had he married, etc.

I was dumbfounded - his fury seemed all out of proportion. Then I found out by accident that this little story & that about what he'd been doing weren't true.

Mrs. Prouty [American novelist and poet Olive Prouty] treated us to a night & a day at the fanciest hotel in London & I never had such good loving, felt it was the consecration of our new life. He went to have a bath & I next saw him coming in fully dressed with a funny pleased smile.

He had called some friends to have a drink. Fine, said I, I'd love a drink. No, I was to go home on the next train.

He didn't come back for a couple of days and even then I thought he was doing what he said. Now, of course, I see this saying the affair was over was just an elaborate hoax.

We had an invitation to go over to Ireland to a poet's house in the wilds of Connemara. Well Ted lasted four days. He left while I was in bed one morning saying he was going grouse shooting with a friend.

I haven't seen him since. He left me with all the baggage to carry back, and I got a telegram when I got home, [saying] he might be back in a week or two. I am going to London this Tuesday to see a very kind-sounding solicitor in order to get a legal separation

Ted seems to need to come home every week to make my life miserable, kick me about & assure himself that he has a ghastly limiting wife, just like his friends do, three of whom have left their wives this year.

[He] beat me up physically a couple of days before my miscarriage [in February 1961]. I thought this an aberration, & felt I had given him some cause, I had torn some of his papers in half, so they could be taped together, not lost, in a fury that he made me a couple of hours late to work at one of the several jobs I've had to eke out our income when things got tight.

The worst thing is, as you say, psychologically, the fear and danger of being like my mother. Lucky for me, I love my writing, love horse-riding, love bee-keeping and can expand the area of my real interests so that I think my children will have a whole mother who indeed loves them, with vigor and warmth.

I don't want Frieda to hate me as I hated my mother, nor Nicholas to live with me or about me as my brother lives about my mother...

I remember asking my mother why, if she discovered so early on she did not love my father, that her marriage was agony, she did not leave him.

She looked blank. Then said half-heartedly that it was the depression & she couldn't have gotten a job. Well. No thanks.

It is the uncertainty, the transition, the hard choices that tear at me now. I think when I am free of him, my own sweet life will come back to me, bare and sad in a lot of places, but my own, and sweet enough.

-Sylvia Plath

#sylvia plath #letter #dr. ruth beuscher #ted hughes

1 note · View note

mcl-mia · 7 years ago

Text

Wizardess Heart Boys and the Relationships Between Them

//it's 4 a.m. as i'm starting this, so you know what that means! more ramblings about wizardess heart because i can't seem to sleep.

so, as many people in the WH+ fanbase know, solmare likes to do a lot of group events. like, a LOT a lot. these days, only some of the most popular characters tend to get their own events and spin offs (still waiting for azusa and leon's birthday events, solmare). most often though, solmare likes to do group events in pairs and forces the players to choose between one ending/one character. in all honesty, this isn't necessarily a bad thing! it's really good for developing relationships between characters that exist in the universe. but... the problem is that solmare just doesn't go through with all that they could, or are even ridiculously repetative with what pairs they go for. so, let me just express my problems with a few notable ones that come to mind, and give solmare some ideas on what they COULD do (it's unlikely that anyone from their HQ will see this anyways, but a girl can dream).

to start off, let's start off with the ones i'm not too pleased with.

Elias and Joel: look, i really like the idea of these two interacting. the whole tsundere/brutal honesty pairing is not a bad idea at all, but their relationship is executed so awkwardly. EVERYTHING revolves around them being rivals or competing for liz's affections. not only is this extremely tiresome to see at this point (especially when it seems as though joel apparently has no friends whatsoever), but it's hilariously inconsistent. on joel's profile, elias is the one introducing joel, and elias states that he LIKES joel. when i saw they were being paired for the first time in the overnight field trip event, i was excited to see them get along! but nope. for some reason "unknown", they pretty much hated each other. can't y'all just let joel have one friend without him being a jealous pissbaby, solmare?

Serge and Cerim: solmare, you could have done so much good with these two. you have cerim, a sheltered boy who knows nothing of the outside world and desperately wants to explore it, and serge, who has literally travelled the world... and all you think of doing with them is pairing them for ronny/taffy antics. that's it, that's all their ever paired for (maybe for pastel aesthetics sometimes). they just never DO anything with cerim and serge themselves, it's always overshadowed by ronny and taffy and how much they love their masters. they have SO much potential to be great together, but nooooo.

Guy and Leslie: this one just kinda pisses me off because we're never really given any context OR content for it. in leslie's route, guy states that he and leslie are "more like brothers", but why? WHY are you two more like brothers, and how did you get to be so close? and why is this "closeness" never shown? i know that everybody sucked leslie's dick in his route, but they should at least back their friendship up in event stories (they are together in the 3rd anniversary story, which is a decent start, but give us MOOORRREEEE).

Elias and Luca: the most yaoi bait couple of all yaoi bait in wizardess heart. don't get me wrong, i'm still a fan of their dynamic and what they represent for each other, but ohh my god i wish that they had more time together. these two have an interesting rivalry, and it's honestly such a shame that solmare almost never does anything with them. just... just ONCE i want for them to just chill and say "you're not as bad as i say you are". in luca's route, elias is shown to still care for luca and his wellbeing, but elias never gets a chance to even say it. likewise, luca never really gets a chance to say that he doesn't really hate elias per se, but is rather just more annoyed due to his own insecurities. as others have pointed out, elias and luca has what each other needs (in the sinplest way possible, elias needs to relax more , and luca needs to be a little more serious), and it's such a shame that the relationship between these two is pushed aside. especially when they have one of the most interesting dynamics in the entire game (and has the potential to be a healthy rivalry).

Klaus and Elias: (man, a lot of these involve elias, huh?) as someone who has two older sisters herself, klaus and elias' relationship disturbs me at times. on several occasions, elias mentions how cruel his brothers could be to him at times, but klaus is most often named as the perpetrator (well, technically klaus is the only one who can be named, since we still don't have the name of the eldest goldstein brother). klaus has been mentioned AND shown to have crossed some lines (at one point elias has mentioned how klaus left him stranded on a mountain for two days in order to force him to learn how to ride a broom, and don't even get me started on the mess that was the performing festival), which often makes elias appear to be afraid of klaus. not only that, but klaus is also shown to be a mentor figure to elias; someone who elias looks up to (and even puts him on an unreachable pedestal in a way). klaus will often comment on what problems he has with elias' spells, but the way he comments on them makes them come off as more as insults rather than pieces of contstructive criticism. sure, you could write that off as klaus not "sugar coating" things, but there's still a definite line between giving someone a critique and insulting the way they do things, and klaus tends to lean more towards the latter. he'll say "you need to be more creative with your spells" to elias, but he leaves it at that (which is especially hard for elias when the boy has lived his whole life by textbooks). he doesn't offer tips to help someone improve, he just says what's wrong with what they're doing. THAT is what can be so damaging to elias. do i think that klaus doesn't care about elias? absolutely not. i just think that klaus doesn't realize how much he's really hurting elias with his words and actions (granted that elias doesn't really tell klaus this, but how can he?). i really, truly wish that we could get more genuine moments between the two where elias can be upfront with klaus about how he feels, and for klaus to completely recognize elias' strength and hard work. i really, REALLY want their relationship to be healthier than it is.

now that that's all said and done, let's give solmare some ideas for pairs, because goddamm solmare you need to give us new pairs already.

Sigurd and Serge: you CANNOT tell me that sigurd not only doesn't know serge, but also isn't bros with him. tell me sigurd's side of the story about the real randy's death. more specifically: how much he was involved, more about klaus' reaction/ways of coping with the situation, and how he views the situation as a whole (i.e. does he think serge is to blame, does this damage his relationship with him, did he want to console serge as well but never got the chance, etc.).

Sigurd and Elias: listen. i crave a desire to see sigurd act like a big brother to elias and baby him to all hell. give me this, solmare. DON'T LIMIT ALL OF SIGURD'S INTERACTIONS WITH THE GOLDSTEINS TO JUST KLAUS. DON'T DO THAT TO ME.

Azusa/Serge and Leon: this are pairs that i have been wanting for so long. i put them in the same category because their context is still the same: azusa and serge are deeply connected to unicorns and leon himself is a unicorn. i wanna see leon getting an attachment to serge because leon can feel something special about him. give me leon roasting azusa for being "weird and suspicious". SOMETHING along those lines, solmare.

Joel and Vincent: YAOI BAIT NUMBER 2 ELECTRIC BOOGALOO. but for real though, i want to see more interactions between joel and vincent that don't really include liz. they had really great chemistry in the gedonelune costume party event, and i would really love to see more of that, but they're almlst never paired together. >:(

Guy and Glenn: i've expressed this before, these two are connected by one really big asshole in their lives, and i just... really want them to talk about it. they were both abused by the same person, and i think it would be great if they got a chance to do some serious talking about it.

Luca and Joel: a more fluff-based pairing, these two can have some of the best witty banter, i can feel it. joel is a complete savage and luca is a little shit, it's a match made in hell.

Yukiya and Leon: also a more fluff pairing, but LET THE TWO FURRIES PUREST BOYS IN THE SERIES BE FRIENDS GODDAMMIT. they're so chill too, and i just want them to like go on a picnic or something and be surrounded by all the wildlife like the true disney princesses they are.

Klaus and Azusa: not going to lie, i really want to see how the most popular boy and the least popular boy interact with each other. grump vs. grump. only one will survive.

Azusa and Glenn: okay, to be honest, i really want these two to interact in the form of a magic battle. not one to the death, but i really want to see how glenn's staff and azusa's symbols match up. but if we really want more story stuff, having glenn and azusa talk about their younger siblings (and how they both lost them, although glenn eventually got his back) would be really great.

Yukiya and Sigurd: these two boys both come from big families (and are the eldest child), so i would love for them to trade stories about their younger siblings. maybe they could do some holiday shopping and recommend gifts to each other.

Mel and Yukiya: these two boys give no fucks whatsoever, and i would really love to see them out do each other in that department.

Cerim and Vincent: kind of in the same vein as cerim and serge, but without the familiars doing all the talking. vincent could tell cerim all about his adventures (or at least the ones that aren't top secret), and could maybe even get cerim to loosen up a bit.

so... yeah. there's my super long post about relationships between the boys. here's hoping that solmare will do some of these in the future.

but you know what would also be cool? an event that's just about the boys and their relationships with each other. no liz, no thinking about liz, no being jealous of each other, just wholesome boys content. give me that, solmare. i'd sell my soul for that (and i'm sure many others would as well).

#wizardess heart #not mcl #mia speaks #i could have gotten into a few other possible relationships #but in all honesty there just isn't much substance between them all #for example. mel and cerim. what would they even begin to talk about.#i can understand not having all the boys be friends and all (b/c that's pretty impossible)#but i really just don't want all of the paired events be just about the boys fighting over liz #because that's just beating a dead horse. for three years straight now #also sorry to like everyone because i have no idea how read mores work on mobile lmao #i'll probably edit it later once i'm on my laptop lmao #hire me solmare

32 notes · View notes

bubbleteaimagines · 4 years ago

Text

You Can Rest Now

Levi Ackerman Oneshot

Summary: People often wonder why Levi’s so cold. For a man that’s lost everything, it’s not so hard to see

Pairings: Levi Ackerman x Reader

Warnings: Ansgt, gore, death

Authors Note: I got this idea suddenly and decided to break my heart

there was speculation. there was always speculation, but none more about levi ackerman.

the short man had a notorious reputation. he was cruel, nonchalant and just generally didn’t seem to care.

he was different. cold. so cold in fact, that death didn’t even seem to faze him. he could watch someone die and be fine the next minute.

but was he? it seemed so.

all the recruits admired his bravery and strength, but they feared his attitude.

what had made him so cold, exactly? so...closed up? who or what had turned his heart into stone, causing him to shut out the world around him so easily?

how did he do it?

why did he do it?

what had caused him to snap?

it was simple, really. levi had made a mistake. long ago, when he was foolish enough to still believe in love and happiness in this retched world. long ago before he realized that love made you weak, he make the mistake of loving someone in this cruel, cruel, world.

flashback —

“shit! y/n, they’re gaining on us!”

after three years in the survey corps, you could safely say that those words were anything but a good sign. scratch that, those words were the worst thing to hear out in the field. an omen of death, if you will, but you tried not to think about that as you furrowed your eyebrows and gripped your horse’s reigns tightly.

“how close?” you made the mistake of asking your comrade. a lump grew in your throat as you guys trekked across empty land. no trees, no buildings, absolutely nowhere to even think about using your 3dmg gear.

“i...,” he was at a loss of words. neither of you dared to look back, so he had to go off of the thumping footsteps that were getting closer and closer. “i reckon in the next minute or so they’ll be...”

“got it,” you pursed your lips together, not wanting him to finish that sentence. you knew what was coming. you both did. the very ground beneath you shook due to the titan’s footsteps. the monsters that you had been battling your whole damn life. “you ready to kick some ass, then?”

“always.” his voice was weak, his hands trembling as he reached for his swords. but his spirit had not yet been broken. neither had yours.

the footsteps were getting closer.

“i say we stay in rank but finish this thing off. then we’ll speed up and catch the others in case some more come,” you told him

anxiety pooled in your stomach as you thought about the rest of the soldiers. wrong place, wrong time, you knew that. but you couldn’t help it — your mind flashed images of him and you couldn’t help but feel scared for him, wondering if he had made it back to the wall safe or if he was still stuck on the ground, like you.

levi was a much better fighter than you. he was fast, efficient, and a valuable fighter. humanity needed him, and he had to be kept safe to fight another day.

that was the only reason you guys had been split up. he was on the special forces team, you weren’t. a damn good soldier you were but you were needed on the outer side of the formation, you were needed to protect levi.

after two years, he still hated the idea of you risking your life to protect him. he had fought tooth and nail with you and just about everybody else to keep you safe, to keep you next to him at all times. but commander erwin wouldn’t allow it. he couldn’t, levi was needed to save humanity. you weren’t.

you guys had had this argument time and time again. and time after time, you had reassured him that you would make it back. that he would always find your tired but yet still smiling face waiting for him on top of the walls.

why should this time be any different?

“let’s move!”

before you could even think, you had a ten meter titan lunging at you causing you to yelp and yank your horse out of the way. the beast whined in terror, it’s fear possibly rivaling your own. unfortunately though, that didn’t cause it to go any faster. you were gonna be forced to take it down yourself — you wouldn’t be able to outrun it all the way back to the wall.

“y/n!” your comrade yelled as you were swiped at again. this time though, you stood up on your horse and launched yourself at the titan, your gear lodging itself in it’s shoulders.

“keep moving! i’ll take care of this!” you yelled out to him.

letting out an angry cry, you whipped around the creature at astonishing speeds and aimed straight at the back of it’s neck.

a routine kill, that’s all this was.

fire danced behind your eyes while the creature moaned and swatted it’s hands at you. 36, that was your number of solo kills. and soon, it was 37.

“take that you fat bastard,” you yelled and sliced it right in the weak spot, never missing a beat as you carved up the flesh. blood splattered everywhere from the fatal wound and steamed as it got on your face and clothes. the titan went limp, and soon you propelled yourself back to the ground and back on your horse.

“well, looks like petra and me are tied. can’t wait to tell her,” you grinned as you carried on riding, your partner sighing in relief.

“you really are one of the best, you know that? you totally just saved our asses,” he grinned back at you.

“yeah, and you’d do well not to forget it,” you chuckled. “next time there’s cake, i want-”

“Y/N LOOK OUT!”

there was a scream, and then there was a sudden pressure as an abnormal came leaping out of nowhere and hit you dead on.

you didn’t have time to react. you barely even had time to scream before everything went to shit, your horse flying away from you and you — oh god. your comrade screamed as you flew through the air, and appeared again only as you were clutched in the titan’s mouth.

“w-what?” you couldn’t move. your vision was blurry from the hit but what you could feel was it’s breath. blindingly hot, and rancid. you had a first row seat as you hung from the monster’s jaws, everything from your waist and below clutched tightly in it’s teeth.

“y/n, no!” the strangled cry of your fellow comrade was all too familiar. it was a helpless cry, one you had heard many times from many different people. it was a cry of death, a cry of sorrow if you will. it was the type of sound people made when they were face to face with death.

“son of bitch,” you moaned as you lifted your head up, your (e/c) eyes meeting the bright blue ones of the titan. “you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

of all the ways to die, of all the times and situations, this just had to be it. with your luck, you were gonna be split in half by the ugliest goddamn titan you had ever seen.

“fuck me.”

dread pooled in your stomach.

as you stared down your killer, as you stared down death itself, only one thought crossed your mind.

“c-comrade,” you glared as the titan opened it’s mouth to devour you. “g-get out of here! you don’t need to see this!”

“y/n no! i’m coming!” he desperately clung to his gear, standing on his horse and preparing to take down the monster that was gonna kill his teammate. he couldn’t let that happen. he wouldn’t.

but you weren’t gonna let him die either. not whilst you were still alive.

“comrade! i said go! i’m the leader of this team so that’s an order!” you screamed at the solider causing him to freeze in place.

“no,” he whispered, watching as the monster’s jaws came down.

it was as if it were in slow motion. the universe dragging it out just so he could witness every detail. the moment you screamed profanities at the titan, promising that you’d see it in hell one day. the moment you ripped off your cape, letting one last piece of you remain on this earth. the moment you screamed for levi, yelling one last time how much you loved him.

the moment the titan’s jaws finally came down, cutting you in half.

everything stood still after that. time stopped completely, and your comrade couldn’t even scream, couldn’t even cry out for you as your eyes finally fluttered closed and your body went limp.

you were gone.

levi paced anxiously as he stood on top of wall maria. he had his hands behind his back, but his eyes were on full alert, searching the terrain in front of him for any signs of life.

for any signs of you.

levi didn’t understand. it had been well past an hour, and everyone had made it back except for your squad.

it wasn’t even a squad, really. just two people — so how could two people possibly be taking this long?

“captain, you should calm down. i’m sure y/n is gonna be fine,” petra placed a gentle hand on his shoulder but it did nothing to sooth levi.

“if they were fine they’d be back by now,” he snapped, his eyes darkening.

he didn’t want to admit it but levi was starting to lose hope. being gone for this long usually only meant one thing — but he refused to think about that. he refused to even let the thought cross his mind, shoving it so far back it was practically non existent. levi couldn’t think like that. he wouldn’t.

because it was no question whether you were okay or not. you had to be, there were no other options. no other scenarios other than you coming back alive and safe.

“captain—”

“silence!”

levi strained his ears as he heard hooves in the distance. he perked up.

it was the sound of a horse, most definitely. in fact, it was the sound of two horses, and in the distance he could see them galloping towards the wall, a titan right behind them and the lone rider.

levi’s heart swelled with hope.

“y/n!”

he was breathless as he ran towards the edge of the wall, igorning his fellow soldiers protests. extracting his swords, he quickly cascaded down the wall towards the person, hoping beyond hope that it was you.

commander erwin held out a hand to stop anyone from following him.

“don’t,” he warned, seeing how levi’s squad was gearing up. “this one’s for him.”

levi had never felt more eager in his life to escape into titan territory. quickly, he flew towards the rider and practically tackled them as he reached them.

“y/n, you—”

levi stopped dead in his tracks. confused, he tilted his head as he saw the grief-stricken face of your partner, but not you. in fact, you were nowhere in sight as the titan’s footsteps got louder.

“soldier, you had someone with you, yes? where is y/n?” levi demanded, completely ignoring the haunted and agonized expression of the solider.

“c-captain...i...,” how did he get the words out? how did your comrade look his captain in the eyes and tell him that you were gone — lost to the titan on a simple mission.

“well? we don’t have all pissant. spit it out,” levi snapped, becoming irritated at the lack of response.

where were you? if you hadn’t come back with your partner, then where the hell where you?

the soilder’s mouth moved but levi barely heard anything he said.

perhaps it was because he wasn’t standing close enough. or perhaps the titan’s thunderous footsteps drowned it out. or perhaps...it was because levi heard something he didn’t want to hear.

“dead?” levi tilted his head as if it were a foreign word. as if he had never heard the word before, when in reality it was probably the most used word in his vocabulary. “what do you mean y/n is...dead?”

the pieces didn’t fit. the word ‘dead’ and ‘you’ were apart of two completely different puzzles; they didn’t fit together. it was too wrong, too confusing for levi’s brain to pick up.

“t-they’re gone, sir,” the solider spit out painfully, letting out a wail. “w-we were on flat ground...the titan came out of nowhere...the abnormal...”

“shut up,” levi held his hand up as the pieces began to mold themselves. slowly, they transformed to fit each other.

“i-i’m sorry sir,” the soldier stammered, “t-they’re gone. they left this behind...but their body—”

“I SAID SHUT UP!” levi growled as anger began to flow through him, his fists twitching. the solider flinched back as levi’s death glare settled on him, burning holes through his skull.

“where do you get off on this? HUH?” levi yelled as he grabbed the man roughly, yanking him off of is horse. the beast whined in fear as the titan approached, but levi ignored it. instead, he focused on the red spots in his vision, pushing away the pain. pushing away the imagery that followed the solider’s words. all that was left of you was a cape...

“i’ll have you executed for this you bastard! you lying piece of shit—”

“CAPTAIN LEVI!” levi’s attention was diverted as commander erwin yelled out his name. briefly, he turned his attention to the wall where his fellow comrades and commander stood, horrified, “YOU HAVE A SITUATION!”

levi tore his gaze away from erwin and glanced over his shoulder. fast approaching was the titan that had followed the solider to the wall. an abnormal by the looks of it, with blood splattered all over it’s mouth.

levi felt his heart stop.

in the moment, it suddenly became real. he glanced at the solider’s terrified face, the cape in his arms that had your initials printed on it, and then back at the titan.

everything hit him at once.

and levi snapped.

“YOU BASTARD!”

he retracted his blades, squared his shoulders, and then zoomed off to battle the titan that that had murdered you. the love of his life.

levi saw red as an animalistic scream left him, his entire vision clouded with crimson as he made his target and slashed. levi slashed until there was nothing more to slash, the titan long dead and already dissolving by the time he was done.

“YOU ASSHOLE! YOU TOOK THEM! YOU FUCKING BASTARD!”

“CAPTAIN! soldier, you need to restrain him and get back over the wall, NOW!” commander erwin shouted.

more titan’s were approaching. too many people were standing by the walls. too much prey.

but levi didn’t care. he was angry, hurt, and beyond the levels of revenge. his blades were stained with the blood of your murderer. he wouldn’t be able to rest if he didn’t end them all, right then and there.

“CAPTAIN LEVI! WE NEED TO GO!”

levi ignored the solider’s plea and stood his ground, hatred burning behind his eyes. he’d kill them, he’d kill every last one of them for what they did to you. his life be damned.

in that moment, it didn’t matter that humanity needed him.

he needed to avenge you.

“FALL BACK! DO NOT ENGAGE! I REPEAT, DO NOT ENGAGE! EVERYBODY STAND BACK!”

levi braced himself for the attack. he was running on pure hatred now.

he was dangerous when he was calm. but he was unstoppable when he was deadset on getting revenge for the one person he had left to care about.

“holy shit—”

“no way—”

“did he just?—”

all around levi was blood. crimson red soaked him to the bone, pouring over every inch of his body. it rained on him, like a sadistic waterfall carved out by levi’s sword.

but it wasn’t his.

none of it, not a single drop of the blood was his.

levi sheathed his now broken swords and leaned down to retrieve the only thing not soaked with titan blood. the only thing that wasn’t stained or reminded him of their treacherous, godforsaken existence.

“i did it,” he whispered, clutching your cape tightly. he held the fabric in his trembling hands, holding it over his heart as a way to hold you close— one last time.

“i killed that thing. you can rest now.”

#levi ackerman #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman imagine #levi ackerman oneshot #levi ackerman angst #attack on titan imagine #attack on titan #aot imagines #aot #attack on titan x reader

975 notes · View notes

sortasirius · 4 years ago

Text

“Inherit the Earth” and the Fakeout

Absolutely genius. Amazing, iconic, legendary, something only our showrunner Andrew Dabb can pull off.

"But Lilly, the episode was so bad! It was just the brothers, they didn’t look for Cas and Eileen!”

YES. THAT IS EXACTLY THE POINT. THIS WAS A FAKE ENDING, THE END OF THE SEASON, NOT OF THE SERIES.

Let’s get into it.

An empty world. No one left but Sam, Dean, and Jack.

So Dean ran, he somehow managed to pick himself up off the floor of the dungeon and meet up with Sam and Jack. That jacket was this silent reminder. Remember what I’ve been saying, Cas has occupied the negative space all season, this is no exception.

Dean can’t look either of them in the face, he’s doing that thing, where his eyes move everywhere BUT where he should look.

“I couldn’t save anybody.”

Sam couldn’t save the world and Dean couldn’t save the one person that means the world to him.

“Where’s Cas?”

“Dean?”

I think it’s there, in that pause where Dean tries to push down the emotions, continue the fight, not think about the memories he left in the bunker, that Jack realizes what must have happened. Jack is the only one that knows about the deal, he has to know what Cas not being there must mean.

“He saved me. Billie was coming after us. Cas summoned the Empty. It took her...and took him. Cas is gone.”

This may shock you, but I am GLAD they didn’t talk about Cas, especially with what happens at the end of the episode. Cas is allowed to just take up unsaid space. It’s obvious he’s missing with the way they blocked things, obvious he’s missing here. This whole “oh well they don’t care about Cas because they didn’t talk about him”? Malarkey.

“Jack I’m sorry.”

Guilt. Regret. Pain. Dean will carry this with him for the rest of his life. Not only that he lost Cas, but that Sam lost Cas, that Jack lost Cas.

That SHOT, with the distance between Jack and Sam where Cas is SUPPOSED TO BE, and then a zoom out to...THE WORLD.

Okay, as usual, Bucklemming has the subtlety of a sledgehammer lmao.

Jack crying??? Praying to Cas???? Bruh?????

Also it’s just straight-up frightening for everything around my boy to die he is my baby son.

Also not to point out the incredibly obvious, but Dean starts drinking immediately, and continues drinking throughout the whole episode. Grief arc 2.0 babey.

“We can what, Dean? There’s no one left to save! Everybody’s gone!”

“You can’t just give up.”

“What other choice do we have!”

Idk why, but for Sam, who’s the constant, the one who’s always had hope, through everything, through all these years, when he finally says this, when he finally loses his hope? It hits the hardest. Sam is the leader, so not only is he grieving the loss of Eileen, he is a general grieving the loss of his soldiers, his friends, the world that he feels the duty to save.

When they go to meet Chuck, I just can’t get that image of Dean, leaning against the car, handprint still on his jacket, staring at the ground out of my head. It takes him a few seconds to catch up to Sam, like he’s pulled out of thoughts like deep dark water. Remember friends, it doesn’t have to be loud to be powerful.

Chuck wearing BLACK? FEAR.

“That’s right, the whole Cain and Abel thing. Us dead, whatever. I’ll kill Sam, Sam’ll kill me, we’ll kill each other. Okay, you pick. But first? You gotta put everything back the way it was. The people, the birds...Cas. You gotta bring him back.”

Willing to kill his brother. Willing to die. Tears in his eyes, begging God to bring Cas back.

And Chuck? Chuck doesn’t care about their surrender, he knows he’s already got them beaten. He cares about their pain, he cares about them suffering, because to him? That’s the entertainment. He’s not entertained by their found family, by their happiness, by their joy. He wants them to suffer, all of them.

“Eternal shame. Suffering. And loneliness.”

And he leaves them with just that. No hope, no family, just the three of them, broken, alone. Jack locked in his bedroom, Sam trying desperately to make life “normal” again. And Dean. Dean who drank so much he passed out on the floor.

He doesn’t feel terrific, he feels like shit, because not only is he dealing with the shame of an empty planet, he’s dealing with the guilt of being back in the place where the Empty took Cas.

This whole thing with the dog was just absolutely heartwrenching shit and if I didn’t hate Chuck before, him snapping Miracle right in front of an already fragile Dean would seal that deal.

I just want everyone to know that this is a Jake Abel stan account.

“Daddy’s boy” is a big insult for my boy Dean to use considering his own past with his trash abusive father but I’ll allow it.

I do think it’s interesting, ending of his arc aside, that Michael is willing to help them now. What changed? Sure, he ended up trying to help Chuck, running back to his father, but why get back in the game? I wonder if it has anything to do with the loss of Adam. It’s an interesting parallel, a man loses his angel while an angel loses his human.

Everything is so DARK in the Bunker now too, even the lighting is loud.

When I tell you I lost my shit when I saw Cas was calling Dean, when I heard Misha’s voice?? I knew it didn’t make any sense but I didn’t care, I would’ve been one step behind Dean as he sprinted towards the door.

Fuck you, Eugenie.

I mean it’s torture not only to Dean, who looks beyond fucking crushed when it’s damn Lucifer at the door, but for us too. Who the FUCK wanted Lucifer back? And to tease Cas??? Garbage.

I mean...fam. Listen, we know who’s writing this episode, this whole Betty thing is just like blatantly unnecessary but again, Eugenie loves Lucifer, gotta distract her with a shiny toy lmao.

It was cool to see Michael and Lucifer onscreen together. It was a cool dynamic that we rarely got to see.

The whole episode is just twist after twist. Listen, it’s their last episode so I guess they needed to fit in a season worth of twists in one episode.

Bye Lucifer. We know Eugenie can’t bring him back. Blessings to all.

This scene with Adam is the FOURTH scene where Dean is drinking...big yikes to my guy’s liver.

Here’s the thing about Michael. He’s a mirror for Dean in season 5. Loyal to an absent father. He has never changed, but Dean has. Dean is able to acknowledge now, the trauma that his father put him through, he was able to move past the need for pleasing him at any cost. Michael and Chuck? Are John and Dean, if Dean had never been allowed to grow. And Chuck proves, like John did, that he would always put his wants (in John’s case “the mission”) over his children.

Also not to beat a dead horse but Michael’s death was also peak Eugenie.

Sam getting to punch Chuck in the face? Thank you, he deserves that.

Obviously I don’t love any scene of my boys getting brutally beaten. But what I love, what I will always love about them, is what Chuck hates about them: they won’t ever give up. They know they won’t win against him, they don’t even land any hits, but that’s not what matters. What matters is their controller doesn’t control them anymore, that they really are free. No matter how hard they get hit, the get back up. It is their choice to stand up to him, no matter the cost.

The moment where Sam and Dean are supporting each other, covered in blood, and they look God in the face, and they laugh. That is why I will love them unconditionally for the rest of my life. That is who they are, they will never cow to the villain, whether that’s Azazel or Alastair or Zachariah or Lucifer or Amara or Death or Metatron or Cain or God. They will always choose to stand up.

“Why are you smiling?”

“Because. You lose.”

Chills. What a line.

And Chuck is left, small, human, no longer a villain, no longer anything.

Gotta be real, woulda been nice to, idk, not see all this essential plot in a flashback, but I know I can only ask so much of Bucklemming.

For Dean to walk away from killing Chuck, right after he’s called him “the ultimate killer” is quite simply the most beautifully heartwrenching thing I could ever ask for. Because that’s who Dean was under Chuck, that’s who Chuck wanted him to be.

And he would have before:

But he’s heard some things since then, heard some things about how others see him. Not as the killer, not as a monster, not as angry and broken or his daddy’s blunt instrument:

I’m not saying that Dean doesn’t kill Chuck for Cas. He doesn’t kill Chuck because he doesn’t think he has to anymore, he doesn’t kill Chuck because he listened to Cas, he took Cas’ words to heart. He made the choice not to be the killer.

“See that’s not who I am, that’s not who we are.”

And Chuck is angry, because he thought, after everything, even after losing, that he would still know Dean well enough to know that he would kill him. But Chuck has never really known Dean, he has never understood where he’s really come from. Cas understood, Sam and Jack understand, but Chuck never did, and writing off Dean as angry and broken is his biggest mistake, because that’s never been Dean.

“It’s not his power anymore.”

And it’s not just his physical power, it’s his power over the story, over the boys that’s the real power taken from him.

For Jack to be the one to bring everyone back, for him to be the hero of the story? That’s poetic right there. Now, I will say, I don’t think this story ends with him as God, because for him, the child, to take on this burden, it doesn’t make a ton of sense to me for his arc, but we shall see next week. It felt pretty tied up, but there’s one major loose end: and that’s Jack seeing Cas again.

“Just you and me, going wherever the story takes us. Just us.”

“Finally free.”

This doesn’t feel triumphant to me, it doesn’t feel like relief. It feels like they’ve settled, like this is the best they’re going to get, so they might as well make the best of it, at least they have each other.

For Cas and Jack to be carved into the table? I cry.

And for the montage, very similar to “Swan Song” to be set to “Runnin on Empty”? Sorry but that’s just too sus to be ignored.

They packaged this episode as an ending, because for many, it might be. The season’s story, the season about fighting Chuck is over. So, you might be asking (or, well, screaming, judging by my replies lol), what’s left? And that’s a good question, Chuck has been defeated, so what is left? What’s left is what’s really mattered all season: the relationships that have been crafted over the years. Dean and Sam’s unhappiness at the end of the episode, where “just you and me” sounded more of a grudging acceptance than anything else, is one of the clues that has to be looked at. Why didn’t Sam find Eileen, why didn’t Jack bring back Cas? Those two characters specifically are the ones we need to watch out for. As I’ve said over and over again, peace, contentment, satisfaction, those don’t come from Sam and Dean on the open road together anymore. They have a family, more of a family than they did when they started hunting together all those years ago, and that family is what holds them together. They need each other, of course, but each other isn’t enough anymore. Sam needs Eileen, Dean needs Cas. That is where they will find their peace.

This episode, as many written by Bucklemming was sloppy, rushed, packed full of shit, and had little gems that we can talk about forever, but that was the end of the season, and next week? Andrew Dabb brings us home, where Dean and Sam will finally be able to choose what they want for themselves, and that, my friends, is Eileen and Cas.

#supernatural #spn #spoilers #my meta #spn 15x19 #destiel #saileen

784 notes · View notes

yesokaythatsfine69 · 4 years ago

Text

The Beach (Levi Ackerman x reader)

Description: During the beach scene in attack on titan. I changed this scene a bit because I felt it could be more light hearted and more fun after the cut. So be aware that it may not be that exact scene (in terms of what gets said) but roughly the same idea.

Characters: Y/n, Levi, Hange, Eren, Mikasa, Armin, Jean, Sasha, Connie

Pov: third person

Warnings: none, this is pure fluff and just chill vibes.

A/n: HAPPY BIRTHDAY LEVI ACKERMAN! Hello! As of right now I'll be focusing the next several pieces on AOT. This is the third and the final piece I'll be writing about Levi. Feel free to request any Levi Ackerman writings at any time though. Have a good read!

Word Count:

Song suggestion: This has nothing to do with this piece but I've been jamming to Judas by Lady Gaga so if ur not a nerd listen to it.

*none of the Gifs used are mine, full credit goes to the maker

The dust that Scout's horses picked up enclosed around them, swallowing them up in a thick cloud of brown. The air was similarly thick around them.

Her hands were shaking, clutching the reigns of her horse, pulling them close to her chest. Y/n wasn't scared though. The things she'd experienced in the almost four years since she'd joined the scouts had changed what the concept of fear was for her. She felt tense- anxiety ridden. She felt like something was about to happen, and the way Eren spoke- it definitely was.

They passed a wall, and Eren's voice cut through the long silence. "I'm sure of it. This is the place where they turned the Eldians titan, which means just up there."

He beckoned them on, rushing his horse forward. Armin swallowed harshly, his eyes meeting y/n's for a beat. They shared a look, that displayed their mutual concerns before it broke.

Y/n had kept close to Armin, whose presence often calmed her. It was strange, but Armin never hid his emotions or disguised his fear (something her friends did so often.) And there was comfort in that. It made her feel less vulnerable.

Levi often teased her for that- but she knew he respected their friendship. Y/n looked to where he rode ahead of her. His hands were steady, expression focused. It unnerved her how he could be so calm.

She blinked away her focus, returning her gaze back to looking straight ahead. Eren led the group to what appeared to be a cliff, and when they reached the top...they saw.

The group seemed to all stop at once, realizing what they found. It was silent, except for the blowing of the waves before them. It was water- the ocean. They all stared, stunned.

Sasha and Connie had mutual expressions of open mouth wonder. Y/n just stared, aghast. Eren on the other hand looked unsurprised and almost bored.

One by one they slipped off the backs of their horses, most rolling up their pant legs and trodding into the water.

Y/n did a little dance in the water, laughing as Connie playfully splashed Sasha in the eyes. Sasha screamed in pain, "my eyes!" After she recovered, she splashed Connie back. Or tried to. At the last second Connie ducked and the salty sea spray hit y/n dead in the face instead.

"Sasha!" Her friend giggled sheepishly. Y/n tackled her into the water, the two becoming completely soaked. Connie chuckled at their antics, pointing his index finger at them with his right hand and keeping his left to his chest. The two girls shared a mischievous look which caused Connie's laughter to die out immediately.

"Take him down!" "Hiya!" Working in sync the two tackled him into the water. The three resurfaced and giggled at each other's soaked expressions. "It's so salty!" Jean was a few paces ahead of them and had just drank some of the water.

"Jean what the fuck. You really need to stop putting things into your mouth if you don't know what's in them." Y/n stood up, twisting her hair to relieve it of some water. Raising a brow, Jean leaned towards her. "Says the girl deep diving into it. Armin says there's nothing in here but salt anyway, and besides someone was bound to drink from here. I just saved them the extra hassle." Y/n flicked water at him. "How gallant of you."

Eren's monologue interrupted them then, they way he sounded close to tears, his voice creaking at the last sentence begged for their concentration. "Will we finally be free?" No one spoke, whatever light mood that existed now diminished.

"way to kill the mood Jaeger." Jean muttered, but he seemed just as solemn as Eren. "Don't worry, I'll lighten it up." Y/n shoved Jean down, and into the water. He landed with a surprised yelp and everyone turned, broken out of their private misery.

"Really y/l/n!" Jean spat, his cheeks dusted with blush. Y/n giggled, until she was cut off by Jean grabbing her and pulling her down into the water. "Shit!" She gasped out, landing in the water beside him.

"Are you serious! Jean, I just rang out my hair!" Jean opened his mouth to retort when sasha and Connie interrupted, shouting "Dog pile!" Jean and Y/n's eyes widened. "No!" "Wait-!" As Kenny once said, kaboom.

Now, all four of them were completely soaked, but none of them really cared. They bursted out laughing, each pointing at one another in amusement. The reflex seemed almost unnatural- it'd been so long since her last belly laugh. Connie, Sasha, and Jean felt similar and the tears they shed weren't just from their chuckles, but something deeper.

Y/n left the three to splash each other, waddling over to Armin, Mikasa, and Eren. Eren still looked off into the horizon but the tenseness in his shoulders seemed lighter. "What do you have there, Armin." She spoke softly to her friend, marveling at the shell he had gently lying in his palms. "Some sort of shell..." His gaze met hers. "I'm sure there have to be hundreds here." Y/n smiled.

"Did you think it'd be like this? Big, breezy, and beautiful?" Armin looked up, looking beyond Eren. "Maybe something close...I just never expected to actually see it...let alone feel it." They shared another look before they turned to Mikasa. She had gotten closer to Eren, but her gaze was in the water. She was kicking at it, her expression unreadable.

"hmmm." Y/n hummed, tapping her chin. She took off, running past Eren and to the left of him. "Hey! Y/l/n, don't go out too far!" Levi called after her. At the left edge, she stopped, bending down and searching fervently in the waters.

"There must be hundreds..."she mumbled to herself, brow furrowed in concentration. "Ah hah!" She straightened, a single white shell lying in the palm of her hand. She ran back, to armin, mikasa, and Eren. She skidded to a stop directly in front of Mikasa, who gave her an amused look.

Y/n dropped to a knee, sticking up her palm. "For my favorite Ackerman!" "Oi!" Levi grunted from behind her and Mikasa blushed. "Thank you, y/n." The young girl smiled, gently picking up the shell. "You are my favorite y/l/n." Y/n crossed her arms. "I'm the only y/l/n." Mikasa smiled a bit brighter.

Eren had turned towards them, snapping out of his gaze from the unusual commotion. He had watched the two interact and the way Mikasa had gently lifted the shell and just as gently cradled it caused the corner of his lips to upturn.

Y/n noticed. "I can find you one too, Eren. Although I'm afraid finding one as pretty as Armin's is impossible and thus out of the question." Eren softened and shook his head. "No, thank you, y/n." She stood up from her position, and was immediately wrapped in a quick hug from Mikasa.

"Oh! What's this?" Hanje lifted something reminiscent of a burnt rock from the water, gently rubbing her fingers over it. Y/n drew closer, allowing Hanje to explain all of the oddities she found. Y/n nodded along, only half understanding what her friend was ranting about.

Finally Hanje gasped with delight- cutting herself off. "there's more over here!" She pranced away from y/n, pausing several steps away and bending down to search for more.

Finally y/n turned to Levi, who had already been watching her. He seemed so out of place it was funny. His arms were crossed and he looked disinterested...but y/n knew that he was just uncomfortable. They watched each other, taking their differences in.

Really Levi couldn't believe how different two people could be. There y/n stood, a breeze sifting through her hair, her entire outfit completely soaked, and a stupid grin on her face. She was some brat- he'd admit it.

"You're going to get sick, y/n." She smiled, wading through the low tide to where he stood. "You'd love the chance to take care of me." "Tch, I deal with you enough as is." The two had shortened the distance between each other.

The wind ruffled his undercut. "It's a lot less scary than it looks." Y/n gently nudged him with her shoulder. "I'm not scared." Levi gave her a sharp look and anyone one else would've slinked away, but y/n wasn't anyone else- especially not to Levi.

Gently she took his hand in hers, squeezing it softly. He narrowed his eyes, the silver orbs twinkling against the sunset. He interlaced his fingers with her own though, his deep admiration for y/n often undermined his "tough guy" resolve.

Y/n smiled at him, "Okay old man are you going to roll up those pants or will I have to?" Levi sighed, grumbling under his breath as he bent down. "If I get sick from this-" she rolled her eyes. "Levi it's water. The thing you bathe in, clean with, drink. You will not get sick."

He pulled a sock off. "Tch, I once saw you find a piece of uneaten bread hidden behind books in the library, and watched you eat it without question. I don't believe anything you say about what's healthy and what's not, brat." Y/n helped him fold his socks neatly next to his shoes. "That was one time!" He paused. "And it's scarred into my memory."

Again, y/n rolled her eyes. However, the smile on her never even flinched. She grabbed Levi's hand and yanked him forward. He gasped, but y/n only sped up. "Oi, oi, oi, wait! You're going to fast, we'll-" They splashed into the water, splashing it up to their faces.

Levi's eyes were wide, and he seemed absolutely at a loss for what to do with himself. Finally he met her gaze, and saw how she looked at him. Levi felt his cheeks flush. "Tch, fine it's not as bad as I thought." He turned to leave, but she yanked him back to her.

"hey, hey, hey mateo, mateo." She pulled him so that his side was resting against her, he turned back to y/n. "Stay awhile." She said gently. Her smile had changed now, and Levi noticed. His shoulders relaxed. He realized now why this was so important to her. This could be the last chance they had.

Then she kicked water at him.

"Y/n!" She laughed and backed deeper into the water. "You may be humanity's greatest titan fighter..." She began to move her arms around wildly. "But I am humanity's greatest Levi Ackerman fighter." Levi sighed, unamused. "You got water on my pants!" He moved towards her.

"The target approaches, seemingly irritated." She backed away. "Tch, Seemingly?" Levi's hand balled into fists. "He's going deeper into enemy territory, what will y/n do?" "Y/n should run." Levi got closer.

He jumped at her, and she tackled him, the two landing into the water. Once again y/n became instantly soaked, and Levi was now in the same boat, wet completely from head to toe. "It is salty!" Levi gasped out, his arms still wrapped around y/n. "Did you think we were all lying before?" Y/n laughed, watching as Levi struggled to get salty water from his eyes.

He pulled his fist from his eye, finally looking at y/n. She was soaked, probably more than he was, but she was as radiant as could be, her eyes shining, her smile wide, and her hair blowing softly. He stared at her several seconds, lost in how beautiful she was. Sometimes he had a difficult time believing that someone like her could ever be interested in someone like him. "I love you." He clutched her tighter to him.

Her face became more serious, and she closed her mouth. Y/n gently put a wet thumb on his cheek. "I love you too, Levi." They stayed there, in that moment together.

"and yet I'm only your second favorite Ackerman." Y/n sighed, going to pull away, but Levi grabbed her and to her surprise he laughed.

"What's so funny?" Levi and y/n turned, Connie, Sasha, Jean, Hanje, Eren, Armin, and Mikasa all stood over them.

"None of your business, brats." Levi said, crossing his arms. The group shared a glance. "Oh, no, guys wait-" Connie, Sasha, Jean, Hanje, and Mikasa attacked, jumping to tackle them, splashing and creating a mini hurricane.

Armin and Eren watched, still standing. Armin was smiling, whilst Eren's expression still remained cautious. The tension he had carried moments before abandoned him though, and it seemed as though now for the small moment they had, they all realized- only now could they truly live it.

Today was today and that was all they had for certain.

"There's water in a place where water should definitely not be!"

"Don't make me drown you!"

"Who's foot is this?"

"What's gonna happen when we leave? Will we still be wet?"

"GODDAMNIT I KEEP SWALLOWING IT! WHY DOES IT BURN!"

"you all are no match for my skills- I am unconquerable!"

"Yeah, I'm never doing this again."

Armin turned to Eren. "Sometimes... sometimes I believe that it'll never get better than this." He took a breath and Eren put a hand on his shoulder. "Right now...I think...I think you may be right, Armin."

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

A/n: hey guys! I hope you enjoyed this, feel free to request more Levi Ackerman or to give critism. Merry Christmas!

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

#levi x y/n #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman #captain levi #levi aot #levi x reader #levi attack on titan #aot imagines #aotc #aot x reader #aot memes #aot manga #aot headcanons #aotearoa #x reader #xreader #imagine #imagines #happy birthday levi

444 notes · View notes

s0ggycerea1 · 3 years ago

Note

This is v specific bcuz it's my MC but I am smooth brained so taking this opportunity to have someone help come up w stuff. So bros w an MC who has a 7 yr old son and MC ends up momming the bros. (Bonus if Luci is like the single dad of the bros and MC becomes the cool/kind step parent). And like how each bro interacts w the kid.

Knock urself out! Ofc if inspo doesn't strike for this there's no need to answer. Thank you!

I am also smooth brained so this took longer than I think it should have but thanks for requesting! :D

I also stayed up till 2am when I made this so there might be typos.

gn!mc

Warning: minor swearing, child? (I see ppl put this as a warning so..)

Demons bros with an Mc that has a 7 year old son

Lucifer

Now lets see whos ne-

OH GREAT ANOTHER KID IN THE HOUSE

Give the poor man a break he already has 6 kids to take care of

Classic strict but has a soft spot for the child kind of dad

Anyone but you or him (and Diavolo because reasons) touches the child then they can say bye bye to their life.

Congrats you also the parent of 6 other demons!!!

It's kinda like a whole Murry and Beverley Goldberg thing, your more sweet and less strict and Lucifer is just straight up...annoyed

Like "I'm going to murder mammon." "Oh but I'm sure he didn't mean it." "Mc....He sold Levi..."

How idfk

He does have SOME sweet moments

You dead ass had a panic attack because you couldn't find your son anywhere only to find him sitting in Lucifer's lap asleep while he was doing paper work.

Mammon

"Oi, human! And smaller....human?"

What the fu-

No swearing infront of le child

Basically cool parents over here

You would have to be a bit more strict that Mammon though because this broke bitch would try to spoil your son so...

"No mammon you can't buy him a horse." (Why a horse? Idk but Mammon wears those werid cow boy looking boots so-)

Very protective of your son and I mean like....

Your son tripped on a rock once and mammon....beat up the rock-

"Mammon it's a rock it's fi-." "IT HURT MY SON!"

Other than those very weird momments he's overall sweet

But since he's greedy he will try to take you both away form his brothers

Leviathan

Teaches your son all about TSL which maybe have been kinda hard since 7 year olds don't have much of an attention span

Normie 1 and Normie 2 there done.

Basically didn't like you and you kid but if you both watched anime and stuff then you're on the right track.

When he warms up to you both, he would start to invite you both to his room and play video games

Another cool dad but just not as hyper as Mammon

Your child is definitely doing Otaku Bootcamp. No questions asked.

Definently convinced you son to cosplay with him. >:)

If you couldn't find both of them, they were most likely in Levi's room playing video games or watching anime.

Family game night with all three of you? Duh!

Avoid playing Monopoly because either tables will be flipped or Mammon barges in and then table will be flipped.

Satan

It was just supposed to be you only. Not you and a kid

Lucifer seemed confused so HAHA

Kinda like Lucifer (please don't kill me Satan), strict but also more calm about it.

If your spn did something bad he would scold him but not like Lucifer kind of scolding.

Don't tell me he wouldn't read you son bed time stories BECAUSE I KNOW FOR A FACT HE WOULD

You son is also cat obsessed like him?

This is his kid now PISS OFF

Also don't be surprised if you find out your kid is the the Anti-Lucifer league all of a sudden.

Does have to try to keep his wrath in check if your son does something that genuinely pisses him off because he still doesn't want to hurt him.

Asmodeus

Cute human? Cute kid?

Sure why not

Kid = dress up partner

It's like his own Ken...erm Baribe doll? (Do people dress up Ken dolls?)

I don't know but if your kid wants to wear a dress and have his make up done THEN IS GONNA BE DONE

Mostly make overs with eachother and stuff like that.

THIS CHILD WILL BE RASIED BY A FUCK GENDERNORMS DAD

Mini spa days? Mini spa days.

Your son is basically all over his devilgram (besides himself of course)

Beelzebub

If this man isn't a baby already-

Hungry Hungry Himbo tried to eat you kid a first

Ok maybe he suggested it BUT THAT WAS JUST ONCE!

Protecc le babies

Kidna like Mammon witht he fact that he's over protective but also clueless

Was making food for him and your son once and almost put him on the stove.....

BUT IT'S FINE, WE'RE ALL FINE

Piggy back rides? Yes! Your son sitting on his shoulders with Beel running arouns the HoL? Yes!

It's just a little wholesome familt :D

Belphegor

Your son climbed uo the stairs and saw him before you

Oh great another human....AND IT'S WEAKER THSN THE OTHER ONE WTF IS THIS!?

your son would talk about stories from the human world and about you and somehow Belphie ends up friends with the kid.

Well great now he CAN'T kill you.

When he got out of the attic, nap times with Belphie and your son were a very constant thing and were mostly cute!

Until Belphie leaned on your son and fell alseep ontop of him....

It was one the couch though!

But also....ouch-

A/N: anddddddd done! Hope you liked it :D

#obey me shall we date #obey me headcannons #obey me fluff #obey me mc #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor

61 notes · View notes

canary3d-obsessed · 4 years ago

Text

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 07 part two

(Masterpost)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Lantern Lighting

Now we have the famous lantern scene, where everybody gets to express their character and have dates, ranging from disastrous to delightful, with the objects of their affection.

Wei Wuxian continues to be ridiculously good at drawing.

We’ve all seen Lan Wangji’s lovely first smile in the show a million times, so...let’s look at it again!

This scene is important not just because of the smile, but because there’s a distinct shift in the way they talk about their growing relationship. In the pond, it was “come visit me” and “never!” “I want to be your friend” “No need.” Basically Lan Wangji firmly saying no to Wei Wuxian’s offers of friendship.

This time, Wei Wuxian says “let’s do this together” and Lan Wangji says “I’m used to being alone,” which is not actually a No, just an explanation. And WWX says, you can change that. And then Lan Wangji DOES change it, sharing the lantern and the promise with Wei Wuxian.

Whoever painted this flower is even better than Wei Wuxian at plein air painting.

(more after the cut!)

Everybody’s wishes

Nie Huasang makes a practical wish. Wen Qing prays for her brother and Jiang Cheng notices how she’s like Yanli. Jiang Cheng isn’t very intense about Wen Qing, which could be a sign of his shyness but could also be a sign of his gayness or aceness. After all, later in life he’s an apparently wealthy clan leader who is hot as fuck, and needs an heir, since his nephew is a Jin. But he’s still not married, 16 years after breaking up with and uh, helping to kill and cremate, the girl he liked in summer school.

The Promise We Made Together

Wei Wuxian makes an ultra-idealistic wish/promise while Lan Wangji watches and falls the rest of the way in love with him, and silently makes the same pledge inside his head. Later they will each refer to this as a promise they made together, which is a really super high level of face-reading by Wei Wuxian, to understand that he really is speaking for both of them here. While making this promise, Lan Wangji brings out his Yin Iron Magic Bag and waves it around in front of everyone, but nobody notices.

Let’s take a moment to consider *why* this moment is so powerful for Lan Wangji. Lan Wangji is a boy whose emotions are always on the boil. He’s 100% upset all the time, at this age, and he keeps it clamped down all the time. His cultivation level is probably as high as it is partly because of all the work he does in emotion regulation. (note: if you haven’t read all the meta at @howpeacefulislwj , go read it; it’s awesome and hilarious)

Wei Wuxian doesn’t GAF about emotion regulation; he just expresses what he feels, all the damn time.

He is openly bored, lusty, playful, hungry, whiny. He straight up tells Lan Wangji “you’re boring and you have a stick up your ass” as part of saying he wants to be friends; no deference and also no falseness.

And he can see right through Lan Wangji’s reserve, barging into his loneliness and isolation without any regard for all of his wards. Wards are made to be broken.

(Unrelated note: Young Lan Wangji's rare moments of contentment seem to come from looking at something beautiful--the moon, falling petals, these lanterns, his mirror.)

But Wei Wuxian is also good. Lan Wangji desperately wants to be good. And here’s Wei Wuxian embodying this awful, amazing, tempting alternative path, in which all the interesting things in life get explored thoroughly, all the sweetness and beauty gets consumed unreservedly, all the pain and ugliness gets confronted and endured without hesitation.

In this moment, Wei Wuxian tells Lan Wangji “you can change,” and then offers up this prayer/promise that is just pure chivarly, speaking straight to Lan Wangji’s heart. Very simply, I want to spend my life doing right. Not 3500 rules; just one.

This infuriating boy, who breaks rules and who flirts indiscriminately and who pushes and pushes and pushes, reveals himself in this moment to be a hero at the beginning of his journey, and Lan Wangji sees it, and his heart goes right over the cliff.

The Girls’ Room

The girl cultivators all rush over to Yanli to get in her business about her betrothal, inspiring Jin Zixuan to act like a jerk to her and get even further onto Wei Wuxian’s bad side.

Talk Shit, Get Hit

Yanli’s wish was that Wei Wuxian would grow up and be good. He promptly launches his own personal Sunshot campaign, punching her fiancee so hard that the sun falls out of the sky and the previously well-lit scene transitions to full night.

So, in English, “don’t mention it again” is really mild, akin to “I don’t want to talk about it.” Wei Wuxian’s reaction makes it seem like Jin Zixuan said something really shitty, like “don’t you dare mention that woman to me!” So I’m assuming something is being lost in translation.

Lan Wangji tries to calm him down. He grabs Wei Wuxian’s sexy arm muscle and basically holds it until the Jiangs exit the scene.

Nie Huaisang has placed himself between the opposing factions, which is unusually direct of him. In the future he’ll stick to being an unindicted co-conspirator when Wei Wuxian starts trouble.

Ants in my Pants

Lan Wangji thinks kneeling can make Wei Wuxian cry, which is adorable of him.

He really relishes this opportunity to be a pedantic tool to his new boyfriend that annoying boy he hardly ever touches, and it really doesn’t work out for him, poor lamb.

Jiang Fengmian stops by to show exactly how deep his affection for Wei Wuxian runs, and to give him whiplash from constantly changing parental expectations. In a couple of hours he’ll be laughing over WWX & JC’s hijinks.

Wei Wuxian takes this opportunity to fantasize about bad things happening to the other boy in the fight, which is in no way foreshadowing of anything.

Douche Dads Conference

We now convene this meeting of the douchebag council. Jiang Cheng is also invited even though he’s a prick, not a douche. <--important distinction

This is our first time meeting Clan Leader Jin Guangshan. He's actually the most sensible and best parent in this scene, but his smug self-satisfaction hints at his true nature. This actor, Shen Xiaohai, has been active in cdramas for a long while now. I wonder what he looked like 15 years ago?

...Holy mother of god.

Jiang Fengmian is the worst dad and the worst husband here. His clan believes in letting children do what they want - uhh YOUR child wants to marry Jin Zixuan. “I wrote a letter to her mother, who arranged this marriage.” Uhhh she arranged for her sickly, low-cultivation-level, sweet and vulnerable child to marry the heir of a rich and powerful clan, with a powerful mother-in-law who’s looking forward to loving and protecting her. Basically she’s guaranteed her daughter’s safety and comfort, and even potential happiness, since her husband may learn to appreciate her (and in fact, does, thanks to soup and repeated beatings from WWX).

Mom worked hard and probably spent a fair amount of social capital to achieve this. And you’re going to toss that aside because the boy thinks he’s too good for her? What the everloving fuck, how are you a clan leader in the first place?

You can see that Jiang Cheng understands all of this and what a terrible choice his father is making here.

So do the other adults in the room.

Jin Guangshen: our wives are going to kill us

Lan Qiren: I'm looking at a couple of dead men

Jiang Fengmian pointedly won’t listen to Jiang Cheng or let him speak, showing that all his talk about being free is actually bullshit, that only applies to other people’s children.

Jiang Chang vaults off of the deck to tell Wei Wuxian about it. Hottt

Sorry Sis

Wei Wuxian goes to Jiang Yanli to sorta-apologize and sorta ask to be let off the hook for fucking up her engagement, which he absolutely did. He knows it, which is presumably why he bows to her in paperman form while hiding outside.

At no time has Jiang Yanli indicated to anyone that she doesn’t want to marry Jin Zixuan, as far as I can see, or said she wanted to be defended from insults with punching. Look how good SHE is at defending a person from insults, for comparison.

Yin Iron Blah Blah Blah

The senior Lans meet with Jiang Fengmian to talk about the Yawn Yin Iron. Yawn.

Jiang Fengmian addresses Lan Xichen as Lan Gongzi, which is adorable, since he is a big boy to everyone else. His family calls him Xichen and other people call him Zewu-Jun.

Farewell and Fuck You

The three Jiang kids come to say goodbye.

Lan Quiren says goodbye with a heap of criticism for Wei Wuxian and the horse he rode in on, and Jiang Fengmian basically says, yep, that’s what he’s like, all right.

Good thing Wei Ying gets so much verbal abuse at home he doesn’t take it very hard when he finds it in the field.

Wangji doesn’t say goodbye properly, which will be a recurring theme for the two of them.

I don’t know if this is because he has a problem with goodbyes, or is just being a jerk, or because he’s so bad at lying he doesn’t dare talk to Wei Wuxian lest he reveal his travel plans.

Indulgent Dad Continues to be the Worst

Jiang Cheng complains at Wei Wuxian for wanting to say goodbye to Lan Wangji, and WWX says he likes him because he is equal to WWX in fighting, whereas JC sucks. JC hits him tries to hit him--gosh, he DOES suck, comparatively.

Yanli, who has been keeping these boys in line all summer, sighs deeply at her Dad’s tolerance for their hijinks. OP has five brothers and this sibling-hijinks behavior is 100% accurate, except for the part where it is happening at someone else’s house in front of the hosts.

WWX pretending to be Lan Qiren where Lan Wangji can see him doing it, in front of Lan Qiren’s colleague and supposed friend, and just earning a laugh from the patriarch? Good lord. Dad Jiang tolerating this is shocking, particularly in the in-show culture where corporal punishment is as common as tea.

We’ve tried Nothing, and we’re all out of ideas!

Uggghh why are you like this?

Here in the real world, OP uses “positive discipline” with her child, and encourages other parents to consider it, particularly if your child is neuroatypical or asynchronous. That said, JF should be punishing the crap out of both boys for this behavior every time it happens, or should quit being a clan leader. He’s relying on Jiang Yanli to keep them in line while he gets to just be amused by them. And he’s letting Lan Qiren discipline Wei Wuxian instead of doing it himself. He suuuuuuucks.

Lan Wangji watches all of this. Lan Xichen reminds Lan Wangji that without Wei Wuxian, he’s completely fucking miserable. Lan Wangji still doesn’t plan to bring him along on his trip, though.

Time to return to our lives of crushing loneliness

Rabbits

At this same moment when Lan Wangji is staring down the barrel of future loneliness, Wei Wuxian is already deciding to leave the (forbidden) rabbits in Cloud Recesses “In case Lan Zhan gets lonely.” This small decision by Wei Wuxian - breaking the rules of Cloud Recesses for the millionth time - is kinder than he knows. Because what is the job of these rabbits? Let’s have a desaturated flashback.

Lan Zhan spent 3 years in the ice cave. The rabbits kept Lan Yi company in the ice cave. So...did the rabbits sneak in to keep Lan Wangji company in the ice cave as well? I’m going to say yes. By ep 43 they are following him to the gate of Cloud Recesses so they are very attached to him. Well done, Wei Ying.

Where my bitches at? Seriously, our warren needs bitches

(Is Watership Down still a thing people read? If not, just go ahead and assume all of OP’s rabbit jokes are about Watership Down because OP ain’t going to stop making them)

While Wei Wuxian annoys the bunny he has a flashback to the scene that happened 4 minutes earlier. The Untamed editors assume the viewership has the attention span of a goldfish, and I personally appreciate that they understand me so well.

Wei Wuxian figures out that Lan Wangji is going on the road alone, and tells the bunny immediately. The bunny is very concerned.

Writing Prompt: What do next-generation cultivators Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi wish for at lantern-lighting time?

#fytheuntamed #the untamed #wangxian #the untamed gifs #cdrama #chen qing ling #restless rewatch the untamed #canary3d-original #my gifs #the untamed spoilers

442 notes · View notes

lillotte17 · 3 years ago

Text

Blossoms on a Bough

Fix-it/filler for the end of episode 36!!!

The first thing Wen Kexing notices, once his mind has floated up towards any sense of consciousness, is a bright cool light shining on his face. His brows twitch downwards in irritation, the intensity of it stinging his eyes even while they are still closed. His body feels like lead, and his thoughts are thick and muddy. He just wants to ignore the light and drift back off to sleep.

Wherever he is, he seems to have landed on something relatively soft and warm. It is surprising, since his general ideas about the netherworld involve darkness and cold, but he is certainly not going to complain. Perhaps, given the long list of his transgressions, his soul flew right past the Yellow River and dropped straight into hell, and now he is being fried in a pot just like that chicken that had chased Chengling around the Four Seasons Manor. The thought makes him want to laugh, but there is an odd tightness in his chest, so the best he can manage is an incredibly weak cough.

A faint rustling of cloth sounds by his ear as whatever he is reclining on shifts slightly. There is a vague sense of presence nearby, but he cannot tell more than that. Almost against his will, he cracks his eyes open to see who might be trapped in the stew pot with him, but there is only a dark looming blur surrounded by pale watery light. It makes him think of Zhou Zishu; his face bathed in sunshine, in moonshine, in starlight. He always seemed to glow with something intangible and dream-like. And Wen Kexing -helpless little month- could do nothing else but follow after it.

“Ah Xu,” he exhales in the barest of whispers.

A scent lingers in the air around him, crisp and lightly musky. It reminds him of burying his fingers in long dark tresses. Of the tenderness and care taken combing the tangles out of them afterwards. Of sliding his own hair pin into the carefully twisted knot at the crown of Zhou Zishu’s head. He should have brought him a different one to replace it, he thinks blearily. The key was most likely lost or broken in all of that snow, and now he will have nothing to remember him by.

This place is strange, wherever it is. Soothing and disorientating all at once. Is it some sort of hallucination? Did his soul get lost somewhere between life and death? Is he a true ghost now, doomed to wander the world in hopeless despair, witnessing joys he can no longer take part in? Thoughts spin around in his head in a billion tiny fragments. He cannot quite seem to catch hold of any of them, or arrange them in a pattern that makes sense.

“Am I dead?” he wonders aloud, his voice thin and raspy, not expecting an answer.

“You fucking better not be,” a cross reply rumbles out from somewhere above him.

Wen Kexing blinks. The sun still burns his eyes, but after a few moments of intense squinting, the dark blur leaning over him reconfigures itself into a familiar and beloved face. Zhou Zishu, leaning back against a dusty wall with Wen Kexing pulled more than half way into his lap.

“What…happened?” Wen Kexing wonders, head positively spinning in bafflement. Now that he is waking up a bit more, he is becoming more aware of his body’s aches and pains. It feels like a horse kicked him in the chest and then he fell into a river and drowned. Even wincing hurts.

“Something went wrong with the ritual,” Zishu tells him. His voice is raw and his eyes are bloodshot. He looks as haggard as Wen Kexing feels. “You collapsed. Your heart meridians were severely damaged, and your hair turned white. You must have used too much of your internal force. It has been more than three days since you lost consciousness and…I thought…”

His voice splinters and he trails off, looking away from him for a moment.

“But…it worked?” Wen Kexing presses, trying to feebly grip at Zhou Zishu’s sleeve, “You can hear me talking again now, so that means that it worked, right? The rest is fine, so long as it saved you.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Zhou Zishu answers, the first traces of a smile pulling at his lips.

“Yes. You are here.” Wen Kexing echoes, as though he still cannot quite believe it, “And…I am here, too.”

“You are.” Zishu confirms, his arms tightening around him, carefully tugging him up until he is all but leaning into his chest. “It was a near thing, though. My medical knowledge is limited, and even with the Yin Yang book, I was not certain that I could heal you.”

“Rong Xuan’s wife allegedly used the teachings in the book to heal his heart meridians and other serious injuries when he was near death several times over,” Wen Kexing hums thoughtfully, casually tilting his head against Zishu’s shoulder, “But she was an experienced physician. You have had no training, and yet you saved me on the first try. You must possess some kind of natural affinity for it. Ah Xu, you have so many talents, I am having a hard time keeping track of them all.”

“It had nothing to do with affinity,” Zhou Zishu huffs, sounding exasperated and perhaps even the tiniest bit embarrassed, “It was pure dumb luck.”

“Eh?”

“The Four Seasons Sect has a special technique that cripples someone’s heart meridians,” he explains somberly, a humorless smirk on his face, “I used it against Prince Jin to keep him alive, but bedridden. My master taught it to me, and as far as I know, I am the only one left alive who knows how to perform it.”

“That is very interesting, Ah Xu, but I am not certain I understand what it has to do with dumb luck,” Wen Kexing says smilingly.

“My master…he also told me how to counter the technique, so that the person’s heart meridians could be healed again and their qi could flow properly,” Zhou Zishu continues, turning his head slightly to directly meet Wen Kexing’s gaze. “I did not have much hope when I opened the Yin Yang book. You were slipping away, and there was no time for in-depth research. But…when I found the section detailing how someone with damaged meridians might be cured, it was obvious that…the techniques I learned from my master were based on this knowledge.”

“So…that means…my parents…?” Wen Kexing looks a bit lost at the revelation.

Zhou Zishu nods.

“It is likely that Lady Yue Feng’Er and your parents shared this precious knowledge with their friends, and possibly even helped my master develop this skill. I was only able to save you because of this.”

Wen Kexing furrows is brows, his thoughts whirling and his emotions complex. He seemingly stares at the dark blue of Zhou Zishu’s lapels for what feels like ages, looking but not seeing, pensive and moody. Finally, he lets out a very tired-sounding sigh.

“And I only managed to save you because that dumb bastard Rong Xuan stole the manual for the Six Cultivation Techniques,” he says, sounding bitter, “But maybe no one would have needed all this saving in the first place if that old monster had never let his idiot disciple leave the mountain to begin with.”

Zhou Zishu frowns down at him.

“I know, I know,” he mumbles, a bit sulky, “The past is past. Zhao Jing was punished and the rest are dead. There is no point stewing on it now. I have just…been angry about it for so long, sometimes I forget that I don’t have to be anymore. Be patient with me, Ah Xu.”

“Hm?” Zishu blinks, as though suddenly coming back to himself. “Oh, it wasn’t about that.”

“Then what?”

“I was just thinking that…it really could not have been anyone else,” Zhou Zishu tells him slowly, intensity burning in his dark eyes. “I said it was only dumb luck, because I never believed in destiny all that much before. If you want to achieve something in this world, you have to be willing to create it for yourself. But…for things to end up this way… It had to be you, and it had to be me, didn’t it?”

Wen Kexing bursts out laughing, utterly delighted.

“I always knew you had a soft heart beneath that tough exterior,” he grins, slightly breathless, with an almost pleasant ache in his ribs, “But Ah Xu, I never imagined that you were secretly a romantic.”

“Shut up,” Zishu grunts, pinching his arm until he yelps, “Who is romantic?”

“Ai, there is no need to be shy about it now, is there?” Wen Kexing says pleadingly, giggling to himself all the while, “There is no one here except us.”

“That’s right,” Zhou Zishu agrees blithely, a truly terrifying expression stealing across his face, “There is no one on this entire mountain except for you and me.”

“Ah Xu, don’t do anything rash,” Wen Kexing cajoles with a hint of genuine nervousness, “I only teased you a little bit, and I am still in such a delicate state of health. If you throw me out in the snow and beat me, I really won’t be-”

Zhou Zishu kisses him then, and whatever he won’t be promptly flies out of his head like a startled flock of birds.

The kiss is softer than he would have guessed, if he had gotten a moment to anticipate it. Clumsy, but tender. Hasty, but sincere. The mouth pressed so suddenly against his own trembles just slightly right before it pulls away. A thousand years too soon.

It is nowhere near the first time they have kissed each other, but Wen Kexing is almost always the instigator. It suits his own preferences to take the lead in most physical forms of intimacy anyway, so he would never complain about it. However, it does make the times Zhou Zishu reaches for him first feel more…something. Something that makes his heart full, and his eyes itch.

It makes him feel as though he is not only being accepted by this man, but chosen by him, too. As his partner. As his equal. As his friend. Lovers and soulmates and all the rest.

Wen Kexing is not certain that anyone else has ever chosen him before.

Not when there were other, better, options on hand, at any rate.

He swallows thickly, gazing up at Zhou Zishu with wide, startled eyes. Little flecks of cold mountain sunlight catch in the dark sweep of the other man’s hair almost like snowflakes. His grin is wide and fierce. Buoyant and hopeful in a way he has never been in all the time they have known each other. He looks impossibly beautiful, and horribly pleased with himself for managing to derail Wen Kexing’s usual babbling. There might be the slightest touch of pink to his ears, though.

“Ah Xu,” Wen Kexing chokes out.

I love you.

But the words get stuck in his throat.

“What?” Zishu laughs, “Do you ever get tired of calling me?”

“No.” Wen Kexing offers him a weak smile in return, shifting out of his hold a little so they can sit facing one another.

Zhou Zishu heaves an exasperated sigh, but his eyes remain bright, his expression one of incalculable fondness.

“Is that all you were saying during the ritual?” he wonders, half joking, “You just sat there calling my name?”

“Huh?”

“You said earlier that you had tried speaking to me, but my hearing had gone,” Zhou Zishu reminds him, “What did you say?”

“Oh, yes, it was mostly just your name over and over,” Wen Kexing nods, “Plus a few embarrassing personal anecdotes I felt like sharing. Once I knew you had no way to stop me, I really couldn’t help myself.”

“Lao Wen.”

“Yes, Ah Xu?”

“After all we have been through together, what could you possibly still have to tell me that you think I would be unwilling to hear?”

Wen Kexing makes a face, caught outright.

“It…is not so much a matter of thinking you would not hear me out,” he admits carefully, “It is more that there are just things that are difficult to say to someone. The more important they are to you, the harder it gets, so between you and me… But when a man feels his end has come, all sorts of things seem to tumble out unwillingly.”

Zhou Zishu looks positively stricken.

“You could tell that the cultivation technique was backfiring?” he hisses out, gasping Wen Kexing by the shoulders, “And you still kept going?”

“What else could I do?” Wen Kexing asks helplessly, “If I had stopped wouldn’t we both die? Would it be better if I had starved to death with your corpse in my arms? Besides, that old monster promised me that this technique could save you, so no matter what the cost was going to be, of course I-”

“So, you knew there would be a cost already?” Zhou Zishu cuts him off, expression like a brewing storm cloud, “You knew this was likely going to injure you, and you did not even think to warn me first? We could have prepared beforehand! You could have looked through the Yin Yang book and point out things that I could use to help you in an emergency! Dammit, Lao Wen, I thought you were supposed to be smarter than this!”

“Was there really time for things like that?” Wen Kexing argues back, “Your senses were already dying out one by one, if we did not try the technique as soon as possible, you might not have been able to complete it! If I told you how risky it is, would you agree to it? Would you still let me try to save you?”

“I deserve the right to make that choice!” Zhou Zishu shouts hoarsely.

“You do!” Wen Kexing agrees just as hotly, “But I owe it to Chengling to save his family. And I owe it to our master to save his teachings. And I owe it to you most of all. I ruined your chance at happiness. To rebuild the Four Seasons with Chengling and the other new disciples. You threw it all away to try and avenge me… The number of people in this world who have been good to me are few enough to count on one hand. I would do anything for them, and you most of all. How could I live without repaying this debt?”

“And what if I hadn’t been able to save you?!” Zhou Zishu demands thunderously.

“I didn’t expect you to save me!”

For a few moments, the words seem to echo of the cold walls of the armory, bouncing back at them over and over. The silence that follows after them is deafening. Zishu’s eyes are red, and his hands are trembling on Wen Kexing’s biceps, but he looks as though he is about to breathe fire.

“Good,” he says finally, his voice low and deadly, “Very good. You feel like you owe me so much, but all you want to do is torture me.”

“What?” Wen Kexing baulks, “No! Ah Xu, that’s not what I-”

But before he can finish the thought Zhou Zishu has already pulled him into a bone-crushing embrace, his breathing erratic, and his face buried in the side of his neck. Wen Kexing makes a pained grunt, his ribs still tender from previous injury. It only makes Zishu’s grip on him tighten, however, holding onto him with a furious desperation.

“In such a short stretch of time, I have had to see you dead or dying before my eyes over and over again,” he mumbles thickly into the silk of Wen Kexing’s robes, “You spent all this time chasing me down, pestering me to let you stay by my side, begging me not to die, and telling me to find things to feel hopeful about. But now it seems as though you are set on leaving me behind.”

“I never wanted to leave you,” Wen Kexing protests, but his voice seems to have lost all of its strength, “I just wanted to keep you safe. Even if I died, and you had to be sad for a while, you have so much left to live for, and I wanted you to have it. I just wanted you to be…happy.”

“Bastard,” Zhou Zishu laughs wetly, “Wen Kexing, you really are…the absolute worst sort of person.”

Wen Kexing sags in his embrace, his heart plummeting down into the pit of his stomach. His head droops, white hair falling across his eyes. Utterly defeated.

“I know.”

Zhou Zishu finally pulls back from him. There are obvious tear tracks down his cheeks, but he still looks fierce, regardless. He takes Wen Kexing roughly by the chin, forcing him to meet his eyes.

“You are also…my happiness.”

Wen Kexing gapes at him, for once in his life completely at a loss for words. Seeing an opening, Zhou Zishu takes the opportunity to kiss him again. Harsher this time. Brief and chaste and biting. It does not seem to help the other man’s sense of bafflement in the slightest. Indeed, Lao Wen looks as though his soul might have just flown straight out of his body.

Zishu smiles at him again, but there is still something sharp and wounded at its edges.

“Eternity would be an empty place without you,” he says quietly, “How could you leave me to bear it alone?”

“I…I’m…sorry,” Wen Kexing sputters, as though he does not know what else to say. He finally reaches back for Zhou Zishu, cautiously taking hold of his wrists. The ache in his chest seems to have spread outward, and he is shaking so badly that he fears he might not be able to sit up straight much longer. “I’m sorry. I just did not… I did not know how else to save you.”

“Mn,” Zhou Zishu nods in understanding, “I suppose I can forgive you for it this time, although some part of me still would like nothing so much as to throw you outside and beat some sense into that thick skull of yours.”

“I will accept any punishment you want to give me,” Wen Kexing tells him earnestly.

“Alright,” Zhou Zishu grins, “Then pay me back with your whole life. Stay alive, and stay with me. Always.”

Wen Kexing blinks in surprise, but the next moment he is laughing. Dizzy with relief and unexpected joy. Marveling at the gifts that fate has blessed him with after so many years of hatred and heartache.

“I can do that.”

When Zhou Zishu wakes up later that night Wen Kexing is sitting at the opposite end of their makeshift bed in nothing but his under robe. His back is facing him, and he takes a moment to stare at the snowy cascade of his hair. The living proof of what Lao Wen would sacrifice for him. It looks beautiful on him, as everything else seems to, but Zishu thinks he prefers the rich dark brown that he was born with. This new color comes with a twinge of guilt.

Not that he would ever say so.

“Lao Wen,” he calls softly, “What are you doing?”

Wen Kexing’s shoulders stiffen in surprise.

“Don’t come over,” he replies, “I’m not finished yet.”

“Ai,” Zishu grins, scooting close enough to lightly tug at a few strands of that bone white hair, “But that just makes me want to come over even more.”

“I have a knife,” Lao Wen says coolly, “I will use it if I have to.”

“You left our bed in the middle of the night to play with a knife?” Zishu laughs, not intimidated in the least. “Why?”

“If you stop pestering me for a few minutes maybe you’ll find out,” Wen Kexing snaps. Zhou Zishu is not fooled, though. He had caught the sharp inhale of breath when he had said the words ‘our bed’, and he is all but certain that Lao Wen’s threats are empty.

“But you’ll catch cold,” he coaxes, slipping his arms about his waist and pressing a kiss into his shoulder. He obligingly resists the urge to peek at whatever secret Wen Kexing is fiddling with, though. The other man sighs, but does nothing to discourage him, as expected.

“The next time you accuse me of being insufferable, I want you to remember this conversation,” Wen Kexing says wryly.

“It must be your bad influence,” Zhou Zishu chuckles.

Wen Kexing hums noncommittally, going back to whatever he had been working on before. Zhou Zishu sits patiently behind him, leaning into the warm curve of his back, listening to the steady beating of his heart and the faint scraping sound of a blade chipping away at something. The proximity is comfortable, and the quiet almost meditative, and before long Zishu is already half way back to being asleep.

“Alright,” Lao Wen says finally, carefully pulling himself free of Zhou Zishu’s arms and turning to face him, “You can look now.”

Zishu has to shake himself a little to wake up again, but once he does, he finds that Lao Wen is holding out what appears to be an oddly shaped icicle.

“…What is it?” he asks after a few moments of trying to puzzle it out for himself.

Wen Kexing frowns.

“It’s a hair pin,” he tells him, as though it should be obvious.

“Ah.”

“What do you mean, saying ‘ah’ with such a doubting face?” Wen Kexing huffs in annoyance, “Of course it is a hair pin, what else would it be? You lost the one I gave you before, so now I have to give you a new one to replace it.”

“I lost the one you gave me before?” Zhou Zishu laughs.

“That’s right,” Wen Kexing nods seriously, “But I promise not to be mad about it.”

“Philanthropist Wen is too kind.”

“It’s true,” Lao Wen sighs dramatically, “People are always taking advantage of my generous nature.”

He firmly places the hair pin in Zhou Zishu’s hands. Upon closer inspection, it looks to be roughly shaped like a tree branch. There are two lumpy circles that might be meant to be flowers attempting to bloom from it. The finished product is crude, but the ice is clear and crystalline. Pretty, even despite the skill level of the craftsman.

“It is meant to be plum blossoms,” Wen Kexing admits somewhat sheepishly, “One bloom for each of us. There was meant to be a bud for Chengling, too, but I accidentally broke it off. Hopefully, that is not an inauspicious sign for him.”

“I see,” Zhou Zishu says, because he does see, and just like the morning he had woken up to find the Four Seasons Manor cleaned and Wen Kexing diligently repairing his master’s old painting, he feels very much like he wants nothing more than to pull the other man into his arms again.

“Ah Xu, will you accept it?” Wen Kexing asks, slightly trepidatious at his lack of reaction.

“Of course,” Zishu smiles easily, “But it’s made of ice, after all. If I wear it, it will likely melt or break in a day or so.”

“If it breaks, I will just make you a new one,” Wen Kexing says, his eyes soft. He plucks the hair pin from Zhou Zishu’s fingers, reaching up and carefully sliding it into the loose knot at the base of his ponytail. “I can make you a new one every day, if I have to. With any luck, they will eventually look less ugly.”

He takes Zhou Zishu’s hands in his own.

“There are still things I am not good at saying,” he tells him, “Things that I want to share with you. Things that you deserve to hear. Right now, my skills are not enough, but just like with the hair pin, if I keep working at it every day, eventually I can give you something worth having.”

Zhou Zishu tugs him down into his embrace. He thinks about kissing him. About pushing him down and pulling his robe open and showing him, again, how very much he is wanted. But Lao Wen is still recovering from injuries, and it would be a shame to snap his new hair pin tussling around in the sheets. So, he makes do with holding him close, for now. Tangling his fingers in hair the color of starlight.

“Say them, or don’t say them,” he says quietly against the shell of Wen Kexing’s ear, “Whatever they are, they have no bearing on your worth to me.”

“Doesn’t that seem like my current value is lower than mud?” Wen Kexing laughs nervously.

“It means you are treasured,” Zishu corrects him firmly, “There is no price that I would sell you for.”

“I suppose that means I can stop living in fear that you would truly try and sell me to a brothel.”

“You really are a brat.”

“Ah Xu?”

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

#word of honor #faraway wanderers #word of honor spoilers #wenzhou #wen kexing #zhou zishu #fic #this story did not listen to me AT ALL #these two NEVER listen to me!!!#I wanted to write domestic fluff about hair brushing #but noooo

47 notes · View notes

katnissmellarkkk · 3 years ago

Text

Alrightttt, I’m on a roll so we’re going onto chappy five 🥳🥳🥳😎😎

I know the movies made the Capitol — re: basically only Effie and maybe Caesar — have those ridiculous made up accents but .... I actually feel like the description of the Capitol accent in the book is supposed to be like the Kardashians or Paris Hilton’s voice. 🤷🏼‍♀️

“Why do these people speak in such a high pitch? Why do their jaws barely open when they talk? Why do the ends of their sentences go up as if they're asking a question? Odd vowels, clipped words, and always a hiss on the letter s. no wonder it's impossible not to mimic them.” Like this is a pretty good description of how Kim Kardashian and her sisters talk. And Suzzy C did say she was inspired by the juxtaposition between war news footage and ridiculous reality television shows so... I think my theory of the Capitol all talking like they’re on the Real Housewives of LA is pretty valid.

Just imagine Paris Hilton as Effie and Nicole Richie as one of her preps

Lolololol this whole section of waxing is reminding me to go get my legs waxed 😭😭😭 straight up calling me out here, Suzanne

I like how Katniss says her stylist “apparently has no interest in seeing her until the prep team has addressed obvious problems.” Like you can tell from her narration she was expecting to feel the same was about Cinna that she does about Effie and her prep team.

The “gritty loam that takes off dirt and three layers of skin” is probably just a strong exfoliator 😭😭😭 my girl knows nothing about quality skincare 🤧🤧 someone build a Panem Sephora

She mentioned them waxing her underarms.... girl, did you have hairy armpits before this? Idk why this revelation is new to me

“Grease her down!” Just sounds wrong 😅😅😅😅 I need to stop being annoying omg I’m like a twelve year old

Hmm it’s funny to me that Katniss refers to Octavia as plump. You’d think in a place like the Capitol body image and weight would be very important. Unless it’s like back in the old, old days when being overweight was a sign of wealth. Which would make more sense so this was an unnecessary thought process curtesy of Samantha

Katniss faking a smile and thanking her prep team shows she does know how to play the game and fake it better than she says.

So ... okay, hear me out, I’m not trying to get over the top or make this into something it’s not but ... the whole stylists / Cinna coming into the room and staring at her naked is a little weird. Especially considering Cinna isn’t Lenny Kravitz who’s like a bit older than her but actually like a twenty-something year old dude.

But okay, here’s the thing I was getting at ... Cinna’s one of the best people in this series and you can’t deny that. Even if you find him boring, he’s still one of Katniss’ closest people. Also he’s probably gay. But like ... what about the other stylists? I don’t wanna be that person who makes everything more than it is, but like, this scene just sounds like a perfect opportunity for some Capitol creep to assault a teenager idk I’m probably making a mountain out of a molehill just ignore Samantha okay.

That’s nice that he complimented her mama though 🥰🥰🥰

So Katniss calls District Twelve the least desirable district but ... doesn’t District Eleven suck too? Like she also later says District Twelve is the smallest and the poorest but doesn’t she also say Rue is worse off than her and Prim? Make up your mind, Suz.

Cinna claims he asked for District Twelve but did he really get an option? 😅 If it’s his first year and Katniss claims the newbies get them anyway 🤷🏼‍♀️ Samantha is once again, reading too much into this.

Awww, Katniss is thinking about how long it would take for her to assemble this fancy meal at home 🤧🤧🤧 it would take her days and the Capitol just has the necessary resources at their disposal and they just takes it for granted. And yes, I’m aware this is supposed to be calling all us readers out who take so much for granted I know. We’re the Capitol.

“How would I spend the hours I now commit to combing the woods for sustenance if it were so easy to come by?” It’s honestly so sad but so vital to her character that Katniss has zero hobbies or real free time. Her life is about surviving. She doesn’t get to live or enjoy very much of her time. She dedicates everything to keeping Prim — and her mother — alive, sacrificing everything a teenage girl should be doing. Sacrificing even the things the other girls in her world get to do. She mentions the merchant girls and the Seam girls who are more experienced romantically and sexually and socially than her. Because she doesn’t get to be a kid or innocent or even happy, in order to focus on her and her family’s survival. And the things she does enjoy, like spending time with Gale or dancing with Prim (mentioned in Mockingjay) she downplays in case they’re taken away, because nothing good is secure in her eyes. 🥺🥺🥺

Okay but what did Katniss’ facial expression give away that Cinna knew exactly what she was thinking? Or is she just less emotionless than she and Haymitch both claim? Ironically I think they’re the only people who call her emotionless which can easily be chalked up to their self-hate and terrible self-esteems.

Katniss is so afraid they’re gonna make her be naked for the parade 😭. Honestly though they’re children that’s so creepy that they’re even allowed to make 15/16/17 year olds be naked in a parade. I mean I know they kill kids every year but isn’t there like child pornography laws in Panem? 😭

“You’re not afraid of fire, are you, Katniss?” Is so foreshadowing 😭😂😅😎 Caesar Flickerman’s voice “Katniss Everdeen, the girl on fire!”

Honestly though Cinna is smart to make Katniss recognizable in the arena by leaving her with simple makeup. I know and the sky is blue we all know this already beating the dead horses until the farmer comes home.

“It crosses my mind that Cinna's calm and normal demeanor masks a complete madman.” It’s true though 😅😅😅😭😭 he was always a rebel. I actually think he may have asked for District Twelve after Katniss volunteered, because he saw the potential in her. Poor Peeta. Baby, I’m rooting you for even if no one else is.

Also I always found it a bit .... curious? That Peeta had a female stylist and Katniss had a male one? Not just because of the required nudity, you’d just think men would do better as a boy’s stylist and a woman would make a better girl’s stylist. So yes, my whole Cinna was interested in District Twelve because Katniss seemed like a good symbol for a rebellion idea seems very plausible.

I know I know I know I read wayyy too much into this stuff sometimes a cigarette 🚬 is just a cigarette 🚬

Katniss being relieved when Peeta shows up 😭😭😭 because even if she won’t admit it and even if she won’t let herself trust him, she still sees him unconsciously and completely against her will as a comfort because they’re in this thing together in a way, even if they’re supposed to try and kill each other

And honestly, it’s such a like... relatable feeling? To feel alone and nervous and uptight and then someone who you recognize — even if you maybe aren’t even friends with but you at least know — shows up and you just instantly feel less alone. I’m totally looking at this through shipper goggles and I’m not even ashamed you all knew who’s blogging you were reading ight? 😂🤣🤷🏼‍♀️

“He should know about fire, being a baker's son and all.” And he’s gonna learn a lot more about it when he falls in love — for real, falls in love, not a childhood infatuation — with the girl on fire. 🥰🥰🥰

But also, I love this particular line on a reread because it totally is an indicator towards their future. Like Peeta knows about fire, he’s experienced with how to handle it, and later on, he becomes the only person who truly comes to understand Katniss, who represents fire, in a way that no one else could ever imagine.

Hmmm, Katniss’ point of view here, talking about how Portia and Peeta’s team seem all giddy and air-headed and it’s only Cinna who seems reserved makes me rethink my previous imaginings of Peeta’s stylist. Maybe she’s just a Capitolite idiot and nothing like Cinna. And my baby got a raw deal here then too. Good thing Haymitch loves him more. Just kidding 😅😅😅

But also I wanna know why Cinna is hesitant to accept congratulations for his and Portia’s idea? Wasn’t he at least lowkey excited about it when he pitched it a page ago?

Their horses are coal black 🐴 😅. I like that they went the whole nine yards with the theme. Nothing but the best for the kids on Death Row.

Aww Katniss asking Peeta what he thinks about being set on fire is so sweet and pure for some reason. I just find their commodore here cute ok

“I'll rip off your cape if you'll rip off mine” this is literally their first friend type of interaction and it’s so pure y’all leave me be I’m emotional for them

🙃 Also lowkey reminds me of “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” Everyone look away ok I’m sorry

Peeta’s shady/annoyed Haymitch comment and Katniss’ joke at his expense 🤣🤣😂🤣😂😂🥲🥲☺️🥲🥲 they’re bonding it’s so presh

“And suddenly we're both laughing.” I hope they laugh a lot together post-canon 🥲🥲🥲. If they can make the other laugh during their terrible circumstances, then they can make the other laugh anywhere. 🤧 Except in Thirteen because he’s hijacked and she’s certifiable and they’re both so used and abused and 🥺🥺🥺🥺

Okay I have to say, Suzanne Collins really builds up a lot for certain events and then just like grazes over the actual action of said event? Like she builds towards the tribute parade but then kind of rushes through off the actual event itself? It’s a common theme in her writing. And I don’t like it at all ngl.

Oh wait she doesn’t actually rush the parade events the paragraph before just looked like she was about to I jumped the gun 🤣😂🤭 but what I said is still completely true for many events in these books sorry not sorry

I’m definitely reading too much into it but the fact that District One — the favorite of the Capitol — gets snow white horses and District Twelve gets coal black horsies kind of ... seems to imply something .... 🤭

Cinna just lets out a sigh of relief “it worked” like ... way to fill your tributes with hope, dude. “Yeah, you’re totally safe, don’t be scared-OH THANK GOD THAT WORKED I wasn’t actually sure you wouldn’t blow up.” But actually this answers my previous inquiry about why he seemed hesitant I guess he wasn’t even sure this wouldn’t burn them up that’s nice 🤭🙃

It’s a literal trial by fire *cue drum hit* 🥁 aww, I just cracked myself up 😭

“Then he gently tucks a hand under my chin. "Remember, heads high. Smiles. They're going to love you!" This is caught halfway between being very Capitol-y and very father-brotherly and idk which way to take it but it’s kind of cute 🤭

“For the first time, I look at him and realize that ablaze with the fake flames, he is dazzling.” This is such a significant line because Katniss isn’t saying Peeta is technically good looking (like when Haymitch said they were decently attractive) or someone else thinks he’s good looking (i.e Gale, her mother and lowkey Finnick) but she’s saying she herself thinks he’s attractive. Girl, your crush is showing.

"I think he said for us to hold hands," says Peeta.” I’m sure Cinna actually did say that but this just seems like a very good opportunity for Peeta to hold the hand of the girl he has a massive crush on. 😭😭😭

Okay Cinna gave a thumbs up so he actually was saying that but can you imagine Peeta’s excitement right now?

I mean, yeahhhh, there’s the certain death looming over him too but like live in the moment, babe. 🥰😘🤗👌🏻

I like that Katniss says the crowd is at first like 😳😳😳 before they start cheering like they’re thinking “what are these backwoods, hillbilly kids doing this year?”

“At first, I'm frozen, but then I catch sight of us on a large television screen and am floored by how breathtaking we look. In the deepening twilight, the firelight illuminates our faces” okay they both have to be pretty naturally attractive people objectively, because you illuminate my face without much makeup and no one is gonna be cheering.

“Remember, heads high. Smiles. They're going to love you! I hear Cinna's voice in my head. I lift my chin a bit higher, put on my most winning smile, and wave with my free hand.” I wonder what the true difference is for Katniss between Cinna and Effie saying this to her? Maybe it’s that Effie is just outright mean to her sometimes whereas Cinna shows her nothing but kindness from the start and expresses sympathy and understanding? It’s probably that he’s already earning her trust versus Effie who’s just cruel I’m not over her comments on the train ok

“I'm glad now I have Peeta to clutch for balance, he is so steady, solid as a rock.” Right from the start, Katniss refers to Peeta as solid and steady. Idk, I feel like this is something that the movies really misses along the way. Katniss wasn’t always strong or confident at all and Peeta, at least publicly, exuded those qualities pretty well. Samantha’s complaining again ™️ 💁🏼‍♀️🤦🏼‍♀️

Also this is just outright foreshadowing how Peeta will eventually become her rock. Or that he will be soon painted a rock ... pick and choose which way you wanna go with this. 🤷🏼‍♀️💁🏼‍♀️😅🤣

“As I gain confidence, I actually blow a few kisses to the crowd.” Okay, see I feel like Peeta really gives Katniss confidence in herself. If he’d been there in District Thirteen and they’d done propos together, she probably would have been a thousand times better.

But also this makes me think Katniss actually has it in her to be a charismatic, confident, alluring celebrity. She just chooses not to. 🤗🤗🤗

But this also reminds me of “She has no idea the effect she can have” okay imma move on and stop focusing on every little detail

I say that every chapter 🤧😅

“The pounding music, the cheers, the admiration work their way into my blood, and I can't suppress my excitement.” Say whatever you want, Katniss is still such a girl underneath it all. She gets excited over people liking her and cheering her on. And I know it’s because it increases her chances of getting sponsors but still

Honestly Peeta trying to showcase Katniss and let her take the spotlight is so selfless and indicative of his ultimate plan to help her win but also ... I can see how Katniss would believe it’s too good to be true and he’s messing with her. That he’s just playing the game to earn her trust, get her guard down and manipulate her later.

See, Peeta is actually framed at the start like the typical, standard YA love interest turned villain. In majority of YA books, at this point the boy is kind and sweet and helpful to the girl until she trusts him completely and then he turns on her and uses everything she gave him to destroy her. But the difference is, Katniss refuses to truly trust him and she is guessing his game incorrectly at every step. And then it’s revealed that it was never a game and he truly isn’t messing with her and everything he’s done that’s seem too good to be true and not even remotely plausible has actually been genuine and heartfelt and that, my friends, is why Peeta is above all other YA love interests. Because Everlark is actually the foil to many of the cliches. That was a long speech over some incoherent thoughts I’m so sorry if you suffered through that.

“It's not until we enter the City Circle that I realize I must have completely stopped the circulation in Peeta's hand. That's how tightly I've been holding it.” Awww he is her rock 😭🤧🥺

"No, don't let go of me," he says. The firelight flickers off his blue eyes. "Please. I might fall out of this thing." Okay this part is so cute and so blatantly setting Peeta up as her main love interest omg 😅 this isn’t the least bit subtle or disguised. But first off, the fact that Katniss is also Peeta’s stability here too 😭😭😭 and second of all, she takes time to notice his blue eyes against the firelight? She was attracted to him from the very start, y’all. That’s indisputable. 👌🏻😎🤧

“It's not really fair to present us as a team and then lock us into the arena to kill each other.” I agree with you, baby, it’s not fair at all. But you two take care of that situation nicely. Or not. Y’all do start a dang war. 🤭🤭🙃🙃

It’s rather ... ironic that it’s District Twelve’s chariot of them all that is pulled up and stopped directly in front of President Snow’s mansion. I know it’s a book, certain details like this are definitively contrived, I know get over it. 🤦🏼‍♀️💁🏼‍♀️

So uh. Snow is a small thin man? Why do I suddenly imagine Danny Devito as Snow 😅😅😅😅🤣🤣🤣🤣 y’all know he’d kill the role

“The darker it becomes, the more difficult it is to take your eyes off our flickering.” Okay, this is such a great line and it’s so significant to the rest of the series? The fact that Katniss — and Peeta, let’s not forget our boy — became symbols of the revolution. Like this line is deep if you think about it. The worse things in Panem got, the more the civilians looked towards Katniss and Peeta for hope 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥰🥰🥰🥰

Omg now after Songbirds and Snakes, we know the national anthem. I’m sorry, babies, that you have to endure that I’ll get you out of there 🙉🙉🙉

I feel like in part, the Capitol camera crew — Cressida, Pollux .... Pollux’s brother... is that you here???? — put so much attention on District Twelve because it would create some resentment and competition between them and the careers 🤭🤗

“I notice a lot of the other tributes are shooting us dirty looks, which confirms what I've suspected, we've literally outshone them all.” Insert Gretchen Wieners “I can’t help that I’m popular!” 😅😅😅😅😅

“I realize I'm still glued to Peeta and force my stiff fingers to open. We both massage our hands.” — they were hanging on so tight 😭😭😭😭

“Thanks for keeping hold of me.” He’s so sweet ☺️☺️☺️ I love him even if he’s kind of an idiot sometimes but so is Katniss so let’s not point fingers

“I'm sure they didn't notice anything but you. [...] And then he gives me a smile that seems so genuinely sweet with just the right touch of shyness” Omg I know Katniss views this as him trying to manipulate her but the fact that he’s actually just admitting the way he’s felt for years is so 😭😭😭😭 if only you’d spit it out sooner, Bready

“he gives me a smile that seems so genuinely sweet with just the right touch of shyness that unexpected warmth rushes through me.” She literally has a crush on her fellow tribute and her first line of defense is to decide he out to get her for making her feel this way 🤣😭🙃

“The more likable he is, the more deadly he is.” The more my crush grows, the more deadly he becomes. I know I’m reading this with shipper goggles but guess what? I’m unashamed. 🤷🏼‍♀️🤷🏼‍♀️🤷🏼‍♀️🤷🏼‍♀️ who feels guilty for reading this book with an Everlark bias not this girl right here 🙋🏼‍♀️🙋🏼‍♀️🙋🏼‍♀️

“I stand on tiptoe and kiss his cheek. Right on his bruise.” Okay first off, she says cheek here but according to a chapter ago, she claimed the mark was on his jaw... so in other words, she’s incredibly short. If a medium height guy has a bruise on his jaw and she has to stand on her tip toe to reach it... well... hashtag LittleKatniss

And second off.... can you even imagine how Peeta must feel. He genuinely complimented her here, the girl he has had a crush on forever, and she responds by kissing his cheek. He was probably really happy at this moment. And also this probably played further into his buying into her false display in the arena. That here we have her clutching his hand, smiling and laughing with him and kissing his cheek. Idk what I was trying to say necessarily but I made myself sad wow way to go me 🥺🥺🥺🥺🤧🤧🤧

Anyways! Those are my very over the top and too detailed thoughts! Hope you enjoyed if you read this! 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳😎😎😎😎😎😎😎🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

#thgagain #once again the Jen gifs are still headlining these posts 🥳🥳🥳#this isn’t as funny as my others so I’m sorry y’all #but I like nice commentary on these posts makes me feel less alone so feel free

38 notes · View notes

imaginesandinserts · 4 years ago

Text

Irreverent Pt. 47 - Seven Devils

Title: Irreverent Pt. 47 - Seven Devils

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader Rating: M Words: ~11K

Irreverent Series Masterlist

You'd just arrived at the airport when you got the call from Clyde informing you that there was a terror alert across the EU and flights were being grounded. He'd coordinate agents on the ground but there wasn't much you could do from the States, so you were off the hook until things got figured out.

Great, now what? *------------* Aaron walked towards the plane with the rest of the team, with Reid already spouting facts around unsubs who preferred to shoot their victims from a distance rather than up close. He climbs up the steps and turning, is greeted by you, seated in your usual chair. "Hey, what're you doing here?" He walks up towards you, the rest of the team following close behind, equally surprised to see you. "EU terror alert," you explain while he stashes his luggage away, nodding hello to everyone else. "Clyde said I'm free for the time being and I was already at the airport. Garcia read me in." "Well, it'll be good to have you, kid." Rossi takes a seat in the aisle across from you guys. "Seems like an all hands on deck sort of situation." Everyone settles in and you can't help but notice the small smile that seems to linger on Aaron ever since he saw you. The two of you had only had the past three days together and throughout that, you'd had a soccer match for Jack, a birthday party for one of his friends, and you'd spent Saturday night with the girls; needless to say, it had been tough to get time together for just the two of you. "Was Jack okay?" you ask, turning to Aaron after everyone had finished talking through some of the case details and started to build a preliminary profile on the Unsub. Aaron nods, but your question catches JJ's attention, who looks to you with her eyebrows raised, the puzzled expression on her face imploring you to explain. You're unable to help the smirk that plays at your lips as you do. "We had a - um - staff meeting this morning that Jack wasn't invited to. He wasn't too happy that the door was locked," you explain, biting your lip and barely stifling your giggles. "A staff meeting?" Emily raises her eyebrows at you and you can just imagine the dirty thoughts running through her mind along with the Wow Y/N only soccer moms call getting railed a staff meeting. You meet Aaron's eye and you can see the soft blush to his cheeks that only you would notice. "I simultaneously regret and appreciate my choice of words there," you murmur to him as he shakes his head in amused disapproval. Derek barks out a laugh in reaction to Emily. "Uh huh. Was it a successful meeting?" he asks, wagging his eyebrows at you, toeing the line at ribbing Aaron as well. "I think both parties were pleased with the outcome. At least according to my notes." You turned to look at Aaron, mirth flitting into your gaze. "Would you concur?" He has a small smirk on his face mirroring yours, no doubt thinking back to the fifteen minutes the two of you had caught together before you had to get ready to leave for the airport - once against the aforementioned locked bedroom door and a second in the shower, before you begged him to relent, otherwise you'd be late. He'd been intent on a third. "Some good points were made. However, we might have to do a follow up to ensure we're still aligned," he drawls, getting far too much enjoyment out of the effect his words and low voice would have on you. You lose it at that, unable to keep a straight face. Follow up indeed. "Gross. I feel like I just watched my parents flirting." JJ groans, pushing up from her seat to go rummage around for snacks in the back. She was due anytime now and would be gone on maternity leave starting the following week. She was already mostly out of the field, staying in the precinct and managing the team from there. You knew, that as a result of that, Aaron was actually out in the field a lot more because he trusted JJ to handle the emotions and politics of local officials far better than anyone else. "Morgan, could you check if we're stocked on the M4 ammunition?" Aaron switches gears towards preparing for the landing, a quick brush of his hand to your thigh in promise that there would indeed be a follow up to this morning's activities. Derek nods and gets up, checking on the rifles stock that was brought along. With an Unsub like this, the team would need to be equally equipped to handle any situations that might arise, especially in a sprawling Texas city where guns were aplenty. "Guys," Spencer pipes up, "I don't think I'm actually allowed to use those." He glances around at the rest of the team apprehensively, as Derek and Aaron share a calculated look at his admission. "You're not," they both tell him almost simultaneously, drawing a snort from both you and Emily while Rossi merely smiles and shakes his head, turning his head back to his notes. Reid looks offended and turns on you at that. "Are you certified to shoot those?" His tone implied that he highly doubted you. "I've been shooting since I was six years old," you inform him, a superior look on your face. "I actually set the Academy record for most weapons certifications earned by a trainee." Aaron presses his lips together to keep from smiling while Emily shakes her head with a laugh at you goading Reid. "I didn't know six year olds were allowed to handle guns." "If you're rich in Connecticut, you can do pretty much anything. Just look at the Kennedys." "Touché."

Spencer grumbles to himself a bit more, slouching into his chair. It was his one weak point and he was getting better at it, really. On pretty much everything else, you're sure he'd have you beat.

You turn towards the research you'd been conducting on your own case with Clyde, in your downtime. Things were starting to fit together in an unexpected manner, and you'd had to bend a few rules to start putting all the different pieces in, but you were finally making some headway. It would definitely be faster and easier if you could enlist Garcia's help or bounce ideas off of Aaron, but your hands were unfortunately tied due to the high level of clearance you'd had to obtain to work this case in the first place.

Aaron watches as your head is bent in concentration, his own focus flickering away from the case ahead. You'd only been home for three days but you'd mentioned that your assignment at last had an end in sight. He's hopeful that that means things will be calming down - the two of you would be around one another more again. While Jack had so far done a good job of keeping the secret, he also gave his father a very telling, excited look anytime he saw you, and Aaron could often see Jack's eyes going to your hand where he hoped a ring would soon sit.

*------------*

All of the bodies thus far had been found at the grounds of various places of worship around the city - a few Churches, a Temple, and a Mosque. It would appear most of the actual killings had happened at a different location and the bodies were then moved and left to be found the next morning by unsuspecting worshippers, children, and groundskeepers. The Unsub was an equal opportunity killer - no discrimination in the religious leanings of his victims.

So far the victimology was all over the board - a college student, a local politician, a priest, a housewife, and a video game developer were the five victims so far. It read like the beginnings of a bad joke. A rabbi, a priest, and a horse walk into a bar…

The Unsub had left the bodies of each victim at their chosen place of worship. That, in itself, felt highly personal so there was a chance that the Unsub personally knew each of their victims. This was supported by the methodology - killing the victims from afar was easier on this particular Unsub's constitution.

The team had been spitballing; attempting to establish a connection between the victims. Reid and JJ were working on the geographic profile. Well, Spencer was at least. JJ kept having to leave to go to the restroom every five minutes. In that moment, you definitely did not envy pregnant women. Bearing children wrecked one's body.

The obvious religious themes were all in scope. The theory at the forefront was that each of the victims was being punished for a perceived sin, and Garcia was doing a deeper dive into their finances and online history while the rest of you got to know the families and the victims personally to wrangle out the truth. This was the most difficult part usually - even if someone was an awful person whilst alive, most people became reluctant to speak ill of the dead.

Trusting JJ to handle the centralized headquarters that the team had set up, Aaron left with you to do one set of the interviews. He wanted to speak to the parishioners of the church where the priest had been found, his body jutting out of the confessional booth. You both noted that it was on the opposite side from where the priests would typically sit, symbolically speaking to the fact that the Unsub considered the priest to be a sinner.

"I mean, he's a priest in a Catholic church," you said as the two of you walked up the pathway to the entrance. "The obvious definitely comes to mind."

Aaron agrees with a grimace. Father Patrick had led a youth group and had been doing so for the past decade. There was a high chance the Unsub could be a current or prior victim of sexual assault at his hands. He could also be someone whom a potential victim had confided in, so your suspect list was pretty wide open for the time being.

As suspected, every conversation you had - with church docents and members alike - was highly complimentary to Father Patrick. He was good with the children, kind to the female staff, had a fairly middle ground interpretation of the Bible; an all-around pillar of the community.

"Hopefully Morgan and Prentiss have better luck."

You nod, buckling in your seatbelt and commandeering the music, electing to actually play the White Album for once, drawing a smile from Aaron. He pulls out of the parking space and heads back towards the precinct. You smile to yourself as Aaron's deep voice croons along to Dear Prudence, his fingers tapping along to the beat against the steering wheel while you look out the window at the twilight Texas sky.

*------------*

"So, the girl, Rachel - total know-it-all, not unlike someone else we know…"

Reid glares at Emily as she trails off with a smirk. Her and Derek had gone to do another set of the interviews at the local university and had talked to classmates and professors to learn more about the first victim.

"We all have our suspicions about Father Patrick, but nothing conclusive there. The Councilwoman was taking bribes to block the legislation around the city's free internet policy per Garcia's research. That leaves Mrs. Abad and Ryan Cohen, the designer. We can't tell what their secret might've been, besides some high balances on a credit card for Mrs. Abad."

The team nods at Hotch, confirming his summary of the case so far.

"JJ and I have narrowed down the field to three epicenters across the city." You're surprised that Spencer gave JJ any credit at all for the work they'd done together. JJ had confided in you upon your return, that she'd told Spencer she was going to the bathroom and had instead taken a twenty minute power nap in a supply closet. Her maternity leave could not start soon enough, and you're glad that she's handling this pregnancy in a much more relaxed manner than the first, allowing herself the time off properly.

"Based on the current cadence, we could have another victim in the next couple of days." Rossi looks around the room grimly. You're all well aware that the window to catch the Unsub before another victim materializes is closing quickly. It also usually tends to speed up once the team arrives on the scene. Makes Unsubs nervous. Eager to finish the job faster.

"Would you say Councilwoman Crane was guilty of the sin of greed?" Derek's brow is furrowed, the beginnings of a concrete thought evident in his question.

You nod, encouraging him to continue.

"Pride for the first victim, Rachel."

You agree again, but this time the rest of them are also following along.

"Seven Deadly Sins," Spencer surmises from Derek's trail of crumbs.

"What are all of them?" Emily asks, looking between Derek and Spencer.

Derek shifts from one foot to the other. "Pride, Greed," he lists off, counting with his thumb and index finger.

"Lust, Envy," Aaron supplies, tacking on to the end of Derek's sentence and prompting him to continue the count.

"Gluttony, Wrath, and Sloth," Spencer finishes, turning to write them all down in order on the whiteboard.

The team was finally making some headway.

You stand towards the back of the room looking at the victim board, arms crossed across your chest, leaning against the back wall. "So, let's assume its Lust for Father Patrick. The excessive shopping could be indicative of Envy from Mrs. Abad. You guys did say she lived in a posh neighborhood. Keeping Up With the Joneses lifestyle."

"That leaves Gluttony for Cohen. Kid was pudgy." Rossi had been the one to visit the Medical Examiner, so you all trusted his assessment there.

"They're all in order. Could it be that simple?" Aaron questions, leaned forward in his chair, looking at the board with each of the victims' names listed next to one of the sins.

You contemplate his question as does everyone else. Could it be that simple? An Unsub working down the list of deadly sins, picking out victims that aligned with each one. It would stand to reason, given the working profile - you'd all decided that the Unsub must have an Orthodox religious upbringing, in a militant household.

"Occam's Razor," you answer finally, meeting his eyes, a grim set to your face. This meant there were at least two more victims planned. "The simplest explanation is usually the right one."

*------------*

In the past couple of days, the team had narrowed down the scope of the case, having realized that the Unsub had met all of the victims through various volunteer activities. The working theory was that the Unsub had deemed the victims to all be hypocrites - claiming to be doing charitable works while sinning on the side.

Garcia had cross-referenced volunteer activities between the various places of worship and had come up with charities that all of them supported throughout the city. From there she'd catalogued registered volunteers across all of them, against activities each of the victims attended, however hadn't been able to narrow it down enough.

So, here you were manning the precinct late at night with Aaron, Derek, and Emily. The team was taking it in shifts to see if any missing persons calls came in, with victims fitting into either of the final two remaining sins - Wrath and Sloth. Unfortunately, there were simply far too many options for you to be able to determine who might become the unwitting victim in this Unsub's crusade.

It was calm and quiet, only the whirring of the fan and ambient sounds of the printer filling the silence. The four of you had already eaten and were all nursing hot cups of coffee in order to stay awake in the otherwise empty station. Public statements had been made and hotlines set up in case anyone could provide even a hint as to who the Unsub might be.

Emily was slouched over at the table, her arms cradling her head as another yawn escaped her. Bleary eyed, she looks at you and you weren't much better off, only barely keeping your eyes open, tilting back in your own chair in order to simulate the feeling of tipping over; effectively scaring yourself into staying awake. Derek was seated in front of the laptop, with Garcia on video. The two of them had been playing some game, however it appeared that she'd tired of it, being nearly two hours of a time difference ahead of the rest of you. So now, Derek was just watching her snooze, head bent down to her desk.

You look at Aaron, reading the notes Reid had left behind in order to try and make some sense of everything - uncover something that had slipped through the cracks. His brow is furrowed, head bent in concentration. He'd shed the jacket a while ago and despite the time of year, the Texan climate had forced him to roll up the sleeves of his shirt, exposing delicious swathes of forearm for your perusal. His hands - so large compared to your own, the veins prominent as he flips a page, muscle tensing and flexing as he does. You have to bite your lip to suppress a moan. It was the sleep deprivation. It was getting to you. Yeah, that's it. Not your big, strong boyfriend looking all serious and focused and handsome as he tries to hunt down a serial killer. Nope. Not at all…

You stand up suddenly as your chair tips forward, all four legs finally hitting the ground with a soft crash, cushioned by the carpeted flooring. Loud enough, however, to get Aaron's attention, as he turns to look up at you, the Are you alright? plain to read in his eyes.

"Need fresh air. Gonna go take a walk around the block or something," you explain, shaking your head of the cobwebs that had formed over the course of the past two hours, as the night had slipped into what could better be classified as early morning.

Aaron sets the papers down and turns to Morgan, indicating that he was going to join you. If you thought he was letting you go out alone, at this hour, with a killer on the loose, you were certifiable.

He watches as you slip on your blazer but he doesn't bother with his own. It would be quick and it wasn't too cold anymore. He follows you through the precinct and out the front doors, down the steps, matching your shorter pace easily - he's used to it by now.

"You sure you're alright?" he asks, once the two of you have reached the street. You merely hum tiredly and nod, so he grabs your hand in his, and walks in step with you, turning the corner past the precinct.

It is a little colder outside than it was inside, but his larger hand encompasses yours entirely, making you feel like a child swathed in his warm embrace. The cool air filters through your nostrils, reinvigorating your mind, giving it the jumpstart needed to function once more.

The two of you don't talk as you walk hand in hand down the sidewalk, him walking on the outside as he always does. Only the streetlamps are on, little pockets of light between stretches of darkness. Your mind is at peace. You aren't thinking about this case or your other one. You aren't thinking about any responsibilities and obligations. No worries. Just silent. It's so rare for your mind to be quiet that you relish in it. Allow yourself to bathe in the soundless symphony occupying the chasm in your brain.

As you approach the final turn that will lead you back to the entrance of the station, you find yourself watching Aaron again. He'd been so patient with the entire case with Interpol, despite it taking a toll on him. He'd been pulling double duty - doing all the things he does while also subbing in for everything you're unable to do at home. Him and Jack had sent you a cooking video of the two of them last time you'd been away, as Jack bossed Aaron around in the kitchen and helped him make your chocolate chip cookies for the bake sale at school. You'd sent Aaron detailed instructions, as he'd have to be the one to help Jack brown the butter and ensure he didn't burn himself. You knew he must have been frustrated with the extremely particular list of ingredients you'd sent him, down to the brand of salt flakes (the pièce de résistance of the entire experience) that got sprinkled on top. Yet, he'd tackled it all with aplomb, not complaining to you even once. Jack had confided in you afterwards that Aaron had had to go to three different stores because the salt flakes were a rare item and not every branch of the nicer grocery store carried them. He'd done it though, and Jack had told you they'd turned out exactly like yours. Even Emily had texted you to validate this, asking if you'd come back without telling her when Aaron had brought a batch in for the team the following day.

Aaron feels a tug on his hand right before the turn. You'd stopped and his hand was still holding yours, forcing him to stop as well. You're stood in the shadows, right between two patches of light, your face immersed in darkness, and before he can say anything, he's lightly pushed against the brick wall exterior of the police station building. He lands with a soft oomph. You lean up against him, pressing yourself along the length of him and going up on your toes - utilizing the entirety of your ballet training - your lips meeting his in a heated kiss. He groans into your mouth, hands wrapping around your hips on instinct alone, tongue tracing your bottom lip before gently nipping at it, taking advantage of your resulting gasp to make his way into your mouth, licking every part of you available to him. He lifts you up, wrapping your legs around him and turns to hold you against the wall instead, pressing into the inviting warm juncture of your thighs.

"What brought this on?" he hums, moving from your lips to your jaw, down the column of your neck, his teeth grazing your collarbone.

You shiver at his efforts, a flip in your stomach as you feel the edge of his teeth, followed by the soft bite at the bend of your neck. Unable to answer him, lost in the feeling of his lips and teeth against your skin, your hands mussing through his hair, softly pulling and drawing vibrated groans from him.

At the absence of an answer, he pauses, looking up until he has your full attention, meeting your darkened eyes contrasting against your bashful expression. Your breath hitches when his eyes meet yours. "I love you," you muster with some concentration, soft and blissful, pulling his face back down to meet your sweetly puckered lips once more, drawing him into the cacophonous sea of feeling along with you.

By the time the two of you make it back to the conference room that Derek and Emily were sat in, Emily has stood up, leaning flat against the back wall. Derek has moved as well, taking residence in your old chair, leaning backwards much the same way you had.

"What about you guys?" he asks as you and Aaron enter.

You avoid Emily's knowing look. "What about us?"

"This whole thing - case - heaven and hell. You believe in it?"

"I went the agnostic route," Emily adds, stretching and arching her back like a cat. "If it exists, great. If not, no skin off my back."

Derek looks at the two of you expectantly.

Aaron nods quickly, returning to his old seat, feeling a lot lighter than before. He'd grown up Catholic - heaven and hell were ever-present concepts in his home.

You shrug, grabbing your lukewarm cup of coffee and dropping onto the couch. Your family had been more religious for the sake of appearances and connections rather than any true faith-inspired feelings.

Derek chuckles lightly. "Okay, so if they do exist," he says, turning back to Emily who had sunk down to the floor, seated with her legs stretched out in front of her. "Where you think you're headed?"

"Let me guess, you think you're going to heaven," Emily taunts, a mocking grin on her face.

"I do good, I am good," Derek replies assuredly. "Everything else is up to God. Right, Hotch?"

Aaron breathes out half a laugh along with a raise of his brows, which was about as much agreement Derek could hope for there.

"What about you Princess?"

You look at him, slight roll of your eyes to the ceiling. "Pretty sure patricide rules me out for a ticket to heaven," you respond, your words coated with sardonic dismissal.

Heaven. Hell. What did it even matter when you're dead?

It was a good thing that you hadn't looked at Aaron at that, because if you had, you would've noticed an entirely odd expression on his face at your words - he decides to pin his thoughts for a conversation at a later time. Once the case was wrapped up.

*------------*

"Anything you know could help us identify your husband's killer. Were you able to get a good look at him?"

JJ and Derek are running the interrogation on the latest victim's wife while the rest of the team watches from the other room. The body had been found at the edges of yet another church's grounds, marking it as the sixth victim. However, this time, a witness had emerged. The Unsub had taken Dylan Rogers from his front yard at gunpoint and Ashley Rogers, his wife, had seen it all happen from the living room before calling it in to the precinct.

"She seems tense - her shoulders have been hunched this entire time. Her facial expressions have varied from somber to haunted almost." Reid shifts closer as he profiles Mrs. Rogers, studying her body language.

"Morgan said it seemed like he might have hit her. He saw some bruising when she went to the house to pick her up," Prentiss adds, her voice grave.

Aaron acknowledges both Reid and Prentiss with a nod, his eyes fixed on the interaction taking place in the other room.

"Would fit into the umbrella of Wrath." Rossi mused from beside Aaron. All of you continue to watch while JJ brings in a sketch artist to help Mrs. Rogers construct a likeness of the Unsub.

"It must be killing her - if it's true. Having to help find his killer. Imagine the number of times she must've dreamt of hurting him in the same way he hurt her." All of you turn from Emily back to Mrs. Rogers, thinking on her statement.

"She could've left," Reid reasoned distractedly, his expression casually appraising Mrs. Rogers still for any signs that she might be concealing anything.

You find yourself bristling at that, and you've spoken out before you could stop yourself. "You know, it's funny how whenever we see cases like this. Cases where a man continuously beat up his partner, that's the question on everyone's lips. Why didn't she leave? Why did she stay?"

Reid turns to you, his mouth open and ready to contradict you or apologize, you're unsure, but you continue. "We never ask, why didn't he stop?"

Emily snorts from beside you, her lips pressed tightly together as you both watch Mrs. Rogers working with the sketch artist. She turns to Spencer after a look at you. "Because we accept men as monsters. That is their natural state. Those of them that didn't give in to it - we exalt them. We call them good men. Better men. Because they didn't beat us and hurt us and watch us bleed."

There's a tense silence but this is a sentiment that none of them are unfamiliar with. Reid should've known better.

You see Spencer shift uncomfortably, obviously apologetic for his earlier statement. You shake your head slightly and offer him a small smile, reassuring him that he's alright. This kind of stuff, just hits closer to home for some of you.

Your eyes meet Aaron's and he's looking at you with the question in his eyes that you'd expected as soon as you'd opened your mouth. You shake your head at him too, before turning your gaze back to the front.

Aaron watches you for a beat more, his eyes trained to the side of your face, your unwavering eyes set upon Ashley Rogers and your words swimming in his mind. His eyes had asked the question that he already knew the answer to unfortunately. Yet another reason for him to despise Matthew van Doren's entire existence.

"You know, there was a time I thought he was the love of my life." You all can hear Mrs. Rogers talking to JJ as the sketch artist wraps up. "We had that love - that wake up Sunday morning with pancakes and lose yourself in each other under white sheets kind of love. I don't know when it all went wrong."

*------------*

With the aid of Mrs. Rogers' description, Garcia was able to run a digitally enhanced version of the sketch against all known volunteers who had been at most of the events attended by each of the victims in the weeks prior to their deaths. After that, apprehending the Unsub was just a matter of tying together the identified man to each of the victims directly.

The team was able to prevent the final murder, and while that was of little solace to everyone, there was a tiny part of you that felt happy for Ashley Rogers in all of it. Sometimes the exit route we need arrives in the most unexpected of manners, and it is on us to recognize it and seize it for ourselves. You really hoped that Ashley would claim a new and better destiny for herself.

Since it was late, Aaron was unable to get the jet to fly back the same night, so the team was huddled into a corner of the hotel lounge with drinks in hand. While you're thrilled that you were able to prevent the final victim from being taken, this wasn't the best case the team had worked. You can see it in everyone's eyes, the way they hold their drinks, the hushed whispers contemplating if there was something that would've pointed to him sooner.

You feel bad that you aren't even really thinking about this case anymore. Your mind is preoccupied by the contents of the file you've left upstairs in the hotel room. You nod along to Emily and Derek's conversation, glass of wine held languidly in hand while you mentally collate the work you'd done so far. You know you're contributing nothing to the current conversation, and mercifully both of them have left you to your thoughts. Knowing there's not much chance of you being able to distract yourself tonight, you stand and bid good night to them before walking over to Aaron and Rossi, seated over a chessboard with Reid. They were playing two against one and Reid was still the favored choice to win.

"I'm going to head upstairs." You lean in and whisper softly to Aaron so as to not disrupt the game.

He turns his head to look up, brow furrowed ever so much. It wasn't like you to turn in early when there was a chance to socialize with the team. "I can come with." He grabs his drink as though to finish it, but you stop him with a hand to his shoulder.

"It's alright. Stay." You brush a kiss against his temple before nodding good night to the rest of them, intent on making some progress once you reached the room.

By the time Aaron gets upstairs, it is much later. Reid had won but Rossi had insisted on a rematch. Rossi just wanted to see Reid beat just once, however Aaron was wise to not bring attention to the fact that you've never played him. He knows that Reid has asked you, but you've made up excuses to not play. He'd always wondered about that, and having seen the chessboard in the New York apartment had made him realize that there was actually a good chance that you could beat Reid if you wanted to. Reid was a genius. That fact couldn't be denied. He knew everything about everything. You were different from that. Reid was driven by his pure drive for knowledge - that desire to understand the world around him better. You learned with more purpose, intention - with the need to add knowledge and skills to your toolkit, ready to whip out and be unleashed upon your opponents.

He enters the room just to see you exiting the bathroom, a robe wrapped around your body. He can't help but sigh internally at the sight. His soft, fluffy, perfect little personal teddy bear. He couldn't wait to just crawl into bed, already fearing that you'd be on another flight out the following day.

You acknowledge his presence with a smile, while toweling your hair dry.

"Who won?" There's a crooked smile on your face as you watch him take off his jacket and tie. As if you didn't already know who would win.

"Reid. Rossi wants another rematch on the plane." He shakes his head, walking further into the room. Closer to you.

You laugh softly as Aaron reaches you, looking exhausted from the long week and yet, he seems alright. All in all, this case hadn't been absolutely terrible. "Hasn't he learned his lesson by now?"

"He's a glutton for punishment." He steps forward, grabbing the towel from you and prompting you to turn around as he takes over drying your hair with soft tussles, allowing the cloth to absorb water all the way from root to end.

You hum at his actions, letting yourself to be lulled into the peaceful, floaty state that you always enter whenever he plays with your hair. It just felt too good.

"You should just give in and play him sometime." He knows he's pulling at that little thread there, curious as to how you'll react at him having deduced something you hadn't told him upfront.

You merely chuckle softly, seemingly unsurprised that he'd worked that out for himself. His profiling skills no longer surprise you much, especially when it comes to yourself. He could read you like none other. "We wouldn't want Spencer to cry, now would we?"

Aaron bites his lip, preventing a smile threatening to sneak out at that. It was nice knowing he'd been right about that. He'd have to make you play him at least. He needed to see how good you were for himself.

You turn around, halting his actions. You'd gotten a call from Clyde when you'd gotten upstairs and you were already set to fly out tomorrow on a red eye. You'd booked the ticket, making the necessary upgrades on your own dime.

"Tomorrow?" he guessed, noting the expression on your face when you looked up at him, drawing yourself up on your toes and wrapping your arms around his neck, the towel slipping from his hands and onto the floor between your feet.

You nod with a sigh, before coaxing him down, and he's quick to meet your lips with his own, knowing the two of now only have tonight. Tomorrow would be spent on the plane and then you'd have to fly out before he'd get even another hour alone with you. His hands instinctively find your waist, drawing you in flush against him. He deepens the kiss when one of your hands moves from his neck to cup his cheeks, thumb brushing over the peaking stubble around his jaw. You hate leaving like this. You can't wait for it to be over. For there to be no more goodbyes layering his touch and yours.

Aaron hugs you closer, wrapping his arms around you fully, the plush robe giving him far more to grab on to. Your lips against his, moving softly, insistently. You break away, struggling to be on your toes for much longer, so he moves, pushing you up onto the desk and coming to stand between your legs as your lips find their place once more against his, this time hands working at the buttons to his shirt as well.

"Wanted to talk to you about something." He breaks away, allowing you to pepper kisses down his jaw and the column of his neck. If the two of you only had today, he didn't want to risk forgetting and having the issue go stale before bringing it up again. He can feel your mouth, sucking, teeth lightly grazing the skin at his collarbone, undoubtedly leaving marks for him to admire afterwards when you were gone. At your hum, he continues relying on your ability to multitask. "Did you mean it, when you said you aren't going to heaven?"

You pause, looking up at him curiously and being reminded of the question Derek had asked. You hadn't realized it had affected Aaron, and yet thinking back on it, of course it had. Your answer had been entirely flippant. He was so serious when it came to things like this. "Yes. I did." Your voice is measured as you answer him, eyeing him carefully to watch his reaction. Even still, his hands have managed past the tie on your robe and his hands are caressing the bare skin of your sides, drawing a soft sigh from your mouth at the sensation. "By any definition of heaven and God and the Bible, murder isn't exactly condoned."

Had this been a few months ago, Aaron knew that this would have been an entirely different conversation. He could appreciate how entirely blunt you're able to be about how you've framed this for yourself. He might not agree with it, but he can appreciate the honesty. "Bible also says an eye for an eye." He raises an eyebrow at you, indicating that he wasn't about to let this go. Not when it came to the matter of your immortal soul. This mattered to him.

A gasp escapes you as his hands travel up your sides more deliberately, causing shivers against your sensitive skin at the feel of his roughly calloused fingers skimming, exploring, claiming. That's what his touch always felt like. A claim.

You try to focus as you think of a response, hands resuming unbuttoning his shirt and undoing the buckle to his belt. You can see he's already hard and as your fingers ghost over the bulge, he exhales sharply, eyes focused on your hands.

Realizing he wasn't getting an answer from you immediately, he helps you out by undoing the button and lowering the zipper on his pants, taking them off as you watch. You're a little confused by the conversation taking place, but you also knew this going into a relationship with Aaron. Like it or not, he was religious. Your family simply hadn't been much. It wasn't the same religious orthodoxy that Aaron had grown up with, at the very least. He wasn't by any means stringent about it, but some beliefs were innate. Good people go to heaven. Bad people go to hell. As far as he was concerned, you were a good person.

"Heaven and hell - I didn't grow up with that. But that whole eye for an eye thing, I don't think that really applies when it comes to taking a life." You help him slip the shirt off of his shoulders as you speak, the material slipping and falling to the ground as well. Aaron actually undoes the tie to your robe this time, pushing the material off of you almost roughly, eager to expose skin that he couldn't wait to taste. His hands move up to cup your breasts, kneading the flesh - the air in the room and his attentions causing your nipples to pucker, teasing him. He's unable to resist bending down and taking one into his mouth, gently sucking as his fingers tweak the other into submission as well, drawing a keening sound from deep within you, distracting you from your train of thought as you're drenched in the warmth of his touch.

You're entirely bare before him as his mouth moves to the other nipple, hands traveling down, grazing over your stomach and down your thighs, causing them to tremble. He pushes your legs apart, letting go of the nipple, his mouth returning to yours with a renewed fervor. His fingers pick up the evidence of your arousal around them, and he caresses your folds, before entering you with two fingers, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing over it as his fingers scissor inside you, locating the spot that has you arching your back, moans escaping you into his mouth.

Aaron releases your mouth so that he can watch you. Your hands scramble for purchase, bunching into the robe beneath you that soaks up your juices as he continues to work you up. Higher and higher. Your breath panting, breasts thrust up as you can feel the orgasm threatening to overtake your body. It only takes another circular motion of his thumb and the ask to Let go by him, for you to go crashing under the waves, your walls pulsing around his fingers. He watches you fall apart, your arms going up to hug against your breasts as you arch and shake and moan for him, his name falling from your lips repeatedly as he continues his machinations against your sensitive bud, intent on drawing it out. He loves to just watch you like this. Begging him to keep going, your breathy voice urging him on, your gorgeous face, mouth falling open - all for him. His beautiful little princess, entirely at his mercy.

He kisses you again as you come down, your earlier conversation entirely wiped from your mind. But not his. Never his. Aaron could focus and keep track of things in amazing order. He hated that you thought you weren't destined for heaven. It shouldn't matter - such an abstract concept and who even knew, really. But in the off chance it did, he didn't want you to think you'd be excluded. You couldn't be.

Your jelly arms and legs wrap around him and he's already worked down his boxers, revealing his thick, hard cock, eager to be buried inside you. He gathers you up in his arms, pulling you to the edge of the desk, before lifting you up and moving the two of you to the bed, managing to drop you onto it sideways, before quickly climbing on top.

You move your hands to card through his hair, watching him, his lovely brown eyes looking down at you, causing a flurry of emotion in your stomach. He leans down and slots his lips against yours once more, allowing you to get lost in the feel of him. You release him with a gasp, finding it difficult to take in air, and he allows you to breathe as he moves and presses a kiss to your shoulder, entering you in one quick thrust. "Genesis 9:5 says, for your lifeblood, I will surely demand an accounting."

What? You couldn't believe him. He was quoting the fucking Bible while buried in you to the hilt.

"Aaron - "

You're cut off as he moves out, the tip of his cock rubbing against your clit, distractingly. Perfectly. Fuck.

He enters you again, harshly, his cock finding that spot inside you as he does. His voice deep and guttural, a groan falling from his mouth as he invades you fully once more. "From each man, I will demand an accounting for the life of his fellow man."

He was still doing it. How could he even remember to quote the Bible right then?! You couldn't even remember your own name.

You don't have the words as Aaron continues, pumping into you, his hand finding your clit to help you reach your peak faster. Neither one of you would last long. You're already a trembling, shuddering mess beneath him, back arched up, feet planted against the mattress for support, your hands traveling and touching any skin of his they could reach.

You can feel his breath hot against your ear, the weight of him on top of you as he ruts his hips against yours, and you can tell he's close. So very close. His hips stutter as your hands find their way into his hair, pulling softly, just enough. "Whoever sheds the blood of man, by man shall his blood be shed." He was intent on fucking the verse into you. You release a broken cry at the feel of him. At his words. The passionate, gravely quality of his voice. He finishes with a loud groan, spilling into you, his ministrations against your clit paying off, propelling you towards the precipice as well. Your walls squeeze his cock, pulsing, clenching at the feel of his release inside you. He groans again, dropping on top of you, his hand going down and wrapping your thigh around him, pushing himself further into you still.

He lays on you for a moment longer, the only sound in the room being your breath and thudding hearts, beating in sync.

You're entirely drowned in ecstasy, even as you try to grasp onto the threads of the conversation the two of you had been having. You run your fingers through his soft hair, brushing back the sweat from his forehead, not minding the weight of him on you. He was crushing you entirely and you wouldn't exchange that for anything. No death could be better. Sweeter.

He rolls off of you after a few more moments, dropping next to you on his back, his legs dangling off the side of the bed.

You breathe deeply, before flipping over to lay on your back. You can feel the evidence of both of your releases inside you, but you can't be too bothered to care right then. Your hazy mind has managed to remember the conversation, and you turn your head, tucking your arms underneath to support it as you watch Aaron. He's laid on his back, one arm under his head, eyes closed and chest rising and falling, slowly settling into a steady state.

"If I wasn't going to hell for the patricide already, I'm definitely going to hell now for finding that far too hot." Your voice comes out low and whiny, a near whisper being all you could manage.

Aaron releases a breath of a laugh before he turns to settle on his side, drawing his legs up, moving closer so he's right beside you. So you can feel his skin against yours.

You reach out, your hand cupping his face and he leans in all too willingly, kissing you softly, completely. As he pulls back, you can feel his eyes examining you - searching. Trying to figure out what exactly it is that had you so thoroughly convinced that you didn't belong in heaven. Because he knows you and while at the time killing your father had been awful, he knew that you believed it had been right. Otherwise you wouldn't have done it.

"Can we accept the premise that killing your father isn't a dealbreaker?" he asks cautiously, his hand reaches out, settling into the curve of your waist, fingers curling into the skin. "What is it really?"

You blink, moving into his embrace, hands fidgeting slightly. You're nervous and you're sure he can tell. However, you know you need to tell him. Tell someone. If anyone should know, it's him. You lick your lips and sigh, looking up into his darkened eyes. "You've met my father. If you had to profile him, how would you do it?" Your voice is quiet, timid, unsure.

Your question is met by some apprehension. Aaron isn't certain, however he hesitantly answers you. "Control freak. Narcissist with a God complex."

You nod at his blunt assessment. "Did you ever wonder why my father - why he let me get away with so much?"

He hadn't.

"I broke off an exceptionally advantageous engagement. He did nothing. I cashed out my trust fund and ran away - slutting it up - " He flinches. " - on the cover of every trashy editorial. Crickets. I joined the FBI and he tried to take me out for dinner. Does he seem like the kind of man that tolerates that kind of insubordination?"

Aaron realizes that he should've thought about these questions. He should've thought to protect you from this back then. It was a miss. Especially after finding out what he had about Julian's death. And yet, there had never been anything in your father's interactions with you to suggest that he would do anything to truly harm you. Despite your fear of him.

"Do you remember what you wrote - in my recommendation letter to McKinney?" you murmured, your face right against his. If he moved a millimeter closer you'd be able to feel your nose against his.

Aaron watches you, his brow furrowing, wondering where exactly this was headed. He nods. He remembers. Your skin under his hands is starting to develop goosebumps. Without a word, he grabs you, shifting and maneuvering so that the two of you are laid together, heads at the headboard finally. He pulls at the blankets, draping them over you both and draws you back against him.

You place a quick kiss to his chest in thanks, fingers brushing over the scars that have persisted. Over time, he's become a lot more comfortable having his shirt off around you. It's still not something he will do in public, but around you, he feels comfortable enough. After all, you'd seen them back when they had been much worse.

He nods at you to continue. He has a need to know now. He has to know.

"The night that Matthew proposed to me, Julian and I got into a huge fight," you confess, legs tangling with his as your fingers trace the mapping of lines down his chest and stomach. "He revealed to me that my father - that the proposal was orchestrated. That it was part of some deal between our fathers. That - ." Your voice breaks and Aaron is quick to run his hands soothingly down your back, whispering soft encouragement in your ears, his lips following your hairline. You sniffle and continue on. "He told me that our father gave me away. Without asking. Without talking to me about it. He sold me."

It's Aaron who is lost for words this time. Out of all things, this - this he could not possibly have prepared for. All things considered, you're holding up remarkably, while his mind reels, putting everything he knows about Matthew into context with this new piece of information. He's struck by a tornado of anger towards your father. How dare that man - that awful, cruel man, treat you like property? To be traded and sold at his whims as if you weren't a fully fledged human being of your own.

You find yourself rubbing your hands up and down Aaron's arms, knowing that he must be processing everything all at once. You've had nearly a decade to deal with it and it still feels overwhelming at times.

"I didn't want to believe it, but it made sense."

Aaron opens his mouth to speak - to say something helpful but no words come. You shake your head, reassuring him that it was alright. He needn't say anything.

"So, I woke him up. We talked. I told him I wasn't about to waste my life - being the perfect daughter and the perfect wife. I couldn't."

He nods. He expected nothing less. You weren't some trophy wife.

"Matthew didn't want me to work after we got married. But I wanted something to work towards. Something that would be mine. It wasn't fair that just because Dominic was the eldest son - that he would get it all. Everything. The entire empire. It was the one thing Matthew could never deny me. He wouldn't have dared."

Aaron's eyes widen as the realization begins to sink in. He takes in your gaze - blazing with renewed fire and fury at the situation you'd been in. The fervor within to escape, be your own person within the confines of the life you were in.

"My father - he fought me on it. Because the thing is, sons inherit the earth. Sons and not daughters." You take a deep breath, watching Aaron who appears to have followed along marvelously, because you can tell that he knows exactly what you're trying to say now.

"I showed him, however -- " You nod your head shakily "-- how I had built connections with all the right people. How I was smarter, would work harder, be better than anyone else he could possibly hope for to fill his shoes."

"You'd take over." His voice is low and the words feel reluctant on his tongue. Resigned despite the truth of them.

You nod. There it was - it was finally out there. Your worst secret that no one else had ever known. This secret had gone to the grave with your father. You hadn't even told John, knowing how disappointed he would've been in you - especially so soon after Julian's passing.

Aaron looks at you, taking in the guilt behind your eyes, the fear at revealing this to him. He knows too, that you're right. That if you had applied yourself to that, even half as well as you did to your job, you would've done it brutally well.

"That's why you think you aren't going to heaven," he concludes, his hands still rubbing up and down your back. He can feel your heart beating rapidly against his chest. It wasn't killing your father. It was this. "Sweetheart, you didn't do it, though. You didn't."

"I would've," you argue. "If Uncle Robert hadn't told me, even with Julian dead, I would've. I signed up for all of it Aaron. He trained me. He groomed me. Those things that you wrote in your letter to McKinney - all about how I'm adept at reading people. Because I can manipulate anyone into doing anything I want. He taught me how to do that. That I have an aptitude for navigating politically nuanced situations - because he showed me how to get close to the people that really matter. That I am exceptional at tactical planning - because from that day onwards, he planned out my entire life. And I let him. I helped him. Everything I did, anyone I spoke to, was all part of it. Part of his plans. So when I left, he wasn't ready to let go. He wasn't ready to waste his investment in me." The words leave you like a storm - evidence in the case you'd been building against yourself, carved from marble and sitting heavy against your heart for the past decade. You hated how much of him you saw in yourself.

You're breathing really hard and there are tears clinging to your lashes as Aaron continues to hold you, pulling you in even closer, if that were possible. He couldn't even imagine how long you'd carried this with you. Nearly a decade of guilt and for what? For something you hadn't even carried through with.

"You didn't actually do it," he repeats himself, brushing his lips against your forehead, knowing that right then that's what you need. All the reassurance that he doesn't see you any differently. That he never could. Especially not for this.

"Aaron, I would've been someone the Bureau goes after. Someone you'd have gone after. But the difference is, I would've never been caught."

Again, he knows you're right. Aaron isn't even surprised really at your entire confession - it stood to reason that you'd want the keys to the kingdom. From what he knew of you and your siblings, you really would be the person who was most capable, despite the dubious nature of the job. He's not naïve enough to think you couldn't have done it if you wanted to. You would've been exceptional at it. But you didn't. Given the chance today, you wouldn't. For him, that's what mattered.

He brushes the hair out of your face tenderly, sweeping away all the wisps and baby hairs, holding your face in his hands. "You need to forgive yourself, Y/N. You need to realize that there is a difference between signing up for something and actually doing it. What you actually did, that's what matters. Regardless of the circumstances. That's what truly happened."

You're quiet, so he holds you. He can feel the tears trickling down your face, onto his chest as you bury your head into him once more.

It was an upheaval, telling him all of this. It's Aaron - and despite everything awful that you've revealed just then, he's being kind, compassionate, and understanding. You just told him that you'd essentially signed up to do every evil job known to mankind and he was comforting you. Making sure that you wouldn't beat yourself up. That you forgave yourself. He didn't even - it was as if it didn't even matter to him. How could it not, though? How could it not claw at him, being tangled up with someone he knows to be entrenched in evil?

"You are a good person, Y/N. A wonderful person. This - this one thing doesn't define you. Being good is a series of decisions and choices in that direction. One thing doesn't derail it entirely. That's what amends are for. What forgiveness is for. To show us that no matter what, we always have a chance." Aaron could only hope that you saw yourself the way he saw you. As someone who tried to be good. As someone who was good, through trying alone.

You want to believe him. You do. It sounds peaceful. But how do you know if you've made enough amends? How do you know if you've done enough?

He knows you're struggling to believe him. He wants to convince you, paint it into your skin, emblazon it onto your soul in a manner so unmistakable that you'd never question it again. You're a good person. He needs you to believe it. Desperately.

Aaron tilts your face up by your chin, his lips meeting yours intensely. "You are a wonderfully good person, Y/N" His whisper falls against your lips, forcing you to swallow in his words. Breathe them in. Taste them. Let them settle into your stomach.

He places another kiss to the turn of your neck, tongue peaking out to lick at mark he'd left earlier, soothing over it. "You're a hero. You save people." He will make you believe it.

You watch in awe as he shifts, placing another kiss to the swell of your breasts. "You take such good care of me and Jack." He will make you believe that you're the good he sees in life. Through all the horrors he sees day in and day out, he looks to you and he sees goodness and purity, laughter and joy.

You can feel the tears welling up again in your eyes, for an entirely different reason as you watch him. Watch this man, make his way down the length of your body, reminding you that you conquer monsters for a living. Remind you that you took down your father and in turn prevented him from doing more evil. Impress upon you the importance of everything you've accomplished since then - all the people you've saved, all the happiness you've brought, all the people you've loved.

You can't help but press yourself to him. Closer to him. Because his touch is the forgiveness you can never seem to give yourself. His touch is pure. His touch is good. It is divinity itself. Maybe if he touched you enough, it could make up for it all. Letting his essence cover up everything that came before.

Aaron draws up on his haunches, having just kissed your clit, causing your eyes to roll back into your head. You taste like what he imagines sunshine might taste like. He moves you up with him, into his lap and waits until you've met his mouth of your own volition, before pulling you down onto his cock, seating you fully against him.

You can taste yourself on his lips. You can feel him inside you so entirely, consumingly, fully. He clutches onto you, the drag of him inside you so powerful and potent, the bubbling euphoria encasing you. Your arms curl around his shoulders, fingers in his hair, as his wrap around your hips, helping you ride his cock exquisitely. Vastly, painstakingly slow.

Aaron watches you in his lap, taking him in - his. Mine. Mine. Mine. A chant on repeat in his brain as your wet, velvety walls grip him like a vice. Your beautiful pink lips parted ever so slightly, eyes half lidded. In his lap, against his body, taking his cock. This - this was goodness. You were the source of all pleasure, delight, and happiness that he feels. If that is not goodness, then what is? If the God he calls God didn't recognize you as such, then what kind of God was he? Because he would gladly worship at your altar instead, if need be.

His hands grip you excruciatingly tight against him, unwilling to leave even the semblance of room between the two of you. It was as though he began where you ended and you ended where he began. "I don't care if you believe you're going to heaven or not," he declares, watching you take him. "I'm going to believe it enough for the both of us."

Before you can say anything in response, he draws your attention downwards, forcing you to watch. Watch as he exits you, wet and shiny, drenched in your arousal. Watch as he brings you back down, entering you immeasurably slowly and causing you to clench and flutter around him. His.

You look back up, meeting his warm brown eyes, shining with love and compassion and the utmost respect. Everything that made you fall in love with this man. You watch as he pushes into you, moves you just so - so as to perfectly hit that spot inside you. You tilt your head back on a moan, your body shuddering and your back arching once more, pushing you closer and closer against him. When you return to face him, he looks at you. His eyes fixed on you. That look on his face, was nothing short of reverent.

You come achingly fast, teeth sinking into his shoulder as you shudder around him, taking in his release. He continues through it, pushing his cum back into you in the process, keeping it there, mingling with both of your earlier release.

You're entirely weak as you sit in the cradle of his arms, balancing on his thighs. Your mind is far away and present at once. Present only in him - his touch, his feel, his lips, his words - surrounding you thoroughly.

You are both unhurried in your movements as you clean up together, no need or desire to speak further, content in the silence of one another.

Aaron cleans up the bed, making sure there are fresh sheets, as he watches your tired body put on the small slip you'd left out earlier. Your hair was wet again and he grabs a fresh towel, drying it once more as you lean against him, unable to stand on your own for much longer, your body still sore. He can see the marks he'd left behind blooming and he takes extra care as he urges you towards the freshly made bed. You slip in to your side as he lifts the duvet, quickly climbing in beside you and tucking the two of you into the covers - swaddling your body against his own. He places a gentle kiss to your lips, murmuring his love against them, the echo of his words reverberating against them. You fall asleep first, entirely spent, physically and emotionally. With any luck you'll enter a deep, dreamless sleep. He can hear your steady and even breaths paralleled with the slow rise and fall of your chest, persuading him to join you in slumber.

Even if you didn't go to heaven - if for some God forsaken reason you were denied entrance - he'd willingly, gladly, go to hell with you.

With that final thought, he gives in to the call of your warmth and the sound of your breaths, allowing himself to be drawn into sleep beside you.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x you #Criminal Minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds reader insert #hotch #hotch x reader #hotch x you #hotch x y/n #irreverentseries #hotchner x you #hotchner x y/n

98 notes · View notes

alarawriting · 4 years ago

Text

52 Project #41: The Blood Mage

Based on the prompt here.

***

Ailurin was five when she learned what she was.

Her older brother, a lanky eight, had just run away with her favorite doll, laughing. Ailurin ran after him, screaming “Give her back!”, but the boy was too entertained by his sister’s impotent rage to heed her. He ran straight up to the pond, grinned malevolently at his shrieking sister, and tossed the doll into the pond.

And then swayed on his feet, dizzily, his skin – ruddy from exercise – turning pale as snow. Ailurin stood in front of him, her little fists clenched, her eyes lit from inside like any magic user’s would be, her face a mask of fury as her brother toppled to the ground, narrowly avoiding falling into the pond himself.

In another town, there might have been a very different outcome. A child summoning magic that nearly kills another child? Somewhere less sophisticated than Ailurin’s town might have burned her as a witch. But she lived only an hour’s ride from the capital of their homeland Paozo, her father an experienced merchant who went to the city all the time, her mother a nurse in the Healers’ Guild, and so she had a far more auspicious fate than that.

It was the next day, after her brother had been fed with bloody meat and wine so watered down it was barely even alcoholic, and she’d been fed leafy greens, mushrooms and trout to help her avoid the muscle cramps that came with magic overuse, that her father put her on the back of his horse, and they rode together to the capital, where the Queen’s Academy of Magicks stood.

***

All magic was based in an element, but there were focused specializations.

A general earth mage could perform workings with dirt and rocks. A metal mage could do nothing with dirt and rocks, but had a level of precision control over metal that a more general earth mage couldn’t match. Likewise, there were general water mages who could change the flow of a river, and then specialized ice mages who could manipulate water only when it was frozen.

There were combination specialists as well. A weather mage fell under water, air and fire, but couldn’t affect a river or put out a blaze, directly – by bringing rain, perhaps, but the magic that could call lightning couldn’t affect a fire. A lodestone mage specialized in iron and other lodestone metals, but could call lightning just like a weather mage.

But one thing was true of all elemental mages. None could directly affect living things. The water and air within an animal’s body, the green growing things on the earth – those were subject to no magic anyone had ever heard of.

Ailurin broke that mold. Her specialization fell under water, but she could do what no water mage had ever been able to do in all recorded history… and control blood.

There were many tests to find the limits of her power – tests that were presented to her as games. She could not cause a body to move by pulling on the blood inside it (and how she cried for the rat she accidentally exsanguinated while they were testing that. Pulling on the blood inside a body only pulled it out of the body.) She could not work with the “blood” of plants or animals without spines; a heart and circulatory system were needed. She could cause blood to clot, but once it was a clot, the only magic she could perform on it was to dissolve it.

What could she do then? Well, her mother was a nurse, and had many suggestions for her teachers in magic. She had already proven she could slow the flow of blood to different parts of the body… her brother had fainted because she’d interrupted the flow of blood to his brain. She could also speed the flow of blood, to aid the recovery of a person who’d fainted for more natural reasons. When people suffered the sickness of terrible pain within their veins, Ailurin was able to find clots inside their bodies, blocking the flow, and she could dissolve those. People with the bleeding disease, whose blood would never clot and seal their wounds… she could close those wounds.

And when a person’s heart seized and stopped, she could usually get it moving again by taking over its function, using her magic to push the blood through the body until whatever had blocked the heart was gone, and it could beat naturally again.

For a child with such magics, there were only two possible choices: the soldiers’ corps, or the Healers’ Guild. But a girl who cried for the rat she’d accidentally killed had no temperament for using her control over blood to kill, and her mother had many contacts within the Healers’ Guild.

Ailurin spent three years studying her own magic, learning its limits. Then she was apprenticed to the Healers’ Guild, learning how to care for the injured and sick, so she could discover how best to use her magic to heal.

And what a healer she was! With Ailurin’s magic, the healers learned many new things about bodies. For instance, in many of the cases where a person was felled by a sudden stopping of their heart, it was because their veins had narrowed and it was too difficult for blood to find its way through. Some of these people could be helped by leech treatment. People who suddenly lost the use of limbs on one side of their body, and the proper working of their tongue, often had a clot inside their brains, and if it was dissolved immediately, they could sometimes make a full recovery. Tinctures of cinnamon and turmeric could make it harder for the blood to clot, and when Ailurin dissolved a clot in the body, the patients treated with such tinctures were less likely to relapse.

By the time she was declared Doctor – the title for a person fully trained to diagnose and treat a patient within the Healers’ Guild, as opposed to a Master Doctor who could take an apprentice, or an Intern who was an advanced apprentice – Ailurin and her magic had been responsible for the discovery of many new secrets of human and animal bodies that no healer had known before, and the discovery of treatments to help against things that had previously killed or maimed without warning or cure.

***

Most of the nation’s guilds were in fact the nation’s guilds. Ailurin’s nation had a leatherworkers’ guild, and the nation to the north had a leatherworker’s guild, and the two to the south both had their own leatherworkers’ guilds, and so forth.

Not so the Healers’ Guild. There was only one Healers’ Guild, spanning the known world. All healers swore their primary allegiance to the Healer’s Creed:

· I will treat any patient in need, regardless of their creed, their nation, or their customs.

· I will cause no harm to any, save in the preservation of life and health for those who come before me.

· Though I may charge a fair and reasonable fee for my services, as set by the Healers’ Guild, I will never charge more than such a fee.

· I shall have no sexual or romantic relations with one who comes before me to be healed. Should my own husband or wife fall ill, or one with whom I am courting or engaged, I will refer them to one of my colleagues, unless the situation should be so dire that that is not possible.

· Likewise, I will not treat my family members, but refer them to a colleague, unless life or health should fail immediately if I do not.

· In conflicts between nations, I will not take sides. I will swear again on my own life that I will treat any who come before me, even soldiers engaged in warfare on my nation.

Every company of soldiers traveled with Healers’ Guild members, and there was a Healers’ Tent at the site of every battle… often a tent that contained the healers of both the armies meeting in combat. It was an ironclad rule that no soldier could keep their weapon within the Healers’ Tent, and that soldiers or civilians from either side of the conflict were welcome in the tent if they were injured.

Ailurin began her career treating elderly city dwellers with pains in their chest, but she thought that her magic might be more needed on a battlefield, so she began to travel with military companies.

She saved many, many lives. Men who would have bled to death survived, because Ailurin was able to keep their blood inside their bodies until the wound could be cauterized or stitched. At times, she could even restore a severed limb; if the limb and the place it was severed from were both washed in the strongest of spirits, to drown any of the evil spirits that caused illness, she could cause the blood to flow between the limb and the place it was severed from, as her colleagues sewed the limb back on. The arms and legs that were so restored were never as strong as they had been, and those soldiers usually returned home as war-wounded with their pensions… but the limbs that had been severed cleanly by swords were back on their bodies, weaker but still of use.

Ailurin found as well that her magic could transfer the blood from a dead man, if he was freshly dead, to a dying man who’d lost too much blood to live otherwise. She learned to detect the spirit of the blood, to match it with a soldier of similar spirit… and, knowing of these spirits through her magic, she was able to devise a test that other healers could use to tell if the spirits would be friendly to each other, or hostile. Healers’ assistants who went out on the battlefield to retrieve the injured now retrieved the dead as well, in hopes that their blood was still fresh enough to save other soldiers. Often, ice mages, whose talents had been traditionally used in the Healers’ Guild to make poultices to reduce swelling and to preserve potions that would otherwise go bad, found themselves keeping dead bodies cold. Ailurin was still the only blood mage, but what she could do with magic, other healers found ways to do with potions or devices.

Within the Healers’ Guild Ailurin was remembered for the many discoveries she made or helped to make, and the many lives she saved directly. But there is another thing they remember her for as well.

***

She was traveling with a company from Paozo when their battalion met one from Shemora, and a fierce battle broke out. A Healers’ Tent was stood up between the camps of both battalions, and within that tent, Ailurin and her colleagues were very busy.

In the evening, when the battle was done for the day and both sides had retreated to lick their wounds, and the Healers’ Tent was especially busy, the general of Paozo’s forces came to the tent in person.

His soldiers who were conscious and could move their limbs saluted him. The soldiers of Shemora watched him. The healers mostly ignored him, with the exception of the Master Doctor in charge of the tent, who didn’t really have that option. She finished setting a soldier’s leg bone where he’d been trampled by a horse, and then went to speak to the general.

“What can I do for you, General?” she asked.

“You can get these Shemoran scum off these beds,” the general said. “We’re not wasting our resources healing the enemy.”

“Excuse me?” The Master Doctor was shocked. “Our creed is to care for anyone who needs healing.”

“I don’t give a shit about your creed,” the general said. Soldiers of his battalion filed into the Healers’ Tent. “We’re taking this Shemoran trash as prisoners of war to free up these beds for our injured.”

“No. You’re not,” the Master Doctor said. “The Healers have no specific allegiance. We treat both sides equally.”

“Yes, that’s part of your creed,” the general said. “And the other part is to do no harm.” His soldiers drew their swords. “You have no weapons. You have nothing to stop us but your bare hands.” He turned back to his soldiers. “Kill any of them that are too badly injured to walk. The rest can march to the prison or die.”

“No,” Ailurin said, turning away from the man she had been treating. “I have a weapon.”

The general laughed. “Oh, yes, I can see you’re a great warrior!”

Most mages were bone-thin, unable to keep on any weight, for magic was fueled by life force. Ailurin was beautifully plump, looking more like a pampered noblewoman than a powerful mage. Her face was soft, her belly round, with voluptuous breasts and hips. Her blood magic had allowed her to learn how to slow her metabolism when she wasn’t using magic, to keep her weight on… not because she was vain and sought beauty, though beautiful she was, but because she needed the fuel for stamina. When your magic is the only thing keeping a person’s blood moving through their body, because they were stabbed in the heart, endurance in your magic becomes the most important trait you can have.

With her soft skin and rounded curves, Ailurin looked like a wealthy woman who was waited on hand and foot, not someone who’d ever lifted a sword in her life. But when she faced the general, her expression was hard and her eyes were cold. “I need no weapon,” she said. Her eyes glowed like any mage's would, and the general reached for his sword, gesturing with his other hand to his men to be ready.

It didn’t help them. His men dropped like stones, their eyes rolling back.

“What have you done?” he shouted, drawing his sword.

Ailurin stood her ground with no sign of fear, her eyes still glowing. “I am Ailurin the Blood Mage, first of my kind, and my creed – the Healers' Creed - is to do no harm except when needed to preserve the life and health of my patients. You threatened my patients. “

“So you killed my men?” the general raged.

“They’re merely unconscious. I am sworn to preserve life; I don’t kill if I can avoid it.”

“Ah. Well, then.” With no warning, the general lunged forward buried his sword in Ailurin ‘s heart.

She stumbled back slightly from the force of the thrust, but didn’t scream, or fall down… or bleed. As the general pulled his sword back, he stared in shock at her chest, and the complete absence of blood staining her healer’s robes. “What…?”

“Blood Mage,” Ailurin said impatiently, her eyes still glowing, showing the world that she was still using magic. “That was a very bad idea, general.”

And then the general began to bleed profusely from every pore of his body. He looked down at himself, at the blood trickling out of him everywhere, turning his uniform dark red. “What—what are you—you can’t—”

As he fell to his knees, dizzy from blood loss, Ailurin said, repeating the words of the Creed, “I will cause no harm to any, save in the preservation of life and health for those who come before me.” She looked down at the general. “You threatened to kill my patients. This is preserving their lives. You are no patient of mine, or anyone here.”

The general fell all the way to the floor then, lying in a pool of his own blood, dead. Ailurin looked up. “I’m sorry, Master Doctor. I’ll need to clean this up.”

“Doctor Ailurin!” One of the nurses ran to her. “Are you—”

“Doctor Ailurin, I saw you were stabbed!”

“How are you--?”

“I’ll live until I sleep,” Ailurin said. “He pierced my heart. I can keep the flow of blood going with my magic, but when I sleep, I’ll die.”

The Master Doctor called orders to the nurses. “Take the men who fainted, confiscate their weapons and keep them sedated for now. Orderlies, please remove the general.” As the healers’ assistants jumped into motion, she said to Ailurin, “Doctor, we can argue later about whether your actions were justified. For now… how well can you endure pain and use your magic?”

***

It required potions that dulled the pain without removing her ability to focus, but Ailurin was able to keep her own blood under control while her colleagues opened her ribs up and stitched the hole in her heart.

The soldiers who’d fainted were kept sedated with potions while Ailurin was recovering. The fact that their general was dead was something the healers considered best for them to find out after the Blood Mage was back to, if not her original strength, at least enough of her strength to defend the healers again. The ones who’d already been in the tent, being treated, knew – because the healers had told them – that if the general had succeeded, the healers would have withdrawn from the Paozon army entirely. If the neutrality of the healers could not be respected, they could not afford to give their services at all.

After the battle, the Master Doctors convened to determine whether Ailurin had broken the Creed. They determined that, because she had acted in defense of her patients’ lives, she would not be banished from the Guild, but that five years would be added to the time before she could become a Master Doctor, and take apprentices of her own. This didn’t bother her; no Blood Mages had been born after her. She had no one to train.

***

It was understood after that day that the Healers’ Creed allowed the healers to defend their patients with deadly force, if necessary. No other general attempted to force the healers to violate their creed. There was only one Blood Mage… but many mages of other specialties were healers, especially mages of Water and Air.

Many years later, after Ailurin had had her Master Doctor status for several years, the Guild sent her an apprentice… a girl whose magic let her see and manipulate the invisible spirits that cause disease, or good health, in people and animals. She was the first mage to have powers over what lay within living things since Ailurin herself. No one was certain what her magic was a branch of; eventually they’d guessed Air, because she commanded tiny invisible spirits, but the truth that Ailurin was beginning to suspect was that life itself was a fifth element.

Eventually, her brother – the one who’d stolen her doll, so long ago – had a grandson who had blood magic, the same as Ailurin had. And others appeared, slowly – mages who could make flesh heal, mages who could grow crops, mages who could ease the minds of the mad. She had been the first of the life mages, but she was not the last.

#52 Project #writing-prompt-s #fantasy

55 notes · View notes

captainjaspenor · 4 years ago

Text

Fire in My Bones

So I haven't written anything in YEARS, especially not fanfiction, but what can I say? I've been inspired. Anway, here is my first stab at fanfiction in neary ten years. This will be a multi-chapter fic. Please read and let me know if you'd like to be on the tag list.

Show: Cursed

Pairing: Weeping Monk x Reader

Warnings: Violence

Summary: I tried to write one and honestly I sucked at it, so here is a little excerpt instead.

"From the trees, shrouded in smoke, he emerges. The Weeping Monk. Around you the terrified screams of the Fey and the pained groans of the dying fade away. You forget the acrid smell and taste of the smoke and ash as it burns your throat and lungs. You forget Nimue, who is hiding behind you, clutching at your cloak, shaking like a leaf."

Chapter 1: I Saw A City Burning

You see the smoke and know it has to be coming from your village.

Nimue.

You dig you heels into your horse’s side and take off at a gallop. You hear the screams and the fighting before you reach the town. As you come to a halt at the top of the last hill to look down at your village, you see the small huts the Sky Folk use as homes are ablaze. The Sky Folk are running around in a panic, pursued by figures robed in red. Red paladins. You heart skips a beat in your chest. Part of you wants to flee into the countryside and leave the Sky Folk to their ruin, but you know you can’t leave Nimue and Lenore behind. You dismount give your horse, Xanthos, a reassuring pat. You hate to go on without him, but you know he is safer in the Iron Wood. And a horse would do you no good in this chaos. You unsheathe your sword and check that your dagger is in place in case you need it. You lift the small pendant hanging from the chain around your neck to your lips and kiss it before tucking it safely into your shirt.

You take off in a swift jog toward the center of town. The smell of smoke overwhelms your senses and your eyes begin to water almost immediately. You drop into a crouch next to one of the huts that isn’t entirely engulfed in flames and survey the scene in front of you. Many of the Sky Folk are fleeing for their lives, but some brave souls have turned to face their enemies head on and are engaged in battles that are often to the death. You look around, hoping to spot Nimue or Lenore, but you don’t see anyone you recognize. You send up a small prayer that they’ve already gotten themselves out of the village, but you won’t leave until you’re sure they’re safe. Your best chance at finding them in in their hut, but that means running headlong into the fighting in front of you. You swipe at the sweat gathering at your brow and readjust your grip on your blade.

You sprint toward the next still standing shelter a dozen yards ahead of you. A red paladin falls to the ground in front of you, with a spear sticking out of his thigh. He screams and clutches at his leg, but before he has too much time to feel the pain from the wound, you deliver a quick thrust to his chest. The man tries to let out a startled yell, but only a small cough comes out and droplets of blood splatter on his chin. You shove your foot against him to free your blade. You don’t stick around to watch as the life leaves his eyes.

You try to move quickly, but your path is often cut off by people locked in duels for their lives or panicked animals trying to escape the fire that is spreading around you. You duck as another arrow flies over your head. This one was closer than the rest. Before the archer can take aim again, you run. You’re almost to the hut you’d planned on hiding behind for cover when a red paladin on a horse spots you and changes course toward you. He brings his sword up to strike but you wait until it starts to come down before you roll to the side. His swing goes wide as he races past. He yanks on the reins and turns the horse around to come for another pass, but you’ve already snagged one of your throwing daggers from your boot. It hits him square in the eye and he falls backward off his horse, dead. You keep moving.

Ahead Lenore and Nimue’s hut still stands, one of the few homes that have not yet been set alight. You push your way past the hides that serve as the door and enter the small dwelling. You are both delighted and dismayed to see that neither woman is here. You don’t have much time; this place could go up in smoke at any moment. You cross to the corner where Lenore keeps a chest with the family’s valuables. Inside you grab the coin purse that holds Lenore’s life savings and tucks it into your pocket for safekeeping. You then go to where your own belongings are stored. You dig beneath your flimsy mattress to pull out your own, much lighter coin purse. In the dresser you share with Nimue, you retrieve three more daggers, which you slide into your boots. You take one last look around at the small hut that had served as your home for the last thirteen years and try to commit it to memory.

You step out of the hut but stayed hidden under the slanted roof. It wasn’t much, but even if it only obscures you a little bit, it is better than standing out in the open. At least this way, you know your back is covered. Beneath a hut not far ahead, a familiar figure is hiding in a similar fashion. Nimue!

You can’t believe it. You’d found her! After checking that no red paladins were looking your way, you run to the hut Nimue is crouched beside. “Nimue!”

“(Y/N)! Oh, thank the gods you’re here. I can’t find Mother! And one of the red paladins grabbed Pym!” Nimue pulls you in for a desperate hug.

“I checked the hut. Your mother isn’t there. Do you think she ran?” you ask.

“I don’t know. Maybe. I don’t know.” Nimue is panicking, you can tell, but now isn’t the time.

“Think, Nimue. You know your mother better than anyone. Where would she go?”

“I guess, she… she’d go to the… I-I don’t know,” Nimue says and begins to cry.

“Okay. It’s okay. We’ll find her. And after we find Lenore, we’ll find Pym.” You reassure her. “It’ll be okay, Nimue.” Nimue doesn’t look sure, but she gives you a weak smile anyway and, honestly, you appreciate the effort.

You check around you and see if any red paladins have spotted you. Fortunately, it seems as though no one is the wiser of two Fey girls hiding almost in plain sight. You try to mentally plot out the best place to search for Lenore without being seen…or without being seen by more red paladins than you can take on in a fair fight. You’re only just coming up with a plan when Nimue begins to violently shake your arm.

“What?” Nimue doesn’t answer, only continues to shake your arm. “What, Nimue?” You look at her, concentration broken. You realize Nimue is terrified. You turn on your heels to look where she is staring, and your heart catches in your throat. This is what you had been afraid of before.

From the trees, shrouded in smoke, he emerges. The Weeping Monk. Around you the terrified screams of the Fey and the pained groans of the dying fade away. You forget the acrid smell and taste of the smoke and ash as it burns your throat and lungs. You forget Nimue, who is hiding behind you, clutching at your cloak, shaking like a leaf.

He is dressed from head to toe in black and gray. Even his horse is as black as pitch. Speaking of his horse, it’s the biggest horse you have ever seen, standing at least two hands taller than your own. Reluctantly you draw your eyes away from the mass of black muscle and take in the monk for the first time. He rides slowly. Confidently. As if he doesn’t have a care in the world. As if Fey aren’t being slaughtered all around him.

He dismounts and immediately two red paladins come up to take the reins from him. It takes the both of them to lead the horse away. You watch as the monk walks up to an older man and drops to one knee. You wonder who this older man is to command such respect from someone as dangerous as the monk. The older man greets his younger compatriot by putting a hand on his shoulder. You realize they must know each other well, with the familiarity the two share. The monk rises as the two converse and you become entranced by the interaction in front of you. The spell is broken when you feel Nimue tug at your arm once more.

“(Y/N)! (Y/N)! It’s Squirrel!” Nimue says. You tear your eyes away from the pair in front of you to look over and see the small boy in question wandering aimlessly and dragging a large sword behind him. You realize if he keeps walking this way he’ll be right in the monk’s line of sight. You glance anxiously back at the older paladin and the monk, but they continue to talk, unaware of the young boy headed straight for them.

You have to move. Fast. “Come on.” You grab Nimue’s hand and drag her behind you as you sprint for Squirrel. You pass mere feet from the monk, but the gods must be on your side today, because he doesn’t seem to notice two stray Fey women.

You reach Squirrel and Nimue tells him to follow the two of you as you lead them around an abandoned wagon into one of the last standing structures. “In here,” you tell them.

The three of you duck beneath the safety of the roof. With your back to them, you keep your eyes on the battle going on outside. You know that you are all that stands between them and a red paladin’s blade. You overhear Nimue tell Squirrel to go hide in Old Man Rock in the Iron Wood and you can’t help but smile, despite all that is going on around you. You’d taught her that when you both were children.

The two talk for a moment more before Squirrel darts out from behind and disappears into the trees. You make sure he isn’t followed, but no one sees the small boy and as quick as he is, he’s out of sight in no time. You’re thankful he’s out of harm’s way. One less person to worry about.

“Squirrel says he saw Mother near the temple.” Nimue tells you.

“Then that’s the first place we’ll look.” You say and go to exit the hut.

“No.” Nimue pulls you back down. “I want you to go with Squirrel and make sure he stays safe.

“If you think I’m leaving you behind, Nimue, then you don’t know me very well. There are dozens of red paladins out there and they’ll kill you if they catch you. They don’t care if you’re girl.” You argue.

“I can handle a few red paladins.” Nimue argues.

“You can handle them better with me.”

“(Y/N), I don’t need you to protect me!” Nimue snaps. “Besides, it doesn’t matter what you want. When Mother isn’t here, you take orders from me.”

“It doesn’t work like that when your life is in danger,” you retort.

Nimue sighs. “Then I’m not ordering you. I’m asking you, as my friend. Please, keep Squirrel safe. He’s like family to me. Please,” Nimue asks.

You clench your teeth and let out a growl of frustration, but give her a curt nod. “I will protect him with my life.”

“Thank you.”

You stand and pull Nimue over to the edge of the hut. You point out a nearly hidden path in the brush a few yards away. “The quickest way to the temple is down that path. It’s not used anymore, so you shouldn’t run to anyone.” You bend down, pull a dagger from your boot, and offer it to her. “For protection.”

Nimue smiles and takes the dagger from your hand. “Go,” she says.

You spare one last glace at the ruined village behind you before turning and sprinting off into the woods after Squirrel.

_____

And that’s a wrap on Chapter 1! The title of the fic and the title of the chapter are lyrics from songs. Let me know if you figure out which song the chapter title is from!

In the next chapter, the Reader will meet the Monk for the first time, and let’s just say, sparks will fly.

Thanks again for reading, and let me know what you think!

#weeping monk x reader #weeping monk #daniel sharman #cursed netflix #cursed #lancelot x reader #lancelot cursed #weeping monk fanfic #weeping monk fanfiction #nimue x reader friendship #fire in my bones

144 notes · View notes

popculturebuffet · 4 years ago

Text

Blacksad: Somewhere In the Shadows Review

Hello you beautiful people! I have a WEIRD relationship with Noir. It’s weird because i’ve never really dived into the films of type, though I really should, But as a kid I absolutely LOVED the tracer bullet arcs in Calvin and Hobbes, where everyone’s favorite hyperactive and imaginative six year old would plant himself as the hero in a noir pastiche.. ironically like myself Bill Watterson was also not a huge noir buff and just relied on Cliches but hey, it worked.

Still love these. So from fourth grade on it imprinted a lifelong love of a good bit of detective noir. Not enough to you know, get me to read any traditional noir books or watch any noir tv shows or detective procedurals but I still love a good mystery from time to time and some of my favorite comics such as Howard the Duck by Chip Zdarksy and Peter David’s second run on x-factor run on the genre while having fun with it’s cliches.

I also love anthropormphic animal stories. Dunno why, I just do, so once I found out about Blacksad, a comic that combines disney quality art from a former disney animator with gripping, adult noir that rips your heart out... I couldn’t resisit trying it. Telling the tale of John Blacksad, a cynical private detective and the cases he steps into via gorgeous, straight out of a disney storyboard art, the series is by Juan Díaz Canales (writer) and Juanjo Guarnido (artist), the latter a former Disney artist who worked on several Disney films, meeting in the 90′s while working on licensed works and hitting it off, leading to this series. That’s.. really all I could find about the making of the series in English. The only other fact is the series is designed for first release in France, which has a huge comics market, hence the various volumes being called “Albums”, with them later being released in Spain and then english, currently in the latter through Dark Horse Comics, who last year collected the current 5 albums and some side stories into one big volume. And with Dark Horse having infrequent sales including Blacksad on comixology it’s easy enough to pick up all 5 volumes in one complete package on digital for 9 bucks, as it is right now. Seriously I’m not trying to shill for Comixology or Dark Horse, I just love these comics and suggest picking them up. The creators DO intend on new volumes... it’s just both have been busy with other work so they’ve been stuck in development hell since 2013. However given there have always been, if much smaller, the biggest being 5 years, gaps between the Albums, I don’t think the series is dead quite yet and with Dark Horse fully backing it, taking the series from only two volumes getting translated to both translating the first four AND translating the fifth within a year of it’s release, we’ll undoubtly get the next one quickly. The series has also spawned a game, Under the Skin, which i’ll probably also cover some day as i’m dying to play it, but i’m waiting for a sale because it’s around 30 bucks and I can wait. It’s also been nominated for an Eisner three times to no suprise and has had fans in Stan Lee, Jim Steranko, Tim Sale and Will freaking Eisner. Yes the GUY the awards were named after liked the series. So yeah, I love this series and highly support it, but the thought of covering it hadn’t occrued to me.. in part because I already had three comic retrsopectives going, my looks at The Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck, Scott Pilgrim and New X-Men, and simply because I just hadn’t thought of it till Kevin, frequent patron and comissioner of the blog whose paid for tons of reivews, suggested covering the second Album, Arctic Nation, which has our hero searching for a missing little girl he feels has been taken by the titular white supramacist movement.. and if your wondering “Wait how the fuck does that work their animals”, John is black coded due to his black fur, while the white suprmacists are all Arctic Animals.. a touch I really like as I’d honestly never thought of that as a metaphor but it fits like a glove, especially given that most white furred arctic mamals are pretty agressive looking. So yeah I’ll be covering that one next month for Black History Month, among many other things, but I felt I wanted to cover the series in order and since again, it’s only the second of five and I had a free space on the schedule. So without further adew, join me somewhere in the shadows and under the cut as we enter the world of one John Blacksad.

We open as you’d expect for a Noir with a heady narration and a murder. John was brought in by Smirnov, the chief of police and an old aquantice who serves as his Commissioner Gordon. Since the victim is John’s ex, he was brought in to see if he knows anything and as you’d expect warned not to look into it further, as John dosen’t buy this was a simple robbery. His response is exactly what you’d expect.

I mean.. what did you expect? You called him out of bed to see his former lovers corpse, KNOWING he’s one hell of detective, dosen’t give up on things easy, and would probably be curious. For him to say “Cool gonna go smoke some reefer and take in a looney tunes short at the theater, call me when you find the murderer?” Also this series takes place in the 50s. Because of course it does.

So John goes back to his office to brood, reflecting that the office feels like the remains of an ancient civlization because “It seems to be all that remains of the civlized person I used to be”. Hell of a line.

We then get his backstory with the victim, Natalia. She’s a famous actress, who John first as a younger man when hired to investgate some death threats she’d received with a boquet of flowers. John shows off just how good he is at his job in just a few panels.

IT not only shows in just a few panels just how ferocious our hero can be when needed and how good he is at his job, easily having tracked down the man responsible and scared him shitless without breaking as sweat, but how fucking gorgeous the art is. I meant it when I brought up the old disney comparison, as Steranko even mentioned in his introduction to the collection of the first three volumes how it looks like animation cels on the page. IT’s utterly breathtaking and ONLY gets even more lush and beautiful as the series goes on and perfectly fits the noir stylings with it’s realisim, making it’s animal characters feel utterly human and real while still keeping their animal traits in perfect detail.

John impressed her, and as we see in the next page under his narration they not only had really steamy passionate sex, and why yes we do see them naked even if the bits are covered it’s still very much nsfw and we saw Natalia’s naked corpse earlier, so that ship had already sailed anyway, with Natalia taking him on both as her lover and her on staff detective and the two were much in love.. until the fame apparenlty got to her judging from the visuals, and the realtionship fell apart.

Before we move on i’d like to talk about the narration which CAN be a bit overwrought here or there and is a bit overused.. but does have it’s mometns of being utterly effective as with above, contrasting John’s statments about a sucessful job and being hired on.. with the beginnings of his and Natalia’s relationship and their passionate lovemaking. IT’s not BAD and it works for the setting, but it can be distracting, but thankfully the series levels this out as we go and they learned from it so no harm done. Just the kinda thing that happens early in a series life when the creators are getting a handle on things, so no harm done.

But naturally John isn’t going to take the love of his life, responsible for the happiest days of said life, being brutally murdered lying down and is going to find the bastard who did this. So he goes to an old friend, Jake Ositombe, a championship boxer and Nat’s former bodyguard who he recommended to her. Given we see him knock the shit out of his opponent without the slightest effort, yeah good call. Also yes we share the same name and no it’s not weird to type about another Jake, adventure time sorta.. knocked that out of me. Jake dosen’t know much since she fired him a long time ago as one of her lovers hired private security, and the last one he knew of was a guy by the name of Leon. John, naturally, easily finds the guy’s apartment, Leon Kronkski, a screenwriter.. but also rules him out as the guy lived in a humble apartment and clearly didn’t have the cash to hire his own hired goons.

He does find a clue, a matchbook for some place called the Cypher Club.. and another when the man’s sweet mouse landlady shows up, who John charms by pretending to be Leon’s friend and flashing a big smile, finding out a msyterious man with “big bulging eyes”, took him. This scene also to me is great in subtly showing off John’s skill. While the previous flashback showed how badass he is, shoving a gun down the throat of a stalking wannabe murderer with pure rage in his eyes.. here we see a lighter approach, how despite his serious and dour nature.. he easily slips into being cheery and looking like an average joe off the street. He bluffs the landlady not because the plot says so.. but because like any PI he’s just that good at slipping into whatever roll he needs to get the info he needs. He can be his dour self or a charming happy go lucky guy without missing a beat.

So with that he goes to the studio leon worked for where his boss.. is a walrus j jonah jameson?

But yeah J. Jonah Walruson wants pictures of spider-man.. moving pictures.. but he can’t film them with his star dead and his screenwriter indefintiely gone, with the same bulging eyed man having told JJ he’d be gone indefintely. Nothing suspicious about that!

So naturally John’s next plan is to find the guy.. who is already after him as you’d expect with both a knife to slash at our hero with and the fog covering him so he can hit and run. But unluckily for him .. well i’ll let john say it...

John headbutts the myserious snake, who only managed to get his coat before and tries to interogate him.. but gets a quick jab to the gut and the guy gets away.

We soon meet our big bag, who has a big speech about insects and things being usefufl.. and once they stop being useful.. they become dead and collectable, telling the snake man to back off John.. and sending his right hand man to go take care of the Snake who apparently took something from the office. Realizing his numbers up the Snake Man goes to a lizard bar, picks up a package from a friend and runs out the back, knowing he’s being followed.. and we get some hints there’s also racial tension between lizards and mammials here as the bartender, said friend, has the entire bar circle around the guy preventing him from following our mysterious bulging eyed man.

Meanwhile John goes to the Cipher Club, a wretched hive of scum and villiany. Given Nat was a glamorous movie star, it’s very clear she was here to hide from something or someone, and the bartnender, a wild pig.

No not you sweetie. The wild pig tells John leon was indeed here and a local rat, in both senses of the word, offers to take John to him.. though understandably John is supscious of the guy he just met in a seedy bar taking him anywhere except to get some heroin. Did Heroin exist yet? Questions for later. But he’s got a case so he follows. Though suprisingly the guy DOES actually come through and it’s not ENTIRELY a trap: he takes john to a tomb for Noel Krinsok.. an anagram for Leon’s name. Unsuprisingly he’s dead. And also unsuprisingly, two hired goons

Show up. As I said not ENTIRELY a trap but it’s obvious given the rat split moments before that our mysterious big bad knew where john would be headed next, and thus while giving him a clue, also set him up to get his head knocked in. And while John is badass.. these guys are a bear and a rhino, both stronger, bigger, and with suprise on their size, as well as a tombstone to knock john’s head into. They easily beat him senseless and hope he got the message, though john gives a defiant fuck you before being punched out for it. He returns home, feeling like he’s aged 20 years “But no one respects the elderly anymore”, PFFT, and heads home to his rathole, not literally this time, apartment to lay on his cot and think as he gets some rest.

And while the trail for Leon is cold. our mysterious murderer accidently tipped his hand: only someone with a LOT of money and influence could make a man disappear like this, and it tracks with what we’ve seen so far. The guy has multiple henchman and despite being a big star with plenty of clout, Natalia had to hide in a dive bar just to get away from him and even THEN clearly wasn’t so lucky given she and her new lover both wound up dead. But Blacksad has bigger problems.. he wakes up in a jail cell.

Turns out Smirnkov had him arrested.. but for his own protection as the case is getting too hot and while he was late on that front given John’s face is hamburger, it’s clear from his tone and demeanor that while he may of been harsh with John earlier.. the two are old friends, and the Chief is simply worried about him winding up dead, and John takes you know being thrown in prison in stride. Which while not a bad scene it is a BIT suspect that a black coded character was thrown in jail for nothing and it’s treated very lightly and as a simple protection between friends, though given they wouldn’t think of coding john like that till next volume, I brush it off as accidental implications in hindsight.

Smirnkov though also called John here.. because he needs his help. Since Natalia’s Murder Case is pointing very high up, so his superiors have ordered him to bury the case and as he puts it “the bastards know where to squeeze”. And given in volume 3 we learn Smirnov has a wife and children, it’s very obvious where they squoze and to the volume’s credit while we don’t know that yet it’s VERY clear from Smirnov’s body language they went after some form of family. So while he has to give it up.. John does not. So he brought him to jail to offer a proposal: John goes after this son of a bitch and nails him to the wall.. and Smirnov will FULLY protect John no matter what he has to do. Now naturally given the rightful reckoning for police that’s been going on for almost a year, this SHOULDN’T play well. You have an officer outright telling an outside party that he and his boys will cover up his crimes. But.. honestly even in that framework.. it still works. That’s because.. the system has failed here. The higher up and more corrupt cops put pressure on the honest and hardworking family man Smirnov to stop a legitimate investigation into a horrible murderer.. because the guy is rich. And even now we’ve seen time and time again how rich assholes effortlessly escape the consequences of their action: How our own president who actively asked other nations to interfere in our election escaped his first impeachment trial, but hopefully not the second, aquitted. How Jeffery Epstien took YEARS to bring down with his years of ellicit parties involving innocent women and children he fucking enslaved. How Bill Cosby got away with all kinds of sexual assault for decades. The rich are often literally above the law in this country, so having a down on his luck detective, who retroactively himself is a minority, go after him with the full support of an actually GOOD police officer who genuinely believes in these people being held accountable but is held back by his family’s safety.. it works. John isn’t able to skirt consequences BECAUSE of a corrupt system.. but because the system’s so broken and slanted in the rich’s favor, that the ONLY option an honest officer like Smirnov has is to go outside it. And when asked WHY he’s doing all of this, Smirnov merley replies

... I got chills, their multiplyin. So John plans to find the bulge eyed snake after a hot shower.. only for the guy to hold a gun to John’s head, having been waiting for him and wave the murder weapon, in a baggie around, the item he had retrieved, feeling John’s trying to replace him as number two. However before he can do anything our snake pal is shot full of holes by the rat from before, who John dispatches with his own gun.

So the Snake starts to expire.. but feels a kinship with John “We are nothing right cat? Spent so much time waiting for the right chance and when it happens it all falls to pieces”. The Snake explains his roll in things: He was one of the private security our big bad hired to guard Natalia. But being supscious he also hired the rat to follow her around, and thus found out about her affair, brutally torturing and murdering Leon and shooting Natalia in the head. And we finally get a name as our snake friend tragically expires.

The snake’s death and tragic dying moments are something I forgot about.. but damn if their not really good writing, taking a character who before was seemingly just a murderous goon.. and comparing him to our hero. Another working class joe, and one who just caught up with the wrong asshole at the wrong time. He easily could’ve been john in another life and vice vers and it’s a good parallel.

So John’s nightmares finally have name and he naturally goes to confront the guy since he has an almost literal get out of jail free card. Turns out Smirnov is the richest man in town, and has his own big tower. Huh.. sounds familiar, and John simply sneaks his way up and once Statoc’s guards from before hear him rustling about.. sneaks up on them and clocks both one at at time with a fire extinqusher.

Statoc warmly welcomes our hero inside, and has the fucking lizard balls, as he’s some sort of lizard himself, to offer John a JOB

I mean he’s clearly lost a lot of his goons and most of them were incompetent. He fails to realize that John can’t be bought, is here for vengeance and has no intention of selling his soul to some rich asshole who killed someone he loved for the creepiest and most asinine reasons imaginable. He says john’s Concisence is why he can’t pull the trigger and that he lacks “cold blood”.. before we cut to the next page, where John’s shot the fucker in the head and left a gaping hole where his lack of a brain was.

And again what makes this work is the aftermath: John is clearly shaken, having ONLY been able to pull the trigger beause of Statoc’s smug grin and clearly not taking the sight of Statoc’s dead body bleeding out well. And while Smirnov keeps his word, covers for him despite the two guards clearly providing an iron clad argument against john and knoiwng thier blatantly covering this up.. he’s not happy about it.

This is WHY the narrtive still works. Statoc stacked the law against the bad guys. .but despite this being a necessary evil.. it’s still an evil and subverting teh law at this rightly leaves him not in a great place mentally. John himself isn’t even if he plays it off as otherwise, as we get our final bit of narration and one hell of a closing line.

Final Thoughts:

Somewhere in the Shadows is a bit rough around the edges, leaning a bit too heavily into the noir pastiche and Blacksad being a harboiled detective, something the next volume would ease up on. That being said.. it’s still a masterpiece, with gorgeous art and masterful pacing. While it’s the shortest of the stories, like those after it the pacing is sublime and never feels like it has any down moments or stuff that could’ve been cut, and the mystery keeps you on edge the whole time. Having forgot a lot of the details since last read I was on the edge of my seat the entire story and loving every second of it. Somewhere in the Shadows is the perfect starter for the series, introducing an important charcter in Smirnov and the noir nature and giving us a case personal to John so we can see who he was before, what he is now.. and what he WILL be for the rest of the series. The moment that MADE him into an even harder man than the one we follows here.. when he took a life in cold blood. A masterful story, seriously check it and the other volumes out, on comixology, in stores, great stuff. Next time we look into john and as I said, he’s taking down some racists and we also meet his sidekick weekly for the first time. As for me tommorow I dive back into my Tom Luictor retrospective but hit pause on our boy for a bit to take care of some of the larger plot. Until the next rainbow, it’s been a pleasure.

#blacksad #john blacksad #Smirnov #noir #anthropomorphic #anthro #funny animal #somewhere within the shadows #comics #dark horse comics #france #french comics #igor statoc #Natalia Wilford

37 notes · View notes

heyyyharry · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 5: The North Mountain

(from ‘The Winter and The Crown’)

…in which Harry and Y/N set off on a new journey and get stuck in another snowstorm.

Word count: 4.6k

AU: queen!y/n, commander!harry

Description: Y/N and Harry set off on a new adventure to find ‘the cure’ for an ancient curse, meanwhile, the enemies are plotting to take her kingdom.

Wattpad link (Reyna as Y/N)

THEY’RE BACKKKKKKK! There’s another cave scene in this chapter 👀

“Are you sure, Your Majesty?”

“Yes,” Y/N told Mary for the third and final time, hoping that she’d sounded determined even though her voice was wavering. She could feel Lance’s eyes burning holes on the side of her face. He didn’t want her to go through with this.

The throne room was utterly quiet. There were just the three of them and two guards standing by the door. Y/N hated how loud her heart was beating, as if even it could tell this was a bad idea.

“The journey won’t be easy,” Mary said, lacing her hands together in front of her crotch. “Many have tried to find the lake and those who returned had not even made it halfway to the top of the mountain.”

“I know,” Y/N said coolly.

Mary quickly looked from her to Lance as if expecting him to interrupt and convince Y/N that Harry wasn’t worth all this danger. But Lance kept a straight face, as usual, masking what he truly felt inside.

Mary drew in a breath. Then, she took the silver ring with a black gemstone off her finger and wiped it clean with the sleeve of her dress. “When my sisters and I were born,” she said, “each of us was given a ring like this. It was enchanted with our mother’s blood, so as long as the stone was red, it meant all three of us were alive in this world. That was how I knew my sisters were gone. After I’d escaped from Egon’s men, the stone faded to brown and eventually to black.” She turned to Lance. “This ring will let you know if the Queen’s in danger.” And back to Y/N. “All it takes is a drop of your blood, Your Majesty.”

Y/N met Lance’s uneasy gaze. He sighed and drew out the dagger attached to his belt and handed it to her. She held it firmly, biting her lip and pressing the tip of the blade into her finger until blood oozed out of the cut. Mary took hold of Y/N’s wrist and placed her finger above the ring. The red drop fell onto the stone and it glowed like a tiny flame before subsiding to a dimmer red.

“Blood calls to blood,” Mary said, giving the red-stone ring to Lance. He put it on as Y/N put the finger into her mouth, tasting the iron sting of her own blood. “If the colour darkens, it means she’s in danger. If it turns black, she’s dead.”

The way Mary said it, so assertively and pitifully, sent a chill down Y/N’s spine. But for Harry and her kingdom, she must not be afraid.

Harry hadn’t expected to see the Queen in the stable. Who would expect to see a Queen out here in the middle of the night?

“What are you doing here?” she asked, looking equally surprised to see him.

He flashed a beam and continued stroking the black horse. “I ran into Jo and she told me to go feed the horses.”

“Feeding the horses isn’t your job,” Y/N said, arching an eyebrow.

Harry’s eyes widened. “It’s not?”

Y/N was speechless for a moment before she sighed. “Guide to surviving in my court: do not take orders from a maid.”

Heat pooled at Harry’s cheeks yet he managed to conceal his embarrassment with a grin. “Sorry. Your maid is pretty scary for a maid.”

Y/N shook her head as she broke into a smile. And Harry felt that weird sensation in his chest again. She’d been cold and distant since the last time they’d spoken two weeks ago. He hoped she’d forgiven him for what he’d done. Even though he didn’t know her, he felt a strong connection between them. He hadn’t had any nightmare lately about her jumping off a cliff or bleeding out to death on the floor, but those scenes had been stuck on his mind ever since the last time. He wished he knew what they meant or if they meant anything at all. That was one of the reasons he’d agreed to join her on this impossible quest – to make sure his nightmares wouldn’t come true.

“What are you doing here?” he asked and quickly added, “Your Majesty.”

Y/N’s mouth twitched subtly as she came closer. The black horse pawed the ground and snorted as if it were happy to see her.

“I’m here to say goodnight to Thunder,” she said, stroking the animal’s head.

“Thunder,” Harry echoed.

“I know what you’re thinking. Northerners have weird names for their horses,” she said. That was exactly what he was thinking. “You two have met before.”

“Thunder and I?” Harry asked, pointing to his chest.

Y/N nodded. “He was my ride on the journey last year. Would you like to see your horse?”

He said yes. And so she led him further into the stable to a beautiful brown horse who neighed and nuzzled Harry’s chest as soon as it saw him. Harry chuckled and stroked the horse’s back.

“Her name’s Lightning,” Y/N said and laughed when Harry raised an eyebrow. “Yes, I’m serious.”

Harry didn’t remember having ridden Lightning before, but he felt like he knew her in the same way he felt like he knew Y/N. The memories might not be there, but the feelings were.

“Will it be just the four of us again tomorrow?” he asked.

“No, some of my men will be joining us. They’ll carry food and water.”

“What about the King?”

Y/N paused for a bit longer. “Lance must stay here. Someone has to run the court while I’m away.”

“And Attwell?”

“He’ll travel back and forth if necessary.”

Harry had heard from the maids that the people in Attwell loved Lance and were excited about the wedding. Y/N would probably receive the same amount of adoration in Isolde if she were a man. There hadn’t been any protests in the past weeks. Harry assumed Calanthe must be planning something else, so Lance had to stay here to pacify the court during the Queen’s absence. He wanted to ask Y/N about it, but he knew she wouldn’t discuss such matters with a peasant.

“Why doesn’t His Majesty go instead?”

Y/N’s expression remained the same as if she’d been expecting the question. “This is my kingdom,” she said, “so it's my responsibility, not his.”

“But he’s going to be your husband,” Harry ventured.

“So?” She lifted her chin proudly. “You think it’s because I’m a woman I cannot finish a job?”

“No, Your Majesty.” Harry could not help but smile. “I think you’re perfectly capable of getting the job done. It’s just...I wouldn’t let my woman risk her life out there while I’m safe here in the castle.”

“Lance insisted on going for me, but I didn’t let him,” Y/N said. “Just like you, I wouldn’t let my betrothed risk his life out there while I’m safe here in the castle.”

“Ahhh, so that’s what betrothed means,” Harry said, rolling his eyes. When Y/N didn’t reply and turned her attention to Lightning, he felt the need to keep this conversation going. “So...why are we searching for the lake? You asked me to come with you but you never told me why.”

Y/N straightened her back and folded her arms over her chest. There was something so serene about her, and Harry would sometimes catch himself staring unblinkingly at her face. He didn’t know if he was allowed to gawk at a sovereign, but Y/N didn’t seem to mind.

“One drop of water from that lake,” she began, “could cure the deadliest disease, heal broken bones, make a mute person talk and a deaf person hear. So if the lake exists and we have access to its powers, we’ll have a great chance of winning against the enemy.”

Harry pressed his lips together and shifted his gaze to his feet. Y/N let out a chuckle. “Don’t tell me you’re changing your mind now.”

“I still want to go,” he said. “It just doesn’t make sense to me why you chose me to go with you. I’m flattered, Your Majesty. But I’m also confused.”

“Because we’re partners in crime,” she said. “Even though you don’t remember anything about our journey, I believe we’ll make a good team as we did, you and I.”

Harry swallowed as he nodded slowly. Being trusted by the Queen with this important quest made Harry anxious and elated at the same time. “I hope this trip will bring back my memories,” he said, then realized he was unconsciously twisting the gold ring on his finger. “Do you know how I got this ring?” He raised his hand. “I asked Kenny and she didn’t know, so I assumed I might have stolen it. I’m not feeling guilty, it’s just weird to wear a piece of jewellery that you stole without knowing how you stole it.”

To his surprise and delight, Y/N broke into laughter. “I gave it to you.”

He blinked. “Really?”

“Yeah. It was a reward for saving my life at the Wind Valley.”

“Wow.” He admired the ring. Now that he knew how he’d got it, he started looking at it differently. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she said.

He dropped his arm back to his side and let out a sharp breath. “I can’t believe we’ve crossed the Wind Valley and done all those crazy things and I don’t remember anything.”

“I suppose we’ve made a lot of impossible things possible,” she said with a faltering smile. “But that was nothing compared to this. I need to know you’re ready.”

“I am.” He gave a firm nod. “I’ll try my best. That’s the least I could do for you before I leave the court.”

“Right,” Y/N said, almost to herself than to him.

He walked her out of the stable. It was snowing. She told him she could get back to her chamber on her own and wished him goodnight. Harry clasped his hands together behind his back as Y/N turned and started walking away.

He suddenly felt the need to shout after her. “You don’t have to worry! I’ll protect you and get you home safely to the King.”

Slowly, Y/N looked back over her shoulder. Their eyes locked, and a flicker of memory flashed across Harry's mind. It’d been snowing like this. They’d been at this same spot right outside the stable. Y/N was sitting on Thunder’s back, white snow falling all around them, decorating her hair with silvery flakes.

Reality rushed back into his vision when she spoke, “I can look after myself. You keep yourself safe.”

He opened his mouth yet could not utter a word.

Her red lips curled gently. And then she was gone.

“What is it?”

Y/N’s voice brought Lance back to reality. He cast her a single glance before scanning his eyes around. They were standing outside the portcullis. The sky was just growing light. Men were already gathered, faces red in the morning chill as they saddled the horses that snorted clouds of steam.

“Nothing,” Lance lied, not looking at Y/N. He hoped she couldn’t see through his feigned nonchalance, although it hadn’t been effective lately. Y/N had acclimated to his attitude. Sometimes he thought she had to be the only person left in this world who really knew him. It was sad, as the more attached he grew to her, the more it’d hurt when she got back to Harry.

He unconsciously twisted the red-stone ring around his finger while keeping an eye on the soldiers and servants, acting occupied.

“I’ll be back in two weeks,” she said despite his silence. “Don’t miss me too much.”

He turned back to her. She was beaming. The dawn had reddened her nose and cheeks, and as he stared, he completely forgot what to say.

“I won’t,” he mumbled, averting his eyes before she could sense his anxiety.

She placed her hand on his arm and he tried his best not to react to her light touch. He didn’t like the person he’d become when he was around her. Always so sensitive and predictable.

“I trust you not to plot on overthrowing me while I’m away,” she joked.

He let out a laugh, shaking his head. “I don’t know, my lady, your throne seems much more comfortable than mine.”

Y/N’s eyes wrinkled at the corners as she tilted her head. “When I get back, I’ll have a special cushion made for your throne.”

“I’ll hold onto that promise,” he said, flashing her his signature grin.

They were interrupted by Harry shouting at a servant for threatening Lightning with a whip. He shoved the man out of the way, obviously angry as he took the mare with him and whispered something to comfort her.

“He seems more himself lately,” Lance remarked.

Y/N only shrugged. It made him wonder what she felt inside.

She hadn’t spoken of Harry since she’d found him with the maid. Everyone in court was convinced that she was looking for the lake to use it as a weapon against Calanthe, and not to save Harry’s life. Lance didn’t want to get his hopes up. The things she did and said always contradicted the look she’d give Harry when he wasn’t looking – like she’d die for him. But he’d already died for her and was probably not coming back.

Lance told himself to never settle to be the second choice or even a choice; he’d been that his entire life being born a bastard. Yet, he would find himself looking at her that same way.

“We’re ready to go, Your Majesty,” said one of the men.

Y/N nodded once before turning to Lance. She held his gaze for a moment, probably rearranging the words in her head to make a proper sentence. She’d once told him that she was bad at goodbyes. He hadn’t thought one day he’d get to see it.

He mustered a smile and pulled the hood of her fur coat over her head, leaving only her face exposed. He cupped it with his gloved hands and she placed her hands over his. If it hadn’t been for the promise he’d made after the first and last time they’d been intimate, he would kiss her right now.

“Try not to die,” he said.

Y/N’s lips arched as she held his wrists. “Even if I die, I’ll come back as a ghost and haunt you and your new bride.”

He chuckled.

To his surprise, she pushed his hands down to close the distance between them and pressed her cool lips to his cheek. He instinctively tugged her in, hugging her like he’d always wanted as she wrapped her arms around his neck. The hug didn’t last for long. And when she pulled away, she turned at once and trudged toward Thunder.

Lance stood with his hands behind his back, watching her mount her horse and shout orders at the men. Harry was on the horse beside the Queen. For the first time since his return, he was looking at her the same way the old Harry would.

Jo had been watching Lance pace these halls for the entire day after Y/N had left. He looked restless and would keep checking the ring on his finger. It had been funny at first, but now it only concerned Jo.

Of course, Jo was worried about Y/N, too. But from everything that'd happened, she’d learned that every time people doubted Y/N, she’d proven them wrong. And so Jo believed in her. Besides, Y/N had been alone the last time. This time she had a group of soldiers to protect her. The biggest concern should be the existence of the lake. But it was not Jo’s responsibility to think about it. Worrying would do them no good. Life had to move on here in court with or without the Queen.

“Are you kidding me?” Jo asked as she picked up her skirt and chased the King down the long corridor. Lance’s legs were longer so he strode ahead effortlessly while she was out of breath trying to catch up with him. “I’m not sharing a room with the witch!”

“She’s not a witch anymore,” he said easily. “Besides, now that the Queen is gone, it’s time for you to make new friends.”

“Said the loneliest man in the world!” she jeered.

Lance stopped walking and turned back to her, raising an eyebrow. “Why are you always so mean?"

She folded her arms, chin lifted. “I’m not sharing a room with the witch.”

“Too bad. I’m the one giving orders.” He spun on his heels and she immediately circled around him to stand in his path.

“Why should she get to live here anyway?” she said in annoyance. “She helped Calanthe kidnap Harry, tortured him and erased his memory. She should have been hung by now.”

Lance regarded an angry Jo as he tightened his jaw and sucked in a breath. “Y/N specifically requested that Mary stayed with you.”

“What? Why?”

The King lifted a shoulder. “Mary’s sister was the one who brought you back to life, wasn’t she? Don’t you think you should at least be nice to her?”

“Yes, her sister, not her!”

“The poor girl has lost everything and everyone, Jo. Have sympathy,” Lance said. “And I don’t hit women, but if she pulls some tricks, you can easily take her down.”

Jo put both hands on her hips as her mouth fell open. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Lance snorted, shrugged again and sidestepped her. He was walking away when his footsteps slowed and he stopped, standing rigid, staring at his hand. For a second Jo thought he was going to change his mind, but then he turned around and his face was pallid. “The ring,” he said.

Jo’s gaze dropped to his finger. The stone on his ring had turned to a darker red. A prickling sensation shot up Jo’s spine as she locked eyes with the King, both of them horrified.

Their Queen was in danger.

A bad storm hit as soon as Y/N and her men entered the forest at the foot of the North Mountain. The powerful wind roped itself around them, wanting to either choke them or yank them off their saddles. The horses pushed through the deep snow as the trees swayed back and forth, bending in every direction while the howling of the wind grew louder and more frightening.

Y/N could not see. She shielded the flying snow from her eyes with one arm while looking around for shelter. Unfortunately, her vision was blurred by the raging storm, and she was unable to see further than a few feet ahead. The wind became more bitter and vicious. Horses neighed and men shouted. Y/N told everyone to stay calm, not sure if anyone could hear her. The only thing that kept her sane was Harry being by her side from the moment they’d set off. She thought about what he’d said outside the stable last night. Maybe he really wanted to protect her.

A human scream tore through the crying of the wind, making Y/N snap her head up and strain her ears to listen. It was a woman shouting for help. It grew louder and clearer and more desperate by seconds. Somebody else was here in the forest in this storm. But why?

“We must move, Your Majesty!” Harry yelled at her.

“Did you hear that?” Y/N shouted back.

“What?”

“A woman! There! She’s calling out for help!”

“I hear nothing.”

“How can you not hear that? There it is again!” cried Y/N, but Harry only looked at her as if she were mad. She shook her head quickly. “That woman needs our help. We must save her.”

“Are you insane?” he growled. “We can’t even save ourselves!”

The woman screamed again. She sounded as if she were in pain. Y/N thought about the dying pregnant woman she’d pulled out of the burning house and her conscience didn’t let her move on. “Wait here! I’ll be back!”

“Y/N!” Harry snapped. But she’d already pulled the reins and kicked her horse into a gallop.

She hurried through the snow, chasing the screams until she saw a figure crawling on its hands and knees across the white snow. Y/N flew off her horse and rushed toward the woman. She could barely make out the woman’s face through the wind but Y/N knew she was alive.

Y/N swore she could hear the fizz and crack of her own heart breaking. Her hood was thrown back by the wind. The cold stabbed its talons into her skin like a thousand little cuts with a serrated blade. She reached for the woman’s arms to help her up, but as soon as she closed her fingers around what should be human’s flesh, she was grasping at nothing.

The woman had vanished.

In one violent crack, the ice broke beneath Y/N and shattered into a hundred tiny fragments, sending her plummeting into the black water.

A million knives stabbed her skin, slicing her open. Her lungs contracted as her numb hands clawed for something to hold onto. She wanted to yell. Her ribs crushed her heart, and her whole body started caving in.

As her eyes shivered open, Harry’s face was the last thing that she saw through the surface.

Harry knew something was wrong when he saw Y/N get off Thunder’s back and head straight toward the frozen river.

He’d forgotten about everyone else. His thoughts were running wild. He threw himself off Lightning’s back and hurried after her. She was standing out on the ice when he’d caught up. He called out to her, but she didn’t look back. Her hood was off and her head was bare, the wind churning up around her, making her look as if she were made of magic.

And then the ice gave way beneath her. A shudder and a crack and she disappeared into the river.

Harry ran. His heart flattened against his ribs. His feet were slipping on the ice. He dropped to his knees at the edge of a vast hole, plunged his arms into the black water and seized her hand floating just above her head. He pulled her up, dragging her onto the ice and into his arms.

He didn’t remember how they’d got back to their horses. Fear and panic had blurred his mind. They were lost. The others had either moved on without them or stuck somewhere in the storm. There was no time to look for them because he must find a place to hide and light a fire.

Y/N was shivering in his arms. Small ice crystals had formed in her hair and on her lashes and brows. He pushed her onto Lightning’s back and mounted the horse, sitting behind her, her head resting against his chest.

Suddenly, Thunder reared upon his hind feet. Harry feared that the animal thought he’d hurt Y/N. But then Thunder snorted and sprinted ahead. Harry knew the horse wanted him to follow so he kicked Lightning and chased after Thunder. He held the rein with his right hand, holding Y/N in his fur coat with his left arm. The cold was so unbearable that every breath he took caused him pain.

They rode and rode. The wind slapping against their bodies until Thunder stopped at the entrance of a cave hidden behind snow-covered branches. The black horse entered first and Harry and Lightning followed. The further they walked, the warmer it became, but it was not enough to melt the ice from their clothes.

Harry dismounted his horse and placed Y/N onto the ground, holding her closer to him to share his body heat. It was not working. Her clothes were all soaked. The only thing that let him know she was alive was her hot breath against his cheek.

“Stay with me,” he hissed, stroking her back.

His heart stammered as her eyelids fluttered. “I’m tired,” she croaked. “I’m going to sleep.”

“No.” He squeezed her shoulder and gave her a firm shake. “You’re not going to sleep. Promise me, Y/N.”

“I promise.”

Carefully, he laid her down and gathered as many dry sticks as he could find. The horses helped. It was obvious that they’d been trained for rescue missions.

Harry managed to light a fire which he hoped wouldn’t go out too soon.

Fuck, he hoped Y/N wouldn’t go out with it.

He quickly got back to her and dragged her back into his arms. “Here, stay close to the fire.”

The ice in her hair began to melt but her face grew bluer every passing moment. Now he was really afraid. He didn’t want her to die like this, in this cave.

“You saved me,” she spoke, her voice brittle. “Why?”

He schooled his face as their eyes met. “What do you mean?”

“I thought...I thought you hated me,” she said.

He swept her damp hair out of her face and frowned. “I don’t hate you, Peach.”

He hadn’t meant to call her that. It’d slipped out. He didn’t think she’d heard it, because she didn’t react. She was going to pass out.

He shook her again, forcing her to keep eye contact. “Tell me something,” he said. She needed to keep her brain working. “Tell me your most precious memory.”

Y/N’s face contorted as she shook her head. “I-I don’t know.”

“Think.”

She swallowed dryly, her purple lips quivering before she could manage, “Sunset.”

“What else?”

“Sunset...sunset…”

“No, Y/N, look at me!”

But she couldn’t.

Her eyelids slipped shut and her head fell to the side.

“No, no, no,” he chanted, shaking her as hard as he could but she did not respond. She was still breathing but it was becoming weak.

Harry had no other choice. Either this or she'd die.

“Forgive me, please,” he murmured and hurriedly removed her coat and the rest of her sodden clothes before he sloughed off his and spread their clothes beside the fire. His face burned with shame as he took her into his arms and wrapped his fur coat around their naked bodies.

He’d been close to many women, but none of them had been dying, so he told himself there was nothing to be embarrassed about. He was only saving her life.

Her face was buried into his chest. She smelled like winter. He continued stroking her wet hair until her breath grew steadier and her skin warmed up. The relief and ease that coursed through him felt too good to resist. He allowed exhaustion to engulf him and finally shut his eyes.

Outside, the storm was still raging, but at least for now, they were safe. He was just about to drift off when he felt her arm hook over him as she snuggled closer. If she were awake, she’d be able to hear how violent his heart was thumping against his chest. He thought about what she’d said, sunset, and tried to figure out what it meant, until finally, sleep took over him.

In the North castle, Lance sat by the fire, its glow illuminating his face. He heaved a sigh of relief and buried his head into his hands.

The ring on his finger had turned from black to red.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles writing #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #tctm series #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfics #harry styles imagines #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst

93 notes · View notes