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ohscorbus · 4 years ago

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Do you think Albus had a moment where he realized how rich Scorpius was?

Everyone knows how rich the Malfoys are. That’s common knowledge. But knowing something and understanding it, seeing it with your own two eyes, that’s something completely different. So yes, I think the reality of it hits him many times over the years. Which is actually quite funny considering the Potters aren’t exactly poor themselves.

Harry is undoubtedly very well off and no matter how much he probably donates or invests, those vaults aren’t going down. He’s working as the Head Auror and there’s all the vaults he inherited, but also the fact he doesn’t spend excessively to show off or simply just because he can. Not in the way your typical Malfoy would. Where they’ll have the finest robes and rooms of rare trinkets, Harry prefers his Weasley jumper and his family photos. I think Ginny would be the same. She grew up in a family that got by on hand me down clothes and secondhand textbooks. She also had to deal with people making her family’s financial situation the butt of their jokes. But she never went hungry, was always surrounded by family, and knew she was loved. That’s the heart of the Weasley family to me. All the things Harry desperately craved growing up. The fact he loved the Burrow the second he stepped foot in there was not surprising. I have no doubt the home they built for their own kids resembles the Burrow in many ways. On the outside it may look more like a traditional house, but inside there’s a warmth to it that money just cannot buy. It’s in Lily’s artwork on the walls. Their first September 1st photos along the mantelpiece. The lingering smell of a home cooked meal. The lines on the doorframe marking their ever increasing heights. The jumper left on the worn armchair. Their faces on the clock that Ginny has ‘detention’ added to so she knows when James isn’t telling the whole truth in his letters.

Albus never grew up without food or a warm bed. He also always got whatever new books he needed and whatever toy he’d asked for at Christmas. Just like Scorpius. And I think it’s a privilege both the Potters and the Malfoys have tried to instil in their sons. For Albus it was ‘just because they can afford it, doesn’t mean he needs it’. There’s pocket money to earn and treats for special occasions and siblings to share with. So Albus still ended up with half a wardrobe of James’s old clothes and he happily passed down his books to Lily as she learned to read. He never questioned it because his cousins did the same. That was his norm. Just like Scorpius’s class was his. Even with Draco and Astoria bringing him up without all the pureblood nonsense, I don’t think they’ll ever be able to lose their class. Nor would they want to. But I can see them actively trying to instil some modesty in him. He’s not to be embarrassed or ashamed of what they have but he’s also never to be as boastful or spoilt as Draco was. I don’t think they’d ever try and live more modestly though. They want the best for their child and they can afford that, so why not?

So the Potters are rich and the Malfoys are super rich. But I don’t think the Potters and the Malfoys are financially worlds apart compared to many of their fellow students. They’re alike in that sense. It’s more their parent’s attitude towards money that makes them different from each other. But part of growing up and venturing out into the world on your own is about meeting new people from different backgrounds and experiencing new cultures. So I think Albus being shocked by Scorpius’s world is just part of that. (Although as the eldest of five myself, I can imagine Albus is more shocked by Scorpius’s life as an only child!) It also makes me wonder if Scorpius is ever shocked by Albus at any point. It wouldn’t surprise me if Scorpius has a better idea of the Potter wealth than Albus does. If money isn’t something Albus has ever had to worry about then he’s probably not paid much attention to it. He’s still a child so why would he? Whereas Scorpius is the sole heir in a family that’s very much involved in their investments. I doubt Draco hasn’t taught him a thing or two over the years about what that entails. Not that Scorpius would judge Albus or his family for their choices, but I’m sure he’s intrigued by them. Harry Potter could afford a manor of his own, so why wouldn’t he have one? It’s an innocent question I’d love to see eleven year old Scorpius discuss with his parents. He’d never ask Albus. Not even when Albus eventually visits the Manor for the first time and makes a comment about wishing he had a room like his. That too is an innocent statement. I don’t think either boy would actually want to change anything about their lifestyle. (Although not having to share a bedroom wall with James sounds like the dream to teenage Albus.)

You know what I’d really love to see? Scorpius at the Burrow for the first time. You’d think it wouldn’t be the same once all the kids had moved out, but now they all come back with their own kids and the place is fuller than ever before. I’d love for Scorpius to have that close knit, extended family experience. I want him to see how everyone has a place in the chaos. A bigger house would give them breathing space but it soon becomes clear they don’t need it. They’re happy to share food, fight over who gets the better stool, and argue whose turn it is to do the dishes. It’s utter madness but he feels the love here just as much as he does at his own table. It’s not about whose parents got it right or wrong. Which is better or what they prefer. It’s about understanding and acceptance. So Scorpius doesn’t hesitate to grab the tea towel and stand alongside Albus at the sink. Just like Albus happily learns exactly which fork he needs for what course. They adapt because they choose to be part of each other’s lives.

But there are moments that give Albus pause at Hogwarts though. Like Scorpius’s fancy shower products that outnumber Albus’s single bottle. The expensive sweets he’ll sit and mindlessly eat on an ordinary Tuesday evening. The birthday presents he receives that cost more than what his own parents would even spend on him. But there’s no judgment. Just surprise and amusement. Because Scorpius also collects chocolate frog cards, he doesn’t take his Weasley jumper off for weeks once he gets his own, and he wears more odd socks than any other person he knows. He may tease Scorpius about it, in the way only a best friend can, but there’s nothing behind it. Albus isn’t jealous or annoyed by his wealth and nor is Scorpius rubbing it in. In fact, I bet he’s even a little embarrassed those first few times he catches a reaction from Albus. But ultimately? Albus doesn’t care and so neither will Scorpius around him. They’ve both had a lifetime of people judging them so they aren’t about to do that to each other. They’re just Albus and Scorpius. That wealth still belongs to their parents at this stage in their life anyway. I don’t think any significant shock or even disagreement over money comes until they’re both adults and more independent. That’s when I can see the differences in their upbringing really being highlighted. That’s not to say they don’t also align in places. It’s definitely Albus and Scorpius vs. Draco when it comes to their wedding!

(Apologies for the long winded answer. Money is such a fascinating subject because it brings out the best and the worst in people. The fact that Albus and Scorpius seem so grounded is a credit to their parents. But just because they are okay with each other doesn’t mean they don’t encounter any issues from other people. But the bullying is another topic entirely. Vandalised trunks can be replaced but words can cause wounds money can’t heal.)

#albus potter #albus severus potter #scorpius malfoy #scorbus #potter family #malfoy family #text post #mypost #long post #Anonymous

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bkpkinyourarea · 5 years ago

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Stop Badgering Me I hogwarts!au

TWICE’s Sana + Jennie + Lisa (+ maybe others but not at the same time) x Slytherin Reader (fem)

Genre: Predominantly Angst, maybe smut later on

Summary: You’re popular, a prefect, a Slytherin and known as one of the most infamous players that Hogwarts have ever seen. Personally, you don’t think you’re a player (because you genuinely love the girls you date) but you admit that it’s a bit of a fun reputation. A reputation eventually ruined by a certain Hufflepuff: Minatozaki Sana.

A/N: I don’t even know what this is - it’s a bit of a train wreck (still a fun ride though). Loads of people feature.

Part I |

Word Count: 3,847

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of sex

Minatozaki Sana. Minatozaki Sana. Minatozaki Sana.

The name spirals with brutal efficiency through the chaos of your mind as you storm down the hallway, the stone nearly cracking beneath your feet from the sheer rage you’re radiating. You’re well aware of the stares you’re getting - you don’t often show your emotions in public, after all, but when you’re pissed, you’re pissed and you don’t bother hiding it. Ever since that incident during Third Year, nobody had dared to even touch you, too scared of the consequences that’d entail. Too scared of Slytherin’s Hydra.

Well, everyone except for your close friends.

And a certain Hufflepuff going by the name of Minatozaki Sana.

“Y/N, HEY-”

Jisoo’s voice is sharp and unusually commanding, and the familiar lilt in her tone serves to soothe your fraying nerves but you’re too on edge and already too off-kilter to listen. You curve quickly around a corner and fly down a flight of stairs, nearly trampling over several First Years in your hurry to get down to the basement.

“Y/N!” Jisoo bellows, and this time you stop if only because you’re surprised. She’s used the amplifying charm on her voice and the sound waves barrel down the narrow stairway straight into your ears, nearly knocking you over with their impact. She’s always been a little too gifted in Charms, a skill which was exceptionally handy when she was on your side, but when it was used against you - let’s say you’re not a huge fan of that.

“What?” your face twists into an ugly grimace as you stop at the bottom of the steps. If you’d been an outsider watching your actions, you would’ve sneered at yourself. Unfortunately, you don’t deal with this kind of anger often and because of that, it takes over you every single time. “Don’t fucking talk to me. I told you not to talk to me when I’m fucking pissed. You know this-”

“Shut the fuck up, Y/N,” Jisoo growls, and this takes you back enough for you to actually shut up. “I refused to get blamed for getting jinxed by you because I was trying to comfort you and find out what’s wrong, and same goes for our friends. That’s on you, and only you, and you can deal with that yourself when-”

“Then I’ll deal with it myself - jeez, for fuck’s sake, Jisoo, I have shit to get done, what do you not under-”

“I don’t want to talk to you either and if I had a choice, I wouldn’t be here arguing with you right now. Unfortunately, you’re disrupting the peace in the hallways, and by the looks of it, about to storm into my common room. As prefect, and as your friend -”

“I’m a fucking prefect too, and some friend you are, Jisoo-”

“I’m taking you to Professor McGonagall’s office,” Jisoo’s face is stony and shadowed, and okay maybe it scares you a bit now but you really don’t have the fucking time for this - you’ll apologise after you deal with the present situation.

“You’re not going to,” you deadpan, shoving a hand into your robes. “You won’t do that to me.”

Jisoo catches your wrist and eyes you dangerously. “Don’t fucking test me-”

“Kim, I don’t have the time for this. I’ll deal with this later.”

You see her open her mouth but that’s the last thing you see because you’ve ripped your arm out of her grip and pulled your wand out of your pocket. Without so much as a glance back, you tear your way down the hallway and thank fuck there’s a turn because that means Jisoo’s going to have to catch up to aim a spell at you, and spellcasting in the corridors is so against the rules and you’re the fastest runner - Jisoo can’t stop you even if she wants to. Nobody can fucking stop you. You’re going to get in the bloody common room, and you’re gonna find her and -

You reach the barrels and it’s easy enough to get through because you’ve gone in more than a hundred times now and the pattern has never changed but in your hasty anger, you tap the wrong barrel, or you do it the wrong amount of times and the lid bursts and vinegar spews out and drenches you completely.

This is really probably the most Gryffindor thing you’ve ever done in your life here at Hogwarts. God, you’re so going to regret this later, and so is the rest of Slytherin House. But right now, you could hardly care less.

You spit onto the ground, trying to rid your mouth of excess vinegar and wipe your lips with the back of your hand. Distantly, you hear a familiar laughter, but rid of humour. There’s no spell, though, no nothing, and a part of you stops to wonder what Jisoo’s doing but the larger part of you is already tapping out the pattern on the barrel.

It opens and you don’t waste time. Practically plastering vinegar all over the walls of the passage, you crawl your way up until you reach the familiar room. It’s just as you remembered: bright and lively, decorated in yellow and black and honey wood, with round doors and plants and circular shelves and of course, circular windows.

At the pungent smell of vinegar, the Hufflepuff students turn and the beginnings of laughter permeate the air. When their gazes settle on your irate figure, however, the sounds waver and fall silent. There’s only a few - around five - and all of them are from the years below which serves you well.

“Where is she?” your voice is quiet as it always is, but the steely edge and the half-mad gleam in your eyes (nearly enough to convince the Hufflepuffs that you’re totally unhinged) is all you need.

“Who?”

Your eyes, dark as dusk flicker over to the speaker - a First Year by the looks of it, shy and nervous and shrinking under your gaze - and you lick your lips, “I’m looking for -”

“Yeah, I’m curious too, Y/N, who?”

It sounds from behind you. Jisoo. You turn and she’s there, hands in pockets, head tilted and amused. Too angry to be anything but, perhaps.

You shake your head at her, knuckles nearly turning white from the strength in which you’re gripping your wand and you storm toward the girls’ dormitories, ignoring Jisoo’s shouts of protest. You’re quick enough to avoid her onslaught and hurry down the steps until you reach the bottom floor - it’s not nearly as bright and the walls feel as though they’re closing down on you (you’re not good with closed spaces, have never really been. you wonder now - it’s a stupid thing to wonder, really, but you hate her right now so you wonder about it anyway - if she did it on purpose, just to spite you).

It’s the door just a sharp left turn from the stairway. It’s just an ordinary door - round and made of honey wood and entirely harmless if not for the name engraved on it and the crude hamster drawing underneath.

You kick it open and storm in. The door slams with a resounding thud, and it is with a satisfied smirk with which you regard the one, no, two, girls in the room. It’s funny to see them jump, funny if only because it soothes your bitter hurt in a bitter ironic way.

The cause of your entire tornado of chaos is sitting on her chair, legs resting on the patchwork quilt covering her bed. She’s dressed in an oversized t-shirt, and she’s staring at you with the most bewildered, bemused expression you’ve ever seen. You would’ve laughed if the circumstances were different. Hell, you would’ve squished her cheeks in between your hands and kiss-no. fuck no.

“Minatozaki Sana,” you snarl, triumphantly angry. You barely register the presence of the other girl who’s nestling on top of the bed as you cross the room in several strides. Sana scrambles off the chair and backs away, still bewildered but not afraid.

“Y/N? What are you doing?” she sounds confused. You wonder why the fuck does she sound confused. She knows what she's done. Surely, she didn’t think you were so stupid that you wouldn’t find out?

“You have the nerve to ask me what I’m doing?” you’re so angry that you’re practically shaking now. You don’t think you’ve ever been so angry before in front of a stranger. A stranger. It reminds you, and you turn to the other girl.

It’s Seulgi, you recognise. You’re friends, kind of. She’s nice, pretty, good at Quidditch. Perfect, really.

“Y/N, you’re soaked in vinegar, let-” Sana starts. There’s something akin to concern flickering through her eyes and she makes to move toward you. You stare, then you laugh, derisive.

“Save it, Sana. Stop pretending you care,” you sneer, turning toward Seulgi. Seulgi looks more worried than afraid which is good, it’s good, so good. You shrug off your vinegar covered robes, letting them fall onto the floor with a light thud, leaving you in your white blouse and slacks. Sana doesn’t say anything, uncharacteristically, and if you were in your right mind, you would’ve stopped and turned to look, but you were too far gone to notice.

“Seulgi,” you announce, a lopsided half-smile adorning your lips. “Let’s have sex. Right here, right now, on this bed. Let’s do it in front of Sana. She likes that, doesn’t she?” You register a look of utter shock crossing the innocent Hufflepuff girl’s face, register her lips parting before someone’s hands are tight on your shoulders, jerking you around and away.

It’s Sana, and she’s staring at you strangely. You grin at her, all teeth and no humour, and you cock your head.

“What?” you laugh, throwing your head back. “You do like it, you -”

Sana’s hands are cupping your cheeks and her lips are on yours, soft and firm and familiar, tasting like honey and -

You smile into the kiss before your mouth yields to her and she’s pushing you back and your back collides with the wall and everything hurts in that sweetly excruciating, agonising kind of pain that’s beginning to characterise every encounter you have with Sana.

“Sana, Sana, Sana,” you laugh against her lips, uncaring of the fact that your teeth are knocking and her fingernails are digging into your shoulders and your heart feels as if it's on fire and your lungs are burning. “Kissing me won’t change the fact you fucked her in my bed.”

Her tongue swipes over your lips and then she’s gone. Well, not gone. She still has your arms pinned over your head onto the wall and her body is flush against you, so close that you can feel every curve, every breath, everything that’s Sana and it’s overwhelming in a beautiful way which hurts. Because you’re looking at her face, straight into those eyes and god, you hate her so much except you don’t and you can’t, no matter what she does, no matter what you do.

“I’m not kissing you to change it,” Sana breathes. Your eyes meet again, fixed, stuck, and then you pull your gaze away. Jerk it away with a strength you didn’t think you had anymore, not with her, anyway.

“So, you admit it then,” you say, coolly. “You fucked her in my room. In my bed. With no regrets whatsoever.”

“I never said I had no regrets.”

And you must be delusional because Sana sounds regretful, looks regretful. You stare at her blankly, and then you burst out laughing.

“Biggest fucking joke of the year. So, who is it, then? Who’s the lucky girl you fucked in my bed?” You can’t stop laughing for some reason and Sana still has you pinned up against the wall so you’re sure you look hilarious to any onlookers but you could hardly care less, not even if the entire Hufflepuff House came, not even if the entire fucking school came.

You think Sana winces, but how can she wince? She loved it, loves it - humiliating you, making you hurt and burn. She lives for that. Ever since the two of you first met. That’s all she’s ever done, that’s all she wants.

“Don’t use the word fuck,” Sana mutters, looking down. It’s strange, she still has your arms pinned. You two are still so close together, too close.

“What, then? Make love?” And you hate the fact that you voice breaks, cracks in the middle of the words but you can’t help it - it’s like a knife, no, like a million knives sharpened to the sharpest point stabbing you repeatedly over and over again in your heart. Those two words...and Sana and someone who isn’t you...it hurts more than you care to admit. Sears you like a brand - fire stamp.There’s a hard lump in your throat and it refuses to go away. A quick glance shows that no one’s in the room yet, so no one other than Sana has seen you break (you don’t know if that’s good or not, honestly, but it hardly matters. Sana has seen all of you, including your vulnerable self long before this moment. She is one of the only ones in the world who truly knows you. Your enemy now. Funny.)

Sana is biting her lip, cheeks sucked in, and if you didn’t know better, you’d think she’s in pain, that she’s hurting (she is, it hurts her to see you like this, always have but you refuse to believe it).

“Who. The. FUCK IS IT, SANA?”

Maybe, this is the most Gryffindor thing you’ve ever done. You don’t think you’ve ever had a public outburst like this since...forever. Definitely way before you came to Hogwarts. AAAND, it’s public as well because the door is wide open (there’s no one there but still) and if you were in your right mind, you would’ve stopped and shut the door, or left, or carried the conversation somewhere else but you were as far from your right mind as you possibly could be and so you didn’t. You looked away and forgot they were even there.

“Seulgi,” Sana says, and if she bites her lip anymore it’s going to bleed - and it’s probably hugely funny that she’s still pinning you against the wall and neither of you have bothered to move away. It probably says something about the two of you. “It was Seulgi.”

The name registers in your mind, and your lips part as understanding dawns. Instinctively, your eyes dart over to the bed - she’s gone, well, of course she is, she probably knows - course she fucking knows.

“She was here.” It comes out as a whisper as you look slowly back up at Sana. Distantly, in the back of your mind, it occurs to you that Jisoo isn’t saying anything so, like, what’s up over there? Why wasn’t she doing anything. Please don’t fucking do anything.

Sana nods, swallowing.

“So, what, you’re dating now?” Your voice remains steadily quiet. Too quiet.

(Sana wishes you were screaming instead. It’s unnerving because you never scream, you only scream when you’re so very pissed but it’s still better than this because anger she can deal with, anger is a strong emotion and she’s good with intense emotions but this? this is colder, quieter, suppressed - detached and disengaged - Sana has never been good at dealing with this side of you, the most Slytherin part of you.)

“Y/N.”

Sana seems like she’s pleading but you’re past falling for those puppy eyes and pouty lips (even if you can tell the difference between the fake ones and the real ones and this is so definitely real) and you just don’t fucking care.

“Are you dating Seulgi, Sana?” The words are smooth, lilting as they fall past your lips. Like they don’t grate the back of your throat, scraping the flesh swollen red and bloody, like you can’t taste metallic copper on your tongue from biting too hard. You’re so good at pretending, too good - when you believe that things are over and done with and you’re detaching yourself from everything.

Sana is visibly searching your face for something, anything - you see that and you refuse to give her the satisfaction (you given her your entire soul already, at least let you keep this). She sees nothing, and maybe you see her visibly withdrawing as well - you pretend you don’t.

“I’m not,” she says quietly, head bowed. You can feel her hair - grazing the bare skin of your collarbone; kissing your neck like fluttering feathers (you can remember it - how her lips felt on your neck - like it had been just yesterday when it happened, and not so long ago it might have as well been centuries)

It says something about you that you don’t move away, only flinching, but allowing yourself to be pinned - you’ve nearly forgotten about the compromising position you’re in but only nearly.

“You sure? You two seem pretty chill on the bed just now. Nice and cozy. She’s a nice girl, pretty, sweet, good dancer, good Quidditch player, good-”

“We’re not. She’s just a friend. It’s a - it was a one time thing, I promise.”

You lift a shoulder in a shrug. “I don’t care if you’re dating or not. What matters is the fact that you fucked her in my bed. Minatozaki Slut fucked a girl in my room, my bed, with no shame.”

Sana flushes dark red, and oh, she’s angry, you can tell. Real angry. Sana angry is scary, actually, but you’re angry too and so it only fuels a broken smile onto your face.

“I didn’t fuck her,” Sana says quietly, “we made love. She made love to me, and I made love to her.”

And now, you struggle. Sana’s stronger than she seems, though, and keeps your arms pinned firmly. She’s not smiling, but you are - all teeth and spit and wide eyes. She sees you break under the weight of the words, sees the cracks form on your oh so impeccable facade at her selective use of language. She sees the tears glittering in your brilliantly dark eyes. The blood on your lips. She’s broken you, and you both know. But you’ve broken her too - because she’s crying openly and she’s trembling so badly that you can feel it against your own skin and her hands are shaking, and then she’s gone.

Your arms fall back by your sides and you watch through swimming vision and watery eyelashes dangling with diamond teardrops as someone drags Sana away - Jisoo? You blink, mouth widening as protest fills you and the next moment, Sana is back, her lips against yours. Your mouth parts willingly, taking her in as if she’s oxygen and you need her to live even though your mind is screaming - no, no, no and it’s a wet, messy, sloppy kiss, tasting of salt and tears, filled with a desperate sort of need mixed with hurt and pain and anger and-

Nothing. Through the glassy window of tears, you see...Momo? Nayeon? Someone pulling at Sana, pulling her away from you. She’s crying too, and everything hurts in a way you are all too familiar with.

You slump against the wall, feeling as if all your energy’s been zapped away from you, stolen away along with your heart.

“Hey, easy there, Y/N.” Someone’s arms are encircling you, supporting you and when you blink and force yourself to focus, a familiar face swims into view. “Don’t fall for me, now.” The girl is smirking, though it’s faint and light and more concerned than anything else.

Light blonde curls, wide eyes - soft.

Lisa.

You manage to smile through the tears, a laugh tearing past your lips as you try to straighten yourself, only to stumble and fall further into her arms. Her hold on you tightens, eyes shadowed with concentration.

“Can’t, sorry,” you glance up at her with a half grin (you’re really too good at this) and stumble, face burying into the crook of her neck. “I’ve already fallen for you.”

You shouldn’t be doing this. You really shouldn’t be doing this. Breaking your own heart wasn’t enough, now you have to break others too? Just because you’re hurting doesn’t mean you have to drag others down with you.

But you’ve always been bitter, obsessed with holding grudges. And Lisa is Lisa.

Gryffindor. Heart of Gold.

But gold is easy to break.

Your eyes slide over to the side, meeting Sana’s briefly. She’s sitting on the edge of the bed, cornered by Jisoo and Rose who seem to be lecturing her fiercely, though you can’t really tell from your current point of view. Sana isn’t quite listening, a fact you know only because she’s looking straight at you, her face red and tear-streaked, black lines of mascara trailing down her face and gods she fucking beautiful.

And, you suddenly realise that despite everything, Sana is Sana, a Hufflepuff to the soul and her heart? It’s made of gold too.

And maybe you’ve broken it already, maybe you haven’t. But you’re overcome with the urge to hurt her. Make her feel the pain you feel, make her burn. You want her to feel what you’re feeling, but a million times more.

So, you make sure she’s looking, and then you lean forward and kiss Lisa. Her lips are soft, like the rest of her, and they yield almost immediately to you, parting, sighing. Her hands tangle through your hair and she’s pulling you closer, hugging you in an almost protective manner as she caresses your cheeks. She kisses you like you’re something precious she wants to love, like something she wishes to protect, all soft and concerned and loving. It makes you want to melt into her embrace; it reminds you of a better time, a time long gone.

When you break apart, Lisa’s staring at you with wide eyes and pink cheeks, looking very much like a startled baby deer.

“I’m-”

You press a finger against her lips, smiling quietly. “It’s okay,” you tell her, “we’ll talk later.”

You see Sana out of the corner of your eye, composed, smirking.

“I kiss better, don’t I?” she calls out, ignoring Rose and Jisoo’s not-so-subtle threats. “You’ll always want me, baby girl-”

Before you can even open your mouth to retort, Lisa is unfurling herself from you and you watch with wide eyes, half amused, as she storms over, grabs Sana by the shoulders, fingernails digging into her shoulder and lean forward, growling lowly, “she’s not your baby girl and she’ll never be. you’re an-”

Sana never lets her finish, stealing forward to press a kiss against Lisa’s lips. Lisa pulls away instantly like she’s been stung and Sana laughs. You wonder honestly if she’s a Hufflepuff. She remains, to this day, the most Slytherin of people that you know (perhaps one of the highest compliments you can give) and as if she can read your thoughts, she glances over and winks.

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sunriseseance · 4 years ago

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HECK YEAH alrighty here we go then! 1. Broadly: what do you predict we'll see from Klaus in s3? I know you've mentioned him snapping a bit- what're your thoughts on what that might entail? (1/?)

I think that Klaus is experiencing his first full moment of independence, especially power independence, at the same time he is experiencing extreme emotional turmoil. They’ve told us that alcohol (at east) does jack shit to prevent his powers. I think that he has spent a long, long time with people who (IMO) do care about him, but don’t think about him all that often. “Klaus is still Klau” as a modus operandi for the entire family, at least at default. Now he no longer has a Powerful or Moral (although I have my problems with this interpretation) Ben to lean on, I think we’re gonna see a Klaus who is coming into his own, who is hurting deeply in ways the sibling do not (and possibly cannot, Klaus lies and masks A LOT) know, and who feels that the turmoil inside of him belongs outside.

2. Do you expect to see Klaus’ powers expanded on in s3, and if so, how do you think they’ll go about that? I think levitation and telekinesis would be amazing but seeing as they’ve already given those away to his siblings, I don’t think it’s all that likely. I love your clairvoyance theory (more on that shortly), and I've been playing with the idea of a telepath or empath Klaus, something akin to his "channeling" powers from the comics. (2/?)

I think that probably the primary thing in store for Klaus is commanding ghosts and being possessed. These play together interestingly and are both extremely powerful. He can command an army without a second thought, and they listen to him, but also if he slips up they can jump in his body, he’s gone and they’re in charge. It’s an interesting and fruitful dichotomy and power structure. Also I think he can make ghosts possess other people. They made a big point of showing that Klaus was conscious before Ben entered Vanya’s mind. If he can command spirits, and spirits can possess other people that is a great deal of power. (Also, like, Klaus is able to make Ben not possess him. Neither of them may know it, but he DOES command spirits. He does.)

As to his comic powers, I think we may very well get them!! They’ve teased levitation multiple times in s2 alone, and I think this idea that a show about shitty superheroes would care if their powers were redundant does not quite vibe with me. Like, what’s the point of Luther if Vanya can stop bullets and lift a tank with sound waves. Klaus’s version of TK could EASILY have its own niche (no need for a trajectory or sound waves). I don’t want to promise that it’s coming because, like, focusing on his psychic related powers is more cohesive, but I don’t think that the option is in any way off the board.

3. If they go ahead and give him clairvoyance, how would you like to see that play out? 4. Similarly, do you think his possession powers will be explored further in s3? (3/?)

I think that giving him clairvoyance would be a very handy plot device on top of being interesting for the character. Klaus’s powers have pushed him to the extremes of apathy. Imagine what that would look like if he has the capacity to know everything? He is a person who deals with the hurt of others by denying everything. He has had too much asked of his empathy and compassion. Giving him clairvoyance gives him access to all the hurt in the world. I would love to see that. I would love to see his brain forcing him to care about people because in this particular regard he CAN 100% help.

Yes absolutely I think his possession powers will be explored further. I know this is a controversial subject, but I think the show took care to make it clear that is is awful and terrifying for him (however it was for Ben) and that it plays interestingly with his ability to summon and command spirits. It serves as a way to even the playing field, almost. He command them, they can take him over. That’s scary for everyone. I don’t think this is one and done at all.

4. I would LOVE to hear more about your thoughts on Hotel Oblivion's influence on TUA s3- disclaimer, I haven't read the comics (yet). (4/?)

YES OKAY. Based on my own personal desires and my knowledge of the comics (Sparrows locked up) and also the Sparrow crest, I think s3 is going to include at least some of Team Zero locked in the hotel. It could EASILY be all of them, but I could see Reg deciding to keep Five, and even Vanya. This would be interesting because it allows Five to age, allows Five to rest, allows Vanya to see the horrors of actually BEING on a super hero team, and requires 1-4 to save themselves, and in my IDEAL world, save Five from Reg, as well. It would be so fun to watch 1-4 escape the hotel and rescue Five. IMO the hotel is going to be the best if it is treated as a piece of horror. Not something they can understand, something simultaneously enticing and hostile, and something that they have to fight their individual Bullshits to escape. Whoever is in it. I think that would be beautiful.

5. How would you like to see Klaus' character develop this season? Seeing as s2 has left him unprecedentedly broken, I think this will lead to an AMAZING pay off in s3, esp when it comes to him being without Ben. His powers have so much potential (even w/o the comic book expansion pack) but they have all have come back to Ben's help. This is true of his choices too- Ben is constantly supporting/criticizing him. I'm so excited to see him alone and newly independent. (5/?)

YES SO MUCH. We watch Klaus shatter and regress completely in s2. I know a lot of people feel he wasn’t treated with respect by the narrative, and I respect that, but my general thinking is that this is a part of the whole, and everything we saw of him is in line with a) intense hurt b) the act he puts on. I think that Klaus shattered in s2. He killed the love of his life, he relapsed, and he did his best to make sure nobody cares about him. Ben turned into more of a harmful figure in his life than ever before, and now he’s lost him completely, left with only guilt, resentment, and complicated feelings.

I think Klaus is going to actually have to DEAL with himself. He’s been able to deflect or hide or bury his hurt and his power and everything else. Like you said, he relied on Ben for a lot, and now it is only him. I think he is going to externalize the chaos he feels inside (and so does Sheehan), and I think he is going to have to confront who Klaus REALLY is, whatever that means. I think he will admit he is powerful, he is hurt, and he is angry. Ultimately, I think this will lead to him with more balance, and he will have a better understanding of himself. But I think he MUST snap a bit first. Nobody takes him seriously, not even himself. He has to change that before he can move on.

6. How would you like to see Klaus' relationships with his siblings grow this season? I am wondering how him mourning Ben will be received by his siblings. I am also thinking a lot about whether him hitting rock bottom & truly alone for the first time will push him to be more vulnerable and open with his siblings OR if it'll be his breaking point where he shutters out everything he can, emotions and more OR a mix of both. (6/?)

This is a really good question. I’m not at all sure I have a definitive answer, but here I am typing anyway. I think the obvious setup of the first 2 seasons is that everyone thinks Klaus is fine, and that he can Manage, whatever that looks like. This includes Klaus. So my Most Fruitful Idea is to show that he isn’t fine, in a way he cannot hide. I feel like possession could be a good start to this, but so could him diminishing in his ability to respect ghosts, or many other things. Basically, I want the siblings to see through Klaus’s act. None of them, fucking none of them, ever have. He’s done his best to make that the case. I want the act to spread thin in s3, which I think is supported by how the act looks in s2, and I want the sibs to see through it finally, and I want it to be almost too late because he’s lost and angry and goddamn POWERFUL and he knows them in ways they have never known him.

Also, I like the idea of Klaus and Allison snapping together. They are the two who lack hope, the two who accept as a blanket the end of the world, the two who enable each other, and also the two who bonded with Vanya. Seeing them go down a dark path, and seeing Vanya recognize it and help them stray away from it? Amazing.

7. Any songs you would love to see in s3? (7/7) Sorry for the IMMENSE amount of questions, comments, and concerns, I have been pondering these things for weeks and since I always adore your tua content, I would love to hear your thoughts and any input from others!!

YES SO SO SO MUCH

I would love “Be True To Your School” by the Beach Boys because of the 60s and the irony factor. Any Bob Dylan song would send me to an early grave due to joy, but I’m gonna say especially “A Hard Rain’s A Gonna Fall” which is an incredible song about futility and trying and hurt. I also love the idea of ANY Masseduction by St. Vincent song, but I would especially nominate Masseduction, Young Lover, and Happy Birthday Johnny.

ALSO NO NO NO NEED TO APOLOGIZE AT ALL THIS WAS SOOOOOOOOOO FUN OH MY GOD do this any time (or come off anon and into my DMs I promise I’m friendly). Thank you so so much!!!

#The Umbrella Academy #Tua spoilers #klaus hargreeves #allison hargreeves #answered #FUCK

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isolaradiale · 5 years ago

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When the final wire was cut, the entire city went black. The power grid was not tied to the network, but the outage was NULL’s only shot at preventing Ofiuco’s retrieval after she fell from the sky. The entire city fell still for five minutes before power returned, but this light only served to illuminate the next phase. It wasn’t like GPU had been without a backup plan. If they didn’t have a way to leverage the arrest of the Stars, then at the very least they could throw a wrench in their operation.

However, the light of the moon and stars that shone down on the city in the dead of night was obscured by a sudden apparition. A floating island that existed beyond the flight limitations of the city obscured the view, almost the same size as the city itself and becoming a constant and looming darkness over the cityscape. It cast things into uncertainty, and all of the Shades remaining on the ground flocked up and into it... before a loud rumbling began.

The island suddenly dropped and it inevitably looked as if it was about to crash into the city itself before stopping in a convenient location: just below the maximum flight limit. Beams of light soon extended from all around the floating island’s perimeter to Spirale below, their uses initially unclear.

That was, until, people began to step out of them. These weren’t NPCs nor agents, their ranks instead populated by the monstrous and the villainous. Enemies and rivals gathered from the worlds the characters had all been taken from, their sights set on razing the city. Chaos immediately unfolded where they landed, structures and people alike targeted while some of these foes sought conflict with their greatest nemesis.

LISTEN TO ME PEOPLE OF THIS ISLAND CITY.

If it was a device capable of receiving a signal, this distorted voice boomed over it. Many believed the speaker to be an enemy at first, probably one of the agents that had turned their world into disarray. Thankfully that wasn’t the case.

I AM AN EX-MEMBER OF THE GPU AND BOTH MYSELF AND ONE OTHER HAVE BEEN WORKING WITH YOUR ISLAND STARS FROM WITHIN THE ORGANIZATION FOR THE LAST SEVERAL DAYS. GPU WILL DESTROY YOU REGARDLESS OF WHETHER THE STARS TURN THEMSELVES IN OR NOT, AND BY THE TIME THE MAINTENANCE DROID IS ABLE TO CONVEY THIS MESSAGE TO YOU THE PROCESS MIGHT HAVE ALREADY BEGUN.

YOU AREN’T DREAMING. THE ENEMIES THAT HAVE LIKELY POURED OUT OF THAT FLYING STRUCTURE ARE ALL VERY REAL AND VERY POWERFUL. SOME OF YOU MIGHT RECOGNIZE THEM BECAUSE THEY WALK, TALK, OR GROWL LIKE FOES YOU’VE ENCOUNTERED IN YOUR OWN WORLDS. DON’T BE FOOLED, THEY ARE IMITATIONS MADE COMPLETELY UNDER THEIR CONTROL. HOWEVER THEY ARE VERY DANGEROUS, AND POSSESS THE FULL RANGE OF ABILITIES YOU KNOW THEM TO.

MY PARTNER IN THIS ENDEAVOR TOLD ME THEY’LL BE MAKING SURE THE ISLAND IS LOWERED ENOUGH THAT IT CAN BE REACHED, AND WE’LL ENSURE THE LIGHT LIFTS CAN BRING THOSE WITHOUT WINGS TO THE SURFACE. IF YOU WISH TO KEEP ON LIVING YOU NEED TO NOT ONLY PROTECT YOUR CITY, BUT BRING THE FIGHT TO THEM AS WELL.

Whether these words inspired or not depended on the listener, but there was no denying the immediate threat of the invading force as well as the personal nature of some of these opponents.

“To those ends, a gift!” This time the speaking voice was a familiar one as a dot of pink light zipped up from the depths of the hole, a familiar android plastered across every screen in the city. This time though her eyes weren’t red. A wave of light reverberated across the city from the flapping of Ofiuco’s wings, granting all it touched their weapons and abilities back for the time being. “Don’t forget there are people from the city itself still working with NULL. I know this is all hard to understand. You don’t know why you’re fighting nor do you know what you’re fighting.”

She exhaled before looking at the floating island above. “I guess there will be some explaining to do when all is said and done, but go! You need to reclaim the starry sky!”

INFORMATION

Welcome to part 2 of Security Breach! There’s a lot to cover here so we’ll try to be as specific as possible. But as always if you have a question don’t be afraid to send it to the ml!

What has happened? With the network shut down thanks to all the cut wires, NULL has wordlessly moved into their backup plan: completely razing the city from within.

To those ends they have summoned a floating island that eclipses the city, and from it enemies pour down from both the top and the light elevators that extend to the city from the floating island’s surface.

These are not normal enemies however. They are villains and monsters from the worlds of your muses (more information including guidelines in the FAQ section). While they walk, talk, and hit as hard as the real things, they are completely under NULL’s control and share their goals.

This is a grand battle that will be fought on two stages: on the island below and flying structure above.

Ofiuco has granted everyone their powers and abilities back, but is also enforcing a cap so the enemy forces can’t use game breaking powers. Since this is universal it will also affect the characters within the group (more information in the FAQ section).

For those that are powerless: you will be able to access your Fantasia avatars via the Spirale Alternate World Life app. This feature will be removed at the end of the event, and it will not work for characters that already have powers.

We will be running this poll until 12:01AM EST on May 1st. Based on the results the story and aftermath of the event will change.

FAQ

Everyone’s powers are unlocked but are there limitations like in part 1? Yes there are! Abilities used must be tier 6 or higher by vsbattlewiki standards. Obviously these could easily destroy an island, but while structures can be destroyed the island Spirale is on and the island in the sky are both impervious to damage from these attacks. If your character possesses an ability that exceeds this ranking you can tone it down, but some things are strictly off limits like conceptual abilities in certain instances (conjuring items or allies en masse, erasing existences, etc are not allowed). These guidelines are consistent between both sides so as not to break the world.

What’s this about Fantasia and the Spirale Alternate World Life app? Last summer we held an event called the Fantasia War where characters were placed in a fantasy setting with fantasy avatars. At the event’s conclusion we made Fantasia into an MMO game that can be accessed in the Intraspace, and everyone’s avatars have been preserved there. The SAWL app is an app we introduced to allow MMO characters (like from SAO) to be able to switch between their normal and game forms at will, and it is having its functionality temporarily boosted to let people use their Fantasia avatars, including the attached powers, during the event. This app will not show up for anyone that has powers of their own.

If your character was not present during Fantasia you can still create your own avatar! You can still find the list of available races here and list of available spells here.

Villains and enemies are pouring out of the flying island? What does this entail? Essentially what it sounds like. You will have the unique opportunity to bring in villains, monsters, or machines as agents of NULL. They will act as they would in canon, but are dedicated to their cause of destroying the city and killing off its citizens. There are, of course, limitations:

only one boss-tier enemy per mun per series can be brought in. you can bring in as many trash mobs (generic monsters, grunts, etc.) as you want, but you can only choose one powerful opponent. you can just say what kind of mobs might be running around for others to deal with in their threads, but the boss-tier foe must be controlled by you.

boss-tier enemies can be sentient, but they don’t have to be. if you want to bring in things like giant machines that are piloted by grunts, these still count as boss-tiers however.

you cannot bring in an enemy that exists on the masterlist

enemies, including boss-types, can be overlapped throughout a cast to avoid the possibility of someone claiming a boss just to deny other cast members from interacting with them. however do not have these duplicates interact / in the same thread.

The best way to keep this in order would be to make a post introducing the kinds of trash mobs you’d see running around as well as the boss-type you plan on controlling. People can then use the mobs in their threads if they choose, or approach you to interact with the boss. Likewise, you can keep the boss for more personal threads or drabbles. It’s really up to you!

I don’t really have any enemies in my series and I’m not comfortable using mobs from others. Are there any other options for what I can fight? Yes! The Shades are still around, as are a plethora of generic fantasy monsters for you to fight!

Are the weather conditions from part 1 still ongoing? No, those have come to a halt! However the island above blocks all of the weather in general.

Speaking of the floating island. We can go to the top, right? What’s up there? To put it simply: it’s a mess. Whether NULL had difficulty importing code or if it was just a big error, assets from every series imaginable compose the landscape. Maybe you’d see a building from BLEACH, but then one from Naruto right beside it. Some assets have even been merged together. Pieces of it glitch out and redesign constantly, so it’s almost a depressing mockery of Spirale in a way. There are hills and rivers too, but even those are constantly shifting position.

While tons of enemies have poured onto the streets of Spirale, there are plenty waiting on standby atop the flying island. To go it alone would be a terrible idea.

Can we destroy the flying island itself? No! You can destroy the structures on top but new things will eventually sprout up in their place. The ground and undersides seem to be protected by an impenetrable barrier. But even if you could, do you really want it crashing onto the city below?

Where should we put big, newsworthy posts during this event? Please use the tag ‘#isola sb2 news’ as opposed to the regular ‘#isola news’ tag during this part of the event. We anticipate a lot of people are going to want to do cool and interesting things that they want everyone to see so we want you guys to have a space for this, but we also do not want to clutter the regular news tag.

I have an additional question! Feel free to send it to the masterlist! Due to the nature of this part and all of the potential moving pieces we’re sure people may have questions or concerns that haven’t been covered.

When is part 2 expected to end? A week from now on May 1st at 12:00:01AM EST. We’ll likely be polling around the middle of the week to see if people would like an extension however!

#isola event #isola event: security breach pt2

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jjunishi · 5 years ago

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Choice

Kakegurui au (since I haven't seen any)

Prompt: In a school run entirely by gambling ability, Katsuki Bakugou is the self-proclaimed king and everyone who challenges him is unlikely to meet a very good outcome.

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x fem. reader

Rating: idEk what this is but there’s implied sexy things (characters are aged up)

Words: 3,234

Part two? Would anyone want that tho??

It was one of the largest come-ups that Japan has ever seen. Incredible how an unknown family name suddenly became one of the best known and perhaps even infamous names seemingly overnight. The media painted the family out to be one of mystery but with an evident stench of new money, cold hard cash. Overnight, they had one of the largest net worth’s that Japan has ever seen, it was borderline terrifying the power they had. Consequentially, when the only child of the family was enrolled into Hyakkaou Private Academy, it was hardly to the surprise of anyone.

She was the ever so gentle daughter, greatly treasured as the only heir that would inherit the empire. Just as she brushed by the gates of the school, people instantly knew who she was, whether it was for the fame or the controversy. The girl wore a soft smile, beautiful as the rest of her, it was enough to brush off the look she had in her eyes. She fed off of the power and knew how it all worked. Manipulation and people skills were her specialties and the idea of being underestimated only excited her.

Katsuki Bakugou was the self-declared leader of the school, he was the show-man of that entire shit show of a school. Of course, the student council president was the official power of the school but Bakugou had much greater power and influence over the student body than the president ever did. Evidently having such a powerful body among the civil students without being a member of the council was unheard of and so a high position on the council was offered to him but was almost instantly refused. Bakugou thought it was a tacky attempt to control him, caging him in and preventing him from growing any bigger- for the council to control him with their own rules. The idea made Bakugou sick as he thrived in the anarchy that he was otherwise creating, he fed off of the chaos, unpredictability, and the overall fragile state of the system because wasn’t that the exact mirror of a good gamble? Bakugou wanted the fear, he liked the way he was looked at whenever he entered the room, he liked being the obeyed master of his many house pets, he liked knowing that he was truly on top. Most importantly, however, he hated anyone who dared to challenge him- Afterall, nobody was of worth to him.

“You’re the heir of that rich family, aren’t you?”

“You’re so pretty!”

“I love the way you do your hair-“

“Want to get desserts later-“

The questions flooded y/n just as she was introduced. She only countered with a soft smile, trying her best to keep up with each question, trying her best to be nice to everyone even though her reputation was already long solidified in that school.

She knew exactly what being in the school entailed and how the system worked- why else would she choose this school over others? Her family loved the thrill and the gene was clearly passed down to her.

“The fuck do you think you are”

The room instantly went silent as a deep aura filled the room and the classroom door was slammed shut. Again, Bakugou’s house pets were as obedient as always.

The girl looked up with questioning innocence as the sea of bodies that once crowded her was suddenly split due just to the voice of the male. Her eyes gleamed as he had clearly caught her attention. So this was the leader- well, more so the rebel. She only sent him an innocent look as she was sure to quickly introduce herself, yet, she didn’t even do so much as stand up to bow to him. Rude, but she knew it would be a bomb to his ego. Bakugou was annoyed by such petty behaviour but he couldn’t lie to himself and say he wasn’t entertained. As a scowl spread over his face, he hissed and grabbed the closest chair to him, flipping it around and setting it down to sit in front of her and backwards on the chair with his hands gripping it. He bit the inside of his cheek as he mustered the best grin he could. Why scare her away this early? She would clearly make a nice little house pet for him, probably a good footrest.

“Listen here, big eyes- “

Weird nickname.

“-I’m sure you already know how this school works. I see you even had a chance to gamble with that dumb Deku, hm?” Bakugou said in the nicest tone he could. It came out as a grumble instead.

“Oh yes! Izuku was quite the opponent, I had a good gamble!”

Good gamble? She wrung him dry of 20 million yen in just three sets.

Having knowledge of this, Bakugou wasn’t certain whether he should go ahead and shamelessly taunt Izuku for his losses or feel annoyance in the innocent way the girl infront of him was speaking. Was she in no way intimidated by him? Was she underestimating him?

“Close the blinds.” He growled out to the students wearing the tags that were crowded behind him, all instantly obeying with the notion of what would be happening next. The room was black under some dim lights came on, lighting up just the table infront of them.

“Oh, I see! You want to play a game, hm? You could have just said!” Her voice was sweet enough to cause a cavity, playing it all up simply because she knew the effect it had on him, observing from the little time she has known him that he really was a ticking bomb, it only took time and she was going to use it for her advantage.

“Shut up, you idiot, call it for what it is. A fucking gamble.” He spoke with his tone gradually increasing in volume. He flipped his chair around to face her. After all, having the back of the seat against his chest would imply a form of cheating when it came to card games and Bakugou got his ego fed the most by games won with an even gamble.

“Choice poker. Every heard of it, dumbass?” His eyebrows furrowed together tightly in a scowl as a new deck of cards was placed onto the shared desk. Of course, he would pick his favourite game to gamble on.

“I assume it’s like poker…but with a choice” She teased him, propping her elbows onto the desk and placing her chin on her hands. Bakugou had to keep from lashing out then and there- because after all, what did he have to worry about? No way was a little extra going to beat him in a gamble that he pulled all of his house pets in with, it was only a matter of patients before he could laugh in her face and claim the victory (and cash) that he has grown so addicted to.

“Choice poker? I don’t think I’ve ever played; do you care to explain the rules?” She spoke in a soft voice as she tilted her head to the side in curiosity, a soft expression on her face, not even betting on an unfamiliar game seemed to scare her. But of course, she knew the game, she was just using this as a spare chance to analyse him, since the order and tone he describes the rules would stress what he views to be most and least important. What rules a player deems more crucial can definitely reflect the approach they would most likely be taking.

Bakugou let out a tsk of air, annoyed but what more would he expect.

“Fine. Listen well since I’ll only say it once, try and get it through that thick skull of yours.”

He pointed to a member of the crowd of people, “He’ll play the role of the dealer-“. Bakugou was cut off by the female in front of him.

“But that can hardly be fair, a biased dealer isn’t it?”

She earned a smirk and a scoff.

“Of course, I wouldn’t stoop so low as to have such an obvious cheat”

He was an honest player but bluffing and causing uncertainty in his opponent was his best and only cheat.

A voice spoke from the corner of the room, “I will deal”.

It was Shouto Todoroki. He wasn’t a house pet, nor was he interested in gambling his money away, he just respected an artful gamble between two opponents, careful to avoid cheats. He was a dealer that was trusted by the student council and so the rate of turning down Todoroki’s request to deal were very low if an unbiased gamble was that of the objective.

“Perfect, half and half will deal, is that to your shitty standards?” Bakugou leaned forward in his seat with a testing expression. The response he received from her was a satisfied smile and quick nod, “Yes indeed! I know he is a diligent dealer”.

That was among one of the many things she knew.

With a huff and the roll of his eyes, Bakugou proceeded to explain the rules.

Todoroki shuffled the cards.

“It has the same basic rules as common poker, five of a kind are the strongest hand and high card are the weakest hand. The joker is obviously incorporated and is strongest in place of the ace, we play with all 52 cards. But what makes this game interesting isn’t that the strongest hand doesn’t necessarily indicate the winner. The lower hand can win depending on the choosing of the highest better. So, it’s all a game of choice…and how much money you can bet. Oh and you can only exchange your cards once.”

Interesting that he mentioned this last. Rules usually lay this out first but Bakugou is indeed searching for chaos and chance, it’s a game that perfectly mirrored him as an individual. Y/n was sure not to let this bit of information slip.

“Seeing as you robbed Deku of 20 million- I don’t blame you, that idiot wouldn’t know better even if it hit him in the face- and you have that sweet new money, I’m sure you wouldn’t care if we started with 1 million yen chips?” His scarlet eyes gleamed as he twisted a chip in between his fingers.

“Sound’s brilliant! I’ll request 100 million’s worth!”, she chimed in shamelessly.

If Bakugou wasn’t certain in his skills and the fortunes he acquired from his house pets, he would have been irritated. Now he just knew that she really was worthy of becoming his footrest.

A loud laugh fell from his lips,

“I like the way you play, big eyes!”

Still a weird fucking nickname.

“I’ll mirror your 100 million yen”, he wasn’t worried about it, it was pocket change.

The chips were placed on the table and Todoroki has commenced with distributing the cards.

“I’ll bet just 10 million. I’m a gentleman after all.” Bakugou pushed the ten chips forward as he knew y/n would raise by at least 1 million yen, he gave her a smaller risk. It was her first round after all.

She did exactly as he expected and placed down the million. “Does that mean I can choose?”

“Sure does, dumbass”

She made the choice of betting on a stronger hand.

As the two placed their cards down, it was clear that both had bad hands.

However, y/n was gifted with an ace and so she won the set.

“Impressive, lady luck is on your side today”, Bakugou teased. He knew she would win the hand, he scarified it to see if she had a few tells he could pick up on, whether her face contorted in a certain way depending on the hand she was given. No tells. This was an annoyance to him but he viewed it as a mild inconvenience for a greater win.

Todoroki dealt the second hand and Bakugou was quick to exchange a set of queens.

“Wow, that’s quite the bold move, Katsuki, are you going for a weak hand?”

Now her tone was different. It wasn’t sweet, it was now a venom on her tongue. What made Bakugou cringe was his name coming off of her lips. He never introduced himself and now it became evident that she knew more than he thought she did.

She was done playing games.

“Or are you perhaps making me think you are? What are you hiding there? I bet it’s a pair of kings…maybe the joker, you seemed to like that card quite a bit” she set her cards down on the table as she pushed in all of her chips.

“Raise 1 million yen!”

Why was she betting like this on a hand she potentially figured out? Why wasn’t she going all in? Bakugou was actually starting to fell uncertainty because he was unable to understand her nor her motives. She knew his move, but she also knew he could easily out bet her even if she did have the upper hand from having one the last hand.

“Raise 70 million.” Bakugou was becoming jaded with his hand, all he could do is out bet her in that moment. But that also appeared to be what she was trying to make him do…unless she certainly either had a set of twos or knew that he didn’t really have the joker. She was bluffing.

“I guess I’ll have to call, I’m not ready to go all in yet”, she spoke with such a slickness in her voice, it was eerie, but it got Bakugou going even more than he already was.

“I bet on a stronger hand’, that seemed to be the best choice for him at that very moment, she did spend more time focusing on the likelihood that he would bet on a weaker hand after all.

“Please show your hands”, said Todoroki as he motioned to the desk on which they were playing.

Of course, Babkugou was right. He won the hand easily with the pair of fours.

But his heart still raced. She had a terrible hand dealt to her; she was doomed to lose either way so why would she try to out bet him knowing that both of her predicted outcomes out have led to her downfall.

“I guess this hand goes to you! Well played, Katsuki!”

He scowled at the name that left her lips. How dare she talk to him with such informality, he was clearly on a higher rank than she as and he was also winning their gamble.

But this wasn’t an attempt to annoy him nor was she trying to be rude, she was hinting at the fact that she already had him figured out and all it took was the play of two hands.

She had full control over the outcome of the game, having completely taken it from Bakugou. In her eyes, this was an absolute win because they weren’t playing for the heaps of cash they were betting on, but dominance and their own pride.

The final hand was commenced, cards were shuffled and distributed. Without even looking at her hand, she pushed fourth all of the remaining chips she had.

“I raise 40 million yen”, her voice was a lot darker than the sweet voice he heard addressing him at the time of his very arrival into the room. Her voice was as sweet as candy, but it wasn’t real cherry, just a chemical imitation but nonetheless addictive.

“You Idiot!”, he cried out a laugh, “you’re either one bold bitch or just completely insane!”

Bakugou pushed all of his chips in as well. He had the choice since there was nothing left to bet.

This was finally when y/n decided to look at her cards. Her expression was indifferent from the rest. Babkugou was at a complete loss. Although he had the advantage in choosing the winning hand, his option wasn’t any easier now. He had a straight flush of high cards, the odds were entirely in his favour and all he had to do was choose a strong hand.

“what’s wrong, Katsuki…you have a clear decision infront of you…”

She was suddenly standing up from her seat and slowly dragging her fingers over the desk, a few chips knocked from their nearly stacked towers.

She circled until she stood behind him. Her breath was hot against the back of his neck as her plush chest pressed between his shoulder blades.

“What’s wrong…aren’t you going to bet on the strong hand? That seems to be your preferred winning. With a strong hand isn’t it? That’s your style…twisting up your opponent and making them think that the cards dictate your choice- but you love the control…you love to be on top and mysterious, while having all of these ‘extras’ figured out from front to back…So, why are you hesitating now?”

Bakugou’s throat was dry. She had him completely figured out.

“You seem a little hot under the collar, darling…is everything alright?” she whispered against his ear, her fingers travelling along his shoulders before she gently unbuttoned the top button of his shirt…then the second…stopped after doing the third.

He was entertained, after all, she was one of the only opponents to make him feel this way and to come so close.

But the win was his.

So why was he in doubt?

“Come on… show me my fate…am I yours to play with? Or are you mine?”

“Stronger fucking hand!”, his rage and hotheadedness spilled over in that moment as he tossed his cards onto the table. It was a perfect hand, he had the joker too.

The girl behind him kept her calm and slowly revealed her cards only to him.

She had a shitty hand again. But if he chose to choose a weak hand, she would have lost without doubt.

“I guess that’s it”, that was the last thing she whispered to him before she slid back into her seat.

“You fucking house pet!”, he cried out, his eyes a blood red as a wide grin spread across his face. Now he was the one standing. “Unless you can pay up, where’s my 200 million?”

It was no question that she had the money, she just wanted to lie, entertain herself and use the rules of the school to her own advantage. Not a surprise, since this type of manipulation was how her family rose to the top so quickly. She was the heir all in all and he was a pawn in her game.

But he was also one in his.

Unknown to the both of them, a mutual relationship of advantages and pleasure was birthed in that room at the cost of those 200 million yen.

“I don’t have it-“

This threw Bakugou in a fit of laugher. It was a lot better winning out of uncertainty, this was the type of gamble he came to be addicted to.

“What will you do? Tie me up? Walk me on a leash like a good kitten? Strip poker maybe? We could even play Russian roulette!”

She was mocking him but little did she knew that his true ideas went above and beyond.

“That’s for me to know and for you to find out…What happens to you is up to me to decide… You’re mine now, kitten….and it only cost me a game of choice.”

Okay so this was my first lil dabble thing, I have plans to continue it but it all depends on the feedback! Please leave a comment on what you liked and what wasn’t that great, constructive criticism is greatly appreciated!

I own none of the right to the characters or plots mentioned.

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themasterofcider · 6 years ago

Text

Reasons to Ship Markus & North (Marth/Norkus) 03.2

They’re Attached at the Hip (CONT)

The aftermath of the march sees the Jericho advisors giving council to Markus about what happened. When Robo Jesus makes his decision on their next move two of the four leave the room. North and Markus are once again alone. This gives him a chance to let his guard down and confess what's really on his mind. Something he doesn't do when the whole squad is in the room. He's more leader-like when they're together. With North, he is less so. In relaxing himself he becomes more ordinary, more human. He has to really feel safe around her to do this. North gives him comfort and validation by attesting that it didn't matter what he did or what the outcome was. It gave everyone - including her - hope. We know this woman isn't one to mince her words or say things just to appease people. She believes in him with everything she has. There's some talk about a bomb, but that quickly shifts into another tender moment between the two. North admits that she's happy they met. It's not surprising. She's been by his side since he got to Jericho, and she's still there. If that wasn't enough they do their memory sharing hand touch. Notice this time North doesn't seem anxious and stays right with him. She's obviously liked him for a while, but this is a testament to how much more comfortable she is around Markus now. She trusts him and is okay with trusting him. As well as him knowing her most intimate memories. This is relationship growth. He goes in to kiss her, (IF YOU DIDN'T KISS MY QUEEN YOU ARE A HERETIC) and she stays there perfectly content with him. Given her background this is really important. Especially if you had kissed her earlier and pissed her off. She goes from not wanting you to touch her again to forgiving you and being comfortable kissing you. I'm pointing this out for the sake of people who say this relationship was static and forced. Those opinions are inaccurate. Somehow North manages to pull herself away from Markus to let him do leader things, but not before turning back and letting him know she doesn't want to lose him. Based on body language it seems like she doesn't really want to leave his side. She's worried about what could happen if she's not there with him, but she tears away to get back to doing whatever being a war leader entails.

Then the ship gets attacked. During the chaos Markus runs into (of course) North first. He gives his commands, tells everyone his plan, and the group breaks apart. Markus goes his own way, while North and Connor go the other. Not without North hesitating, clearly worried about what may happen to Markus. When the five (Markus, Connor, North, Simon, and Josh) regroup North gets shot and falls. Markus rushes in to save her, and the two take out the soldiers immediately behind them. Then he uses himself as a crutch to get her away from danger while Connor protects them. After this everyone jumps to safety.

Now we're in the church. It's not a particularly long scene, but it's very sweet. Markus goes around to check on all of his friends, who agree to support him no matter what. When he approaches North he asks if she's okay. Like he's done before. They talk about everything from why he saved her to the situation with the rest of their people, and North admits that she loves him. He doesn't verbalize it, but he holds her hand and uses their connection to (what I believe) express to same thing. There's a lot of good body language between the two in the latter half of the game. It may seem weird to examine people that don't technically exist, but you have to think of the devs. They didn't make these characters stand or turn for no reason. There has to have been a purpose to it. That's why I think it's worth mentioning.

From here on is the conclusion of the game. There are so many ways this can go, and forgetting to push a button can totally change the outcome. I'm going to do my best to cover the ending and get all the major points. I'll probably miss some details, since I've never been truly pacifist and never screwed up bad enough to botch the revolution entirely. Let's get to it.

During the successful revolution route we begin with Markus leading the charge to liberate his people from a concentration camp. Taking out the first few soldiers, he jabs his flag down before making a brief pause. We see him steal a glance back at North, who is just a few steps from flanking him. Bear in mind, Simon and Josh are both still alive at this point, and neither of them are chosen to stand near Markus. It's North and some random android. They do join his side later, but the obvious intention is to give his relationship with North priority. She's also the only one of the three advisors to speak before the second attack. A line that Markus parrots back, mind you. The big four lead the charge, then swiftly duck behind a barrier to protect themselves from a flurry of gunfire. North is naturally to Markus' left. It's cute, but kinda funny at this point. They're in the middle of battle and they have to be near each other. If they weren't such good leaders I'd hope someone reminded them that they can't always keep fighting like they're glued together. Not that I'd mind as a shipper, but this is a war now. The battle wages on, and I unfortunately lose Simon and Josh at this point. (As a side note is there any way to not get the shit shot out of Josh in the revolution ending? I feel like I saved Simon my first playthrough, but Josh always dies.) Meaning he has no choice but to regroup with North now. I'm hoping this doesn't weaken any future points. Using a (I think) rocket launcher Markus ends the clash, and North approaches him happy that her people are free. In the meantime, Connor has liberated the androids from the Cyberlife tower and rejoined Markus. North is standing behind him. Our lord and android savior steps forward to examine his new charges, and North walks closer once again talking about freedom. She then says that the others want him to speak to them, but he doesn't do that right away. In one of those rare moments where he prioritizes his own emotional needs first, he focuses on North. He connects their hands, takes his lady in his arms, kisses her, and doesn't let her go. He then makes a speech with North standing behind him smiling brighter than she ever has before.

I know the next few pictures aren't from the scenes I'm talking about, but I don't have gameplay of those. Enjoy the random Marth/Norkus moments!

The successful protest ending sees the androids marching towards the camp. Markus is once again in the lead with his advisors flanking him. North is directly at his side again. Even when the humans surround them with tanks she refuses to move. The humans shoot as they approach, but Markus persuades them to hold off for a moment. During this respite North talks to him about what to do. This is a conversation that could've been given to one of the other generals, but the writers saw fit to have North be the one to talk about it with him. As I've mentioned before, we really need to look closer at these moments where the devs could have chosen someone else but stuck with North. It's pretty telling who they were trying to get you to want him to be with. Going on, team Markus has built a barricade to protect themselves from the humans. Once they're done he confides in North about the hollowness of the situation, and she is right there to lend her support once again. North tells him she - and everyone else - trust him, because he's their hope. This is a really nice moment as we know North would rather be fighting instead of marching. She doesn't jeer at him for not doing it her way as he wonders if this was the best choice. She wants him to stick to his convictions even if they're different from hers, because she believes in him and wants to give him confidence. How many times have you seen either friends or couples argue with each other because one of the parties didn't do something the way the other wanted when they (1) voiced their doubts about it or (2) it didn't turn out well. North doesn't go "well this wouldn't have happened if you did it my way." She, as the selfless, good girlfriend she is would never do that to him. She's completely supportive and totally on his side. Briefly touching back on trust, North has to trust this man completely to even attempt this. She is helping her people in a way that definitely isn't her first choice with a high chance that the humans (the species that assaulted her) will kill her without her truly fighting back. Knowing where she came from, this is a major deal. She trusts that under Markus' leadership the androids will win. From behind the barricade North sees Perkins approach, and she calls Markus over. Stepping forward he (yet again) is beside North to see what's going on. He offers a chance at negotiation. Should you accept, Perkins and Markus talk about what will happen to his people. Seeing his initial offer not working, Perkins sweetens the deal. He uses North as leverage. Not Simon, not Josh, not even Markus himself. This man, who doesn't believe androids are equal to humans and who probably doubts that they have feelings is able to pick up on the fact that Marth/Norkus have a connection. That's impressive. When I first saw North I thought she was pretty and jokingly hoped that Markus could get with her, but never expected it to actually happen. The point is what took me several scenes to imagine the possibility of took Perkins two. In the game's universe these two must be even more painfully obvious than even us shippers assume. The special agent uses North's life and her safety as a way to goad the android leader into surrendering. We all know North wouldn't want him to take that deal, and I don't think Markus would take it either. That being said I believe Jesus Bot would at least consider it, and it's pretty obvious he does. From the way he looks down, to the camera focusing on North gazing worriedly, to getting the option in the first place. Even when we look back to earlier in the game such as the vandalism in the park and during the Jericho attack we see instances of Markus prioritizing North above some of his people. There's a lot of emphasis in the fandom on how Markus' death influences the revolution, but not about the power of North's life. To steal a quote from Outlast 2 "they always hurt women to punish men." It's very fitting here. I'll be honest when I say the ending of this game isn't really my favorite thing in the world, but I'll give it some credit after writing this. There's pretty good character depth here as well as plenty of motivation to ponder. Should you deny the offer, or refuse to speak the agent orders the humans to attack and back the androids into a corner. You have several options here. They are to kiss North (the correct one), use the dirty bomb, sacrifice yourself, or sing. I'm going to omit two of them as I don't count sacrifice as a success (also since Markus is dead he can't be in the same scene as North), and that I don't believe the nuclear Ending has any moments between them, but I could be wrong. If you sing, North (who is beside you AGAIN) is the first to join in. Markus turns and gives her a little smile, and she looks at him hopefully as the other androids add their voices to the night. Finally we have the kiss. With death staring them in the face, Markus decides to take the chance to kiss North for what may be the last time. If God Droid is to die he's gonna get some love from his woman before he goes, and I'd do the same thing. They even do their signature hand touch. It's so damn adorable. The last thing they want to do in their life is share memories of their pasts and each other. Luckily this is the successful route, and they get to live on for their people. The ending to this and the revolution are very similar, just some different words.

If you are unsuccessful the outcomes are extremely painful. Should you accept Perkins' offer of surrender, you get to see the other androids rounded up while Marth/Norkus watch on. North is clearly experiencing disappointment, fury, sadness, and confusion. So much so that she won't even let Markus touch her. From what she says I don't think she even knew why he made that choice. If she found out I can imagine she'd be even more enraged than she was. We know she doesn't value herself more than her people. She wouldn't ever forgive Markus for doing something like this. Thinking about it now, this is as much a break up scene as it is a defeat. The reason this is important is that it goes back to the previous paragraph about the weight of North's life to Markus and the fact that the devs put so much importance on this relationship that we don't even get to see a reaction from Markus' other friends beyond their relationship meters tanking. Of course Perkins was a lying shithead and kills them. Meaning they died as angry, purposeless casualties. For the failed revolution, Markus gets wounded. Seeing this, North's first reaction is to offer her heart. We have to decide if we want to let him die, or if we want to sacrifice North to save him. If you, the player choose to die they press their palms together, Markus tells North he loves her, and they have a final kiss. She cries and closes his eyes. I've said it before, but I think it'd be extremely out of character for him to ask her to die, thus enabling him to live. The game even proves this, since he gets killed immediately after. I like that. The narrative itself is telling you not to be a selfish coward, and that North is an important character. Likewise I see the reverse being true as well. Though if you do choose to sacrifice North, they do their memory sharing touch, North says her heart is beating inside his chest, they kiss, and she shuts down. Like she does to him, he closes her eyes and lays her body down. It sucks to see our heroes fall, but in a weird way it's beautiful too. These characters love each other so much they'll die for each without a second thought. Even the script is perfectly written here to make you feel every single emotion. I know Simon gets this scene too, but only if North is dead. That in itself is pretty telling.

Whew! It's finally done. That took me a while, but I'm pretty happy with it. This post deviated (heh heh) in some spots from just mentioning the moments they were together to analyzing them, though I don't think that's a bad thing. Doing this reaffirmed my opinion that they are the best romantic options for each other, but you don't have to agree. I just found it fascinating how many moments they actually had. Not just that, but the sheer amount you can actually talk about insane. It's crazy how much time and subtlety this couple actually had. At some points I dare say I wished they had less, because there was so much to write. I was also left wondering how they weren't tired of being around each other. I know it had only been a few days, but they spent damn near every minute together. These two have to be beyond close (which they are) to not be sick of all the interaction. I know I would be, but I'm definitely a person who likes their alone time. Unless it's just an android thing, but I highly doubt that. The writing for these two isn't perfect, but it's not as bad as a lot of people make it out to be. I do think all the Jericho advisors should've been romance options as Markus was the only character to have an arc this focused on that type of relationship. I even wish some parts about Marth/Norkus were smoothed out, and more discussions had before they became an actual couple, but they're not the worst written pairing in existence. Far from it. Ship who you want, but don't act like this couple got no substance or time, as that's blatantly untrue.

#otp #marth #norkus #reasons to ship marth #reasons to ship norkus #markus x north #north x markus #detroit become human #Detroit: BH #d:bh #dbh #dbh markus #dbh north

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catalogado · 6 years ago

Link

David Graeber

Are You An Anarchist? The Answer May Surprise You!

Chances are you have already heard something about who anarchists are and what they are supposed to believe. Chances are almost everything you have heard is nonsense. Many people seem to think that anarchists are proponents of violence, chaos, and destruction, that they are against all forms of order and organization, or that they are crazed nihilists who just want to blow everything up. In reality, nothing could be further from the truth. Anarchists are simply people who believe human beings are capable of behaving in a reasonable fashion without having to be forced to. It is really a very simple notion. But it’s one that the rich and powerful have always found extremely dangerous.

At their very simplest, anarchist beliefs turn on to two elementary assumptions. The first is that human beings are, under ordinary circumstances, about as reasonable and decent as they are allowed to be, and can organize themselves and their communities without needing to be told how. The second is that power corrupts. Most of all, anarchism is just a matter of having the courage to take the simple principles of common decency that we all live by, and to follow them through to their logical conclusions. Odd though this may seem, in most important ways you are probably already an anarchist — you just don’t realize it.

Let’s start by taking a few examples from everyday life.

If there’s a line to get on a crowded bus, do you wait your turn and refrain from elbowing your way past others even in the absence of police?

If you answered “yes”, then you are used to acting like an anarchist! The most basic anarchist principle is self-organization: the assumption that human beings do not need to be threatened with prosecution in order to be able to come to reasonable understandings with each other, or to treat each other with dignity and respect.

Everyone believes they are capable of behaving reasonably themselves. If they think laws and police are necessary, it is only because they don’t believe that other people are. But if you think about it, don’t those people all feel exactly the same way about you? Anarchists argue that almost all the anti-social behavior which makes us think it’s necessary to have armies, police, prisons, and governments to control our lives, is actually caused by the systematic inequalities and injustice those armies, police, prisons and governments make possible. It’s all a vicious circle. If people are used to being treated like their opinions do not matter, they are likely to become angry and cynical, even violent — which of course makes it easy for those in power to say that their opinions do not matter. Once they understand that their opinions really do matter just as much as anyone else’s, they tend to become remarkably understanding. To cut a long story short: anarchists believe that for the most part it is power itself, and the effects of power, that make people stupid and irresponsible.

Are you a member of a club or sports team or any other voluntary organization where decisions are not imposed by one leader but made on the basis of general consent?

If you answered “yes”, then you belong to an organization which works on anarchist principles! Another basic anarchist principle is voluntary association. This is simply a matter of applying democratic principles to ordinary life. The only difference is that anarchists believe it should be possible to have a society in which everything could be organized along these lines, all groups based on the free consent of their members, and therefore, that all top-down, military styles of organization like armies or bureaucracies or large corporations, based on chains of command, would no longer be necessary. Perhaps you don’t believe that would be possible. Perhaps you do. But every time you reach an agreement by consensus, rather than threats, every time you make a voluntary arrangement with another person, come to an understanding, or reach a compromise by taking due consideration of the other person’s particular situation or needs, you are being an anarchist — even if you don’t realize it.

Anarchism is just the way people act when they are free to do as they choose, and when they deal with others who are equally free — and therefore aware of the responsibility to others that entails. This leads to another crucial point: that while people can be reasonable and considerate when they are dealing with equals, human nature is such that they cannot be trusted to do so when given power over others. Give someone such power, they will almost invariably abuse it in some way or another.

Do you believe that most politicians are selfish, egotistical swine who don’t really care about the public interest? Do you think we live in an economic system which is stupid and unfair?

If you answered “yes”, then you subscribe to the anarchist critique of today’s society — at least, in its broadest outlines. Anarchists believe that power corrupts and those who spend their entire lives seeking power are the very last people who should have it. Anarchists believe that our present economic system is more likely to reward people for selfish and unscrupulous behavior than for being decent, caring human beings. Most people feel that way. The only difference is that most people don’t think there’s anything that can be done about it, or anyway — and this is what the faithful servants of the powerful are always most likely to insist — anything that won’t end up making things even worse.

But what if that weren’t true?

And is there really any reason to believe this? When you can actually test them, most of the usual predictions about what would happen without states or capitalism turn out to be entirely untrue. For thousands of years people lived without governments. In many parts of the world people live outside of the control of governments today. They do not all kill each other. Mostly they just get on about their lives the same as anyone else would. Of course, in a complex, urban, technological society all this would be more complicated: but technology can also make all these problems a lot easier to solve. In fact, we have not even begun to think about what our lives could be like if technology were really marshaled to fit human needs. How many hours would we really need to work in order to maintain a functional society — that is, if we got rid of all the useless or destructive occupations like telemarketers, lawyers, prison guards, financial analysts, public relations experts, bureaucrats and politicians, and turn our best scientific minds away from working on space weaponry or stock market systems to mechanizing away dangerous or annoying tasks like coal mining or cleaning the bathroom, and distribute the remaining work among everyone equally? Five hours a day? Four? Three? Two? Nobody knows because no one is even asking this kind of question. Anarchists think these are the very questions we should be asking.

Do you really believe those things you tell your children (or that your parents told you)?

“It doesn’t matter who started it.” “Two wrongs don’t make a right.” “Clean up your own mess.” “Do unto others...” “Don’t be mean to people just because they’re different.” Perhaps we should decide whether we’re lying to our children when we tell them about right and wrong, or whether we’re willing to take our own injunctions seriously. Because if you take these moral principles to their logical conclusions, you arrive at anarchism.

Take the principle that two wrongs don’t make a right. If you really took it seriously, that alone would knock away almost the entire basis for war and the criminal justice system. The same goes for sharing: we’re always telling children that they have to learn to share, to be considerate of each other’s needs, to help each other; then we go off into the real world where we assume that everyone is naturally selfish and competitive. But an anarchist would point out: in fact, what we say to our children is right. Pretty much every great worthwhile achievement in human history, every discovery or accomplishment that’s improved our lives, has been based on cooperation and mutual aid; even now, most of us spend more of our money on our friends and families than on ourselves; while likely as not there will always be competitive people in the world, there’s no reason why society has to be based on encouraging such behavior, let alone making people compete over the basic necessities of life. That only serves the interests of people in power, who want us to live in fear of one another. That’s why anarchists call for a society based not only on free association but mutual aid. The fact is that most children grow up believing in anarchist morality, and then gradually have to realize that the adult world doesn’t really work that way. That’s why so many become rebellious, or alienated, even suicidal as adolescents, and finally, resigned and bitter as adults; their only solace, often, being the ability to raise children of their own and pretend to them that the world is fair. But what if we really could start to build a world which really was at least founded on principles of justice? Wouldn’t that be the greatest gift to one’s children one could possibly give?

Do you believe that human beings are fundamentally corrupt and evil, or that certain sorts of people (women, people of color, ordinary folk who are not rich or highly educated) are inferior specimens, destined to be ruled by their betters?

If you answered “yes”, then, well, it looks like you aren’t an anarchist after all. But if you answered “no”, then chances are you already subscribe to 90% of anarchist principles, and, likely as not, are living your life largely in accord with them. Every time you treat another human with consideration and respect, you are being an anarchist. Every time you work out your differences with others by coming to reasonable compromise, listening to what everyone has to say rather than letting one person decide for everyone else, you are being an anarchist. Every time you have the opportunity to force someone to do something, but decide to appeal to their sense of reason or justice instead, you are being an anarchist. The same goes for every time you share something with a friend, or decide who is going to do the dishes, or do anything at all with an eye to fairness.

Now, you might object that all this is well and good as a way for small groups of people to get on with each other, but managing a city, or a country, is an entirely different matter. And of course there is something to this. Even if you decentralize society and put as much power as possible in the hands of small communities, there will still be plenty of things that need to be coordinated, from running railroads to deciding on directions for medical research. But just because something is complicated does not mean there is no way to do it democratically. It would just be complicated. In fact, anarchists have all sorts of different ideas and visions about how a complex society might manage itself. To explain them though would go far beyond the scope of a little introductory text like this. Suffice it to say, first of all, that a lot of people have spent a lot of time coming up with models for how a really democratic, healthy society might work; but second, and just as importantly, no anarchist claims to have a perfect blueprint. The last thing we want is to impose prefab models on society anyway. The truth is we probably can’t even imagine half the problems that will come up when we try to create a democratic society; still, we’re confident that, human ingenuity being what it is, such problems can always be solved, so long as it is in the spirit of our basic principles — which are, in the final analysis, simply the principles of fundamental human decency.

#anarquismo #gobierno #política #decencia humana #anarchism #politics #government #human decency

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dontfeedthebabytigers · 7 years ago

Text

You’ve Got So Much Heart: Chapter 9

ao3 link (x)

last chapter (x)

first chapter (x)

The Manor always felt different on the days Bruce Wayne hosted for the rich socialites of Gotham. Caterers and extra household staff buzzed about and made sure that every decoration and hors d'oeuvre is perfect. In short, the Manor was in a familiar state of chaos. Familiar for Damian, as he had lived through thousands of these ridiculous parties. But, for Dick, this level of chaos in the Manor felt brand new. Dick had always been sent to stay with Clark, the only person outside of the family he trusted, during the days leading up to Galas. Even before the Court, he had never experience a Gala as Bruce didn’t want his parent’s killer to know where he lived.

Two hours before the Gala, Damian searched the halls, weaving past workers vacuuming and dusting, for any sign of Dick. His brother was nowhere in the Batcave, and Damian doubted he was milling about with strangers--- even though he had personally vetted everyone in the building. So, Damian looked high and low for his little brother, and found him until he went to Dick’s room. Somehow that had been the last place Damian checked.

“Richard are you alright?” He asked his brother who stood in front of the mirror in a tuxedo. Make-up brought back the tan tone that he once had, blue-black veins made no longer visible.

Dick didn’t take his eyes away from his reflection. He started into fake blue eyes that covered the unnatural gold.

Damian knelt next to Dick and looked into the mirrors reflection. There weren’t many photos of Dick in the Manor from before. Only a few existed in Bruce’s office and Alfred’s scrapbook. The only reference for how Dick used to look that he saw on a regular basis came from his silhouette on the Flying Grayson poster that hung above his bed.

“Don’t tell Father that I was the one that told you this,” he gave Dick a wicked smile. “But, he also wears make-up for to these things.” On a good day, Damian would have gotten a smile that made his eyes twinkle. Not today. “You’re nervous?”

Dick nodded. He toyed with the blue and gold cufflinks on his sleeves.

“I will be at your side the whole night.”

“Stalker,” Dick muttered, a glint of mischief in his voice that had been missing for far too long.

“I’ll have to warn Todd that you’re in a joking mood tonight.” His curiosity spiked when Dick shook his head. “Or…”

“Whipped cream in his pockets?”

Alfred would lecture him for hours, and likely force Damian to take care of the dry cleaning for a year if he went through with Dick’s little prank. The things he let Dick pull him into just to keep that smile shining. A world where Dick couldn’t smile would be one that wasn’t worth saving. Even just a year ago, smiles where diamonds the family spent days mining for, and now smiling seemed almost effortless most days.

Those first days when Dick returned weren’t the hardest. Sure, his brother had been withdrawn, but he still had all the Talon training and drugs that made him subdued. Dick acted like moldable clay. He did what he any authority figure told him to without question. Everyday, they would remind him that he didn’t need to follow orders, that he was safe, that he was a person. Over time Dick would begin to remember what individuality entailed, and how the Court had destroyed him.

Then came the hard part. Dick remembered that he had a life before the Court. He couldn’t remember his parent’s names, or what his favorite color was, but he knew that those were things that he had. That’s all it took for Dick to fall apart. Nightmares anguished him every night, and the Manor had to remain at a temperature above eighty-five degrees. There were days where he would see something that reminded him of the Court which would lead him to curling in on himself and scream. Getting near Dick at those times were an impossibility and the first time Bruce got within five-feet of Dick he got a stolen steak knife thrown at him.

That and the anger. Dick had too many conflicting emotions at that time, and he lacked any means to communicate them. Violent outbursts led to most the vases and antiques in the Manor either having to be hidden away or replaced. He always apologized for his temper that scared even him, but he had no way to control himself. He didn’t need to police his emotions for almost two years.

Now, Dick conducted himself in a withdrawn, yet polite manner. Sometimes, like that night, Dick even enjoyed pulling pranks on his brothers. The stealth that he had been forced to learn Dick turned into a party gag with a smile on his face. Dick’s favorite thing to do with a Talon’s skills--- besides being Robin--- always would be doing anything that the Court would make the Court punish him. Damian rarely saw any trace that the boy who once been too terrified to stand next to an open window still existed.

“Richard, you have made tremendous progress these past few years.” Damian said, watching his brother for a reaction beyond added tension in his stance. “I never had the honor of meeting your parents, but I’m sure they would have shared in my pride.”

Dick’s focus turned to the Flying Graysons poster on the wall. He fiddled with the cufflinks on his hands.

Blue and gold. The last time Damian had seen Dick wear those colors he had been wailing in front of two mangled bodies. The screaming didn’t stop when his father scooped the child up and carried him far away from his parents remains. They tampered off by the time they brought Dick home, and they still made an appearance all these years later.

“Damian,” Dick’s voice caught Damian and pulled him from his thoughts.

“Yes, Richard?”

“I,” he stopped, looking as though he regretted that he spoke at all. “I don’t think I remember them enough.”

Damian repressed a sigh. He had feared his brother held some anxieties over his lack of memory surrounding his parents. “What do you remember?”

Dick looked focused as though he were trying to catch smoke in his hands. “Her smile, and sometimes he would sing a song.” He frowned. “I don’t remember its name, but I hum the tune sometimes.”

Damian never saw Dick humming but made note to keep an ear open. “That is enough. May I?” Damian motioned towards Dick’s bow tie that hung loose around his neck. When Dick nodded and moved so Damian began wrapping the silk in its complicated knot. “It’s been ten years since I’ve seen my mother--- three since I’ve forgotten the color of her eyes. But, forgetting her face does not stop the fact that she is my mother, for better or for worse. People are not their faces, Richard, and forgetting the crook of your mother’s nose does not lesson the bond you have with her.”

He finished with the bow tie, and Damian leaned back to admire his handiwork and give Dick time for a response. When it seemed like Dick didn’t want to, or didn’t know how, to respond, Damian moved on. “Would you like me to go over your interactions again?”

Dick shook his head, his hand going to touch the pocket Damian was certain held the notecards with salutations that Alfred had provided a few weeks prior. The butler’s hope being that if Dick rehearsed the lines enough, speaking to strangers wouldn’t be as frightening. Damian could tell Dick hated them just as he had, but for different reasons. Damian just had to learn lines to avoid offending a King or President.

“Very well,” Damian stood-up and brushed off his knees. “If you need me I’ll be debriefing security in the first-floor eastern sitting room.”

“Damian?” It sounded like a question, like maybe Dick wanted to ask him to stay. But, when Damian turned back, Dick met him with a crushing hug. For a moment, Damian felt startled, but he recovered and rested his arms around his brother’s shoulders.

The chill was one of the changes Damian could never familiarize himself with. Children always ran hot, and Dick had been a furnace with legs that would deal out surprise hugs by dropping on them from chandeliers and tall cabinets. The first time he had been dealt a surprise hug, Damian had almost thrown the boy off his shoulders in an act of self-defense. Dick’s manic giggling acted as the only thing that saved him from being thrown into the nearest wall. The second thing Damian had noticed was how warm Dick had been. He brought his brother straight to Alfred to get checked for the flu.

Talon’s hearts don’t beat, and with Dick’s talonization being incomplete, his heart beat fell considerably lower than the average persons. Bruce couldn’t figure out a way to reverse the process without causing major damage to Dick, so he remained the way the Court had made him. The physical warmth that once surrounded Damian would always be gone.

He never wanted these moments to end, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell Dick that. His silence only ensured their termination.

Stop. Damian’s eyes caught a glint of light from outside the window, deep in the trees. He parted from Dick and went over to inspect. His trained eyes combed over the entire forest that stood not far from Dick’s window. The setting sun put a pink tint over the trees that weren’t drowned in shadow. Damian opened the window and leaned out, a foolish idea if who he feared lurked out there decided to strike, but nothing happened. Nothing attempted to strike him down. Only a large hawk flew from the trees around where he had seen what looked like eyes.

“Is it him?” Dick asked, and, when Damian turned, he saw his brother had produced two knives.

Damian closed the window and pulled the curtains shut. “Just a bird.” He ruffled his brother’s hair. “I told you that you are safe here, and I meant it.”

Dick glanced down at the knives for a silent question. If he were safe, then why was he allowed to have knives on him when he would be around civilians tonight? Why did Alfred sew specials pouches into his suit just to hide them better?

“Being prepared for nothing is better than getting caught off guard.” Damian said. “That’s a lesson I learned from the Demon’s Head, and one I have to teach our security right now.”

“Don’t scare them too much.” Dick grinned as he put the knives away.

“Me? Scary? Ridiculous. I’ve been told that I’m charming for a man my age.”

“How old where you when someone told you that?” Dick asked. “Thirteen?”

There he is, Damian thought. “I can’t believe you would mock me, your brother, in such a way. We were the greatest team, you and I, but now I must find allegiance in Todd of all people.”

“You wouldn’t,” Dick said, that smile still hung on. “He wouldn’t take you.”

“Oh?” Damian snapped his fingers in a quick warning, or a chance to tell Damian not to overstep, before he scooped the kid up and held him under his arm. “Let’s go find Todd. See what he has to say.”

Caterers and household staff grinned to themselves in the midst of their preparations, for the first time in years laughter filled Wayne Manor’s halls.

#you've got so much heart #miranda writes

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winterstellium · 7 years ago

Photo

It’s been a while since I’ve done one of these, but here’s the 4-Card Tarot spread for today — May 29th, 2018

It’s a big one! I asked for clarification on the cards when I couldn’t figure out what they were trying to say. If you want to skip all that’s written, there’s a TL;DR at the end of the post!

The High Priestess [R] — I'm not tuning into my intuition, I'm not listening to her when I should be. Some things are bubbling up, and I'm not taking the time to sit down and listen, and sort them out.

[Clarification — What can I do to tune into myself/you?]

Sun; Reveal everything. Share your true thoughts and feelings; sit with them and work it out. You’ll have more clarity and understanding.

Knight of Wands [R]; Don’t rush or be reckless, or impatient. Trust yourself.

Hanged Man; Wait, contemplate, and let it go. A new perspective is in order

The Tower — Big Change is coming my way. Beliefs, routines, anything is gonna be thrown off balance and into chaos. I just hope it's something I can work with...

[Clarification — What kind of Change is coming? — What is my next step? — What is the result? — What are my two choices?]

Seven (7) of Pentacles; Patience through time and assessment. Now’s the time to sit down, take a moment to pause, and figure out where you want to go. What goals are you working towards? Do they really suit you?

Three (3) of Wands; You’re taking the right steps towards growth and change. Long-term planning is in order.

Two (2) of Swords [R]; The choices that are open are ones that aren’t the greatest, but they need to happen anyways.

Death [R] (Left); There’s still a lot to be learned, and to move on from. There’s a fear of change, and you’ll have to challenge and overcome it. But be sure to not burn any bridges in the meantime.

Justice [R] (Right); You’ll have to find balance, a way to center yourself. Find a way to see things objectively and fairly.

Six (6) of Swords — The Lovers —— The first card deals with a Rite of Passage. I need to go through some trials to get where I want/need to go. I first though the Lovers card was about romance and relationships. Upon further investigation (consulting a tarot app of mine), this card can also mean the head and the heart, and if they're on the same page (for lack of better wording).

[Clarification — Six (6) of Swords & The Lovers] — What does this Rite of Passage entail of?]

[Six (6) of Swords]

Ten (10) of Wands [R]; Reassess your priorities and stop procrastinating on your responsibilities.

[The Lovers]

Ace of Wands; A new opportunity is on its way. Inspiration is forming with new opportunities and ideas.

Temperance [R]; Balance things out! Take your time. Don’t make too many drastic changes at once!

Star; Have Trust in the constantly changing universe that things will be okay. You’re on a healing path now. Be sure to check in and nurture your physical and your spiritual aspects of your life. Be sure to also pay attention to the cosmos, they might have more insight to give.

Queen of Pentacles [R] — I'm being lazy or unhealthy with the things surrounding me, my body, and my environment. I need to reconnect with myself and find ways to grow and nourish.

[Clarification — How can I be the upright version of her?]

Seven (7) of Wands; Persevere! Don’t let anyone tell you what to do or what to believe. Stand up for yourself.

Four (4) of Cups [R]; Take a break when you need to, all that stress and drama can be hard to take on.

Six (6) of Cups; Find something that relates to your childhood. Focus on something that you loved to do and go do it until you’re ready to go back out there.

Five (5) of Swords [R]; Reassess over what has happened and resolve any tension that might have occurred. Or even, don’t apologize for being who you are.

[ TL; DR — Time to pause and revisit the goals you’re working on. Do they work for you anymore? If not, get rid of it! Trust yourself/your intuition and tune into that every so often to check that everyone’s on the same page when working on your goals and the long-term plans along with them. There’s a big transformation that needs to happen and it’s all hands on deck for when it does. Find what you love and be unapologetic about it!]

#My Photos #Tarot #Tarot Spread #Kingsley's Reads #Long Post

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oelfinessend · 7 years ago

Text

just can’t handle it, must get round to it

Hello, @tsukiharu. Here’s your secret santa step in. I’m incredibly sorry for the delay, but I was stranded away from decent coverage and electricity, and had to climb the roof to check my mail :/. Moreover, by the time you replied I’ve already began writing and while I certainly have ideas for your prompts they will take a while to write properly if you’d still want them. My attempt at arranged marriage and courtship has run away as early as the second page, so all I can do is give you this bizarre AU and hope you won’t hate me :[

Find the fic on <a href=“http://archiveofourown.org/works/13460478“>ao3</a> or in this post.

‘Greater than many you will fly.’ They wrote. ’Higher than your wildest dreams you will be taken.’ Was promised. ‘And for all will be price.’

Except Tony won’t fly and pay the price because he is Howard’s price, carelessly promised for many trinkets.

He knows it since before he can remember, that his father agreed to give away his own child for a chance to find Captain America.

He also knows that whatever his being a ‘price’ might entail so far it involves him being miserable, added with impressive substance abuse and whole weeks he spends in his workshop. Tony has his workshop only because of Obie, who allows him to invent, to think, to create. Aside from his bots and JARVIS, he can converse only with Obie and Rhodey. The staff is afraid of him and the world seems to be focused entirely on his every move, analysing the rare precedent of a prayer being answered.

Tony meets Pep like that. She masks her gentle curiosity and the following pity very well and later they disappear whatsoever, and for that he will be forever grateful. This is the lifeline that allows him to keep going, to live while Howard Stark becomes a husk of himself with eyes still burning with unholy fire, with the spite of the damned. He is a recluse, immersed in his projects that promise to drain the Stark fortune. SI is all but given to Obadiah who likes to lure Tony into his dealings and Tony hires a maddeningly competent Virginia Potts to be left with the only thing he really cares about - making stuff.

Soon enough, Pep is involved in SI far more than she is in Tony’s life, which is understandable, and somehow Tony finds himself looking at his new assistant. The guy is standing right in his workshop, looking friendly and soft around the edges. Then it turns out it’s impossible to chase this intruder away, his soft edges are bullshit and soon Tony finds himself snarking back at Adam.

He’s awesome, that guy who grasps Tony’s jargon and ideas and keeps up and gives as good as he gets and doesn’t take any bullshit thrown at him. Adam is putting Tony on edge, though, the puzzle pieces never quite fitting and something always missing in the picture.

Two or so months of amazing creative process later, Tony is doodling idly, having just showered and eaten, because Adam is a prude and won’t go anywhere near if Tony ‘is not presentable’.

This is the day everything goes to shit, because Howard decides to show his zombie face an hour before Obie storms in, demanding to see Tony.

Obie narrows his eyes at Adam, demanding to state his identity, while Adam looks bored and unimpressed, which is his default expression. In fact, he looks unnervingly interested in Howard, which kinda makes Tony hate them both (and, as usual, hate himself, because what else could he have expected, what did he think, he could be interest-)

“Address me in that manner once more and your tongue shall be buried ahead of you.”

This is a growl and everything falls silent. Adam smiles his thin smile and cocks his head.

“Who are you?” This is the first time Tony’s heard his father speak in years and his voice is scratchy, low. His eyes are still unnerving, portraying his unyielding focus. Adam keeps on with being unimpressed, though, only moves and paces around Howard, looking him up and down.

“Midgard’s grown disrespectful since I’ve last visited it.” He muses and changes, just like that, his hair growing longer from its stylish cut, skin pales and eyes grow green, so bright that Tony can actually discern the colour from across the room. Then not-Adam is moving back towards Tony, his movements smoother, somehow more powerful and just as the transformation the fact that Tony isn’t scared is baffling. He is actually relieved. This is some closure, finally, to (not) Adam’s unnerving edge and clearly, the bullshit ‘price’ thing is coming to its end.

“Are you Adam?” Tony asks carefully, his lizard brain alarmed at that prowl.

Head cocked, eyes laughing, the man smiles. “I am Loki.” Is all he replies.

Loki. Tony knows that name, he’s spent countless hours reading on any supernatural being known to the Internet and Loki is… interesting. Not really appropriate, in Tony’s opinion and surprising, given Howard’s prayer.

Apparently satisfied with whatever reaction on Tony’s face he sees Loki smiles again and sprawls into a chair, impressively pulling off his almost whore-like posture. “Now you may leave us alone.” He addresses both Obie and Howard and both dig their heels.

“I’m not leaving Tony with whoever you are.” Obie intones darkly and Howard steps forward, looking almost feverish.

“Who are you to appear in my home and demand this after making me wait for so many years!” He almost shouts and his voice breaks slightly out of disuse.

Loki sighs irritably. “Mages of Asgard cannot break a prayer-bound promise. Your demand was heard and it was satisfied - your mind was clear and fast for many years, was it not?” He waves dismissively as Howard opens his mouth. “Don’t let your hubris blind you, mortal. No one on Midgard is able to go weeks without any sleep and yet your thinking was unhindered. Such was the blessing given to you. Whatever you decided to do with it concerns me not and I am beginning to tire of your presence.” He smiles at the procured indignation and turns to Obie. “And you don’t have to worry, mayhaps if the Fates favour us we can all go to Afghanistan.”

At that Obie pales strangely and seems to deflate. Looking bored, Loki switches his gaze to Tony. “This is getting ridiculous. I will await in your workroom.”

Left alone and gaping at the empty chair, Tony scrambles away from Howard’s burning glare and Obie’s thoughtful one. As stated, Loki is in his workshop, occupying his usual place with his newfound dramatic flair.

Loki patiently sits through Tony’s almost-meltdown and only blinks at the following barrage of questions. It happens that Loki is a prince and a mage (ha! Tony will need far more than a couple of parlor tricks to even contain his laughter, never mind taking this seriously) and the Head Seidrmaster in Asgard. It doesn’t really matter except that it totally does, because apparently Howard’s half-assed (by Loki’s standards) prayer reached one of those seidr-people and for whatever reason they decided to go along.

“A prayer gives a remarkable bout of power, of happiness.” Loki explains patiently, giving off surprisingly Pepper-like vibes. “An inexperienced mage has to be exceptionally strong of will to resist that. Uldr was not.”

Tony snorts. He doesn’t really care (he does, a little, Loki is a living story and also a lot of people would literally give their limb for a chance to talk to him).

“When I found out about the deal it was too late.” Loki purses his lips unhappily, eyes becoming hard. “And the duty of overseeing this fell to me.” He makes a vague gesture with his left hand. “I admit I have forgotten about the Midgardian lifespan and allowed myself to linger a bit too long.”

Tony huffs, asks about the lifespan thing and blinks at the answer. Five thousand Asgard’s years, Loki says, more for a mage. Asgard’s year is nearly four of Earth’s.

Talk about unimaginable scales, Tony honestly can’t comprehend the life where decades are nothing, where your milestones are hundreds.

His mind blanks out a bit at that and when Tony finally scrambles his brains back in order he finds himself alone.

There is very little time for him to begin feeling abandoned or offended because soon he hears the commotion. By the time Tony decides to investigate he is again in Loki’s company and for a change the other man looks pleased.

The following days are, for a lack of a better word, busy. Everyone has a lot to do; Howard is trying to pin Loki down and get something from him, Loki vanishes and appears as he pleases, his mood changing just as suddenly. Obie is suspiciously docile while Pep is busy arranging the business so that it belongs to Tony. That is a sudden development and apparently both Howard and Obie are okay with Loki basically telling them what to do. Well, not really, Howard is all of a sudden a lot more present in the mansion and Tony’s life. Tony is busy planning building his own tower where he will live as far from this gloomy place as possible. He discovers that managing a company is fucking hard, especially if you just basically got it and the attention he thought he is accustomed to is even more intense and seemingly every person in the world wants something from you.

Loki doesn’t help. In fact, Loki revels in the chaos, which is unsurprising, given his title. He refuses to accept numerous invitations or even pleas coming for him. At the same time, he somehow helps Tony, because navigating people is hard and Loki knows how it’s done. It’s pleasant, even, that change of pace and scenery, the constant challenge and, most importantly, the freedom. For the first time Tony is able to get out, to do as he chooses and give a finger to anyone objecting. Not always and not really, but he moves out and never looks back.

***

“What you are describing is marriage.” Tony says flatly, looking down at Loki. Which is only because he’s standing six feet higher, overseeing the construction of his tower. Because now he can build himself a fucking tower.

“Yes, in your language and culture that is the closest concept.” Loki allows and returns the look. He manages to stare Tony down, the fucker. “But you need to take into consideration that ‘the marriage’ as you know it is just the most long lived and respected form of union on Midgard, which is untrue for most of the other Realms. I’ve been married by Aesir customs, married twice.” He jumps to Tony, covering fifteen feet in one effortless leap. “What the All-Father demands is different.”

“I don’t care.”

Tony doesn’t, he doesn’t care about some medieval crap with predestiny and respectful unions.

“‘Medieval.’” Loki spits. “Your charming egotism will help in your business, I think.” He smiles toothily at Tony’s outraged grimace. “Your conservative and limited brain is so busy clutching at comforting concepts you can’t even hear me properly.”

“Conservative and limited?” Tony hisses in disbelief, because wow. “Explain how is your magic-bound shit is not limited? It was without my fucking consent and now I need to fucking marry you because some guy I don’t even believe exists says so!”

“Consent.” Loki snorts. “Don’t cheapen the word. Your father consented for you, as is your land’s custom. It can’t be marriage because I am not a lawful citizen of Midgard so this argument is obsolete. And it’s not marriage by the Asgard’s law, Anthony.”

“Yes, we are just bound by your voodoo shit and take responsibility for each other’s actions. Wow, that’s not marriage at all.”

Loki’s eyes narrow and face relaxes, which is beyond alarming, he’s on his way to being livid.

“Not by Asgard’s law.” He repeats in a soft, calm voice. “And what a hardship it will be, with that law not recognized on Midgard and as such you being a man free to pursue whatever fancy might strike you. Ah, what a burden to be protected by the royal House of Odin, to have an opportunity to learn the ways other realms live and evolve, to perfect your inventions in ways unimaginable to any on Midgard.” He gives a tender smile, which gives an unpleasant contrast to the offended fury of his glare. “But that’s a scientist’s reasoning, so what am I even thinking?”

And, because he loves having the last word, Loki disappears. Tony swears loudly and explicitly, hoping that the words will reach their target.

Loki doesn’t pop out the following day, or week, or month. Tony goes from scared to angry to repentant to offended to furious.

By the time the bastard decides to finally show his face the Tower is ready, a shiny, perfect thing better than anything Tony could’ve dream of. In a fit, tied in knots about Loki’s absence, he decided to stop with the weapons and now is busy dealing with the fallout. The press hounds him, Obie keeps throwing him dark looks and even always flawless Pep looks harried.

Tony arranges for a new PA and that is exactly when a timid-looking guy decides to throw a fucking grenade at him. Tony is too busy staring as the grenade is being disintegrated by a golden mist to hear the crunch of bones.

He looks up at Pep’s scream and follows the guy as he drops to Loki’s feet, his head turned almost 180. There’s a moment of silence and they are alone again, body vanishing along with Loki.

“You fucking motherfucker.” Tony growls, which is a bit lame, but whatever. What the fuck is he thinking, disappearing and then-

Loki is here again, with a loud, uncharacteristic noise. He looks at Pepper and throws another body at her feet.

“I though corporate espionage is against the law on Midgard.” He sneers, nudging at the woman. “Or do you invite killers willfully?”

Pepper, bless her, calms down immediately and peers down at the woman, who, Tony can see now, is alive and just unconscious.

“Are you bleeding?” Is what she asks next and Tony snaps his eyes higher. Loki’s lips press together and it brings out the unhealthy grayness of his face.

“Look out for her.” Is his reply.

“Wait a second.” Tony springs into action, cursing himself for standing there like an idiot. Loki picks up the woman and gives Tony an unimpressed stare.

“We need to talk”. Tony says quickly but it’s too late.

He curses again and turns away from Pep’s curious and pitying eyes.

Fucker, selfish fucker, that Loki.

Tony doesn’t bother with goodbye, just goes to his fabulous penthouse and pulls the feed. He tells himself it’s purely to learn who wants him dead but in truth he concentrates on Loki as he appears in a burst of sparks and grasps the man’s head, long fingers sure, experienced. Loki sways a little as he pick the body up and sways again when he reappears with the woman - who Tony needs to investigate also - and Loki’s never swayed, even when he played his part as Adam.

He hates himself for the fact that all of his anger and indignation disappear and now there is only worry and brittle hope, stronger than ever, because Loki protected him, he obviously came because that golden thingy alerted him and the fact that Tony was, err, spelled, apparently, is a bit condescending but mostly returns the warmth missing since after their last conversation.

Tony hates that he is mostly okay with the weird not-really-marriage thing because it will give him an added leverage to pin Loki down and explore other planets, fuck that, other star systems, Tony was really having a childish reaction. Maybe he needed the time to stew and think this shit over, who knows. Now he just hopes that Loki’s alright and comes back soon. He chases the thoughts of ‘six months are nothing to his fifteen thousand years, he can disappear for a year this time’ away with effort. Tony hopes.

“Sir.” JARVIS wakes him gently. “Sir, you have a guest.”

“Whatever.” Tony yawns, tries to stretch his neck.

“It’s Mr Odinson.” J says with a hint of gentle reproach and Tony bolts out of his chair.

“The living room, sir.” JARVIS provides.

Loki is standing in front of the glass wall (because Tony’s had enough of the mansion’s semi-darkness), cutting an impressive figure against the windows. For the first time he’s dressed in not Earth’s clothes. There is a lot of leather and what looks like gold designs on his boots and sleeves.

At Tony’s steps Loki turns around, revealing more gold on his high collar and what looks like a stylized breastplate. He looks kinda like the prince he claims to be.

“You needed to talk.” Loki says evenly, keen eyes watching as Tony moves forward and politely looks at Loki’s face and not his alien clothes.

“Yeah, well.” This is so uncomfortable, fuck. “Want a drink?”

After a moment of consideration Loki inclines his head. His gaze presses on Tony as he moves to the bar and waves in the direction of the couch, hoping the gesture is welcoming and effortless, not dismissive.

Loki is surprisingly omnivorous so Tony takes a decanter of whiskey, because there’s no way he’s living through this conversation sober. By the time he makes it to the chair Loki’s already settled, more collected than his usual sprawl of limbs.

“I have conversed with JARVIS briefly.” Loki starts and Tony, who was just a second ago busy manning up to apologize, is blindsided a bit. “He has new servers and capacity, isn’t he better as your assistant?”

The question is voiced with a gentle curiosity, which is very polite, and Tony hates it. He snorts and waves his glass.

“But I programmed J and I can silent him. That’s sometimes counterproductive.”

He waits for a snort or a derisive smile at ‘counterproductive’, but it never comes and Tony frowns. “C’mon, what’s with that diplomatic stuff?” He can’t quite bring himself to apologize, not because he doesn’t feel guilty, but because- Tony doesn’t even know himself.

Loki’s eyes are unnaturally green and very bright.

“What do you wish to talk about?”

Honestly, sincerely, Tony just can’t. What the fuck is up with that bastard?

“What do you think? Where were you, why the fuck did you just leave and didn’t bother to, I don’t know, visit and rant at me? What’s that misty thing and what the fuck did it do to a grenade? Why weren’t the pen Pep threw at me three weeks ago misted away? Are you alright? Because you didn’t look all that great just this morning. Where did you take that guy and I really want to investigate, you know, my attempted assassination. And is all that shit with not-marriage still valid or you just decided to fuck off for good?”

Loki’s brows shoot up at that last part and admittedly Tony has revealed a bit more than he intended.

“Hmm.” Loki visibly relaxes, his body sprawling more and face more open. He looks up. “In order: I think there are multiple questions you want to talk about, I have left because there were too many hurtful words on my mind and some blows are easy to make and hard to recover from.” Loki’s eyes are heavy under his slight frown. “I had no desire to make a visit for a quarrel and I have duties I needed to attend to on top of that. I left a protection spell working and it is somewhat sentient so it couldn’t react violently to the Lady Pepper’s pen. I am well, the alert came in a bit of situation but the Aesir are more resilient than you of Midgard and any wounds I received are healed by now. Your assailant's body is kept for future purposes and the union still needs to take place.”

“Somewhat sentient?” Tony repeats and forces himself back on track. “Well, thanks for holding back, I suppose.” He doesn’t know what to say. Tony feel stupidly grateful for that, shit, he is angry but he’s also glad that Loki didn’t eviscerate him, because he very well can, both with words and, apparently, with his bare hands, fuck. Tony just knows that he’s most likely will rewatch the footage of this evening when Loki leaves. With that thought in mind he blurts. “Are you staying over? There’s a floor for you.”

He wants to disappear as soon as he says that, but Loki brightens a bit, not a hint of derision on his face. “A floor for me?” He smiles, but it’s a pleased smile.

“Yeah, well, aren’t you a prince?” Tony tries for lighthearted. It was a foregone thing in his planning, even after Loki decided to hide his face, that there would be a place for him, and what a joke to give a guest room when Tony has the whole Tower and it’s Loki.

“Show me.” Loki says, as he always has, when he was Adam and demanded to know everything about Tony’s work and when he is Loki and wants to know everything about Tony’s life.

Loki likes his floor, which is a bit strange, because Tony had no idea what to do with the interior and left it as it is - bare walls, which makes him a bit of a dumbass to invite a guest to sleep on cement floor.

Still, Loki is obviously pleased. “Ah, and can I raise the walls as I see fit?”

Tony shrugs at that, because whatever. “You have to let me get J’s sensors here, though.”

“I’m afraid my seidr will intervene with their workings anyway, but I’ll think of something if that’s necessary.” Loki allows, making a dismissive gesture and successfully making every wall disappear. Tony blinks at the sudden illusion of low ceiling and turns around in light panic. Thankfully, the elevator is still present.

“Are you competing with the palace of Asgard, Anthony?” Loki asks with a smile as he steps around, looking back and forth. There are multiple shiny balls springing from his hands and floating around and giving the surroundings a warm hue.

“I’m Tony Stark.” Tony huffs in reply, which sounds a bit stupid but Loki nods in understanding. Then he makes a forceful step, more like a stomp and the space begins to morph.

In a matter of minutes they are standing in an inviting hall, with light walls and ceiling adorned with what looks like multiple polished crystals. Loki disappears into a wide, large arc of pale stone and by the time Tony catches up the next room is transformed also, there is a large black bowl in the middle, made of what appears to be semi-transparent rock.

“Is it one of your customs?” Tony calls while Loki is busy creating low padded stools or something. At the inquiring glance Tony shrugs and motions at the bowl. “I know you are not vikings but you must drink a lot.” The bowl is easily seven feet in diameter.

Loki looks uncommonly bewildered then he huffs. “It’s a fireplace, Anthony.”

“A- A what? It’s not a fireproof room!”

He receives an impressive eye roll in reply. Loki settles on a very soft-looking seat and gives Tony one last dirty look before dumping firewood and with a snap of fingers there is fire. Bright golden light which lights the bowl from the inside, making it rich red with deep blue streaks running roots-like from the bottom of the bowl.

“There will be no smoke.” Loki says, looking at the ceiling intently. There is nothing to see for a mortal eye but aside from pleasant warmth there is no smell or other sign of open fire. Tony settles closer to Loki and stares at the crackling fire.

“You can’t create matter.” He says at last because he can’t really think of anything else.

“Of course not.” Loki replies. “The law of Universe doesn’t work like that.”

“Right. Because you knew physics so well.”

It was Tony who had to explain everything to him, even if Loki is an exceptionally fast learner.

“Oh, do be more condescending. I never learned Midgard’s sciences and why would I? You have only recently began to get closer to understanding the world around you, while Svartalfar scholars knew how to create local singularities long before the birth of eucumene.” Loki snorts gently at the last word. “To be able to change the Universe at will one must understand how it works; to apply pressure at exactly the right point in the exact amount. This is what a mage is, and magic as you so charmingly laugh at is nothing like what I grew up learning. We do not deal in toad hearts or whatever your tales concocted. We study the workings of seidr and the World Tree and work with the knowledge we gather, we do not hope for a result.”

“So. Still physics.” Tony grins at Loki’s huff and nudges a bit closer. “And what were you doing? How did you make all this stuff?”

“I did not make the fireholder. I fetched it from my workroom, such items are not created overnight. Mostly I just rearranged the matter residing here. There will be more work to make the floor to my liking, but it will do for now.”

“Wow, your mageness, you’re easy to please.” Tony gives the bare room a telling look and grins. He missed this.

“I slept on bare stone or wet shore many a time. This is no hardship.”

“Sure, Loki Grills, as you say.” Then, after a pause, Tony itches again. “So, you can take whatever you want from wherever?”

Loki scrunches his nose. “I need to be familiar with the place and with the item in question; my workroom is imbued with my seidr, it’s the place I know the best in all the Realms, as such concentrating on it and reaching out is no hardship. Otherwise it’s easier to shift somewhere and extract what is needed by hand. Small items I carry around.” He makes a smooth gesture rotating his wrist and there is a bottle in his hand.

“Are you telling me you have a pocket dimension?” Tony asks, because. Because.

“You call it that, yes.” Loki nods. “But it’s more like a cluster of bends in space, individual for each item. It’s easier that way.”

Tony blinks at him, what the fuck, you bastard, how could you- it hits him suddenly that Loki’s been teleporting this whole time and apparently Tony’s been so deep in denial that he wrote it off as some bullshit pseudo-god power, but no, Loki has just been bending time and space and leaping light years away and back with just a thought.

“Do it again!” Tony demands, hopping closer and concentrating solely on Loki’s hands. He has a moment to hate himself for sounding like an eager kid (he feels like an eager kid, but that’s a heartbreak for another time), then Loki lifts both hands and makes a flowing, rotating gesture, then grasps as a book appears out of thin air. He passes it to Tony, who takes it with a rare reverence.

The book is solid. Quite heavy for its size, no thicker than Tony’s thumb and bound in an unknown material with three clasps made of dull red metal. They are completely smooth without a hint of a slit and flow into the cover seamlessly.

Maybe the questions are apparent on Tony’s face, because Loki reaches and expertly flicks open the clasps.

“This is my latest, ah,” he frowns, looking for the word, “dissertation, you might say. It’s a standard protection for spell-filled writings, they can be violent without proper containment.”

Tony feels like Harry Potter, only rich and insanely smart and having not mumbo-jumbo words but extraphysics in front of him. Some pages are nothing but symbols and they are obviously words but there are often blocks of completely different symbols. Sometimes there are diagrams, one page opens by itself and Loki has to slap it and burn the drawing back into the page. The lines make Tony’s brain hurt a bit because they are clearly not even three-dimensional.

“Enough.” Loki says gently and takes the book back. He slaps it closed with force and the clasps morph together. Tony wants it back, his own, science fairytale literally in his hands.

The book disappears again and instead Loki holds Tony’s favorite mug. He turns it around in his hands, drums his fingers along the rim and then gives it to the owner.

“Here.” He says with a slight smile. “It will contain four times its measure of liquid and will keep it of starting temperature.”

Tony stares at him of a moment, then his gaze snaps to the unassuming (and now very clean, of course) mug, then back. Then Tony frantically looks around, but of course there is nothing here and he bolts to the elevator. The crystals in the first hall twinkle in rhythm with their gentle shift in brightness but Tony sees and hears none, he is busy tearing down to his kitchen and firing commands at Jarvis, who is not very pleased at having a whole floor basically cut out from his reach.

“Later, J.” Tony promises as he dumps iced water into the mug and watches it disappear. The bottom of the mug is foggy and Tony can’t see where and how the water goes but after a while it begins to fill and then he dumps the water in the sink, watching as it flows.

It’s not a real science test, but Tony is still feeling like a kid and he feels ridiculously happy, as if he’s received a gift he asked but didn’t believe he’d get. Except he couldn’t even ask for that, that casual, fast and effortless bending of all the laws he knows.

“It will contain solid objects according to its visible size and expel the dirt after a while.” Loki says from behind Tony, startling the man. “For safety concerns I spelled it unbreakable in usual circumstances, but be aware that upon destruction the contained space will enlarge and then implode, affecting at least seven feet of surroundings. Concentrating laser on it will most likely result in destruction.”

Tony gapes at him and carefully places the mug on the counter. Suddenly he can see the awkwardness in Loki, in the way he stands and patiently waits for the reaction, his face relaxed but eyes alert and ready. Tony doesn’t know what it is Loki is preparing himself for, doesn’t want to know why he is so uncomfortable with giving gifts but there is too much in his chest to contain so he dives forward and gives Loki a hug.

It’s an awkward thing, marred by Tony’s indignation at Loki’s too tall frame and the fact that he isn’t used to being physical, but it beats talking about problems, so Tony grasps at the soft texture of Loki’s jacket and after a moment a hand is placed carefully on his shoulder. It doesn’t press him closer but neither is it pulling him back so that’s a win.

From that point on it’s like the floodgates are open and Tony can’t stop reaching out and touching. It takes some time to notice and some more time to analyse and in the end it’s Jarv who concludes that it’s most likely that sir’s actions are a result from severe touch starvation. Well, that explains it.

Actually, no, it doesn’t explain Tony’s childlike joy when the whole business with the ‘union’ is explained properly, doesn’t explain a sneaky thought at the back of his mind that Loki can’t really go away and abandon Tony. It’s an unpleasant arrangement in concept but does Tony care? Not in the least, not anymore. From what he saw Loki enjoys his company and it’s very much reciprocated, so that’s it.

The whole ordeal is far less impressive than Tony’s expected, what with Loki’s title and big words about magic. There is the teleportation (which is severely unpleasant on what feels like molecular level) and Loki’s determined eyes as he takes Tony’s hand and places it on a warm bluish panel in a column of solid black stone.

“Recognized.” A solemn woman nods and a dozen of figures go on their business. That’s it, the big thing Loki was raving about is summed in a couple of seconds, because ‘of course, Anthony, the ceremony or any redundant flair is harmful to the dealings of seidr’ (so cute, there is not redundant flair).

Tony has much larger things to concentrate on, like for example the strong possibility that his sexuality has taken an abrupt one eighty and there is a whole list of moments normal at first but which are constantly on the back on his mind, like milestones leading to the inevitable.

There was that awkward hug in his kitchen, the first time Loki laughed freely, that day they spent under the invisibility spell, the purple spires of Svartalfheim, Loki’s hunting outfit and his dress armor which to be fair Tony has seen maybe a fraction of a second, because he kinda needed help for his latest experiment and was exploiting his right to call. Loki wasn’t impressed and left immediately; Tony pulled the feed to try and catch the moment of his arrival and, well. He wasn’t aware Asgard’s fashion trends tended towards ‘obscene’ or ‘obscenely revealing’.

Despite the numerous willing women he’s picked up in blatant protest, Tony feels wrong-footed somehow, unable to even recognize his attraction. He knows he’s getting clingier, abusing Loki’s goodwill and patience, but it’s just good. Tony will stop as soon as he’s told to, until then, he’ll take what he can.

This stellar plan is destroyed by the betrayal of Tony’s own body. He’s busy listening to Loki explaining how their flying ships work, maintaining just enough brainpower to ask appropriate questions now and then, while most of the focus is directed at the way Loki’s chest expands on inhales and rumbles when he speaks. After a while there is a pause and Loki says, “Is that particular topic arousing or are you just in the mood?”

Tony freezes, but it’s too late, he’s pressed himself close so thoroughly that there is no way for misinterpretation. For a couple of agonizing moments he keeps still in a childish hope that if he wishes for it hard enough it will all disappear - his boner, Loki’s attention and the fact that he can’t even jerk off properly anymore, because there is one person on his mind and he’s afraid of mind reading.

Not getting an answer Loki simply lays a hand on Tony’s shoulder, a heavy, grounding presence and it’s electrifying. At the resulting shudder, the mage exhales softly.

“Or there is that.” He says nonsensically and his hand travels to Tony’s jawbone, a steady torture. Loki’s eyes are always attentive, but this is something else; in the back of Tony’s mind there is a thought that their position is ridiculous and more than resembling covers for numerous trash romantic novels the maids used to read and think their hid so well. Then Loki kisses and Tony comes alive, scrambling forward a bit to align them better and put his hands everywhere at once. He doesn’t know what he wants but that apparently it was a bit too long and if there isn’t sex in the immediate future there would be violence.

Only Loki delivers, oh he does; it is an interesting experience to be the one pampered and indulged: the prep takes hours, literally, and afterwards Tony just lies in a fucked out haze, carding his fingers through Loki’s hair lazily.

It’s a pity his brain doesn’t really shut up for long and soon he twitches restlessly, making the body above stir. Loki frowns down in disapproval, the usual sharpness of his gaze tempered. Tony grins and it’s most likely that his grin is dopey but who cares.

“Can we have science pillow talk? Because that’s the best and about those ships-”

Loki springs into action, one second he is giving Tony an Unimpressed Eyebrow, all relaxed and pliant, the next the mage is crouching over, eyes intent, promising. The kiss he delivers is no less brain-numbing than the first one and Tony pants a little, feeling, to his horror, the beginnings of erection.

“Are you going to kill me with sex? I’m not sure I’ll live through it right now.” Sure, Loki is a master of edging and he makes the torment totally worth it and more, but there are things mortal men are just not able to do.

“Oh, well, we’ll have to do something about that.” Loki shrugs a little, smug and unrepentant; he doesn’t take things further, though, just pins Tony with his weight and frowns a bit.

“I must admit I intended to kill you initially.”

There we go, away with that arousal, thank you, Loki.

“Um, what?”

The mage shrugs minutely. “It seemed like a mercy to us both; I had no intention to be shackled to some mortal imbecile and you are too fragile and young to take to the court.” He makes a pause, visibly fighting with the following words. “Good thing you are not what I expected.”

“Aww.” Tony drawls, immediately relaxing. Maybe he’s spent too much time with the bastard, or maybe he’s just wired wrong but he accepts the admission for what it is: it’s silly to expect different logic from Loki, thousands years old warrior and diplomat of warriors. “I’m so charming the tall, dark and murderous decided against offing me.”

“Am I not handsome?” Loki sniffs, but he smiles a bit, eyes bright and more relaxed than ever.

“You know you are, I’m not feeding your ego. Seriously though, that’s some Twilight shit.” Tony laughs and laughs more when he receives a gentle bite in reprimand. “Yes, I managed to snatch a magical immortal rich prince! That calls for screen adaptation with inaccurate portrayal of sex. I’m too fabulous for a bland cast, though.” He grins unabashedly at Loki’s restrained mirth. “Also, I have multiple MIT degrees and hold patents for most of SI’s innovations, but that’s all trivia.”

“Oh, yes, clearly I was struck with a sense of Fate.” Loki adds wryly.

“Uh-huh. And spent so much time in disguise because you are adorably shy. Shy will do instead of you snapping necks with your bare hands and returning from hunts covered in blood and guts.”

“That happens rarer than you are inclined to think.”

“Maybe. Doesn’t mean you make a pretty sight.” Tony hums, absurdly happy and content. “On that matter, why Adam?”

Loki blinks in silent question.

“I mean, there is a perfectly acceptable Luke, for example.”

“Luke.” Loki deadpans. “If we ever go in disguise anywhere on Midgard I’ll make sure to create an appropriate alias, Tommy.”

Tony scrunches his nose. Like that, it does sound stupid. “Point taken. So you just picked up a random name?”

“Pretty much, Toby.”

“Oh, shut up.”

Ahaha, the initial draft was around 20 000 words of disjoined notes dealing with shit I have no patience towards now, like Obadiah, Iron Man armor, Howard, Fury, Natasha, Shield, Loki-Jotun thing, Asgard, Egyptian and Greek deities (I just threw it away, because fleshing out at the beginning stages was just under 6000 words and I’m just, eeeeeh, deadline, Oel). Yes, I thought of it. No, I couldn’t fit it all in without it taking a couple of months and growing into multi-chap. One day, maybe, who knows.

#fge2017 #my fics #frostiron #loki/tony stark

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potterlivesrp · 7 years ago

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sample application.

Below you will find my sample application for Seamus Finnegan (FC: Thomas Doherty)! Thank you for your patience as I got this all together. I do want to make the strong point that the freeform section is absolutely up to you. I mean it when I say you can do whatever you want! I have elected to write a bunch of headcanons because that works for my personal character building process; if you want to do something different, please do! Good luck to everyone who is applying, and if there is anything I can do to help, please do not hesitate to let me know.

OUT OF CHARACTER

Name/alias: Honey

Age (18+): Twenty three

Preferred pronouns: She/her

Timezone: GMT+11

Life responsibilities: 8/10. In addition to being the admin, I am also a newly minted PhD student (yikes!). Between all the chaos that entails, I am actually quite good at time management, so I am here for the long run! If ever I need to duck away for a few days, I will make a post on the main and the OOC blog just to keep everyone updated.

OUT OF CHARACTER - Q&A

Answer the questions in the application here! No, I won’t give away the answers.

IN CHARACTER - BASICS

Full name: Seamus James Finnegan

Age and date of birth: Twenty years old (December 10th, 1980)

Zodiac sign: Sagittarius

Gryffindors born under this sign are exuberant and full of good humour. They are intelligent, but often do not make the best of students, because they would rather be outside enjoying the fresh air or off studying on their own. They aren’t good at diplomatic silence; if a teacher makes a mistake, the Gryffindor Sag will draw attention to it right away, usually loudly and in front of the entire class. At length. These students can get into trouble - their hot tempers make for easy dueling matches, and their impish senses of humour inspire a great many practical jokes. Still, they rarely mean anything malicious. They’re too jovial to harbour malice. These Gryffindors are likeable extraverts, on good terms with practically everybody, and they generally do all right in the end. Many excellent Quidditch players come from this sign. (Source)

Ex-Hogwarts house: Gryffindor

Gender identity: Cisgender male

Sexual orientation: Homosexual panromantic

Faceclaim: Thomas Doherty (if I were an applicant, I would put three FCs here in order of preference!)

IN CHARACTER - IN DEPTH

PERSONALITY TRAITS

POSITIVE: Generous, curious, idealistic, humorous, energetic, adventuresome, enthusiastic, brave, optimistic, confident, flirtatious.

NEGATIVE: Inconsistent, impatient, upfront, brash, undiplomatic, tactless, disorganized, careless, superficial, gullible.

HEADCANONS

Although he would loudly object otherwise, Seamus is a bit of a country bumpkin. His father was a muggle farmer when he met his mother, who was a field officer for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. The way they met was hardly romantic: she was there to investigate an outbreak of grindylows; he was about to call the council about the strange creatures infesting the water supply for his flock of sheep. But in a twist that is now legendary, Mary didn’t tell James about her magic until after they were married. This was hilarious to a young Seamus, who never tired of teasing his parents about their mutual deception. “Didn’t she give anything away?” Seamus would demand, laughing, and his father would grin, “Aye, I did wonder why a woman so beautiful would look my way.” Theirs was a happy home, one full of good humor and light-hearted conversation. Both of Seamus’ parents were Irish: national pride was not so much an aspect of Seamus’ upbringing as a permanent feature. Endlessly curious, Seamus would pour over old family photographs, nose nearly pressed to the unmoving faces of his father’s side, fingers tracing the crinkling smiles of his mother’s ancestors. In many ways Mary and James had parallel families, despite being magical and muggle respectively. They had seen famine and hardship, cruelty and poverty. The Finnegans were working stock, all calloused hands and sun-browned skin. Seamus burst with pride when he thought of his family’s blood and sweat that had seeped into the green fields of An Neidín.

Even in the middle of a war, Seamus knows he will return to Kenmare. His childhood was spent helping out on the farm, flying brooms with his cousin Fergus, and playing tricks on the local muggles. None of this was ever in ill-humor, for Seamus has an especially warm approach to all people. At school it wasn’t uncommon for him to apologize profusely if one of his jokes went a little too far (once he’d stopped laughing fit to burst, of course). One of the most important things in life, he reckons, is laughter. Laughter and good conversation. Indeed, Seamus could talk the hind leg off a donkey. When he was a child, Seamus would often ride his bike into the local muggle village on an errand of some kind – the newspaper for his Da, a bottle of ale for supper – and be found some hours later, engrossed in discussion with the shopkeeper over any manner of topics: animals, weather, farming. Seamus has an open, approachable manner that attracts him to farm-hands, milkmen, beleaguered Ministry workers, bartenders. With a vast and rambling mind, he manages to pick up snippets of information that, although often untrue or exaggerated, do mean he can contribute to essentially any topic in some respect. The degree to which his contribution is useful or even heeded, however, is up for debate.

Seamus has no clue what he wants to do after the war. Survival is his priority, as is anyone’s, in his opinion. For some years, however, he and his cousin Fergus have discussed opening up a whiskey distillery. This idea often surfaces after they have had a few too many whiskeys themselves, although Seamus would be remiss to say he isn’t seriously interested in the idea. He likes to imagine himself as the salesmen, the face of the company, while Fergus can do all the hard work. Fergus, needless to say, refutes this distribution of labor, and usually remarks that of the two of them, anyone would be more willing to look at Fergus’ pretty face than deal with Seamus and all his freckles. These conversations then regress into a tussle, which Seamus rarely wins. Fergus is a slippery little fucker.

The Finnegans are a small clan, and so Fergus is Seamus’ closest and only cousin. His senior by five years, it was Fergus who introduced Seamus to the first of most things. They attended the Quidditch World Cup together (where Seamus got catastrophically drunk – at fourteen, no less – under Fergus’ careful “supervision”); they often met in Diagon Alley for a pint and a game of chess together (Fergus always loses, mainly because he is easily distracted by the barmaid); and they flew brooms together. The last is among Seamus’ most treasured memories. Fergus would say he wanted to be a famous Quidditch player when he grew up. “I’m destined for greatness,” he insisted seriously, “haven’t ye seen me skills? Lad, you’ll be beggin’ for me autograph one o’ these days, just you wait.” Fergus did in fact make the reserve team of the Kenmare Kestrels a couple of years ago. Professional Quidditch, it turns out, is more about training and hoping you stick out enough to be picked for a game than it is about fame and glory. Now that the war has struck, Fergus has returned to Kenmare to stay with Seamus’ mother and father. The Regime has little need for sports at the moment, particularly when they’re too busy murdering muggles. If Seamus writes to anyone, it’s to Fergus, and damn Hermione’s rules about owling out too often. Fergus is his one link to home: without him, how would Seamus know about the new calf, or his mother’s redundancy from the Ministry, or his father staying up late, night after night, smoking his pipe and gazing into the fire? War means more than battles; it means leaving your family behind and hoping beyond hope that they’re missing you less than you miss them. For Seamus, who is so connected to his blood, the Resistance can be a form of torture.

Seamus dresses in muggle clothes more often than not. His parents had a relaxed attitude towards presentation, with his mother foregoing wizarding robes in favor of floral dresses or comfortable slacks, and his father usually slogging through the back door in enormous green wellies, a tweed flat cap crammed over his greying hair. Seamus is all muggle black Levi jeans, tight t-shirts of bands he’s never heard of, flannel overshirts, and a denim jacket littered with magical badges. He’s often found lounging on a sofa, trainer laces trailing, t-shirt rucked up his freckled stomach, a Quidditch magazine glued to his nose. Seamus has perfected the art of claiming a sofa to oneself (this also extends to beds, brick walls, and queues outside clubs). The trick, he reckons, is in looking utterly bored and somewhat post-coital, with half-mast eyes and a ready smirk, should anyone catch his eye. Seamus does have an air of sensuality about him -- and he can be an incorrigible flirt. “I can’t help being a sex god, can I?” he’s asked rhetorically on more than one occasion. In reality, Seamus is less sex god and more sex menace. At school he was often complaining about the regularity of his shags, the quality thereof, and the attractiveness of his partners. Being a part of the Resistance has had the effect of dampening his sex drive, but only slightly. Instead, Seamus channels his frustration into dueling. Blue balls is a very effective battle tactic.

Seamus is actually remarkably ordinary when it comes to magic. He is fair at transfiguration, good at charms, and reasonable at hexes. But it’s his patronus charm that is remarkable without exception. Seamus’ corporeal patronus – and it is always corporeal, make no doubt about that – is a fox. At first he demurred when it was suggested he teach others in the Resistance how to cast a patronus charm. “I’m not that good,” he said uncomfortably, “can’t ye get someone else t’do it?” Seamus isn’t a very good teacher when it comes down to it. He is easily distracted and often goes off on tangents, preferring instead to fall into conversation than to actually direct his student’s magic. This is a shame, because Seamus does have a gift, and it’s certainly lucky that this falls into one of the most difficult areas of magic there is.

His place in the Resistance is unquestioned. Seamus couldn’t bear to be at home, twiddling his thumbs, hoping that someone else was going to save them all from His reign of terror. Part of the reason why he joined the Order for a hot minute was simply all that energy. Seamus, for all his humor and chatterbox nature, is a doer. He needs to be in the fray, to feel useful. The Finnegans never got anywhere without getting their hands dirty, after all, and hard work is something Seamus is used to. His father certainly didn’t allow his only son to lollygag about the farm when there were cows to milk or agricultural fairs to attend. Much of Seamus’ early memories take place in the passenger seat of his father’s truck, bumping along endless green fields, heading towards some distant destination, their border collie panting and bouncing over Seamus’ shoulder. The problem with the Order was that he felt peripheral. Seamus will never kid himself: he knows he’s not a leader. He doesn’t have the charisma, for one, or the attention span. Although he’s definitely gifted at boosting morale and connecting with people, he far prefers a secondary role than being right at the front (this doesn’t stop him soundly criticizing anyone he believes is slacking off, of course). In the Resistance at least there is the feeling that they are working towards something. The Order was all cloaks and daggers: now Seamus is engaged in the gritty everyday of the Resistance’s existence. Someone has to scout out new camping spots, to figure out when they should attack that Death Eater hot zone, to teach people how to cast a patronus. Seamus is happy right in the middle of the action. He needs to feel valued.

For Seamus, the war sounds like late-night laughter, hushed in the blue dark, from people sitting around a bonfire. It’s the smell of a forest at dawn, of the rain-washed clean of another nameless British moor, the cold rush of ocean air whipping over dunes. Unmade beds, dish-washing duty, the organized cacophony of group breakfast. It feels like trudging along another country track, his boots sticking in the mud, Dean bumping into his side as their readjust the straps of their backpacks. The war sounds like the music that thumped out of a muggle club that one time in London; the way it pounded into the close summer air and tangled in Hermione’s sweat-damp hair. It’s that time he and Ron found themselves stuck in an abandoned warehouse for hours, watching a Death Eater do Merlin knew what across the way, until finally she apparated at four in the morning and left them sore, tired, and stupid, snapping at everyone when they arrived back at headquarters before collapsing asleep in bed for twelve hours. It’s the red bruise forming between his fingers from where he holds his wand. The war mainly feels like one anticlimax after another, but it mainly feels like holding a cup of tea on a frosty morning in Devon, sitting outside the flap of the tent and watching the light turn from dust to silver to gold. It feels the way that Dean makes him feel: short of breath, nervous, thrilled with their proximity.

For all his positive qualities, Seamus is a flawed individual. He finds it easy to identity the alleged weak spots of other people and does not hesitate in pointing them out, often loudly at at length, with little regard for other people’s feelings. He can also be quite brusque and even dismissive, believing that he has already considered the consequences and someone else’s opinion is merely a beat too late. In addition to this, his brash nature can cause him to be sloppy, clumsy, and heedless of consequence. Taking responsibility for his actions is something he struggles with constantly. There is a reason Seamus is not put on the trickier missions, when a careful hand and a steady eye are the only ways they can succeed. He is far better in the thick of it, with his spirit burning bright, his spells shooting through the dark like jets of flame. He lacks the finesse that a true spy requires; he does, however, have the mettle of a freedom fighter, and that is his redeeming feature.

One of Seamus’ biggest problems is his ability to jump to conclusions. It’s not an uncommon occurrence for Seamus to forego any logical explanation and simply choose whichever answer is the most salacious, extraordinary, or unbelievable. And somewhere, in the crowded, bright places in his mind, these tales take on a life of their own. At school it meant he was especially susceptible to gossip. More recently, his doubt in Harry Potter exemplifies this. Seamus would never discriminate based on blood status, and that is not the reason he feels uncertain around the prophecy of Potter being the Chosen One. No, he has a problem with the fact that Harry essentially knows nothing about how to fulfill this supposed prophecy. Although a halfblood himself, Seamus did essentially have a magical childhood. His mother imbued their home with magic in all of its ordinary glory: floating teapots, evergreen flowers on the sill, self-refreshing laundry. Seamus is used to the lovely everyday of magic and the wonder it can inspire in even the most mundane of chores. Even his father, in his sentimental moments (which are frequent; the Finnegans are an emotional lot and prone to heated monologues) expresses how strange and empty his old life feels without the touch of his wife’s wand. So how can someone who has never known the poisoned touch of You-Know-Who, who never grew up with stories about his reign of terror -- how can someone like that be expected to save someone like him? Even Seamus’ mother had a rough time during the first war; Seamus has seen her scars. You-Know-Who might have taken everything from Harry -- and that angers Seamus on Harry’s behalf -- but he also doesn’t know about the grim reality of Dark magic. What a word without Light is really like. And that, to Seamus, is difficult to reconcile.

EXTRAS

Seamus’ blog can be found here!

Here is a Pinterest board for him.

This is also where I would link to two writing samples if I were an applicant! They do not have to be IC.

#hp rp #golden trio rp #harry potter rp #literate rp #seamus finnegan #sample application

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