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snafu-maniac1 · 3 years ago

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Zuko deserved better

So I rewatched Avatar the Last Airbender recently and let me tell you......

I wanna murder several people.

Looking back on this entire series I’ve come to notice something. I watched the show just like any other audience member and only saw the good and the bad characters. One of these prime examples is Zuko. Zuko’s redemption arc has been praised as one of the greatest in history, succeeding where others have failed. But watching it all again......it wasn’t redemption. Not to me personally.

Before everyone gets angry and defensive at me, please finish reading my post and hear what I have to say. I do not wish to start any fandom wars or discredit or disrespect anyone’s opinion, this is just my personal psychological analysis of Zuko’s character....Sigh and let me give you a warning.

It’s gonna be LONG.

So if you’re not interested or don’t want to hear it or don’t feel like reading something this long that’s fine, you can go ahead and just click away and ignore this post.

Starting from book 2.

Now you may be wondering why I’m starting here and not from the start of Zuko’s childhood but I first want to address the one question everyone had been wondering since the series 2 finale. What would have happened if Zuko hadn’t sided with Azula?

My answer is.....that wouldn’t have happened.

Everyone’s been focusing on the entire arc where Zuko was struggling to accept that the war was wrong and how Iroh was trying to get through to him when he tried to capture Appa and afterwards, but here’s something everyone tends to ignore.

Why didn’t Iroh try sooner?

Why didn’t he try to stop Zuko before Aang came, before he’d gotten so deep and desperate to the point that he continuously committed heinous acts to capture the Avatar? People would justify it by saying Iroh wanted Zuko to realize the wrongs of his father and Nation by himself to shape him into his own person. But that is in no way the appropriate way to approach a physically, psychologically and mentally unstable and abused child. Zuko was a thirteen year old boy when he was burned and banished. This is where we go into his childhood. Zuko was raised like any other Fire Nation citizen. As we’ve seen in book 3 and in the Pirate comic book, The Fire Nation citizens were led to believe that the other Nations were ‘savages’ and ‘barbarians’. It villainizes the Fire Nation even more. The very fact that they would spread heinous lies against other people when they themselves were responsible for the war that ruined so many lives. But when you realize, what Sozin and the other Fire Lords did was a solid battle tactic. Making the opposing side out to be these horrendous monsters. Making lies or accentuating every one of their worst traits to dehumanize their enemies so that the people would not have any qualms about fighting them. All of the Fire Nation schools were taught these lies. And Zuko was no exception.

Zuko was a member of the Royal family. And from what was shown in the Avatar series, the Royal family was isolated from the rest of Fire Nation society. Zuko had no way of knowing what the other Nations were really like, no way of knowing the truth about the war and no one had bothered to explain it to him. The one person that could have, did NOT. And yet people had expected him to just automatically know that he was being lied to and that his people were the villains. Zuko’s only social exposure was with Fire Lord Azulon, Fire Lord Ozai, Dragon Of The West General and Crown Prince Iroh, his cousin Prince Lu Ten, his mother Princess Ursa and his younger sister Princess Azula and her friends Mai and Ty Lee. All of whom believed in the Fire Nation propaganda and all of whom had no problem in participating in the war and making jokes about burning Ba Sing Se to the ground. Zuko was under scrutiny and aggression from Ozai. Ozai was Zuko’s ‘handler’, his ‘groomer’. He groomed Zuko into a certain type of submissive and obedient behavior. Zuko was not allowed to show any type of emotion otherwise he would suffer severe repercussions. Ozai and Azula taunted Zuko for having a sense of compassion and with how he was ostracized in a war loving family, he began to believe his behavior and way of thinking was unusual. It was like Azula said to Mai, “Your mother had certain expectations of you and when you strayed from them you were shot down.” In Zuko’s case, the expectations he strayed from resulted in severe punishment. Ozai was willing to permanently disfigure and traumatize Zuko when he was a thirteen year old boy. It’s not unusual to think that his punishments towards Zuko would sometimes very likely be physical and many people even write alternate universes of the Avatar series where Ozai was even more abusive than he already was. He was a manipulative man who brainwashed his daughter into being his perfect, obedient little slave and manipulated his son into questioning his own sense of reality. He would tell him that Azula was born lucky and he was lucky to be born, cementing Azula’s view of herself of receiving everything she wanted and turning her personality toxic while he made Zuko feel inferior and faulty. If there was something wrong with him, his father would tell him and he needed to fix it. But he never could. He strayed towards his mother, who like Iroh, abandoned Azula because of Ozai’s manipulation and did nothing to help her like they ‘helped’ Zuko.

When Zuko was thirteen he wanted to ‘prove’ himself to his father by attending one of his war meetings. Zuko very likely only wished to do what his father wanted because by then, Iroh had abandoned him when he left after the Siege of Ba Sing Se, his mother disappeared and his grandfather and cousin were both dead. The only ones he had left of his family were his father and sister who both abused him and he only wished for their approval and their affection. Humans need mutual affection. Children who do not receive affection from their parents, tend to not take that type of neglect well. Because people need affection to properly function. Our parents love us from when we are young and that emotional connection is something very important to every human being’s mental state. However, Zuko’s only source of affection, his mother, was taken away from him. Azula herself, had no source of affection. Not from her mother, who thought she was demented from her father’s brainwashing, nor from her brother who feared her, nor from her father who used her as a tool. Returning to the day of the Agni Kai, Zuko wished to be of use to his father, he craved his affection because that is what the abuser does. They make you believe they are the only ones who can validate you and if you do not abide by their rules or follow their orders then you mean nothing. Zuko for the most part from what I could see in the flashback, held his promise and did not speak. But when he refused to back down when his people were in danger, Ozai was not pleased. This is because he is an abuser. He is Zuko’s ‘handler’ and when someone who is abusing another person witnesses this type of behavior, they have a feeling of loss of control. They desire control, they crave it, over the abusee especially. So when Zuko showed empathy towards the Fire Nation citizens and did not do as Ozai wished, he decided to ‘rectify’ that. In the most BRUTAL way possible. An Agni Kai. A public spectacle where he would establish dominance over his son, over his pawn and he would make a show of it. He would show everyone that HE was the one in control and NO ONE could defy him. When Zuko refused to fight Ozai, because of his love for his father, Ozai only saw that as a weakness. Ozai is a psychotic man. The fact that he did not have any problem in burning his son so cruelly shows that he does not have any sense of morals. Going back to Zuko, a thirteen year old child at the time, he had just been punished for disobedience, for straying from his father’s expectations, in the worst way possible.

Zuko did what many people would say is the right thing to do. He tried to defend his people from a cruel man intent on sending them to their deaths. But in doing so, he had defied his father and was punished for it. He was punished....for trying to HELP people. His life was essentially DESTROYED and he was thrown out of his home...for trying to help people. For showing empathy towards others. He was punished in the worst way possible for defying his father. His entire perception of right and wrong was thrown out of balance. He was taught that the war was right and that the Fire Lord, his father, was all knowing. And his mother tried to teach him kindness and her lessons of kindness got him punished. The amount of physical and mental damage he had sustained from such a punishment would in some cases be irreversible. Iroh was right there with Zuko and he did nothing. I CAN understand why he did not step in during the Agni Kai. He had been gone from the Fire Nation, his brother had taken the throne and he could have very well himself been punished severely for intervening. However, why did he allow Zuko to continue to believe he was the one at fault? Everyone of us has seen Zhao, has seen the way he treated Zuko during his banishment. Zuko very likely spent those entire two years before Aang’s arrival, being subjected to that type of behavior from everyone around him. All of them blamed him, all of them very likely said that he’d deserved what had happened to him. No one was on his side. He ended up turning aggressive and cruel towards others, because that was the way his father behaved and it was his empathy towards others that got him punished in the first place. He said in The Storm ‘the safety of the crew doesn’t matter’, just like the general that called the 41st division ‘fresh meat’. It was easier for Zuko to lash out at others and be aggressive than to let them see his vulnerabilities and hurt him for them again. It was the same with Song and her mother. Ozai tried to force him to be cruel, he tried to groom him the same way he did Azula. They dehumanized the other Nations and Zuko behaved the exact same way he was expected to. ‘Their compassion would cost them’. It was exactly the way his father wanted him to be. It was what Iroh did not wish for him, and yet despite claiming he thought of Zuko as a son, he did not in any way try to convince Zuko to give up his quest during the two years he had been searching for something that at the time was believed did not exist. The only instance we were shown of Iroh saying anything against his search, and even that is a stretch, was in the Western Air Temple episode where Zuko has a flashback of Iroh telling him that ‘destiny was a funny thing’ when Zuko said it was his destiny to capture the Avatar. Iroh had time to run the White Lotus, an antiwar organization for two YEARS maybe even longer and he did not think of taking two MINUTES to talk to Zuko, to ease him into realizing the wrongs of the war. Okay, yes he could have passed it off as character growth. But how do you expect a person, surrounded by people telling him he was at fault, he had no choice, either obey or never come back, to realize something like that? How do you expect an abuse victim to accept help all by themselves when their abuser forces them to depend on them? Did Iroh take him to some Earth Kingdom villages to see that they aren’t the vicious savages the Fire Nation portrays them to be? Did he take Zuko to the Southern Water Tribe to see the damage done to them at the hands of his own country? No. Instead he acted like an oblivious old man who had no interest other than Pai Sho and speaking proverbs that Zuko could not hope to understand.

Two years Zuko spent looking and looking and he turned desperate to the point that he was willing to do anything to go home. And then The Avatar finally returned. And then the people that Zuko was raised to perceive as brutal savages continued to stand in his way. And did Iroh intervene? No. He still did nothing. He allowed Zuko to continue his pursuit and turn into the worst possible version of himself. People say that Zuko should own up to the consequences of his actions. And he should. But would he have done those actions had Iroh stopped him earlier? Would he have done any of the things he did when the only remaining adult figure in his life had told him otherwise? Would he have listened to Iroh? The answer is yes. He was willing to do what Ozai had expected of him so why would he not listen to Iroh with time and patience instead of waiting till the last possible moment to do so? Children don’t automatically know right from wrong from the moment of their birth. They are taught by their parents, by the adults in their lives and Zuko had Ozai as his parental influence. And Iroh knew that. He knew the type of man his brother was and he did not try to overwrite his brother’s abuse to help his nephew until Zuko was already on the path of no return. When they became refugees Iroh still did nothing until they got to Ba Sing Se and until Zuko, again in an act of desperation, tried to capture Appa. That was when he FINALLY decided to step in. Three years since Zuko’s banishment, sixteen years of his father’s influence and abuse and he decides the very moment his nephew is close to the brink of insanity is the perfect opportunity to DESTROY his entire world view. He had worked day in and day out for two years before Aang appeared, only for his uncle, someone he TRUSTED, to tell him it was all for NOTHING. Two years of TORTURING himself. A year of fighting against his Nation’s enemies and SUDDENLY he’s being told it was all for nothing. When Iroh and Zuko reunited, Iroh told him he found his way again ‘on his own’ like how Zuko told Ozai he had to learn everything ‘on his own’. And they were both right. Zuko had no one to help him. He had to suffer through so much on his own, without anyone’s help and they’re SURPRISED he acted the way he did. When everything came to ahead in Ba Sing Se with Katara, people thought ‘Oh Zuko has changed he’s going to help Katara.’ And when he did not they HATED him for it.

The reason for this is because Katara was the ‘good guy’ and Zuko was the ‘bad guy’. Black and white. Katara and Zuko shared a moment of understanding from both losing their mothers and Katara offered to heal his scar and he chose to side with Azula and both Katara and the viewers saw this as a betrayal on Zuko’s part. This assumption however is completely unjustified and unfounded. Everyone sees Zuko and the Fire Nation as the bad guys. The villains of the story. But Katara and the Water Tribes and Earth Kingdom were the bad guys in the Fire Nation’s eyes. Katara was the ‘savage’ standing in the way of Zuko going home. The Avatar was his home’s greatest ENEMY and THREAT. Had the situation been reversed and Katara had to choose between Zuko and the Water Tribe and her brother and father, people would have supported her choice because they were the good guys. Zuko’s people were the bad guys so it had to be the wrong decision and a betrayal to Katara and Iroh. But Zuko was an unstable, traumatized child who did not wish to believe his people were bad, who did not want to fight his home after he spent so long trying to capture Aang, his home’s greatest THREAT and ENEMY. Katara hated Zuko because he represented everything that the Fire Nation did to her family. And Zuko hated her because she was the ‘savage’ keeping him from his one way home. To Zuko, Katara was the bad guy. And looking back at their moment of sympathy where Katara said he betrayed her trust I can only ask one thing....how could Zuko have known that Katara wasn’t trying to trick him? Now, the viewers would automatically respond ‘Katara’s not like that! She wouldn’t do that!’ but the fact is, we the viewers KNOW Katara. We know she’s not that type of person because we got to know her through out the series. Zuko does NOT know her. To Zuko, she’s just another faceless enemy out to KILL his father. He chose Azula’s side because he could not accept what Iroh was saying to him because why hadn’t Iroh said so sooner? He did not want to join Aang’s side cause this was the AVATAR. The one out to KILL his FATHER and take down his HOME. When Zuko returned, he was conflicted about what he had done because he had begun to see how wrong his father and sister’s behavior and The Fire Nation’s war truly was. And Iroh cemented that further by proclaiming Zuko’s struggle was because of Roku and Sozin’s conflict when that was clearly not the case. Zuko was groomed and brainwashed by the Fire Nation propaganda like every other citizen but he was not dispelled from that belief by anyone. No one tried to make him question that belief. Iroh did not try to ‘help Zuko’ until the very last moment in Ba Sing Se. People believe Zuko betrayed Iroh because that’s how it’s supposed to be when Zuko was the ‘bad guy’ and Iroh was the ‘caring’ Uncle and ‘voice of reason’. And yet he did not think to ‘reason’ with Zuko before this entire mess even started. He did not in any way try to disrupt Zuko’s view of the other Nations or his father. In my opinion, IROH was the one who betrayed ZUKO. Iroh KNEW the entire time that what Zuko was doing was wrong. Zuko was a child who was not allowed to think for himself and Iroh KNEW Zuko was brainwashed by the exact same propaganda he himself had believed before he lost his son. If Iroh, who had believed in the Fire Nation for so many years, was unable to realize the wrongs of the war until his ADULTHOOD when he lost his son, how in the world did he expect a 13 year old child to do so? And Zuko became even more unstable and then he chose the Fire Nation.

When he realized it was wrong and went to join team Avatar, they were reasonably mistrusting.

Zuko’s redemption arc from a simple perspective, from team Avatar’s perspective was very well done. Team Avatar did not know what Zuko had been through. To them he was just another Fire Nation monster who had hurt them. To the audience, he was just another Fire Nation monster who had hurt the good guys. No one would think that deep into a fictional character’s perspective or psychological and mental state. No one would think past the ‘good guy’ and the ‘bad guy’. But one thing I cannot justify is Katara’s accusation of betrayal towards Zuko. As we have mentioned, Zuko and Katara were enemies who had a mutual hatred towards each other before his ‘redemption’. They had one single moment of shared empathy and understanding and that is NOT the basis for earned trust. What would Katara have done had she been in Zuko’s shoes? Fighting her enemies, fighting people she sees as nothing more than monsters and she has to choose between her long time enemy and her sibling and her home and her family. If she was in that position, she would choose Sokka and Hakoda and Aang and the Water Tribe over Zuko in a heartbeat because those are her FAMILY members and her FRIENDS and people would justify her because she’s the ‘good guy’. The hero. But Zuko is the villain so his actions automatically AREN’T justifiable. I understand Katara’s mistrust towards Zuko because of their history and because again, she doesn’t know anything about him or what he went through. But she cannot expect him to just automatically leave behind everything he’s ever known and ever believed in because of one single moment of understanding. Zuko should have done everything he could to make it up to the group because he owed it to them and they again, did not know any of his reasons for hunting them. But Zuko does not deserve to be labeled simply as ‘a bad guy turned good’ when he was NEVER a bad guy to begin with. When he was never even mentally stable enough to make that type of decision for himself. In today’s day and age Zuko and Azula would have BOTH ended up in a mental institution. And after all of the things he went through, Zuko was the one who ended up going back to Iroh and apologizing when Iroh was the one who abandoned him and then Zuko at 16 years old ended up as the leader of a nearly fallen apart country. He had to suffer through insomnia, assassination attempts and mental instability and abandonment. Iroh left to Ba Sing Se and only made two appearances in a total of SIX comic books after the end of the War and one of those was entirely brief. So while Iroh gets to enjoy the rest of his life selling tea, Zuko has to suffer the consequences for what his family did. He was also abandoned by Mai which brings me to another point.

Zuko’s toxic relationships.

Some people say they dislike Mai because she is emotionally abusive towards Zuko. It never occurred to me before but looking at it now, I have to say that I agree. In the comics after book 2 had ended it was shown that Azula used Mai’s childhood crush on Zuko to manipulate him into going back to the Fire Nation with her. And Mai.....I don’t even know how to get started on the entire mess that is their relationship. Mai is a person who does not like emotion. She doesn’t like to express herself and immediately shuts down anything even close to emotion. The same applies to Zuko. Zuko is a very emotionally unstable and insecure person. And instead of reassuring and calming him, Mai immediately cuts him off whenever he loses a handle of his emotions and just flat out ends their relationship on the spot. She gives Zuko no explanation, just gets angry at him and then all of a sudden when Zuko can’t take anymore and explodes she suddenly says she cares about him. Their relationship is toxic. Mai demeans his problems and things that trouble him. Quote “I just asked if you were cold, I didn’t ask for your whole life story.” when Zuko was nervous about going back home. She demeans his guilt towards Iroh and tries to make him feel better by ordering servants around. And then in the Boiling Rock episode she attacks him for his letter which is reasonable on her part, but there is the problem that despite being Zuko’s girlfriend, up until that point she was Azula’s subordinate first and foremost and she could have tried to let Azula know. Still was a shitty way of ending their relationship, I’m not gonna act like it wasn’t but I still wanted to put that perspective out there just for thought. Not to mention how she ended things in the comic books. The trust issue I understand. But I don’t understand how ONE single mistake would lead to her just immediately ending things instead of at least TRYING to work it out. She could have listened to him and seen why he was so upset and scared of messing up that he went to Ozai of all people for help. She did not stick by him when he needed her and that was what forever ruined their relationship for me.

In simple terms, Zuko was a bad guy who became a good guy and redeemed himself.

In psychological terms, Zuko was an abuse victim who was brainwashed since his childhood, blamed for it and made into a scapegoat while his sister ended up in a mental institution because of her father’s influence and because the same people who ‘helped’ Zuko didn’t think she deserved it too.

So from what I’ve seen while rewatching the series....

Zuko never needed redeeming. Zuko needed help.

And he didn’t get it.

#avatar the last airbender #zuko #zuko deserved better #azula #azula deserved better #zuko needs therapy #azula needs therapy

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mostly-mundane-atla · 4 years ago

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Hi, I’m writing a fanfiction and from your posts on marriage it’s clear that Yue might actually have a lot of choices and agency for marriage specifically but I was wondering how much power does a wife have? I mean this in two ways, how much power does she have in the family and how much would a leader’s wife have in a community? Like, as wife of the chief (or daughter of the chief) would she ever make decisions for the community/lead or is it more an advisor thing or none of the above?

This is exactly my shit omg

So, a lot of people will say that among the Inuit, men dominate. This is not exactly true, and for the Inupiat specifically, it's been said that these preconceptions of men dominating or being seen as inherently superior or more valued are unfounded and based in misunderstandings and stereotypes. Men go out and bring food home to share with the village, but they understood that they would be foolish to think their wives had nothing to do with their success. Who was making their clothes and keeping them warm with mending so they could go out and bring home food? Who gave them a warm meal before? Whose forethought gave them peace of mind enough to sleep? Husbands and wives were interdependent and respected that. It's not a case of "yeah men are more valued, but women do the important work" but rather men and women both acknowledged that they each contributed things of equal importance. A wife wasn't obedient, she served her husband as her husband served her. The dynamic was built on trust and reciprocity.

There's also some stuff to be said about sexuality, because that's a big part in the perception of marriage and gender roles. The long periods of breastfeeding required to nourish children under the age of six years in such a harsh environment acted as a natural contraceptive. This gave women (and especially wives) a bit more wiggle room than there was to be found in cultures where contraceptives were tabooed. Sex wasn't something that had to be kept in a marriage. It wasn't something you were supposed to prioritize, but it wasn't something you had to save either. It was understood that most liked it because it felt good. There was no virginity requirement for marrying, and simply wanting or being curious about it was not considered morally wrong. Extramarital affairs were only looked down upon if there was dishonesty involved. Therefore, the whole concept of a husband's right to his wife? Not a thing among us. If any man wanted to sleep with any woman, she said yes or she said no and not always with words. (A lot of our communication is nonverbal, due to what could be described as a shy demeanor.) If she said no, maybe she'll change her mind, but a no for now is still a no, and the man in question was expected to respect that, and vice versa.

Men were often away tracking, hunting, whaling, doing what it took to bring the food in while women typically kept up the other duties. These were often outside the home in the warmer months, things like food prep and clothing and childcare, in social settings. The husband and father was given special consideration, as his work was more physically demanding, and the wife and mother would keep a store of food specifically for him that neither she nor the children they had would take from. In fact, the planning of food being stored, prepared, and distributed within the household was the wife/mother's responsibility. Such women, even those with arrogant or unthoughtful husbands, being smart with food can save entire villages from starvation. One story where this happens has the woman's husband fall to his knees and kiss her hands, full of both gratitude that she was among them and pride that someone like her chose to marry him.

This sort of power the women had over food manifested even in a young man's rite of passage. The first animal a boy ever successfully hunted was to be gifted to his mother or aunt. This first catch was typically something small like a bird or rabbit that the matriarch in question would make into a soup that could feed the whole family. And though it's true that men brought in the big game, women also provided through trapping, fishing, and bird hunting.

Due to men specializing in work that required long hours of attentive silence away from home, the more social aspects were handled by women. If you were arranged to be married to someone, it was more likely a discussion between your and your betrothed's mothers rather than fathers. This may have been why a young man who had never been married before needed to be deemed ready by his mother or other family member, while a young woman who had never been married before was trusted to know for herself.

So for the record: wives in general

-could have relationships with men who weren't their husbands

-didn't owe their husbands sex just because they were married

-had complete control over food distribution within the household, regardless of who brought it home

-were more involved with social things, like rites of passage and marriage arrangements.

Now when it comes to the Umialik, his wife (or "main wife" as it must be remembered: we were not a strictly monogamous people before the Christians showed up and decided they knew better than us) could lead in his name, but there's something that should be cleared up. The writers decided that it best suited the universe they created and the story they wanted to tell to treat the chief of the Northern Water Tribe as a monarch. This is not reflective of the way an Inupiaq Umialik was treated. While the image one might have based on Chief Arnook is one of higher quality clothes and a big beautiful house and delegating the grunt work to his subordinates, among the Inupiaq, leading the people meant putting more work into it. It was less about power and more about responsibility, and this responsibility was shared with his wife.

Among the Umialik's wife's responsibilities were sewing warm clothes for the whalers (she could recruit women of the village to help her), distributing food at a potlatch, and some important ceremonial roles to do with the whaling season. Like her husband, she was expected to remain chaste just before and during the whaling season. She was also expected to remain in the home while the whalers were away (a sort of pact with the whale, if that makes any sense), and when the whale was brought home, as with any other marine mammal catch, she was the one to pour water down its throat so it wouldn't die thirsty.

An Umialik likely did seek his wife's councel, but that would be true of any husband. Only an idiot would treat his wife like she has nothing of value to offer and a man ought to be humble enough to listen if he wants to marry. The Umialik was the man with the biggest family, likely because they would support his claim and it was hard to defy someone so connected to the village, but another reason could be that, with the largest family, he'd likely be exposed to the most states a person can find themself in, granting him more experience. As mentioned before, women were more in-tune with the social aspects than men usually were, so any wife but especially that of the Umialik would have an important perspective that her husband might not.

As for the Umialik's children in general, primogeniture was not the hard and fast rule among Inupiat as it wass with many cultures we're used to. An Umialik's daughter had no more rights than the average woman and his son had no more rights than the average man. They might find themselves on the receiving end of exceptional kindness to win their father's favor, but there was no guarantee either would inherit

#response #eskimo on main #i had to connect a lot of dots for this one so I hope you liked it

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miss-choco-chips · 4 years ago

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F’coffee

-.-.-.-.-.-

Honestly. What did Bruce even think would happen? He should have known better.

Tim wasn’t Dick, indoctrinated from a young age to be a good, somewhat (when convenient) obedient son. Tim only went along with Bruce’s shit because, more often than not, it aligned with what he himself wanted. He also wasn’t Damian, so easily manipulable when one knew which buttons to push. And he certainly wasn’t Jason, who would sink his own ship to kill the captain.

So, when Tim and Bruce fought, and his adopted father decided to pull the ‘you live under my roof and work in my company, so I’m the boss all the way through’ card, well…

Yeah. Tim wasn’t going to take that lying down. He had a childhood of zero authority figures to obey and an overabundance of sass, plus a complete lack of fucks to give.

It was bound to go down like this.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

And, well. Tim had money. Like, an absurd amount of money. Even before being adopted by playboy billionaire Bruce Wayne, Tim had his own no small fortune stashed away, a couple of properties gathering dust, two trust funds and more antique cars that he knew what to do with. So he could just… burn through that money, or sell the cars, or make a living of renting the buildings he owned, and he would barely even scratch the surface of his deep wealth.

But it wasn’t about being able to live comfortably with minimum effort. Tim was trying to prove a point here. What point, fuck if he knew. But a point.

So here he was, on the other end of the wooden counter, a cute red cap falling over his eye as he looked dead into his friend’s eyes.

“Tim. Tim, you’re rich. Why are you working in a coffee shop?”

Seeing as Kon and Cassie were currently too busy being shocked, Tim shrugged and went back to cleaning the cup in his hands.

It was a plastic cup. It didn’t need cleaning, he could just toss it away. But it was his favorite plastic cup, and he was gonna save it as a family heirloom forever.

(The fact that the pretty customer from the morning shift had drawn cute little doodles all over it had nothing to do with it’s worth.)

“Teenage rebellion”, he finally said, carefully putting his treasure away.

“You are twenty.”

“Time is a social construct and I’m but a slinky falling down an endless flight of stairs.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Your face doesn’t make any sense. How is it so symmetrical? It defies nature.”

-.-.-.-.-.-

“What can I get for you?”

“I'll have a mocha caramel latte-chino, made with skim milk, no whipped cream.”

“Bart, no.”

“Please put that in a grande cup”

“I’m begging you, don’t do it.”

“But use the same amount of coffee that you'd put into a tall.”

“I’m warning you, you don’t want to do this.”

“That way there's about an inch of extra room on top.”

“I wish you had an extra inch so I could look straight into your eyes when I murder you.”

“To stir in my own nutmeg without spilling any coffee at all.”

“You’re dead to me. Also, I AM going to make you that drink and you WILL finish it or so help me God.”

“What do you want, Kon?”

“To not be here when Tim’s looking like he’s planning both our unsolved murders.”

-.-.-.-.-.-

When Kon entered the shop, the messenger bag slung over his shoulder bumping against his hip as he rushed in to get his caffeine intake before his evening classes, he wasn’t surprised at the scene.

Cassie being there was a given, since there was always at least one of them there at all times, supporting Tim in this ‘independence’ thing he was dead set on trying. Kon himself had his Tim Shift later that day, after his creative writing course. Bart had probably just left, considering the amount of empty cake platters littering the counter.

Tim being face down in said counter, uncaring about the mess, was also old news. The dude barely ever seemed to leave (Kon was almost completely sure he actually owned the place, since he’d never seen any sort of manager and Tim’s hours seemed to work around his weird sleep patterns all too perfectly), and distraught was his general state of being, so. Normal day as far as he could see.

Still, he had to ask. “What is it today?”

Cassie, eyes never leaving her magazine, chin resting in one hand as the other one scratched at Tim’s scalp, snorted.

“A cute boy started working in the tattoo place next door. He came in for a morning fix, when Tim was barely awake, and he said something stupid, so he’s been having an existencial crisis ever since.”

“I said ‘you too’, Kon. He said ‘thanks for the coffee, I’ll enjoy it!’ and I said ‘you too’. What is wrong with me?”

Kon snorts a little. Tim doesn’t seem to be very interested in doing his actual work, so he just jumps over the counter and starts working the machines himself.

“You know that’s a question you can only ask your therapist, Tim, but if you need to know, I’d say you’re highly sleep deprived and a dysfunctional bi?”

At that, Tim does turn to look at him. There’s some cake frosting clinging to his eyelashes, and his hair is a mess. It looks cute, to be completely honest, and Kon has to leave his unfinished latte on the side so he can hug the little shit.

“Aw, don’t pout, Timbo. I’m sure he thought you were cute. Just try to sleep a bit more tonight, so when he comes back tomorrow you’ll be a little more alert and won’t embarrass yourself.”

“What do you mean, when he comes back?”

“I mean, if he works next door, he’ll probably get his morning coffees here all the time, right?”

That seemed to drive Tim back into the distraught spiral. He smashed his head back into the counter, making dying whale noises until Cassie’s hand returned to his scalp.

Kon privately thinks Tim’s life is starting to sound like fanfiction. He wonders which type of background character he would be, in it.

-.-.-.-.-.-

The shop is called F’coffee. That’s why Cassie is convinced Tim is the actual owner; no one else would really think that’s a proper name for a serious establishment. Kon isn’t convinced all the way yet, but with Bart on her side and Tim staying silent on the subject, it is just a matter of time until she convinces him it’s totally okay for him to do his gym routine there. She thinks, with Tim being his own boss, no one would tell him to stop it, and it would help his friend’s business to bloom with new customers.

The place's general aesthetic is exactly what you would expect, with old wooden tables, comfy chairs, potted plants hanging from the walls and tall windows just a little bit stained. The smell is constantly of the strongest brew Tim has, Death Coffee (which he’s actually not legally allowed to sell, so he keeps it for himself), and just setting a foot in makes her feel instantly awake. It's also always warm, and the sweets on display look mouth watering no matter your personal preferences.

In short, it looks like something out of a movie. It’s a tad too perfect for her friend, but she thinks it also fits his obsessive need for perfection.

Except for the board. Oh, the board. Cassie loves it more than life itself.

Tim has divided the drinks in categories. And made up names for all of them.

“Yes, hello! I’d like to order a grande, iced, sugar-free vanilla Latte, with soy milk, but I can’t seem to find it in your menu…”

Tim’s dead eyes turn to Cassie for a second, before facing his customer again.

“You’re probably looking into the Normal People section”, he points out, before raising his hand to signal a bit to the left. “There you have the Pain In The Ass selection. There’s nothing just like you asked, but you have the It’s Britney Bitch beverage, which is almost exactly the same except I’ll add a middle finger drawing in the cup and charge you extra for emotional damages. Also, we’re out of soy milk.”

Or…

“Hey, good morning! I’d like to order…”

Tim raised a hand, stopping the chirpy, good looking young man dead in his tracks.

“Don’t tell me, I know what you need. I’ll just go ahead and prepare it.”

“But you don’t even know what I/”

“You’ll have a Cougar Bait. It has cacao cream, a strawberry pucker and some grenadine seeds. I think it's fitting, for you.”

And also…

“Hey, hum… Sorry, I just have to ask… what’s on the ‘Barista’s heart’ drink?”

“Cacao powder, almond milk and espresso. Also some organic coconut ash, that gives it the blacker-than-night color, that’s just a shade lighter than my soul.”

“...noted.”

Cassie snorts into her cup of Jack it up (coffee that tastes just like a Jack Daniel’s; having Tim working here has opened up her eyes to the possibilities), watching as Tim makes his own usual.

“What’s in that one?” She asks, out of curiosity, when she’s sure there’s no other customer close by.

“Six espresso shots.”

She waits for a second. Tim finishes the drink, carefully handling the dark liquid inside his favorite plastic cup.

“...okay, and?”

“And that 's it.”

“Tim, that-- that would kill you?”

“Duh. Why did you think it was called The Last Sip?”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

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dreamer213 · 4 years ago

Text

Broken machines: Lights the dark

Chapter 2 Beautiful Night

In dark quiet room a young man sits atop his bed waiting. The room itself is opulent and pristine, a queen size bed with silk sheets, oak wood floor, a gorgeous antique armoire full of designer clothing, a full length mirror, silver trend curtains, an ornately detailed desk, bookshelf filled with materials on business, culture, and the arts and even a bath en-suite. Truly a scene ripped straight from a magazine with it’s presentation and uniform coloring. Nothing but dark blues, grays, and whites as far as the eye could see, it gives off a very chic and vintage feel but such a cold color scheme leaves little room for light to enter. With darkness of night sky peeking through the window It is as though the room itself becomes like snow, beautiful and magnificent in appearance but cold and devoid of life. The same can be said for the boy, smooth white hair set neat and tidy in a simple but elegant cut, a long and slender figure with good posture and a gorgeous face with high cheek bones, full lips, a perfect jaw line, long lashes, and beautiful deep blue eyes. But behind those beautiful eyes lays a cold and empty stare, no youthful joy or warmth to speak of, just the cold stare of empty soul. If not for his breathing and movements he could be mistaken for a porcelain doll, left in it’s display never to be moved or play with but to be held up and admired. But that is not important right now. No, what matters right now is if Weiss’s found the back doors they left open for her and made her escape yet.

It’s been a while she should be long gone by now, if she hasn’t left yet it won’t be long before Father finds her then Gods know what he’ll will do. I mean getting caught trying to escape the city after nearly killing a defenseless woman at a public event over some unkind remarks. Cleaning up this mess is going to be hell on its own but if Father finds her trying to run away He’ll-

Whitley tenses up and grips his biceps through his sleeves, there’s a dazed look in his eyes. He closes his eyes, takes some deep breath, and calms himself.

No, I can’t think like that now. I have to believe that she followed through, that she ran away pre her usually sanctimonious behavior. I mean what did she think she was going to achieve by acting like that. Did she think that was going to change their minds? Did she really think that screaming like a child and losing control of her powers was going to do anything but cause chaos. If General Ironwood hadn’t been there we all could been killed by that monster. But no, even after fighting Grimm and seeing how terrifying they are first hand, she still never once gave a thought to what the consequences of her actions would be for anyone but herself. But then again that just might be who she is now. Doesn’t matter if she to her if she’s right or wrong, if she feels attacked she’ll just lash out either physical or verbal. With all her talk of restoring our family name I never thought she would do something like this. I never thought she would go this far but then again I never thought she’d treat me like an enemy. I try my best to engage with her whenever I could and she accuses me of wanting to her get disinherited and acts like I’ve stolen her role away from her. Really? She thought I would want the life both she and Winter ran away from the first chance they could. Seriously? What do I gain from her failure, living at home with a drunk for mother, a tyrant father, and a staff of people traumatized from working with them. Having my every move monitored and commanded by a man who cares more about money than human life. The enormous amount of work that comes with preparing to take over a company of such great magnitude and whatever grunt work Father doesn’t feel like doing. OH! Let’s not forget the fact that you’ll never truly be in charge as Father will surely keep you trapped under his heel until the day he dies! A life as puppet to a man whose dragged our family name through the dirt trapped in a house colder than the coldest of blizzard. Yes Weiss, I so desperately wanted you to run away to live your dreams so I could live your nightmare.

“WHERE IS SHE!!!” “WHERE DID THAT WORTHLESS BRAT GO!”

Whitley hears his father screaming down the hall, the screaming continues for almost an hour until it’s becomes clear that Weiss has escaped. For moment everything’s quite as though the entire manor has become frozen in time. But not long after the silence there’s a crash then another and another. The commotion grows louder and louder with every passing second until the shirks of manor staff become just loud as the havoc Jacques Schnee is wreaking.

Whitley: Looks like it’s time to clean up the mess.

Whitley gets up and walks out of his room towards the commotion. As he gets closer and closer as follows his father’s path of destruction. Broken glass, fallen paintings, and décor pieces smashed and scattered across the floor the halls are in shambles. When he finally reaches his father the situation is much worse than he expected. Jacques has completely lost his composure, he’s throwing things, screaming wildly, his face is beet red and his eyes are bulging. The servants are trying their best to calm down while trying to avoid getting hit. They try and try but nothing they do seems to calms him. As this struggle continues Whitley approaches them, he quietly walks up behind them. He stands there waiting for an opportunity to grab his father’s attention.

Jacques: AFTER EVERYTHING I’VE DONE FOR THAT UNGRATEFUL BITCH SHE DARED TO DEFY ME LIKE THIS!

Whitley: Father please, you need to calm down the stress isn’t good for—

Before he can get another word out an object goes flying past Whitley’s head. It was a small antique clock a gift from a business associate. His father Jacques Schnee, who was now facing him, had thrown it within an inch of his own son’s head. Jacques stalks over towards Whitley, getting closer and closer until he is standing over his son and stares directly into his eyes.

Jacques: What did you say?

Whitley: Stay calm, stay focused, you have to see this to an end before things get worse. I said you should calm down you shouldn’t be stressing yourself over such a minor issue. It’s not good for your health.

Jacques: And do tell me Whitley, how is your sister running away a “minor issue”.

Whitley: Well she’s already been disinherited and made a public spectacle of herself, there’s no real need for her to be at the manor anymore. That and when people ask about her and how she was punished you can say she was kick out and thrown to the streets for her awful behavior. For most that were present at that party the very idea of being cut off is the stuff of nightmares, hearing that the heiress to Schnee dust fortune got herself thrown out for her reckless mistakes should help calm the ruckus Weiss created.

For a moment everyone pauses, they hold their breath waiting for the elder Schnee’s reaction. After what feels like hours Jacques puts his hand above Whitley’s head. He brings it down and begins to slow pat his son’s head.

Jacques: Good job Whitley, you always have your mind in the right place when I need you to.

Whitley: Of course Father, I’m always thinking of what’s best for the Schnee legacy.

Jacques: Good, now then get this mess cleaned up I need to go have a talk with Klein. I just know that dog had a hand in this.

Whitley: Yes Father, I’ll have the staff get this up right away.

Jacques gives an approving nod then walks away. As soon as his step can no longer be heard and he is out of earshot the servants all breathe a sigh of relief and start cleaning up. Whitley walks down the hall, searching for someone. After roughly half an hour up and down the second floor Whitley finally finds the person he’s been looking for, Mary Shellor.

Mary Shellor has been working at the Schnee Manor for several years. When she first arrived no one expected her to last very long but to their surprise she acclimated to the environment rather quickly. She was also a very diligent worker, never making a mistake more then once. And because of her skill, not long after her hiring Mary was promoted to one of the most important and most difficult positions in the manor, Willow’s personal maid. She’d become Willow’s shadow following and serving her wherever she may go unless dismissed. During her first year as Willow’ maid also sought out and obtained another role, or rather a long term investment. You see after observing the family for a time it became clear to Mary which child would inherit the family fortune. The children, Winter, Weiss, and Whitley, had been raised quite incorrectly for their natures. Like wolves raised as show dogs ,they were trained to be obedient, intelligent, and outstanding but because of their strong willed and fierce natures they could never truly be tamed. First and second born were allowed enough freedom to want for more and seek an end to their captivity even if it meant losing everything. Eventuality they were able to beard their fangs and break free of their chains. But the third born, the son, was not allowed such opportunities, No Jacques had learned from his past mistakes he wasn’t letting this one get away. Whitley was kept closer, his chains made tighter, and cage made much smaller then his predecessors. And yet Mary could still see the wolf in him, though different from his sisters it was still there. Unlike his sisters he couldn’t attack or run from his situation so the boy did the only thing he could and did it well, he played along. He played the role of Father’s loyal dog so well that even his sister believed the act without question but unbeknownst to her or their father beneath that mask Whitley’s fangs were growing strap, he was waiting. Whitley knows when he’s at a disadvantage he knows when to act and when to retreat, he knows how to play games, the game of Atlas politics, his father’s games, and the games of the business world. The day Whitley would strike would be the day everything would be returned to a true Schnee, one who knew how to survive in this world, who knew the mistakes of the past and how not to repeat them. Mary wanted to be on the right side when that day came and so she became Whitley’s eyes and ears in and outside of the manor as long as he promised to keep her in mind when the time came. That was their argument one Mary never doubted would play out in her favor.

Whitley: Mary where’s Mother?

Mary: The Mistress has retreated to the library. After the shouting started she ran inside and hid. I asked her if there was anything I could do and she dismissed me.

Whitley: Thank you Mary, stay here I’ll be back in a moment.

Mary: Yes, Young master

Whitley walks pass her towards the library, once at the doors he pulls them open only to find that the lights are off and the scent of alcohol is heavy in the air. Whitley follow the scent deeper and deeper into the library, gagging slightly the closer he gets, as he draws nearer to the source he finds a trail of wine bottles.

Whitley: They’re all empty, she’s close.

He picks up the bottles as he follows the trail until he finds a blanket covered figure sitting on the floor tucked into a corner. Whitley puts the bottles down and slowly approaches the figure, small sobs escape it as he drew closer, he kneels down in front of them with his hands on his knees. He then gently pulls the blanket off the figure to reveal his mother Willow Schnee, sobbing and trembling beneath the blanket she’s wrapped herself in.

Whitley: It’s over Mother, Father’s gone back to his office. You can go back to your room now he won’t be coming out for some time.

Whitley holds out his hand towards Willow, with a shaky hand Willow grabs onto her son. Whitley grabs onto tightly, wraps his free arm around her shoulders and pulls her up. He steadies her as she gets on her feet, and guides her through the darkness and into the hallway. Once they’re out out of the library he hands Willow off to Mary.

Whitley: Take her back to her room she can barely walk, make sure to leave a bucket by her bed. And don’t let her have anything else tonight she has too much in her system already. She’s also left a good amount of empties on floor again, have someone clean those up before Father’s next reading hour.

Mary: Of course Young Master, we’ll have everything clean and in order before Master Jacques get up for breakfast.

Whitley:Thank you Mary , that will be all for tonight.

This was why Mary chose to put her faith in the boy, for as cold and defensive as Whitley was he was also incredibly loyal. Whenever the Master flew off the handle the Young Master would do everything in his power to calm him down and keep him calm for as long as possible. At first Mary thought this was more his loyal dog act but after a few more incidents it was clear what he was doing. Whitley would never sacrifice another’s safety for his own. His true purpose for playing the Master’s game was not to obtain power but peace and freedom from the chains that bind this manor and the people in it.

With that Mary and Willow depart towards Willow’s bedroom while Whitley retreats his own. Once there he closes the door behind himself and pressing his back against the door. He takes a deep breath then slumps down the door, gets into the fetal position and starts to sob. He cries and weeps for a long, long time, until his face is red and his voice horse. Once he finally he stops Whitley gets up and goes to his ensuite to clean himself up. After a long bath he puts on his sleepwear and lays down on his bed, he stares up at the ceiling until he finally succumbs to his own exhaustion and falls into a dreamless sleep.

#whitley schnee #broken machines #rwby #rwby fanfiction #fanfic #Someone hold this baby #sad #fanfiction

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lostbbygorl · 3 years ago

Text

AN UNLIKELY VILLAIN (LEVI X F!READER):

AU: PRIDE AND PREJUDICE BY JANE AUSTEN

~~~~~~

Lady Katrina was careful not to make a sound as she stalked her niece and nephew to the piano room. Isabel had dragged

Mr. Ackerman by the hand to the piano room, and the duo had shared countless looks and whispers throughout the ball which took place on that very night at the De Lancey mansion. As nosy as ever, Lady Katrina intended to discover the subject of her niece and nephew’s hushed yet frantic discussions.

“ A union between you and Amanda will be disastrous, brother! You cannot lie to our aunt, Amanda, and yourself forever! You’re a grown man, have a spine! It’s Y/N who gives you a purpose to live in this world, and it is Y/N you must chase and marry”, Isabel scolded Levi.

“ You are a child, Isabel, don’t tell me what to do. Besides, you know of our aunt’s stubbornness. Do you really think she’d happily accept a marriage between me and someone of Y/N’s standing after I’ve been engaged to Amanda my whole life?”, Levi reasoned.

“ I wouldn’t be meddling with your life if you acted like the grown up you are and defied our aunt! If Y/N can do it, so can you! I will not sit around and watch my older brother spend the rest of his days in acute misery”, Isabel said, decidedly.

“ I know of the letters you and Ms. Y/N exchange frequently, and I know for sure, as a young woman, that she loves you back now. It’s what you’ve been waiting for her to do all this time, Levi, why are you suddenly so obedient? Where’s the headstrong, independent Levi I know? Things must change around here, and you’ll be starting it”, Isabel finished definitely. The fire in her eyes made Levi know that Isabel wouldn’t back down till he was united with the woman he loved, and moreover, her words had motivated Levi to live by his own rules, which he had always done until Lady Katrina started discussing his engagement with Amanda more seriously. After learning of Levi’s feelings for Y/N and confronting him about them, she decided to have them married in 2 months instead of next summer, thinking that this change of plans would squash all hope in Levi. Lady Katrina angrily stomped back to the ballroom. To her displeasure, Amanda was deep in conversation with a blonde boy with blue eyes who she vaguely remembered as Armin Arlert- and she was smiling! An extremely rare occurrence indeed. This was an absolute nightmare for Lady Katrina! The world was turning upside down! Lady Katrina was determined to put a damper on this! So, the very next morning, she boarded her carriage for a journey to Trost.

Y/N’s household was much quieter than usual, now that Sasha was gone. Papa and Mama were bickering as old married couples usually do, and Mikasa was helping Ella with a sewing project. The eldest sisters were in the chicken house discussing Mr. Smith and Mr. Ackerman whilst petting baby chicks.

“ Mr. Ackerman’s been writing to me more regularly nowadays. It’s so refreshing to see him come out of his shell and open up”, Y/N said.

“ Mr. Smith says he’ll come visit Trost as soon as he has some urgent business seen too”, Christa squealed enthusiastically to a wide eyed, gasping Y/N.

“ And you tell me this only now? Christa, I can guarantee he’s coming to see you”, Y/N promised. Suddenly, the entrance to the chicken house burst open, and a heavily breathing Ella stood in front of them. Ella looked like she had some important news.

“ Ella, are you alright?”, Christa asked to which Ella nodded.

“ Christa, come to the living room immediately! You have a special visitor”, Ella said, catching her breath. The three sisters ran back to the house. When Christa entered the living room, she was shocked to see a beaming Mr. Smith sitting on the sofa talking to Mrs. L/N. Mr. L/N came back from the kitchen with a pot of tea and some muffins. Mr. Smith’s attention shifted to Christa as soon as she entered the room, and everyone intensely stared at the pair, who had hearts in their eyes when they made eye contact.

“ Ms. Christa, it has been too long”, Mr. Smith bowed.

“ Mr. Erwin, it truly is lovely to see you in flesh again. It’s been ages since we last met at Stohess”, Christa replied.

“ I agree. I notified you in my letters that I’d be visiting Trost after some urgent business was seen to. Well, all matters have been fixed much earlier than I predicted, so I thought I might surprise you”, he explained. His tone and his posture were confident, but if you noticed the way his hands clenched and unclenched on repeat, you’d notice he was nervous and obviously had something important to spill.

“ And I am surprised!”Christa laughed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“ Then I am successful. Ms. Christa, I have come here to speak with you about a matter most serious. Everybody, may we have some privacy for a short while”, Mr. Smith politely requested as he looked around at all the faces staring at him. At once, everybody scurried out of the living room. But they didn’t leave Christa and Mr. Smith alone, oh no! Mrs. L/N and Ella pressed their ears to the door as soon as they closed it. Mr. L/N and Y/N whispered amongst themselves about what the motive behind Mr. Smith’s sudden visit could be.

“ Do you think he’ll propose to Christa?”, Mr. L/N asked Y/N.

“ I’m not entirely certain, but something tells me that is his motivation”, Y/N said, heart beating in anticipation.

Meanwhile inside the room, Christa was crying tears of pure joy, and Mr. Smith smiled the widest he ever had in his life. Twinkling in the sunlight that shone through the windows of the living room was a gorgeous pear shaped diamond on Christa’s ring finger! Mr. Smith had apologized to Christa for abandoning her so suddenly, and came back to ask for her hand in marriage. With their arms linked, Mr. Smith and Christa exited the room, smiling at the faces of their eavesdroppers.

“ Everyone, me and Mr. Smith are hereby engaged to each other”, Christa squealed, and all at once, chaos commenced inside the house! Mr. L/N wrapped his arms around Mr. Smith and congratulated him before making him swear he’ll keep his beloved daughter happy. Mrs. L/N was glad that she’d have yet another one of her children married off, and this time to a filthy rich gentleman! Ella, Mikasa, and Y/N tackled Christa with a bear hug and Y/N loudly exclaimed praises and jokes at Christa. Mr. Smith stayed over for lunch, and he took Christa on a ride with him to Dauper village afterwards for some bonding time as an officially affianced couple.

The rest of the day went rather peacefully. Mr. L/N and Y/N relaxed in the library. Mr. L/N was reading a novel, while Y/N wrote to Sasha and Nifa about the engagement. Christa returned to the house just in time for dinner, just as Lady Katrina had reached Trost!

Y/N lay in bed, not even a tiny fraction of sleepiness in her. Her head still buzzed with joy and excitement after Christa’s engagement. Could Mr. Ackerman really be behind all this? Was he really mending his ways after Y/N had criticised him, and solving everybody’s problems? For the umpteenth time, Y/N lay awake at an ungodly hour thinking of Mr. Ackerman, and letting her insecurities eat away at her. Mr. Ackerman loved her, no doubt about it, but it was Amanda who was getting in her way! Now, a good natured person like Y/N could never hate an innocent young lady who had no intention of hurting her, but god, it really would be blissful if Amanda didn’t exist! She was plain and dull, but she had all the wealth and connections. Y/N was losing all hope of ever reuniting with Mr. Ackerman, or of giving her hand to him. But she was rudely jerked out of her thoughts when it began raining unexpectedly, and heavily too accompanied by a boisterous thunderstorm! But it wasn’t only the loud rain that bothered her, it was the sound of wood being knocked on. It took Y/N a few seconds to realize that somebody was knocking on her door- and very roughly too!

Y/N flocked downstairs to see her family surrounding a short, plump woman in expensive, elegant clothes with her gray hair tied in a tight bun. It was Lady Katrina! But what was she doing here at Trost, in her home, at 3.00 in the morning?

“ Where is Ms. Y/N L/N?”, Lady Katrina demanded, her striking grey eyes shining angrily by the flames of the fireplace as she searched for Y/N. Y/N was taken aback! For a brief moment she locked eyes with Christa, who pointed her chin at Lady Katrina’s direction with a confused expression, silently asking Y/N who this lady was and why she barged into their home at such a late hour.

“ I am here, your ladyship”, Y/N answered.

“ May I ask why you’ve woken me and my family at 3.00 AM in the middle of severe rain to seek me out?”, she asked.

“ Now, Y/N, that’s no way to treat a guest. Would your ladyship like a cup of tea?”, Mr. L/N butted in.

“ Not at all. All I would like here is to talk privately with Y/N. Where might I sit and talk with her alone?”, she asked with a serious tone.

“ Let me lead you to the library, my lady”, Y/N answered, guiding Lady Katrina there. Once inside, Lady Katrina circled Y/N, giving her no scope to seat herself.

“ Ms. Y/N, I am here because a most alarming report has been made to me two days ago, and you are to debunk it”, Lady Katrina said in a matter of fact voice. Y/N was curious.

“ I have no idea as to how I could ever be in the middle of your problems, madam, so please provide me with a backstory so I may understand”, Y/N requested.

“ Ms. Y/N, I must warn you that I am not to be trifled with. The report made to me states that you intend to marry my nephew, Levi”, Lady Katrina clarified.

“ I know this to be a scandalous falsehood, and I came here as soon as possible to confirm my sentiments on the matter to you”.

“ If you believed a marriage between me and him to be impossible, why did you take the trouble of coming so far to confront me about it?”, Y/N queried.

“ To hear it from your own mouth. Why do you pretend to be ignorant of it? Have these statements not been industriously circulated by yourself?”, Lady Katrina challenged.

“ They haven’t, and I deny all accusations of them having been spread by me”, Y/N replied confidently, though her heart was cracking the more Lady Katrina spoke. All her insecurities about her relationship with Levi were seeping out.

“ So you declare that there isn’t any foundation for it?”, Lady Katrina asked.

“ I declare nothing, as I’ve just been informed of these rumors now”, Y/N said.

“ Then let me ask a clearer question which to my knowledge has no answer excluding yes or no. Has my nephew made you an offer of marriage?”, Lady Katrina interrogated.

“ Your ladyship has declared it impossible”

“ Let me be understood! Mr. Ackerman is affianced to my daughter. What do you have to say now?”

“ Only this: that if your words are kosher, he wouldn’t have a reason to ask for my hand”, Y/N said, riling the woman up! Why wouldn’t Y/N just give her straight answers?

“ Ms. Y/N, do you know who I am?”Lady Katrina loudly quizzed her.

“ I am his closest relative, so therefore I am entitled to know all of Levi’s most important concerns”, Lady Katrina stated.

“ But you aren’t entitled to know mine”, Y/N countered her, making Lady Katrina put a hand on her chest in offence. She took ragged breaths in an attempt to calm herself. She closed her eyes, and once she was more clear headed, she opened them again.

“ The engagement between them is of a peculiar kind”, Lady Katrina started again, her tone softer.

“ Their marriage was decided during their infancy, and it is the favorite wish of my Amanda’s late father and Levi’s”, she explained.

“ A matter as delicate and final as this shall not be hindered by the hands of a woman of inferior birth who possesses no fortune or connections, and worse: no sense of propriety! You have influenced my nephew and lured him in, and I will not stand it!”, her ladyship cried.

Y/N was offended and hurt beyond comprehension! How dare this busybody barge into her house at midnight, and insult her very being? Though tears welled in her eyes, she stood her ground, and unflinching, she faced Lady Katrina.

“ I’ve come this far, and my journey was tiresome. I won’t leave until I am satisfied. Now, Ms. Y/N, tell me that you promise to refuse Levi your hand should he ask for it”, Lady Katrina ordered.

“ I empathize with the exhaustion you face due to your long journey, and I’ve been compelled to admit clearly that I am not engaged to Levi Ackerman. But I will not make any promise to you, madam, and especially not a promise of the respective nature”, Y/N deadpanned to the thunderstruck Lady Katrina!

“ Insufferable, headstrong, selfish girl!”, Lady Katrina furiously hissed.

“ You have insulted not me, but my beloved kin as well, and that is an offence I can never forgive you for. It was wrong of you to force yourself inside my abode, uninvited and unannounced, to confront me about baseless rumors and personal matters. It is now 4.00 in the morning, and the rain has stopped. Your escort must be waiting, your ladyship. I will not be disturbed any further! Goodnight and goodbye”, Y/N said the final words.

Lady Katrina exited the house angry and displeased, cursing the situation and Y/N’s character as she stormed out. Finally, Y/N began crying. She ran out of the library to make her way upstairs.

“ Darling, what happened? Is everything okay?”, Mrs. L/N asked, concerned.

“ It was a simple misunderstanding. I’m off to bed, and you all should be too”, Y/N sniffled, trying to escape them.

“ Darling, talk to us-", Mr. L/N started only to get interrupted.

“ I have no desire to. For once in your life just leave me be!”she shouted before locking herself in her room to cry.

Lady Katrina had reached Shiganshina after hours of travel, and she seeked her nephew out immediately.

“ Levi, come here at once!”, she called. Levi curiously walked downstairs, Isabel following him suit.

Lady Katrina explained everything that had happened between herself and Y/N to Levi, thinking he’d be appalled by her behaviour. What the poor lady didn’t realize was that her recount had only made Levi exceedingly proud of Y/N, and deepened his feelings towards her. Isabel gaped at Levi the entirety of her aunt’s heated speech, knowing what her brother would do next. She smirked, an action which went unnoticed by Lady Katrina.

“ Oh my, auntie, what horrible offences you’ve had laid against you”, she said, feigning astonishment. Isabel entertained Lady Katrina and pretended to sympathize with her while Levi sat on his horse for a long ride to Trost- all in his nightwear! Levi silently thanks the lord for the fact that he had another chance with Y/N, and the closer he got to Trost, the gladder his heart became.

Lady Katrina on the other hand was much dismayed! Amanda had broken off the engagement from her part, and revealed that she was now affianced to Armin Arlert, a friend she fell for after meeting at the never ending balls.

“ I’m sorry to have disappointed you, mother, but I can’t allow myself to be under your control any longer. I’ve done everything you instructed me to these past 23 years, but all that ends now, for I do not love Levi Ackerman, I love Armin Arlert”, she sternly broke the news to Lady Katrina.

And before walking out the door one last time, she turned around and said:

“ Before I go, I will instill upon you some heartfelt, priceless advice that I believe will be most helpful in the future: don’t arrange marriages between two individuals while they’re still in their cradles. It encourages zero admiration or affection, and plans of this kind always find a way of souring”.

#captain levi fanfiction #aot fanfiction #aot levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #captain levi x reader

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five-miles-over · 4 years ago

Text

‘Aftermath’ Chapter 10: Twisted Every Way

Summary: Continuing to be visited by hallucinations from his past, Commodus strives to remain courageous in the face of a changing empire and a diminishing family.

Warning: angst!

Word Count: 2,329

Read Part 1: The Impossible Dream here

Read Part 2: Proud of Your Boy here

Read Part 3: Point of No Return here

Read Part 4: Look Down here

Read Part 5: Beneath a Moonless Sky here

Read Part 6: These Palace Walls here

Read Part 7: Wait For It here

Read Part 8: Something There here

Read Part 9: Be Prepared here

It was a tried and tested approach, but it was the only way. Emperor Commodus ordered his now-advisor Falco to have every former Senator followed. He couldn’t help but suspect that they were up to something that would end his reign. His sister, now out of the political picture, would certainly have no connection to whatever plots those old men were hatching, but he - Lucius Aelius Aurelius Commodus - had to know for sure the Senators weren’t smuggling letters to Capri or doing something else of the sort.

What a lofty price for power, Commodus angrily thought to himself as he trained in the palace arena. Would he never stop paying? It would be a lie to say that Commodus enjoyed taking and ruining the lives of those who stood between him and his prized ambition, but he knew as emperor it was his duty.

He mercilessly launched attacks, piercing his sword through the air. In the name of perfecting his swordplay, he poured out his frustration - his frustration with the Senators for their silence, his frustration with Lucilla for her betrayal, his frustration with himself for not being the emperor he so dreamed of, and most of all…his frustration with Maximus for stealing everything Commodus ever loved dearly.

Despite having murdered the Spaniard, the general-turned-gladiator might as well have been alive. Even if no one else could see it, Commodus knew he lived on in a way Commodus could only dream of being immortalized. Maximus lived within the disdain of the Senate, he lived within the people of Rome, and he now lived within Commodus’s very own nephew.

Realizing the wandering of his mind, the emperor threw his sword onto the sands of the arena. He heavily panted while he attempted to catch his breath under the hot sun.

“The Savior of Rome,” he muttered under his breath, “They loved him for his mercy and they called him Maximus the Merciful. He dared to defy me and they called him the Savior of Rome.” It should have been him - the emperor, the father of the people of Rome - being showered with such eloquent praises.

It was unfair, that was all it was. Unfair, he thought, wiping the sweat from his forehead. Despite not being one for bookish learning, rather preferring physical activity and fighting, Commodus still fared well in his classes as a boy. In his own eyes, he had all of the qualifications necessary to be an emperor. He was devoted to his family and had great ambitions that drove him to excel. Those very ambitions were what drove him to sacrifice his sleep and peace for the welfare of Rome.

All Maximus had to do was wear the facade of an orphaned, moral fanatic. Not that Maximus never had to work his way up the ranks of the army, but it was nothing compared to the tumult that Commodus faced in his own journey. From the minute he showed obedience to the late emperor, Maximus was accepted by the royal family. In an effort to hopefully win some affection from his father, Commodus also embraced Maximus cordially.

It was almost nice, to have a companion to spar with and talk to. Maximus was the closest thing Commodus had to a brother, having lost his own twin at the age of four. When the Spaniard joined the royal family at dinners, Commodus would tell Maximus of his dreams to make Rome as wonderful as it was under the reign of Emperor Augustus. And how, with Maximus as his Praetorian leader, Rome would be unstoppable. At the time, Commodus believed that Lucilla’s thin smile and his father’s silence meant agreement. Now, he knew better.

A man of twenty years of age and familiar with the taste of betrayal, Commodus was fully aware that muted compliance meant secrets. The two of them had been plotting to establish a Republic, with Maximus as their poster boy, and cast him aside as if he were never the only-living, royal-blooded son of the dynasty.

But like a true emperor, Commodus protected his reign. He eliminated those who stood in his way, and would continue to do so for as long as he lived.

“The time for honoring yourself will soon be at an end…Highness.”

To his own surprise, Commodus smirked as he heard the baritone voice of the Spaniard. Standing amongst the weapons was the gladiator himself, wearing the very same black armor that he wore during his final battle.

“Unlike the legacy of Maximus, the general who became a slave…the slave who became a gladiator…the gladiator who defied an emperor and died for it?”

“I only died due to treachery, Highness,” Maximus bellowed. “At least I have nothing to hide.”

Commodus clenched his fists remembering how he wounded Maximus before their duel. The only ones who saw were General Quintus and the imprisoned Senator Gaius. He unceremoniously pierced a dagger into Maximus’s back, rendering the gladiator fatally wounded under the dark armor.

I needed to win, he told himself. I needed to show Rome who truly held power. On that day, Commodus lusted for victory in the Colosseum more than a drunkard lusted for a whore in a brothel.

“An empire needs an emperor like a child needs a father, Maximus. Of course, you would never understand that due to your…rustic upbringing,” Commodus spat. “The people of Rome were no less - they needed me to save them from the corruption of the Senate.”

Maximus chuckled, thinking about how hypocritical Commodus was to talk about fathers when it seemed the Emperor of Rome had no respect for them. After all, Maximus too was a father.

“And who will save them from your corruption…Highness?”

Like a leaf shivering in the winter breeze, the emperor’s tongue felt weak and feeble. The hairs on his arms began to stand up on their ends, while his fingers clenched his sword tighter. Who the goddamned hell was this holier-than-thou soldier to lecture him about morality?

“Are we truly so different, you and I?” Commodus hissed, forcing another smirk. “You did what you had to in order to win, and so did I. You wooed my father and mother with your facade of morality, and you lapped up their affections like a pussy being given warm milk.”

Not taken aback by the crude language, Maximus remained calm. “I did nothing but perform my duty. Perhaps you ought to do the same, Highness.”

Growling like a wild animal, Commodus couldn’t control his seething rage. What impudence; it seemed that even Death could not inhibit the words of this man! The emperor picked up his weapon and flung it at the Spaniard, only to watch it fly through empty air and land with a clang. He didn’t need this. He didn’t need to be told how to carry out his own imperial duties when everyone else around him failed miserably. He didn’t need to be lectured by a dead slave who held idealistic values and couldn’t hold his own tongue.

Storming out of the armory, the emperor was given a new robe by a servant to change into, from his tight, black trousers reserved for training.

Perform my duty, Maximus said. Who arranged the games for the citizens’ entertainment? Commodus did. Who removed Senators that prioritized personal gain over public welfare? He did. Who gave benefits to the Praetorians and won the favor of the armies? He did.

All that was left to do was groom Lucius into a worthy heir for the throne, and he would’ve accomplished the basic requirements of any Roman emperor.

Now wearing a dark green tunic with a black robe draped over his shoulder, Commodus decided to visit his darling nephew. The last time since he’d seen the boy was yesterday, when they broke their fast together. Lucius was bold enough to question the purpose of the gladiatorial games, and Commodus gave a clever answer that involved honoring the ancestors.

The emperor both feared and adored his nephew’s budding inquisitions. On one hand, it was good to know that Lucius would bring intelligence to his future reign as emperor. And on the other hand, Commodus feared that Lucius would become his mother in terms of loyalty, should he learn too much about their family.

——————————————————————————————————————

No longer a boy sparring with slaves, Lucius wistfully looked out the window of his chamber. It had been almost two months since the last time he saw his mother, or even anyone outside of the palace walls.

He hoped that his mother was safe, no matter where she may be. Refusing to reveal her whereabouts, his uncle merely told him that it was a matter of politics and that Lucius ought to concentrate on his training.

“Master,” a slave bowed to the prince. “The Emperor wishes to see you.”

“I shall go to him, then. Thank you, Cassius,” Lucius replied, climbing down from the ledge of the window. He tentatively walked towards the doorway of his chamber, wondering what his uncle could possibly have in store for him.

The young prince left his room with trepidation in every step, finding Commodus at the end of the hallway with his hands behind his back. A frown on the emperor’s face, he looked as if he’d come to scold Lucius for doing something wrong.

“Highness,” Lucius bowed politely.

Commodus felt the color begin to drain from his face. “Lucius,” he gently chastised, placing a hand under the prince’s chin. “I am your uncle. Don’t you remember that?”

“You’re also the emperor.”

“I am, but I do not wish to be your enemy.” Kneeling before the prince, Commodus stroked Lucius’s light brown hair. Just like his mother, he thought to himself. Lucius had his mother’s tender nature from when she was a little girl. And unlike their later father, Commodus wished to keep Lucius’s innocence for as long as possible.

After a moment of silence between the two royals, the emperor looked up into Lucius’s eyes. “Talk, Lucius. Have you been paying attention in your lessons?”

“Yes.”

“And have you been well?”

Lucius nodded, biting the inside of his cheek.

“Do you miss your mother?”

The prince shook his head this time, surprising Commodus. “You do not miss your mother at all? Not even a little?”

Lucius shook his head for the second time.

Commodus sighed, unsure how to diffuse the tension between him and his nephew. “Lucius,” he began with his eyebrows furrowed. “It is rude to remain silent when one is asked a question.”

“Forgive me.” Lucius lowered his head in shame.

Rising to his feet, the emperor placed an arm around his nephew and softly said, “I loved your mother. I hope you know that.”

“You did?”

“Yes, Lucius. I loved her very much. I always will.”

“Then why did you send her away?” Lucius immediately put a hand over his own mouth, silencing himself. Would his uncle banish him too now, or perhaps do worse?

“Because…” Commodus did not want the boy to think ill of his mother, nor did Commodus wish to glorify the treachery that she had done. What Lucilla did to him was beyond wrong, it was irreparable. “Because I had to.”

“I see.”

He has his mother’s tongue already, too. The emperor knew better than to simply believe Lucius. Of course the boy did not think he was telling the truth.

“Lucius,” he began again. “There are times when an emperor finds himself caught between what he wants to do, and what he must do.”

“But I thought an emperor could do what ever he wanted to do.”

Commodus suppressed a dark chuckle. “An emperor has duties that he must follow, in order to be a good ruler.”

“I know.”

“Can you name them for me, dear Lucius?”

The prince swallowed before speaking. “A good emperor must have control over his people. He must be able to inspire unity among his people. He must know how to keep an army, organize construction, choose laws and collect taxes. And he must be willing to keep his empire protected from all threats.”

Rewarding his nephew with a soft kiss on the top of the boy’s head, Commodus continued to walk with Lucius through the halls. “That was very good. Your diligence in your lessons pleases me.”

“Thank you.”

“As you said, keeping an empire protected from all threats is an important duty of an emperor,” Commodus explained. “Do you remember the story I told you about emperor Claudius?”

“The one about the bees?”

Nodding, the emperor continued. “Yes. The emperor Claudius was betrayed by his own blood. They threatened the empire that he swore to protect. Do you know what Claudius did to them?”

“No,” Lucius lied, knowing exactly the answer that his uncle would give.

“He was forced to do away with many of them, making sure that they would never hurt his beloved empire again. Weeping as he ordered their executions, his heart began to die along with them.”

“And did he die too?”

“No,” Commodus shook his head. “He continued to live as a good emperor, but he was forever heartbroken.”

“I feel sorry for him.”

“Do you?”

Lucius nodded. With a soft smile, Commodus sighed as the two of them took a turn in the hallway. He was happy that there was a chance for him to regain the nephew that adored him. “It is almost sunset. Perhaps we can have a walk - you and I - tomorrow through the woods behind the palace. Would you like that?”

“Perhaps,” the prince emotionlessly said. Secretly, he wondered what could possibly have made his usually-paranoid uncle consider letting him leave the palace walls for once.

“We can go after the games, then.” Commodus kissed Lucius’s forehead again before he was approached by a guard. “Yes?”

“Forgive me, Highness,” the guard mumbled. “Your presence is required in the infirmary. I’m afraid it is urgent.”

#commodus #emperor commodus #gladiator AU #gladiator 2000 #commodus fic

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verobatto · 5 years ago

Text

Destiel Chronicles

Vol. L

It was a love story, from the very beginning.

Love Story (Part II)

(9x22b/9x23)

Hi my friends! How are you? We arrived to the last meta from season 9! I can't believe we are here! Okay okay... Getting emotional...

I want to say thank you to my dearest friend, @agusvedder , she made the gifs for this analysis!! 💕💕

Cas Will always choose Dean

When Metatron's trap for Castiel was settled, he confronted him in front of his soldiers.

HANNAH: Why would we follow you?

METATRON: Well, look around. You've seen earth. You've had a taste of free will. I got to ask you -- do you like it? I mean, the way you've flocked off to follow Castiel tells me you need to follow someone. It's in your DNA.

Metatron needs to discredit Castiel in front of his followers, he needs to cover with mud all the brightness Castiel was offering: Earth/Free Will/Their innate mission to protect Humans. That's why he wants to tear down the Castle in the air, presenting them the inevitability of their lore. They're condemned to follow. And this recalls me what Michael had said in season 5 FREE WILL IS AN ILLUSION. The huge lie to keep the angel quiet and obedient.

METATRON: (...) But Cas -- he's not what you think he is. He sends angels out to die. Have you told them about your stolen Grace, Castiel? How it's fading away, and when it burns out, so will you?

Several things in this part of the speech, first of all, here is the discredit of the Great Castiel, he is showing them one only truth, the stolen grace, because is the only thing Cas can't deny, because is real. He stole grace, and is burning. But that's not the focus, the focus are the bomber angels. Is very smart from Metatron to use one only truth to plant a huge lie. And he is successful with that.

METATRON: (...) So...No, then. I'm not the best, but I'm the best you've got. You want to stay with Castiel, fine, but he's playing you, because at the end of the day, the only thing he cares about is himself and the Hardy boys there. You've got a choice to make. Make the right one

Playing the role of victim, saying "I'm not the best", to drag the angel by his side, and then, saying Sam and Dean is the only two persons he cares about (knowing the angel's were experiencing how Cas was always by the Winchesters side), was the last stab. Cas is in troubles now.

Hannah took the leadership, and defied Castiel, making him choose between them and the Winchesters. But not Sam and Dean... They threatened jus DEAN, why? Because the angels knew Dean was Castiel's weakness.

HANNAH: You gave us order, Castiel, and we gave you our trust. Don't lose it over one man. [She hands a blade to CASTIEL] This is justice.

Hannah is determinant here, she is testing Cas' loyalty... And she lost, because Castiel will always choose Dean...

Revealing Castiel's weakness

While settling down the trap, Metatron discovered Castiel true weakness...

You would say HE IS IN LOVE WITH HUMANITY, is a call to each human, because Castiel loves humans, he always had said he loves his father's creations.

But Metatron will certified in the last episode what he was talking about with HUMANITY. We will see in my next point.

When they come back to the bunker, Cas is desolated because he thinks he had lost every opportunity to defeat Metatron.

But someone is happy there: Dean.

Dean was kind of jealous of Castiel being a Commander again, leading angels. He had always hated when Cas shows any hint of interest in coming back to Heaven with his brothers. So... He leading an entire army of angel? It wasn't a good sign to keep Cas safe and with him.

There was a hint of melancholy in this scene, like... Destiel in the old times... But the weight of Dean's words here... He acknowledged Cas had chosen him, because Castiel loves him. And because his loyalty to him is intact. And Cas asks again his fears... Does Dean still believe he was capable to use angels as bombs? Because that was the fear he had in his now very human heart. But with this proof of love, Dean has not doubts. Cas is back, and with him, just for him.

That's why he settles again TFW speech...

He did it in the same episode in which Michael said that nefarious quote about TFW, remember? With the ONE COMATOSE CASTIEL on the bed.

I see a huge connection between that episode in season 5, this season 9 entirely, and season 15 about TFW and God/Metatron trying to control the will.

But concluding Dean is Cas' weakness ( as we will see textually in episode 12x10 too).

Cas did everything because of Dean

In episode 9x23 we had the confirmation of what Metatron wanted to say when he concluded that Cas was in love with humanity.

NEIL: Is that the new Angel handbook you're working on, or, uh...?

METATRON: No, no, this is a story, Neil, a marvelous story, full of love and heartbreak and...love.

NEIL: Sort of like "The Notebook."

Okay, Metatron is writing a love and love story here ... He mentions a heartbroken... Basically, he is inspired by Castiel's feelings for Dean, because that's the big secret he had just discovered. So is a story of love... (Family love, humanity love) and love with a heartbroken and that's Destiel. Because of what Metatron is about to do: KILL DEAN WINCHESTER. That way, by killing Castiel's weakness, he will defeat him completely.

And is hilarious angel Neil talking about a very romantic movie The Netbook, talks about a true love between a girl and a young man from different social class. Practically, a Destiel mirror.

Jumping to the confrontation between Metatron and Castiel at the end of the episode... He face our angel with the Truth he had just revealed...

That's it there's HUMANITY for Metatron. That's the humanity he was talking when he mentioned Castiel's weakness... He is in love with Humanity -> you did everything to save just one human : DEAN.

The equation is complete.

And now that he talked about LOVE, Is time to talk about HEARTBROKEN...

He breaks Castiel's heart by revealing he is dead. The Love Story had come to it's end.

To Conclude:

Castiel's weakness is revealed in these two episodes. Cas will always choose Dean (and Sam) over any circumstances.

Metatron discovered Castiel deep and romantic love for Dean and decides to hit that spot, by writing a Greek tragedy. He recognized it was a love story, and he will try to break Castiel's heart by killing Humanity (Dean Winchester).

I hope you like this meta, ser you in season 10 next week! Yay!

Tagging @metafest @magnificent-winged-beast @emblue-sparks @weirddorkylittlediana @michyribeiro @whyjm @legendary-destiel @a-bit-of-influence @thatwitchydestielfan @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @lykanyouko @evvvissticante @savannadarkbaby @dea-stiel @poorreputation @bre95611 @thewolfathedoor @charlottemanchmal @neii3n @deathswaywardson @followyourenergy @dean-is-bi-till-i-die @hekatelilith-blog @avidbkwrm @anarchiana @dickpuncher365 @vampyrosa @foxyroxe-art @authorsararayne @anonymoustitans @mybonsai1976 @love-neve-dies @wildligia @dustythewind @wayward-winchester67 @angelwithashotgunandtrenchcoat @trashblackrainbow @deeutdutdutdoh @destiel-is--endgame @destiel-shipper-11 @larrem88 @charmedbycastiel @ran-savant @little-crazy-misha-minion @samoosetheshipper

@shadows-and-padlocked-hearts @mishtho @dancingtuesdaymorning @nerditoutwithbooks @mikennacac73 @justmeand-myinsight @idontwantpeopletoknowmyname @tenshilover20 @teddybeardoctor @pepevons @helevetica @isthisdestiel @dizzypinwheel @jawnlockwinchester @horsez2 @qanelyytha @imjustkipping @shippsblog

If you want to be removed or added to this list, just let me know.

If you want to read the previous season 9 metas, Here are the links...

Vol. XL, XLI, XLII, XLIII, XLIV,

XLV, XLVI, XLVII, XVIII, XLIX

Buenos Aires February 26th 2020 4:18 PM

#destiel #destiel chronicles #destiel meta #season 9 meta #vol L

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tony-luvv · 5 years ago

Text

For Prince Anthony

Prompt: Steve/Bucky/Tony, Prince!Tony helped out Steve or Bucky and that’s how it starts? Take it wherever you want to (with a happy ending tho).

Just to give you an idea, Tony is 19 and Steve and Bucky are 13. Also this is Part 1.

On Ao3 and Fanfiction.net

Enjoy :)

He was just trying to get some fresh air when he stumbled onto the scene in the market. Guards of the Kingdom were gathered around, squabbling with some boys. There was a young, blonde boy being held back by some burly guards, fighting with all of his might, though he couldn’t have been more than 90 lbs. The cause of his distress had to be the long-haired, brunette boy. He was considerably bigger than the blonde, but had nothing on the bulk of the Kingdom guards. Three guards held down the struggling brunette while one guard, who looked suspiciously like Jenkins, was giving a speech to the large crowd.

“Let this boy be a lesson to all!” That was most certainly Jenkins. The man was known for abusing his power and Tony could barely tolerate him on a good day. Today was most definitely not a good one. By this point, Jenkins had pulled his sword out and was making a show of readying to chop off the hand of the brown-haired boy. The onlookers were shocked, but none made moves to help, that is except for his blonde friend that was fighting with everything he had and then some. To think he only wanted to take a peaceful walk today to escape his hellish life.

Stepping forward he dropped his cloak and stepped passed the surprised guards maintaining the crowd perimeter.

Jenkins’ arms were stretched above his head, completely prepared to dismember a poor, street rat, his helpless blonde friend screeching in horror just as Tony stepped forth.

“Commander Jenkins, put down your sword!” His voice was steel, daring any to defy him. It startled Jenkins enough to scramble back a few steps and lower his sword.

“Pr-Prince Anthony, what are you doing here?” he said nervously. He and the empty-handed guards immediately fell into a parade rest.

Tony wanted to sigh, as he really didn’t have the energy to deal with this today, but he couldn’t stand back while his unruly guards harassed his subjects. So he straightened his back the slightest amount and glared down at the soldier.

“I’d like to ask you the same thing, Commander. Harassing my subjects? I don’t think I like what I see.”

“B-But your highness, these boys were caught stealing from the market!”

“That’s all?” Jenkins spluttered to say more but Tony stopped him with a cold hard stare.

“As you said, these boys, who look to be nothing more than street rats, attempted to steal food. Haven’t they suffered enough? You want to punish him furthermore for being stuck in a situation he never asked for? By permanently removing his hand? How would he ever find honest work? Do you think your judgement is fair, Jenkins?”

His commander looked outright humiliated, so Tony turned his attention towards the two boys still being gripped by the guards.

“Release them.”

The younger men scrambled back under his glare. Once the blonde was released, he rushed forward to clutch his friend who collapsed to the ground, trembling with relief.

Tony stood over the two boys for a moment as the guards and onlooking towns people idled around. That wouldn’t do. Turning around he pointed at the two guards that were the first to see him when he arrived.

“You two may stay with me. As for the rest of you, get back to work!”

The remaining guards went into salute. “Sir, yes sir!” chorused around him before the guards scrambled to disperse the crowd and return to their rounds. From the corner of his eyes he could see the commander lingering, “Jenkins.” Said man stepped forward. “Report to my office later this evening. Understood?”

Jenkins clearly wasn’t happy with this order but still bowed his head, “Yes, sir.”

“Good. Dismissed.”

Once the commander was gone, Tony turned to the two boys still huddled on the ground next to him. The brunette wasn’t really shaking anymore but his gaze was solely fixed on the ground, his left hand that he nearly lost cradled close to his chest. The blonde mostly just held his friend, looking at him with concern while sneaking glances up at Tony when he thought he wasn’t paying attention.

“What are your names?” Tony demanded.

The small blonde looked up at him with ocean blue eyes and answered with a strong voice, “Steve Rogers, sir. This is Bucky,”he said gesturing to his friend. The corner of his mouth ticked up the slightest bit, but otherwise remained neutral.

“’Bucky’ is not a name and I’m sure your friend can speak for himself.” Steve looked ready to argue this point, but a firm squeeze of his hand from his friend silenced him immediately.

“James…my name is James Barnes, sir.” By the time he announced his full name, young James had lifted his head to look him in the eye. Such striking blue eyes from two young boys. Steve had soft blue eyes like a summer sky, but had fight in them like a summer storm. James’ eyes, on the other hand, were like Winter, cold and silent but hiding secrets in every corner. How interesting.

“Very well, Steve, James.. Come with me.”

He didn’t watch as Steve staggered behind him. Instead, he turned to the two guards who stood just beyond his back. Silently, he gestured for them to follow with the boys, but made sure they were to do nothing more with a stern glare.

“Where are we going?” James quickly elbowed Steve for speaking out to him, but otherwise remained silent. How interesting indeed.

“You’ll see.”

Obediently, the little group followed the prince across town towards a smaller building away from the ports and residential housing. It was obvious the boys didn’t know where they were because they didn’t react the entire time they approached the lesser known jail. Upon arrival, Anthony greeted the supervisor, Edison, before turning back to his followers.

“Guards, please escort these boys to a cell.”

The guards jumped to action immediately. Steve, the spit fire that Tony quickly knew him to be didn’t disappoint. He wiggled in attempt to fight off the guard while throwing questions at Tony. “What’s going on? Why are we being put in jail? Didn’t you save us? We didn’t do anything wrong!” James on the other hand remained passive, seeming to come to terms with his fate.

One of Edison’s men escorted his guards and their chargers to a cell while Tony stayed behind to speak with the elder man. He dipped his head, “Edison.”

Charles Edison bowed before straightening into a parade rest, “Prince Anthony, always a pleasure to see you.” Charles was a fair man that Tony has always favored.

“Likewise, old timer. Could you make sure these boys get a decent meal tonight before lights out? I’ll be back for them in the morning.”

“Of course, your highness.” Edison’s smile couldn’t be missed, but Tony didn’t have time to get into a squabble with the other man. He still had to deal with Jenkins later…and his father.

Entering the jail, he walked right up to the cell holding the boys. They must have had words because Steve was towards the back, clearly pouting while James stood before him. He was shorter by just a few inches, Steve being a whole head shorter but they both tried so hard to stand tall before him.

“I don’t understand, your highness. Why are we being locked up?”

“You did attempt to steal from the market, did you not?” At this both boys seemed to slump in defeat because, yes, that is exactly what started this whole mess. “While Jenkins’ idea of a punishment is cruel and uncalled for, a crime is still a crime. Tonight, you will remain here, but tomorrow is a new day. Have a good night, boys.”

With that, Tony left, his two guards following closely behind. He waved to Edison on his way out and made his way back.

Once back at the castle, he made sure to slip passed his father’s view and the guards before making his way to his office. He had an appointment with a commander.

Jenkins was there waiting for him when he arrived outside the door. “Come inside, Commander.” The soldier followed him in without a word and sat down before his desk. Tony started immediately, “Tell me, Commander, why did I come across such extreme actions today?”

“Sir, those boys have been nothing but a menace! This is not the first time I’ve caught them stealing from the market and the merchants are growing quite frustrated. They need to be taught a lesson they’ll never forget.”

“So you cut away the hand that steals and make a show of it in the town center?”

“…Yes.” Jenkins did not look him in the eye, but his fists were clenched, still holding onto his conviction.

“You find this a fair trade when you too came from the street and stole to survive?”

At this remark, Jenkins’ head popped up to stare at his leader in shock. Obviously the man didn’t think the young prince would know his story. “Your parents were killed while you were young, leaving you with a younger sister to care for. For years, you stole food and whatever else you needed to in order to keep you and your sister alive. I understand years ago you too were put into a situation like today’s. Ten lashes on the back in the market to make an example.”

At this, Tony paused to gaze at the man before him. He didn’t act like it, but once upon a time, Jenkins was one of those boys. It seems like he tried to forget it, tried to bury a part of his past so that he could become the man he is today. Like many things in his life, Tony was going to make sure he broke that cycle.

“But even after what you were put through, you joined the guard and made an honest living to take care of your sister.”

He could see the man’s composure cracking, “Jenkins, you are not a cruel man. I’d give anything to go back and prevent some of the things that happened to you in your youth. But I can’t. There’s only tomorrow.”

He let Jenkins sit there and reflect for a moment. He knew how easy it was to play certain roles, but it didn’t mean we should. Thankfully, it looked like Jenkins was starting to see that too.

“I understand, sir. I’d like to apologize for my actions.”

“I don’t think I’m the one you should be apologizing too.”

Jenkins looked at him before bowing his head again, “You’re right. Thank you, your highness.”

Tony cracked a small smile, “Have a good night, Commander.”

The soldier rose from his seat and bowed, “You too, sir.”

As soon as the man was well and gone, Tony collapsed back into his seat. If only every issue could work itself out as easily as that one. Tony could only dream.

Moments later, a knock came at his door. Tony let his cold exterior come over him once more before calling whomever was at the door to come in. His most beloved royal helper, Edwin Jarvis, stepped in the room.

“Master Anthony, King Howard is asking for you.” He could hear the regret in his caretaker’s voice but there was little the elderly man could do. Howard is the king, after all.

“Very well. I’ll be with him shortly. Thank you, Jarvis.”

“Of course, master Anthony.” Jarvis quickly made himself scarce, he knew how much Tony hated him seeing the young prince like this. Tony sighed, briefly thinking back to when he did so earlier in the market. If he had more time to think about it, he’d realize it was becoming a new practice of his. Instead, he rose from his desk and left the office. It was going to be a long night.

The next morning, Tony ventured out to collect the boys from Edison’s with his preferred guards, Rhodes and Wilson.

When Tony reached the cell, Steve was still asleep on the cot while James stood in front of him. His body language was tense, as if he was anticipating a fight, but he was clearly confused to see Tony again.

“You’re back.” It was a little unclear whether James was saying it as a statement or asking a question, but Tony answered him anyway.

“I am. Wake Steven. We’re leaving.” He didn��t give James a chance to ask any questions, just left the room and made his way back outside to the horses they rode in on.

Bucky watched Prince Anthony walk away, a hundred questions running through his mind. It was the strangest thing. Prince Anthony was very intimidating for being so young, but Bucky didn’t feel threatened by the man. If anything, he felt safe when the prince was near. Ever since the prince saved him in the market yesterday, none of his usual instinctive warning bells has gone off. His gut was pretty good at keeping him and Stevie alive, and so far, nothing had put him off concerning the prince.

Steve, on the other hand, was still bull-headed. For as long as Bucky could remember, Steve was a “punch first, ask questions later” kind of guy. So when the prince threw them in jail, Steve could only see the prince as another enemy. Bucky couldn’t help but think his dear friend was very far off.

After waking his friend, two new guards escorted them outside where Prince Anthony was talking with Mr. Edison.

“They didn’t give you too much trouble, did they?”

“Not at all, some of the best prisoners I’ve ever had to house.” Prince Anthony smiled but it seemed off. In fact, now that Bucky was looking, the prince seemed very stiff, almost as if he was in pain. His back was tight with tension, and for such a warm summer day, he wore thick long sleeves. What would a prince be doing that would leave him in pain? Surely his trainers would go easy on him and if it was sparing, why would he hide his wounds?

At some point, the prince noticed him staring and moved closer. “Well boys, we’ve got some travelling ahead of us. Rhodes and Wilson here will help you onto their horses.”

Prince Anthony turned to his horse, stroking it’s white mane, while the two dark skinned guards showed them to their tanned horses. Steve, as always, had something to say, “Horses? Where are we going that requires horses?”

The prince smirked, “You ask a lot of questions, little Steven. I’m sure Wilson can answer some of them.” Obviously Steve didn’t like this answer but for once, he was smart enough not to push the subject. Instead, he turned to this Wilson guy and started questioning him.

“Where are we going?”

“His highness did not say.”

“You’re not going to be helpful at all, are you?”

Wilson chuckled, “Probably not.”

While Wilson worked on getting Steve on his horse, he approached the prince. The other guard, who he assumed was Rhodes, tried to grab his arm and drag him away, but Bucky stood still. Of course, prince Anthony noticed and put up a hand to have Rhodes wait. “What is it, James?”

“Can I ride with you?”

“Absolutely not.” Rhodes grabbed his arm again but was stopped once more.

“It’s fine, Rhodey, he can ride with me. Help him onto my horse, would you?” Rhodes clearly didn’t like this, but did as the prince asked, with a bit of grumbling. Once he was settled, the prince climbed on behind him.

It was strange, he’d never been on a horse before and now he was sitting on one with Prince Anthony sitting behind him. A surprisingly strong chest against his back and even stronger arms wrapped loosely around him, holding onto the reins. It wasn’t long before Bucky found himself getting comfortable and leaning into the slightly older man. The prince didn’t say or do anything when he did. If anything, he relaxed a bit himself.

“Your highness, sir?” He bounced on Prince Anthony’s chest when he chuckled under his breath.

“Yes, James?”

“Are you taking us to another jail?”

“No, James. I think you’ve been punished enough in life. Don’t you think?”

James was quick to grab his left wrist as he recalled yesterday’s traumatizing events. “Yeah…”

Prince Anthony didn’t say anything else, so James didn’t either. While he could, he enjoyed himself. Soaking up the warmth of the prince, listening with half an ear to Steve’s insistent questions to an amused Wilson, but mostly just the nature around them. If he had to go through a million more hardships to end up in this moment in time with the prince, he’d probably do so willingly.

Sadly, he was only able to hold that peace for another hour. When he opened his eyes, (wait, when did that happen?) it was to see a modest sized house surrounded by farmland. He’s not sure if the man was expecting them or heard them trotting up, but an average sized fellow came outside to greet them. He waited patiently as everyone dismounted the horses before greeting them.

“Your Highness, what brings you to my neck of the woods?”

“Happy,” the prince approached the man with a hand on James’ and Steve’s shoulders, “This is Steven and James. Starting today, they’ll be your new help on the farm.”

“What?!” Of course Steve was the loudest to react, while the rest of the adults merely raised an eyebrow in question. James could only stare up at the prince.

“These boys have been given a shorthand in life and are in need of something better. We’ll start simple, a place to stay and some honest work.” It seemed the adults were able to have a silent conversation above them while Steve stuttered through another round of questions. Prince Anthony’s hands fell from their shoulders as he reached for a sack from his guard, Rhodes, which he passed on to Happy. “Compensation for the boys until they are able to earn their keep.”

Happy didn’t even try to fight against the prince’s demands. He merely accepted the sack of coins with a grunt and a few mumbled words about having a soft spot for bratty princes. Prince Anthony laughed off the older man before turning his attention back to them. “Well boys, these don’t come often, but here’s your second chance. Use it wisely.”

#luvvswrittng #royal family au #prince tony #young steve #young bucky #foreshadowing abuse #prompt fill #submission #stuckony #stevetonybucky #winteriron #stony

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homenum-revelio-hq · 4 years ago

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Welcome to the Order of the Phoenix, Ellie!

You have been accepted for the role of SEVERUS SNAPE! With two applications, it’s always a difficult choice! We love the way you showed Severus as toeing the line in everything he does, which really brought to life his “greyness” that we see so much in the canon novels. We could hear his voice as we read through your application! We’re so excited to have you join us!

Please take a look at the new member checklist and send in your account within 24 hours! Thank you for joining the fight against Voldemort!

OUT OF CHARACTER:

NAME & PRONOUNS: ellie, she/her.

AGE: 20+.

TIMEZONE: GMT.

ACTIVITY LEVEL: i’m not a very fast writer tbh, but i don’t have any other hobbies or rl obligations to keep me from rp atm, so i should be able to maintain more than 3 paras a week.

ANYTHING ELSE: nope.

CHARACTER DETAILS:

NAME: Severus Dynastes Snape.

Severus — severed. Cut off.

Dynastes — dynastic prince.

Eileen was not subtle when naming her son. Even in such a matter she let her spite lead her way. Severed prince, indeed.

AGE: 21.

GENDER, PRONOUNS, and SEXUALITY: cis male, he/him, demisexual & biromantic.

BLOOD STATUS: half-blood.

HOUSE ALUMNI: Slytherin.

ANY CHANGES: nope!

CHARACTER BACKGROUND:

PERSONALITY:

Severus Snape has the personality of a sentient pack of razors and the looks to match. Everything he picked up since he was young he used as a weapon: his wit, his words, his mind, his spells, his potions, his silence, his secrets. He feels more at ease surrounded by enemies who think him an ally and who would set untold violence upon him should his true colors reveal themselves than he does surrounded by friends and family. He values his solitude and his privacy above all else and will defend it with great hostility. He is a liar and a cheat who holds himself to a high standard of dignity and honor.

His disposition never inspires friendliness, and hardly invites approach. He prefers being left to his books and his potions, unless there is a task to complete or a matter that requires his urgent attention. Snape is viciously clever, scrutinizing, observant, and patient. The full brunt of his focus is sharp and piercing and nigh unbearable. He has a scholar’s heart and the drive to follow it through to the end, wherever that end may be. He entered the race, as he sees it, late and heavily disadvantaged, and has thus operated and continues to operate with the understanding that he is the lowly underdog, that success only comes to those willing and ready to fight for it. And he fights, and he fights, and he fights.

Despite all evidence to the contrary, Snape is loyal to a fault. His loyalty is difficult to earn, but impossible to lose. He has a thorough, comprehensive, all-or-nothing approach towards loyalty — you either have it or you don’t. All of him or none of him. He will give you his soul – his strength, his work, his honor, his dignity, his life, his word – or he will give you nothing. Thus far, the only person who has his loyalty is Lily Evans.

Another thing about Snape that’s often lost under all the bluster and barbs and sharp edges is that he holds his honor to exacting standards. He takes his debts with the utmost seriousness, and his promises, once made, are kept. His word matters to him, as does his loyalty. When James Potter saved his life, Severus acknowledged the debt, and paid his due. He raged and simmered and boiled over with hatred, but his word he kept, and the secret of the werewolf was not revealed by him.

BRIEF OVERVIEW OF FAMILY:

Eileen Prince was a true daughter of her line, and carried the worst of the traits of her family with her: she was stubborn, proud, obstinate, and filled with such vicious spite there was hardly room for anything else within her.

Despite this, she loved her son. Yes, he was the reason her secret and exciting teenage dalliance turned to lifelong imprisonment, and that was enough reason for her to never look upon him with open affection. Yes, he was a halfblood, and not the proper sort with a good family name and upbringing good enough to overlook his blood status. But he was HER son, HER blood, and that mattered to her still. She watched the boy complete every task, from taking his first steps to tying his own shoes to skipping stones by the river, with all the intensity of focus and full-hearted diligence expected of a Prince. She watched the whelp pick fights with kids twice his size for perceived slights, watched him lose more fights than win and still go back to school the next day with his chin tipped up in defiance, back straight and eyes forward, ready to take on anything. She watched, and felt a wave of such fierce pride over this boy that was half a Prince, this boy that was her son.

She taught him everything he needed to know about magic. Everything he would need to know to fight the currents, knowing this life she gave him would be unkind, an uphill battle from the beginning to the end. She taught him the rules of their society, the names of the families that mattered and the families that didn’t. She taught him his spells and his potions, his letters and his numbers, his history. Her son, the half-blood whelp, will claw his way back up from where she’d fallen, she will see to it herself.

Tobias fought her on this, as he fought her on every other matter that had anything to do with magic. And she fought him just as hard: their shouts shook the walls of their little house on Spinner’s End, sent the neighbor’s lips aflutter with excited gossip, and sent their son scuttling beneath the bed or the table or out in the park until the shouting stopped. But she fought: her son would not meet the vipers unequipped.

Severus grew up knowing two things above all else: that he was less-than, and that he must earn the right to be treated with respect. These were the two overarching lessons of his childhood, but they were not the only ones: Nothing comes for free. No one will give you anything without expecting something in return. There’s no inherent value in someone that will grant them happiness, there’s simply luck, and lack thereof. There’s wanting things and taking them. You take what you want and you make your life better, or you don’t. You fight for your improvement or you take the punches laying down.

Severus never stayed down for long. He knew what he wanted — or thought he did — and what he wanted was to be better than everyone else. And that meant fighting for his place, and fighting to keep it. He wanted his mother to be proud of him — desperately, more than he dared to admit — and that meant drinking in her every word with rapt attention, and taking all her lessons to heart. And he did.

Eileen was the predominant influence in Severus’ childhood, but she was not the only one. Tobias Snape spent most of his days at work, or at the pub, or at a friend’s house: anything to keep him away from the trap that was his wife and his son. He made no secret of who he blamed for the unsatisfying course his life took, shouting it loud enough everyone in the neighborhood knew his every secret desire and every selfish thought: that he wanted an obedient wife, that he wanted a proper lad who played sports and carried wood like a real man, that he was trapped in a marriage with a lying cheat and a useless son. The truth of the matter was that Tobias Snape felt inadequate: his wife was a witch who came from money and prestige and had to settle for a wretch like himself. She did not need him to provide for her or care for her, she did not depend on her husband like a wife should. His son, the wizard, who grew up in the same dirty clothes and sketchy neighborhood that his father did, looked down his nose at his father’s craft. Little pauper held himself like a little prince, like Tobias and Spinner’s End and honest work and playing ball and carrying tools was all beneath him, like this was all simply a prelude to a better life up ahead.

Severus knew since he was very young that he could never be enough for both of his parents. That pleasing one meant angering the other, that he had to choose whose approval he’d have to chase (and chase, and chase) and whose displeasure he’d weather for the rest of his life. It was not easy. But it was, in the end, a much simpler choice than some might expect.

OCCUPATION:

He works in an apothecary down in Knockturn while he studies under a potions master to complete his mastery. The potions master he works for and studies under is an affiliate of the Dark Lord, and has agreed to take Severus on as a student following the recommendation of Lucius Malfoy. Severus does everything from stacking ingredients, brewing potions in the backroom, and experimenting at his mentor’s side with new potions using procedures that follow no code of ethics or safety recognizable to any text. Severus was granted access to his own lab in Malfoy Manor that he uses to make whatever his Lord asks of him, and where he conducts his more private experiments with a few adjustments to safety regulations.

ROLE WITHIN THE ORDER/THOUGHTS ABOUT THE ORDER:

To newly minted death eater Severus Snape, the order of the phoenix was a pathetic gang of fools who thought they could defy the dark lord and not only survive, but win. He crossed wands with and interrogated captured members of the order for information, particularly in the earlier days of his induction when he still had a lot to prove.

Presently, as a fully integrated member of the order and certified double agent, he’s certain that they’re all bloody stupid. Although, he supposed, so is he now that he counted himself among their number. While the driving force for his change in loyalties was Lily Evans, she was not the only one. By the time he approached Emma Vanity with his peace offering, Severus was already thoroughly disillusioned with the Dark Lord and his cause, tired of the violence that served no purpose, and aware of his own desire for a proper legacy that didn’t include a body count.

This war was never about doing the right thing for Severus. Or at least, it wasn’t, before. It was always about doing the smart thing: join the winning side, rise through the ranks, prove yourself to the right people in the right ways. This stance has become increasingly more difficult to maintain as of late — he may not be a bastion of moral purity, but even he balked at the mindless murder of a hundred innocents. Regardless of where he stands in matters of blood status and politics, the Dark Lord was a madman on a rampage, dripping with bloodlust and power and self importance. He must be stopped. Severus is more determined now than ever to help bring him down. The order, while lacking in many ways, are the most equipped to do so. He has also come to view them as comrades, as brothers in arms, in a way that he never did his fellow death eaters — perhaps being judged for the things he’s done rather than the circumstances of his birth had helped warm him up to them more quickly.

He spies for the order while pretending to spy for the death eaters. It’s a tricky balance. He carefully picks and chooses what to give to which side, when, how, why, and what to keep to himself, while keeping up the image of a loyal, competent death eater and invaluable member of the order. The margin for error is rather slim.

Beyond spying, Severus also lends his expertise in potions and spell crafting to the order. Mostly healing potions, using his own modified recipes that tend to use less expensive and more readily available ingredients than the original. He also crafts countercurses to the new finagled murder and torture spells death eaters have been using (that he created in the first place, but who really needs to know that?? Not his new goodie two shoes friends, of course, he’ll keep that lil nugget of knowledge to himself) he’s careful, of course, not to craft a countercurse to every spell and not to do so in a suspiciously timely fashion. He doesn’t want to lose his standing with the dark lord and be accused of incompetence at best, disloyalty at worst.

Another thing they don’t know about him: he’s a master legilimence. The order’s inner circle know he’s an occlumency master, good enough to lie to the dark lord to his face and get away with it, but his legilimency he’s kept to himself. He’s been skimming the surface thoughts of order members from the start like a bad habit he can’t quit. Not that he wants to.

Conversely: the dark lord thinks the order members know he’s a legilimence. This is very helpful in restricting what Severus can or cannot find for his lord at any given moment, since he can’t just pick it up from someone’s mind without running the risk of blowing his ‘cover’. Then again, the dark lord is also under the impression that Severus’ occlumency and legilimency skills are far below what they actually are, so. Sucks to be him? He’s a bit out of the loop there. Busy with bigger people than Severus, just as the spy prefers it these days.

SURVIVAL:

A few things that kept him alive thus far :

1) Compartmentalization. Severus can pack feelings, thoughts and personal moral scruples like a lunchbox and put them aside for later, focusing on the here and now and the whys and the why nots of his actions. This helped him keep his cover in many, many occasions where otherwise his first instincts would’ve compromised him.

2) He can keep a secret. Information is a very important currency in a secret war, and Severus understands the weight of an off-hand comment or an innocuous gesture can tip the scales in favor of one side or the other.

3) He’s a prodigy. He is highly skilled in multiple delicate and dangerous disciplines like potions, spell crafting, and warding. This, as well as being an orphaned, hungry, ambitious halfblood without a family to see to his own best interests has made Severus a gift that fell into the dark lord’s path unwittingly.

4) He’s in the dark lord’s pocket. Seemingly. Severus lives in a tiny apartment above an apothecary in Knockturn, owned and run by the potions master whom he’s been apprenticing under to achieve his mastery. His potions master, a brilliant man with a rather loose definition of ethics, is an affiliate of the Dark Lord and answers to the man’s every word with due diligence. That, along with the promise of a Defense Master ready to take him on as a student in the vague future tense, Severus Snape is well and truly in the dark lord’s pocket. His future is in the man’s hands. Even when he was first offered this chance, he knew the underlying implications of owing so much to one man and having so much of his life not truly within his own control. But it was a way forward, and so he took it. He is aware every moment of the risks he is taking, what he could lose if he was even one step out of line. But this is precisely what makes the Dark Lord more inclined to trust him.

RELATIONSHIPS:

There’s only one relationship that really matters to Severus these days, and that’s his friendship with Lily Evans. Everything and everyone else can come and go as they please — and they’re often in a hurry to go, he’d not grown more approachable since he switched sides — but Lily’s friendship was the most important part of his life, for most of his life, and losing her trust and her affection had been nothing short of devastating.

He knows the crack in their relationship had been his doing, that it’s been so long that she could hardly be expected to care about her old once-friend now, that they both chose different paths. But he desperately wishes to reconcile with his oldest friend, nonetheless. He wants to prove to her that he’s not the lost cause they all thought he was. That she was right to believe in him against the word of so many, that whatever good she saw in him when they were young was still there. That he could still be the good friend she deserved. He knows it won’t be easy, but he’s determined to prove himself — to the right person this time.

Severus was not eager for new friends, even before he switched sides and the need for secrecy and distance rose tenfold. He has his guard up at all times, suspicious and dry, everyone else kept at arm’s length. Despite this, he still warmed up to some of his comrades within the order, as much as he is ever capable of warming up to people. That is to say, he sneers less, and his jabs are without teeth.

OOC EXPLORATION:

SHIPS/ANTI-SHIPS:

Snape is – resistant to romance on a good day, and it hasn’t been a good day for a good few years now. so it’s not something he’s open to, but, well. shit happens anyway so i’m open to it as long as there’s chemistry.

ships i tend to gravitate towards are lily/snape and remus/snape. i don’t have any anti-ships specifically.

WHAT PRIVILEGES AND BIASES DOES YOUR CHARACTER HAVE?

Severus maybe has a drop of privilege over muggleborns, being a halfblood, but not by much. He’s not the acceptable sort of halfblood, with a distant muggle grand- or great-grandparent and an otherwise magical upbringing and a magical family name to hide behind. Purebloods could not pretend not to know of his unfortunate parentage: that Severus was cleanly cut down the middle, the son of a muggle man with a muggle name and a disowned pureblood woman who faded into obscurity decades ago. Severus could not hide that he was muggle-raised no matter how desperately he wanted to. And for some, that was enough to want him dead.

It was a good thing his mother drilled into him the inferiority of his blood since he was young, and impressed upon him the importance of proving his worth and rising above his lowly status. Otherwise, he would not have been prepared to face the scorn of his housemates and peers. And Severus was ready, spitting venom and shouting curses before even stepping off the train, fighting to prove himself from the onset all the way through to his graduation, and beyond.

Being a victim of such prejudice didn’t stop him from acquiring and cultivating biases of his own. He is yet to admit to being a victim, as such, is yet to see there was a crime committed in the way he was taught to see himself and others like him in the world. Married to a muggle or not, disowned or not, his mother was a born and raised pureblood witch of high society. She abandoned her family and her money for the child she carried, but not her ideologies and her privileged way of thought: those she passed down to her half-blood son, pathetically eager to learn of his magical heritage and hungry for any scrap of information about the world he desperately wanted to belong to.

By the time he graduated Hogwarts, Severus picked up every flavor of bias the magical world had to offer, against muggleborns and half-bloods and half-breeds alike. He still believed there could be exceptions — he and Lily, and the odd muggleborn and halfblood that actually try to be worthy of their magic — but he still thought purebloods were, on average, better than the rest.

It didn’t take long for Severus to be disillusioned. Pureblood grandeur is not so grand once you stand shoulder to shoulder with the scions and heads of every house, take their measure one by one, and find them wanting. Fighting side by side with the privileged and the powerful, Severus came to understand how little true power any one of them held, how many of the boys he held in such high esteem couldn’t stomach the front lines long enough to do what needed to be done. Purebloods were, on average, spoiled rotten and entitled and no more deserving of their privilege and power than the average muggleborn was of their magic.

This put his low esteem of muggleborns and half-bloods in a rather awkward position. An awkwardness that it held for years onward, unexamined, shifting and simmering in the back of his mind with every act he committed in the Dark Lord’s name. A voice like Lily’s hums and purrs and shifts, something dark and heavy coils and uncoils beneath his breastbone.

Joining the order did not help him shed the squirming and writhing discomfort. Guilt knocks against his ribcage like a persistent guest, and no matter how much he tries to put it aside, it stays and grows more and more by the day, heavy and leaning. Perhaps some long held beliefs bear examining.

WHAT ARE YOU MOST LOOKING FORWARD TO?

honestly? this group feels more like a group of writers committing to writing one cohesive story than it does a group of roleplayers writing one interaction at a time. i’ve been in plenty of marauders era rpgs in the past, and most of them tend to rely on the suspense of disbelief and sacrifice story elements in order to facilitate interactions between roleplayers, regardless of whether or not these interactions should be plausible in the current setting and political environment. That’s not exactly a bad thing, it’s just something that rubbed me the wrong way before. It doesn’t seem to be a problem here: characters fall out of the spotlight and into the background when needed, and brought back to the forefront as needed by the story.

Reading through the plot drops and figuring out the hows, whys and whats of Snape’s motives and actions throughout the story has been very exciting, and I’m looking forward to seeing him grow as a person and start to fight for the order for the right reasons.

PLOT DROP IDEAS:

I would love to see Severus’ beliefs put on the spot. He’s been growing more fond of the other order members, and has been learning (subconsciously) to see other half-bloods and muggleborn as comrades instead of lessers. I want to see him pushed to acknowledge his shifting perspective on blood status, choosing to fight and make sacrifices for others instead. He’s a lot more invested in the order than he’s admitting to himself. I would love to see him reach a point where he warns the order about something he shouldn’t, thus risking his position within the Death Eaters, and prompting him to re-examine just how much he cares about their cause, and why, and how much he’s really willing to risk for them.

ANYTHING ELSE?

my mockblog is @sectumsmpra ! thank you for reading my app, it was a pleasure to work on <3

#homenumaccepted

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seawatersavior · 5 years ago

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Roma - Enchanted Tailor

If you were to count Roma in the order of who joined the SV Mercenaries first, she should of had the #1 spot. However she reluctantly takes the #3 spot. Roma met Titus when she was still part of her original clan, she was a noble with only one task, produce heirs to establish diplomatic relations. Her husband was stern, cold and distant. She lived the majority of her life hidden away in a silver pagoda, deep in the castle grounds, far from where anyone could reach her. She was banned from leaving and could only step out of her prison at night, when the guards weren't watching her. They weren't there to keep anyone out, just to keep her in. At night she would sit in her window looking over the palace walls into the dark forest that lay beyond. She would do this until one day, a pair of eyes would stare back.

Roma was a little stunned, she clearly noticed a pair of eyes, but she only saw them for an instant. After waiting and watching, she did not see them again. She would continue to watch every night, a little excitement would do her good, and so she never let her husband know. Winter was fast approaching, and as the trees began to loose their leaves Roma became discouraged. With no foliage she couldn't pretend like that creature was still there, the white snow made it clear that nothing was there. She sighed and went to close her window when she caught a glimpse of movement in the corner of her eye. She snapped to look but there was nothing. But she knew she saw it! She wanted to find it!

Roma wanted this more than anything, and without thinking jumped out on the edge of the window, while the pagoda stood higher up, there was a few ledges that protruded outwards. She shimmied closer to the edge, gripping the hem of her night gown in one hand and the wall with the other. And then she fell.

The ice beneath her feet had given out, try as she might she couldn't revert to dragon form to spread her wings. Her tears lingered in the air as she fell, was this it? Is this how she would die? Before she had the chance to scream, she felt a pair of hands wrap around her and they crashed onto an open room. She lay stunned on the floor, the air had been knocked out of her. She looked over at the person lying next to her, he was a mess of blue hair, rather thin and seemingly just as winded from the fall. The sound of foot steps rang out as the guards were alerted to the noise. Upon hearing their clamoring the boy shot up, he was young and lithe in appearance, his face covered in hair but unable to hide the secrets his right eye contained. That eye was dark. Dark lines spread on his face, all spreading from that point. She couldn't discern much more as he ran and jumped out the window into the snowy storm.

The guards burst in and found her laying there, instead of asking if she was alright they picked her up and tossed her over their shoulder. "She finally tried to escape!" they laughed heartily as they threw her back into her room. "Don't try that again little lady, the lord instructed us to kill you if you ever make the attempt to escape, consider this your last warning." She lay there on the floor, at least the floor was padded with many rugs, so she didn't hit it too hard. But she was certain she saw her curtains shift. She pushed herself up, arms weak and cold but the warmth of her room was beginning to thaw her. She had curtains, tapestries, quilts and throws scattered all through out her room. She walked over to her pile of blankets and gave it a poke.

A quiet, but started "ow!" rang out when she met something in there. She yanked off the top blanket to uncover the young man from before withing. He was covering his eye in pain, whoops.

"Ah I'm sorry!" she exclaimed as she sat down next to him and patted his back. "Are you OK? You're barely wearing anything and it was terribly cold out there."

The boy retreated into the pile and smiled, "Well these blankets of yours are pretty soft, so I hope you don't mind the company. I am in fact freezing," he reached out a hand in greeting and said, "my name is Titus, I've always wanted to meet you after seeing you peek from your tower."

Roma smiled sheepishly, "So I wasn't insane, I knew I saw something peeking through the canopy." The pleasant thought energized her and she stood. "Lets dress you up I can't have you freezing on me." She walked over to her closet and pulled out a trunk hidden within a mountain of linens. "I may be a useless trophy wife, but he can't stop me from sewing!"

The boy shimmied over in what can only be called a blanket burrito. When she opened the trunk a little gasp escaped his lips. "Did you make these?" There was an assortment of apparel of varying sizes and shapes, for children, for adults, for something remarkably tiny. She pulled out some varying pieces and pulled him aside. "Lets get to dressing!"

Time passed like this, Titus would come and visit her pagoda, Roma would dress him up, and he would hide whenever anyone would come for Roma. But it would seem that his presence would not go unnoticed.

Roma's guards came today strangely more polite than usual, Titus had taken his usual hiding spot in a pile of plush sheets and pillows. He could see through a small gap between the pillows, but he could not be seen. As Roma stood by the door she quickly dropped to her knees in a bow. "My Lord, how kind of you to visit this humble wife." She lifted her head with a smile on her face, "How may I be of service to you today?"

A tall figure entered the room, his presence making the air suffocating. "Where is he."

Roma was too good at playing her part, "Forgive me my Lord, but whatever do you mean. The familiar you provided for me has long withered away.

"Bull Shit." With a snap of his fingers the guards began tearing apart the room. They had no mercy, and used their swords to pierce each pile of downy material into scraps.

Roma scampered to her feet and pulled at the mans robe, "Stop! Stop! Why are you ruining my room!?" She was roughly pushed back onto the ground before she could inquire further, but she didn't need to.

The Lord stomped on her hands and pulled at her hair, "Tell me where he is or who he is or I will break these sinful hands of yours! How dare you frolic with another while I provide you everything!" He pressed down hard as she screamed in agony. "There is no one! My Lord there is no one but my thoughts to spend time with me!" Tears rolled down her cheeks, but these seemed to enrage him further as he puller harder. "My Lord I assure you, please, do not destroy the only happiness I have."

"Then how dare you defy me! There was no trace of magical prowess on you before, but now here you are before me, exuding magical essence to anger me!" He removed his foot from her hand and let her head drop to the ground when he released her hair. He grasped her bruised hand squeezed, the pain was intense, but Roma could only focus on the cyan aura radiating from her hands. Magic.

She wasn't supposed to have any, in order to keep her obedient, her powers should've been sealed as a child. She had never been able to use them, so how could she even understand when her magic began to surface? She couldn't control it.

"ANSWER ME!" he yelled as his boot rushed towards her face, but it never made contact. Dark tendrils wrapped around his leg holding it back. They glanced back to find the source and found that none of the guards were moving. Their eyes were dark, a malicious mana poured from their orifices as they began to hit the ground.

The Lord quickly took his sword and sliced through the dark tendrils, and watched as they retreated into a pile of pillows.

"What sort of monster have you been rolling around with?" the man exclaimed, but he couldn’t speak for long as a blast of water magic shot at him the pile. Titus emerged then, his markings spreading more and more, reaching out as if trying to find something to hold onto.

Suddenly Roma remembered what he had told her once, he wasn't entirely dragon, and it took a lot of his energy to keep his malice sealed in. In the midst of the chaos she had almost forgotten she had been trying to help him! And now he was trying to save her with the very magic he tried so hard to contain. She scurried over to her storage chest and began to dig while trying to avoid being blasted with magic. She had hidden something in there, something she was certain would help him! Finally her fingers felt the cool smooth surface she was looking for and pulled it out. Her eyes went wide when she finally saw its condition, the sealing mask her mother had worn and handed down, it had broken in half! She wasn't certain it would still work, but she had to try! She held the mask in one hand and looked at her other, she needed to try and use her magic! Sure enough a few sparks danced on her fingertips and she glanced at the two fighting behind her. The Lord was a light dragon , his attacks blast of light mana there was no "residue" to his spells, but Titus's water spells left puddles everywhere, that was her chance! Magic can't be so hard right? She just needs to unleash a strong concentrated surge, that should be enough.

"Titus!" she yelled, "Catch!" She threw the broken mask at him while grabbing onto the Lord's arm. Sure enough Titus was quick to catch the mask, and Roma did the only thing she could think of, she released a surge of magic from her hands, the lightning quickly took its form and coursed through the water on the ground. Titus jumped back as far as he could, avoiding the potent wave that could surely take him out. The Lord however, was being tightly gripped by Roma, his eyes white as the current ran through his body, the pain numbing his body and mind. As Roma stopped her haphazard spell she let the Lord fall, she herself had suffered no repercussions from the spell, physically at least. Mentally she was drained, her mana having been almost entirely released from her body. She staggered over to the window and stepped over any puddle, just in case. "We uh, need to go." And once again, she fell.Barely conscious she felt a familiar pair of arms wrap around her as she passed out.

When Roma awoke she was in a humble bed in a cramped room. A soft warm light came in through the windows lighting up the area. She was alone it seemed, but a plate of fruit was on the nightstand and a jug of water was there as well. She tried to stand, but her nerves were extremely sensitive, so she stayed in bed eating fruit. Night came and the door opened, waking her up from her sleep. She knew that blue hair all too well and she sat up as Titus walked in and closed the door behind him. From here Titus explained that she had been out for a few weeks, and he had taken her to a distant territory where he hoped her husband would not find her. She had depleted so much magic her body had gone into a state of shock it seems. In those weeks Titus had discovered that the mask did indeed work for him, but it had taken a lot of damage when she fell and he dropped it trying to catch her. But he came with good news! He was putting a small clan together in the hopes of trying to accomplish his goals of being a strong leader. While his current line up was currently seeking a good base of operations, he had returned to her every night to feed her his own mana. Due to her sleeping in she was now technically the third to agree to travel with him. What a shame, after all she would have been #1 had she been awake!

#c: roma #my lore #SV Mercenaries #flight rising #fr lore #i cant write and thats someone elses problem

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professional-benaddict · 6 years ago

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Winterspider feat biodad!Tony ABO Military AU

Beta read by @starkerforlife6969 thank you darling xx

Bratty. No: bratty and slutty. That is how Bucky would describe the omega by his side, but he would never utter that aloud. The omega, Peter Stark, had perfected the art of getting his will, knowing just how to bat his long lashes, make his voice more high-pitched in a whine and pout his plump lips in a frown. Bucky, being a beta himself, took pride in the control he had over his urges, which is more than most Alphas, but on the other hand, their ruthless nature makes them far better soldiers than Bucky could ever be. However, when Peter had promised that he could 'fuck him good and deep till he sobbed’, Bucky felt all his defences drop to the dusty ground and nodded eagerly. After all, the boy said his father had requested him specifically, so how could he not escort him there?

As they walked through the military camp and numerous passing soldiers gave the boy by his side a double-take, Bucky began to question his decision. Although, there were many possible reasons as to why they were being stared down so hard. Either, because Peter was very obviously a civilian with his clean and milky skin, clothing that was not camouflage and laid back shoulders in the desert war-zone. Another explanation to the curious gazes was the fact that he was an omega. There was no law that banned omegas from joining the army, but everyone knew about the discrimination in the recruiting process, although it was not spoken about. Some said it was because of the delicate and slender body-types of omegas that made them unfit for such a physically demanding job, while others said it was because Alphas and betas would not be able to control themselves with too many omegas around. When the tenth soldier shot them a look, Bucky couldn’t help himself as he grew a little anxious and asked the boy:

”Are you sure your father requested you to come? This is an active military zone, kid.” The beta 1st Lieutenant tried to argue, but Peter just shot him a disappointed look.

”Are you going to disobey the Major General, 1st Lieutenant?” The omega asked teasingly, causing the beta to gulp in fear at the mentioned ranking.

Barnes was just one out 15,000 men in the camp and together they made up the 16th division of the US Army, serving under Major General Anthony Stark, a powerful Alpha who survived torture and was still serving his country with a burning passion. Some would say with even more passion than before he was captured by the enemy. And Bucky was escorting his omega son to him. No big deal. Bucky had only caught a glimpse of the Major General during a parade a few days ago, but he knew about the man, the legend that he was from what he had heard from his fellow soldiers.

The camp buzzed with the sound of heavy footsteps from marching soldiers, screams of agony from the medical tent and the roars and whirls from the warfare vehicles of all sizes and shapes. Bucky could have fulfilled his self-appointed task, if only they had taken another route through the camp, because when they approached the medical tents, they bumped into a doctor as he existed the tent. The doctor was a stern looking Alpha and his eyes hardened when he saw Bucky escorting the civilian. Luckily, Bucky had not had much contact with the medical corps in their division, unlike some other unlucky soldiers, but he saw by the silver eagle on the doctor’s shoulder that he was a Colonel and fell into position.

“Colonel, I-“

“Shut it!” The Alpha doctor barked and the beta fell silent, very much expecting a scolding from his superior officer like he was a badly behaved child, but instead the Alpha turned to the omega to give him the scolding.

“What on Earth are you doing here, Peter?! Do you realise the danger you are in?! Does your aunt know you’re here? What about your mother?”

Wait- do they know each other? The boy had said that the Major General was his father, not Colonel Strange M.D., which Bucky read from the name tag on the doctor’s camouflage scrubs.

“I’m on a school trip.” The young omega answered with a bite in his tone. “I demand to see my father, Stephen. Now.”

He what now? The arrogance of this omega was unheard of and Bucky struggled with keeping his eyes up and not looking at the boy by his side in awe. The doctor growled in the back of his throat before speaking again.

“A school trip…” He chuckled dangerously, placing his hands on his hips. “Well, I don’t want to know how you got here, hardly matters anyway. Neither do your demands for that matter because this is war, Petey, and you are going straight back home, with a quick stop to the closest US embassy.” The Alpha doctor made a move to grab the omega by his arm, but the boy stepped back.

“I came for a reason, Stephen, for God’s sake! I need to see my father, now! And I won’t leave until I do!”

“Well, I have a very hard time understanding why.” The Alpha argued back. “You should be with your mother, Peter, for Christ sake. How could you leave her in such a state?”

“That’s why I’m here! She’s dying in two weeks!” Peter said finally, bringing a sudden end to their argument as Strange took a step back, his face a little softer now. The omega bowed his head down and kicked the ground with his boot. Turning to Bucky, the Colonel spoke sharply.

“Lieutenant, what is your name?”

Snapping his eyes up, Bucky straightened his back even more, maybe even puffed his chest out a little to try and size up to the bigger Alpha.

“James Barnes, Sir.”

“On whose orders are you escorting this civilian?”

Well, fuck. Technically, it was his own, which meant he was out of order and disobeyed his superior officers. What was he thinking? God, the way the omega had batted his lashes, though, the warm orange light of the setting sun in his chocolate brown eyes, his voice like golden honey in his ear as he made the offer in exchange for taking him to his father.

“His…?” The beta tried, gesturing to the omega by his side with his eyes. Before the Alpha could start shouting, Bucky added. “He said his father had requested him, Sir.”

Of course it was a lie, and Bucky should have known right away. He deserved the oncoming friendly fire for being played by a kid, honestly. Defying all of Bucky’s expectations, and perhaps even some of Peter’s, the Colonel sighed in defeat.

“All right. I’ll take you to your father.”

Peter seemed to perk up at that and skipped over to the Colonel to stand by his side, looking at him all doe eyed and adorable. Much to his confusion, Bucky felt a knot of jealously in his stomach at seeing the omega by the powerful Alpha. He had met the omega just a while ago, they were practically strangers, but still the beta felt suddenly very possessive of the boy. Even if he had made the promise of sex only to get to his father, Bucky still held onto that inside of him as he watched the Colonel walk away from him with the boy. After a few steps, the Alpha spoke over his shoulder.

“You’re coming too, Barnes.”

Following obediently, Bucky felt lightheaded with all the scary scenarios of meeting the Major General. Meeting such a high ranking officer was rarely a good thing and Bucky prepared himself mentally for the biggest ass-whooping in the history of the US Army.

As they walked, Bucky could hear how the conversation between the Alpha and the omega was a little more lighthearted and friendly now. The Colonel asked about an MJ, to which Peter blushed a little and changed the topic to his latest classes.

Soon, they arrived at the more exclusive tents of the senior officers, but no one seemed to bat an eye at Peter now that he was escorted by an Alpha Colonel and they were let into a large tent with a little red flag with two stars in the middle: the Major General’s flag.

There were only three people inside the tent, stood by a table with two computers and tons of maps and other documents. Some files had a large red stamp on the cover which read ‘top secret’. Bucky averted his eyes right away and moved to salute, as did Strange, but Peter darted over to one of the three people in the tent. The man in question looked up just in time, before the young omega crashed into his chest and wrapped his arms around him tightly, letting out a little tearless sob.

“Dad!”

“P-Peter…?” The Major General said quietly, literally having the breath knocked out of him by the sight of his son. One could only guess how long it had been since they had last seen each other. Bucky would guess nearly a year by how the Alpha wrapped his arms even tighter around his boy, burying his nose in those brown curls. The Lieutenant saw the resemblance easily, even though they were Alpha and omega. It was like Peter was a softer and more delicate version of his father, but still with the same brown eyes and hair.

Bucky couldn’t help but feel his heart grow warm at the sight of the father and son embracing one another tightly. However, the sweet moment was cut short when the Major General grasped his son's shoulders to push him back to get a proper look at him.

“You’re taller…” The Alpha deadpanned, looking Peter up and down.

“No, Dad, I’m shorter.” The boy laughed a little. Then the absurdness of meeting his son seemed to hit and the Major General’s expression hardened before he shouted, causing Bucky to jump just a bit.

“What the fuck are you doing here?!”

Moodboard here

#my fics #winterspider #irondad #spiderson #james bucky barnes x peter parker #james bucky barnes #peter parker #tony stark #stephen strange

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minteagalaxea · 6 years ago

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the devil’s angel | song mingi

mingi and raehyun

genre: fluff, sporadic steamy bits

word count: 4.1k

inspiration: mingi during the damn say my name photoshoot, a compilation of things at high school. i was just the person that heard it, and “hell’s kitchen angel” by max schneider.

note: i’m back, if anyone actually wanted to know.

If there was a universal truth in the world of KQ High School, it was that Song Mingi loathed cheerleaders as if his life depended on it; nobody understood its origins or the reasoning, simultaneously never interrogating him over it, either, given his notorious reputation. He personified danger, with his lip piercing, sleek motorcycle, baritone voice, and a myriad of ever-constantly-changing colors of hair. While it earned him a group of admirers, he appraised his attention on a girl that defied the principle he lived by—Park Raehyun.

She wasn't loud like her fellow counterparts, opting to remain independent from their antics, more thoughtful in regards to her actions, placing her academic record above her extracurriculars as an object of adoration for the athletes. The girl carried herself with silent fortitude, confident in her ability to remain relatively unknown amongst those in her circuit, yet immediately noticeable with her ombre purple hair, styled to perfection. Whereas he could hear whatever Top Forty song the other girls played, Raehyun settled on classic R&B and underrated albums, her movements to the music rhythmic in comparison to the attention-seeking gimmicks of flips and tumbles.

Perhaps, Mingi decided, her style of dress outside of her traditional cheerleader uniform was why he remained so enamored with her—described by her adoptive elder brother, Seonghwa, as, quote-unquote, preppy baddie (consisting of plaid skirts, cropped turtlenecks, boots, and ever-so-constant fishnet stockings) Park Raehyun's sense of style starkly paralleled the pastel miniskirts and blazers of her teammates.

Raehyun observed his predatory eyes preying on her, a seductive wink in his agenda, her skintight uniform and ponytailed hair providing an incentive to defy all concepts of public decency—her instinctive reaction was to cower away from the scrutinizing attention, yet she resolved to deliver him a sarcastic roll of her eyes trademark to her taciturn persona. As she averted her attention away from the boy with the freshly-dyed brown hair and lip piercing, Raehyun detected the message he wished to convey to her—good luck tonight—her onyx eyes relaying one of her own, departing with her teammates—thank you, I love you.

Advanced Astrology proved a bustling affair as students mingled with each other to analyze one another's natal charts while simultaneously speaking of whatever romantic drivel was occurring during the school week. Silence her ally, Raehyun deftly transmitted a text message to Mingi, bewildering him as he received questions regarding his birth, of which he attempted to answer to the best of his ability, intrigued and excited at the prospect of having a proper natal chart. A classroom on the opposing end of campus, Mingi's only solace in his class of boisterous students was recalling his first encounter with Park Raehyun, an incident that remained ingrained in his cognizance due to the ironic humor.

Raehyun once sold brownies in her freshman year to fund the junior varsity team for their preliminary competition travel; however, on a particular occasion in their shared chemistry class, a swarm of teenagers barricaded her, demanding for something along the lines of weed-laced brownies, startling the cheerleader. A moment of contemplation later, and she realized the culprit behind her newfound semi-notoriety: Kim Hongjoong had made a sarcastic comment to Lee Minho regarding her brownies—"these brownies taste reminiscent to one with marijuana"—and Minho, a publicly known recreational user of the drug, released the word out to his fellow student body.

A pair of long fingers assisted her in the silent distribution, handing out the pastries as Raehyun managed the monetary portion of her temporary business, a sigh breathing past her violet mauve lips as she held the final bag of her supposedly weed-laced treats, her fingers briefly grasping his as the cheerleader inserted the gift into his hands. She evaded any form of eye contact with the taller male, Mingi's leather coat, threaded blue hair, and lip piercing intimidated her, regardless of how well she associated with him, or his like.

"Apologies," he started, baritone voice startling her in kind, positioning himself in the seat next to Raehyun's as the girl proceeded to review the test information, "Hongjoong's deadpanned comment led to this, I presume."

"Regardless, I sold all of my brownies, even if it required your friend to state that it contained tetrahydrocannabinol in them," her voice responded, a gentle timbre as her eyes maintained its attention on the assignment directly in front of her, "Tetrahydrocannabinol is the predominant active ingredient in marijuana," she supplied, eliciting a brief chortle likened to billowing windchimes.

"Song Mingi," the taller boy introduced, enough for the petite young lady to peer up at him, appearing less imposing as his eyes softened and lips parted into a gummy smile, fortunate their classmates failed to observe it, preoccupied with the addicting brownies.

"Legally, it's Park Raehyun; however, it was previously Lexington Marie Park," she mused, shaming herself due to her delayed knowledge that he knew who she was, considering her relationship with her elder brother, one of Mingi's closest and most loyal friends.

Despite her shying away from him in partial embarrassment, the warm, baritone chuckle directly in her ear as he mused, "Raehyun is stunning," sufficient for the brunette's cheeks to bloom a rosy fuschia.

Long strides alongside a devilish smirk greeted Raehyun's peripheral vision as her teacher returned her designed natal chart to the student, praises overflowing from his lips at her diligence, the cheerleader only bidding farewell after a gentle "thank you" of kindness, traipsing outside to have the imposing young man snake his arm around her waist.

"According to your natal chart, your Ascendant Scorpio sign indicates that the presentation of your character is intimidating, bordering on malicious, yet your Cancer Moon details that you're simultaneously an emotional wreck that holds grudges," Raehyun explained. "Your Venus-Mars combination states that you carry a subtle allure, which naturally coincides with the knowledge that you embody an unusually romantic sexual energy," she mused, attempting to stifle a bout of amusement, "From my personal experience, I would agree with that sentiment—perhaps it describes you overly so."

Seonghwa had once entrusted Raehyun to manage their apartment while he accompanied his friends as the designated driver in their outing to a football afterparty his junior and her sophomore year, as their parents had business affairs to attend to, and the younger sister held an aversion to large social gatherings that involved alcohol and drugs.

Her voice reverberated throughout the pristine white walls of her apartment bedroom, an ability she suppressed from the general populace to spare her from garnering mass attention from unwanted others. Raehyun's singing reached a note that bewildered a young man as he ascended the terrain of fire escapes, body aching when he reached his desired destination; "Raehyun?" he called, gentle undertones painting his tone as said girl's expression contorted from confusion to fretful, exerting her entire might into heaving the taller boy past the narrow window. Rushing out of the haven of her bedroom to retrieve a first aid kit stowed away in the depths of the adopted siblings' shared bathroom (a futile attempt to cover the knowledge that their adopted daughter was consistently tending to an unruly group of high school students that may or may include their son).

The purple-haired girl silently, deftly, treated the wounds of the boy with the now caramel brown hair, disregarding his winces and hisses haplessly as the antiseptic-soaked cotton ball made way to his cheek. "Relax," Raehyun informed, resonance atypically harsher than her usual gentle mannerisms, "You were willing to sustain the injuries when you hurled yourself into this situation; I suppose you can endure some rubbing alcohol and antiseptic." Obedient to her instructions, Mingi maintained silence despite his desire to press his lips onto her with an intense fervor, never overlooking the sight of pink hue on Raehyun's complexion, especially following her statement of, "Remove your shirt."

"Pardon?" he replied instantaneously, incredulously even, at the abrupt request; in his astonished daze, the exasperated cheerleader shrugged off the inky black coat, followed promptly by his turtleneck, exposing a mismatched array of bruises that hadn't healed properly, and fresh scars from whatever incident Mingi stumbled himself into that he refused to explain to Raehyun. Her sharp fingernails grazed against the boy's waist, cheeks dyed a rosy tint upon the sight of a shirtless young man, contrary to her upbringing as a Barbadian, applying pressure to the myriad of wounds against the surface of his skin with a fresh cotton ball.

"Would you mind providing me an explanation as to how you managed to acquire these bruises?" Raehyun surmised, Mingi immediately detecting a delicately quirked eyebrow directed at his countenance, attempting to shroud the growing desire to scream in agony with the athletic tape replacing the sting of the antiseptic when her clawlike nails swept against his abdomen.

"A student thought it would be amusing to try his hand at making some...sexual comments intended for you, which pissed me off enough to get into a fight after school," Mingi recanted in brief, her warm eyes freezing into a glare as biting as puncturing icicles, and the boy refrained from recoiling in surprise.

"Mingi, I'm from the Carribean"—Raehyun tore the athletic tape to seal her wrappings—"It would be scandalous had someone not make such a comment at least once; you shouldn't have lost your temper from such jargon."

The boy shook his head vehemently, vexation overcoming him as he growled, "The words were vile, Lex, Yunho had to restrain Seonghwa from attacking him; I protected your reputation, considering you could lose everything."

"Don't preach to me about upholding whatever reputation I have"—the violet-haired girl propelled herself off of the comfort of her bed, inching precariously close to the recently-dyed brunette with an uncharacteristic fire burning in her eyes—"Whatever statements and accusations they choose to say about me is none of your concern." The warmth of the candlelight allowed Mingi to see her features with more clarity, from her sharp cheekbones and almond eyes (the only similarity between her and her adoptive brother) to the birthmark located next to her left eye and her heart-shaped lips, currently parted as Raehyun elicited a huff of frustration directed at the taller male.

She gasped as he abruptly tugged her into him via her waist, her arms latching onto his biceps as she peered up at him, whatever hostility previously prevent evaporating as the young boy in front of her caressed her waist with a gentle, uncharacteristically so, fervor. "It becomes my motherfucking concern when they speak about my girl with that type of vulgar language," Mingi growled, roughly slamming his lips onto hers with an assertive ardor that it nearly paralyzed Raehyun into a state of nonreaction.

Parting away from the kiss, Raehyun slammed his figure towards her bedroom door, the prospect of its integrity falling apart at the corner of her mind as she retorted, "Who said that I was your girl, Song Mingi?"

Recuperating from the surprising amount of force Raehyun exerted against him, he towered above her sitting posture, her eyes narrowed into serpent-like slits, unwavering as he leaned down with his hands propped against either side of her frame, her legs and arms crossed once more—"Me, Park Raehyun."

"Liar," Raehyun seethed, a chill overcoming her as a devilish smirk etched itself onto his countenance, subconsciously grateful her stockings were removed a while earlier; pressing featherlight kisses on the crook of her neck, progressing into obscure nips and bites around her ear, knowing full well that her turtleneck sweater irritated the young man in front of her.

"With pleasure, babygirl," he whispered in kind, returning to paint a nebula of purple across her flesh, Raehyun's eyes fluttering shut as her head tilted upwards, a hitched whimper easing its way past her vocal cords, a sound that Mingi discovered was his absolute favorite sound, determined to derive the mellifluous tune out of her throughout the evening.

The violet-haired cheerleader twirled her pen between the grip of her fingers, organizing her system of ideas as she articulated them into her exam paper, ignoring the look her fellow teammate bored into her skull during the silent testing session and not privy of the glare directed at the other cheerleader from her boyfriend. Raehyun applied her attention to concluding her paper, strutting forward to the front of the classroom, the final student to finish her exam paper with meticulous consideration, submitting her essay to her teacher, a furtive nod approving her entry, her classmates heaving sighs of relief upon the notion they could finally speak to each other.

"Why do you like him so much?" the girl, Kwon Jisoo, interrogated Raehyun, shuddering fear as her fretful eyes widened at having Mingi pierce his unyielding gaze at her; from his peripheral line of vision, said boy detected Raehyun's biting stare.

"Pardon?" Raehyun wondered, her center of attention now a technological conversation with the boy with the lip piercing and swept blue hair, exchanging a relay of flirtatious, bordering suggestive, messages that previously would leave the cheerleading captain flustered, yet now relatively desensitized in reaction, progressively mustering more courage to counter his darker thoughts with feisty rebuttals of her own.

"Song Mingi isn't like us," Jisoo interjected, "His reputation is starkly different from ours, especially yours—you have absolute stellar grades, a prestigious spot on the KQ social hierarchy, and virtually every boy on campus at your beck and call—why would you settle for less than your worth and risk your entire reputation for a troublemaker like him?"

"I never realized the term 'us' existed until now," Raehyun responded coolly, swerving her figure to face her teammate with an unreadable expression, "I also had the realization that my romantic life is none of yours to be privy about." Receiving the note of excuse from a member of the ASB crew, Raehyun exited the premises with a wry grin on her face, Mingi sending Jisoo an assertive, bordering cocky, grin in her vicinity, the other cheerleader eliciting a groan in vexation from her captain's frustrating companion.

The pep rally permeated with people, almost compact as the lights dimmed and the notary introduction of "Partition" by Beyoncé indicated the opening performance of the rally, displaying the intricate movements and stunts that Raehyun had spent weeks choreographing, teaching, and reviewing with her teammates. Seonghwa and Yunho, both athletes for the football team, identified the former's sister with ease, her golden complexion her most distinguishing attribute amidst the clique of pallor. Her movements reflected her natural demeanor, highlighting the acquired combination of aggressive precision, sultry gazes, and poised winks that the cheer captain knew would anger Mingi into oblivion, and Seonghwa could only watch as his younger sister and best friends, San and Wooyoung, incorporated a series of seductive steps in time with the French in the song.

Following their ending poses, the student body president began their rhetoric in thanking the students for attending the rally, placing acknowledgment on Raehyun for her bombastic choreography as she bashfully bowed in thanks as the cheers roared before fleeing the scene, immediately meandering over to the tall-limbed bad boy. Mingi pulled her in close to him, Raehyun standing in between his legs as he sat on the concrete benches sequestered away from their fellow peers; as her two male cheerleader friends arrived, the captain couldn't resist the urge to stick her tongue out at their impishness, a perfunctory smirk on the girl's lips.

"Your comment surprised me earlier, babygirl," Mingi commented, noting her perplexed expression, "Whatever you said to Jisoo in history class before leaving for the rally—did she always think that way?"

"Don't mind her, Mingi," Raehyun concluded, tilting his chin upward to have her large brown eyes inspect into his own, the scent of his cologne (Allure by Chanel: the girl spent months saving up money to procure him the gift), "Her high school ideology differs from ours, especially when you consider her family's legacy attending this high school." Following her statement, she leaned down to peck his lips briefly, only for it to deepen as he tugged the small of her back towards his tight embrace, the lack of discretion much to her personal entertainment and his satisfaction.

The stadium lights illuminated the cheerleaders' beaming grins and upbeat as they led chants for their audience to follow, ranging from spoken cheers to rhythmical feet-thumping that felt like an earworm more than an actual song. Seonghwa, on the field, preparing to catch Yunho's throw, jolted slightly at the sight of his younger sister and her pompoms enthusiastically providing him support, voice carrying louder than intended, the quarterback amused at her antics.

"I have never heard her cheer as passionately as she does," Seonghwa remarked following their touchdown, admiring his younger sister as her teammates held the girl steady as the touchdown song resonated from the marching band, exciting their audience with the opening lead, "Perhaps if Mingi played football, Raehyun would cheer even louder."

Said boy caught the whiff of her trademark perfume during the halftime, her hair matted with sweat as she performed her routine, displaying her most well-rounded stunts and tricks with an enthused swagger that made her movements seem effortless—at that moment, he supposed, he became her own cheerleader, with resounding cries of support for her. It naturally was a far parallel from the traditional narrowed slit for eyes and aggressive frown, but the cheerleading captain appreciated the gesture nonetheless, briefly delivering him a smile before continuing her routine, and Raehyun properly kissed him following their victory, anticipating the impish growls from their friends, particularly their youngest and second-eldest in their circle, Jongho and Hongjoong.

"Care accompanying me to the afterparty tonight, my devil?" she mused against his lips, the sultry smirk intentionally provoking the leather-clad boy to a less-than innocuous reaction, and the girl understood his hidden, impure intentions. Mingi returned the gesture with a sensual grin of his own, parting with her to allow photography, either of the two of them, Raehyun's cheer team, her brother (who thought it amusing to lift her in midair), and her immediate friend circle, childlike expressions and antics that reminded her of her first encounter with them:

Seonghwa, the more lively Park sibling, invited her to a group outing with his group of friends, the only people of which she had a personal rapport with being Wooyoung and San, the male freshmen cheerleaders that she captained in their junior varsity division, and even with their relationship as teammates, Raehyun never engaged in anything aside from professional matters. Thus, it felt more like a surprise to her that her two male teammates were consuming alcohol until obscurity, yet, she was unable to complain, as the girl herself was holding a glass of pinot noir, the stem between her middle and ring finger as she spectated the festivities in front of her vision with a detached observance.

Her two teammates and Yunho, the energetic quarterback, were dancing to some voracious song playing on the vinyl player, Wooyoung already experiencing whiplash from bobbing his head back and forth too intensely, the other two not too far behind.

Yeosang, a classmate in her Introduction to Comparative Literature class, revealed himself to be a quite clingy drunk, expressing his love to his company to the point of near-suffocation, in Raehyun's perspective, noting several instances in which he engaged in displays of affection that she visibly stiffened at.

Jongho, a middle schooler that was supposedly related to San in some shape or form, proved to be unusually combative, nearly punching Yeosang under the duress of his bourbon-induced stupor, while Hongjoong from her chemistry class spouted expletives that made her wonder how exactly did he manage to maintain his creative brain, despite his fifth bottle of Dos Equis Amber.

Yet, the real question of the evening was how exactly did Seonghwa, the reliable, mature, calm, and more level-headed sibling between the Park duo, decide at the moment to perform a strip-tease performance, mortifying his younger sister as she aggressively flung the articles of clothing back to her brother, unsuccessfully shielding her eyes from the display of skin.

Raehyun's only solace happened to be the only other relatively sober person—the tall, lanky-limbed boy with acne on his cheekbones spectated the affairs with an air of indifference, taking a sip of his Bohemia before slamming it down onto the glass table, inverse to the wisp-like motions of the girl resting her wine glass against the glass surface.

"Should I offer an apology to you now for their idiocy, or should I abstain until they have warring hangovers tomorrow?" Mingi proposed, a scoff escaping the cheerleader's lips in amusement.

"Don't offer me one, then," she acknowledged airily, "They were the ones that suggested this outing; therefore, they should handle the repercussions of their actions without our assistance." Concluding her statement, Raehyun maneuvered her figure so that her left arm clung onto the head of the chair, her legs crossed right over left on the chair's arm, flaunting her form-fitting romper and stockings to the boy in interest, the mesh fabric exposing the navel piercing from years prior; "Is there something you like, Mr. Song?" she inquired.

"Something I like quite much," he responded, intentionally neutral—it dawned upon Mingi that the seductive smirk was an expression Raehyun trained to perfection, perhaps during her period in Barbados, during a time where her unchecked behavior allowed her to reap benefits far too mature for her legal age.

Desire was a local hotspot heavily driven by their teenage audience, as established by the purple-haired cheerleader when she witnessed a litany of her fellow classmates inhabit the club; yet, she heeded them no mind as she resided on Mingi's lap, allowing him to nuzzle his nose into the crook of her neck. The traditional, casual wear of her cropped sweater, plaid skirt, fishnets, and stiletto boots presented the illusion that she was a gangster's girl (which she indeed partially was), not privy to her squeaky-clean facade as the head of KQ's Varsity Cheerleading. Raehyun basked in the sensation of Mingi kissing and suckling on the spot behind her ear that he knew would make her elicit his favorite whimper, a product of becoming highly attuned to her, with all their restless nights at his apartment and her own when her parents and brother left her to her independent activities in the nighttime.

Yet, the girl felt her evening of intentional peace ruined, as an angry Jisoo stormed over towards the small clique of friends, Mingi halting his actions temporarily to deliver a preemptive glare at his girlfriend's fellow cheerleader. "You seriously think that you're able to get away with everything because your boyfriend happens to be the most notorious person on campus?" Jisoo spat, her captain resting her empty on Mingi's thigh, placating him temporarily as she rose from her seating arrangement, her posture upright with an air of sophisticated and refined confidence (much like her image, of which she was forced to cultivate), starkly differing from her teammate's brazen recklessness, hair disheveled and sweat permeating her features.

"Isn't there something more entertaining than attempting to poke a peaceful bear, Jisoo?" Raehyun questioned dryly, the boredom in her voice noticeable to her close friends, all of whom stifled a chuckle at her straightlaced humor.

"That bear is not peaceful, Raehyun—he's already manipulated you into becoming somebody you aren't," Jisoo reasoned, "You began attending nightclubs the more you interacted with him, wearing revealing outfits because of him, and I caught you smoking an electronic cigarette the other evening with him."

"How bold of you to make the assumption that I didn't perform this exact shit before I even moved to South Korea, Kwon Jisoo," she deadpanned icily, Wooyoung cackling at the barbed humor that earned himself a warning glance from Mingi, "Besides, you are not my parents, and you certainly do not carry my interests in mind."

A frustrated whine escaped Jisoo's lips, storming off angrily while Raehyun breathed a sigh of relief, retreating to the soothing embrace of her boyfriend, who allowed her to return his initial favor, raking both sets of her fingers through his fluffy, currently silver-turquoise hair, pressing featherlike kisses against the side of his angular jawline, maneuvering downwards towards his neck.

Mingi hissed as she bit firmly on the tender spot marking the bridge between his ear and carotid artery, eyeing him with an innocuous gaze; he established that in their position, she genuinely appeared reminiscent of a gangster's girl, but Mingi didn't mind—he never did, to begin with.

"Who would have ever thought that the angelic beauty would have a devilish side to her," he remarked, fingers skating from the nape of her neck to the bottom of her spine, Raehyun initially shuddering from the coolness of his fingers.

"Well," the girl mused, "It appears to me that every devil needs to have a guardian angel, and every angel needs to have a guardian devil to watch over each other." Pressing her lips to his, they allowed the dark, red, hazy glow to bask over them lightly, Mingi making a mental note to remember the current song that was playing over the loudspeakers.

Hell's Kitchen Angel—red, hot, and dangerous You broke the devil's poor heart with the way that you're loving me. I said, "Hell's Kitchen Angel—red, hot, and dangerous." You're a little too much for most, but you're just right for me.

#ateez mingi #song mingi #mingi #song mingi ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez blurbs #original character #mingi imagines #mingi scenarios #song mingi scenarios #oc #valentines #probably really late

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alrightinbed-betterwithapen · 6 years ago

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Clever Little Things — Part One — David Dobrik x Reader

A/N: hey guys so this one’s based off an awesome ask! I’m writing my asks a little slower at this time (and taking sometime away from Datalie until inspo comes back) to ensure better quality. I’m also turning this one into a series. Lemme know if you have any ideas of where you want this story to go. Anywho, thanks for taking the time to read, love ya!!

Masterlist

Summary: You don’t like David, and he plans on changing that.

Anon Asked: Hey !! Love you're writing, nobody ever does my requests so hopefully u can break that pattern :-), can u do a david x reader where it's an enemies to lovers sort of thing, where he's really charming and smug to her and like a huge flirt and she kinda just rolls her eyes and tells him to fuck off (maybe it could be a series??) Thanks !!

——

David fucking Dobrik.

Fuck that guy.

Yeah, you said it. Repeatedly and sometimes out loud. You couldn’t give a fuck about YouTube’s resident golden boy. You have lived in California far too long to be impressed with young, ridiculously wealthy men and their expensive cars. David seemed like a guy who fell face first into a vat of luck and wore humbleness like a cloak, hiding who he was underneath.

You were bound to run into him around Hollywood, your job as a freelance editor had you working with a ton of people in the industry he dominated. You had once preferred working in TV and film, but when a girl named Gabbie reached out to you, getting your info from a colleague, you were yanked into the YouTube world. Gabbie loved your work and had given your name out to all her influencer friends. The calls came rolling in.

Hey, it was a paycheck. These viral sensations actually made bank, and you were getting a more steady source of income from them than you did at any other job you’d worked in the city of angels. It even led to a pretty long contract job at a decent media group. Where you had to attend events and mingle and really learn about the world you were working in. It was mostly good.

But David, he fucking annoyed you. Whether it was hanging all over Instagram models for clout, or holding up the entrance line at a club to take paparazzi around his car, laughing and playing it up to an extreme, he fucking irked you. You had made the mistake of following him on Snapchat, one of his stories accidentally rolling over from a friends; he had two bleach blondes screaming about merch and then the camera flips around to his smug face telling you to swipe up. Yeah. Fucking. Right.

In your mind there were the Paul’s, Ricegum and David Dobrik: the premier fuckboys of YouTube.

So, there is no way you’re actually going to call Jason Nash about becoming his steady editor. You tell Gabbie as much over coffee.

“But, it’s a job, like long term and well paying... and he asked me about editors I knew the last time I saw him. Plus, if you last for a while, you can put that shit on your resume. And he’s great, like the coolest, chillest dude ever,” she’s explaining, trying to win you over. She had told you all about his kids and ex wife, how stressed he was. And that he could pay big money because he was racking in the revenue from his relationship with Trisha Paytas. Still, working for one of the vlog squad basically meant working for David, and you weren’t interested in that at all.

“Yeah, no. I’m sure he is, but the vlog squad? C’mon. Why would I do that to myself when you noped the fuck outta that mess years ago,” you tell her, sipping on your latte.

“Because I’m not an editor, (Y/N). It’s not like you have to hang out with them. You just hang around Jason and edit his shit. It’s not that complicated,” Gabbie says, looking at you like you’re dumb. You roll your eyes at her.

“Maybe I don’t want to be associated with David Dobrik and his loyal servants when their party comes crashing to the ground. You know it’s coming. He’s the next Shane Dawson expose for sure,” you ramble, “Like, Dobrik is the next Jake Paul. At least that’s what I get from his Snapchat’s, does he do anything but try to sell his shitty hoodies? And prank people until they cry?”

“Yeah. He gives people cars all the time.”

“PR move!” You yell, a little too loudly for nine in the morning at a coffee shop. Gabbie jumps a little and brings her hand to her mouth, shushing you. Ignoring her, you continue, “Yeah, it’s sooo genuine, Gabs. ‘Hey guys, I sent my friend to the hospital last week for a poorly thought out, unfunny stunt. This week I’m buying my assistant a car! No motive, no PR team screaming at me from the sidelines. Nope, I’m just a super awesome, humble guy who appreciates the people who obediently follow me around like a puppy so I can make content that’ll have 16 year olds everywhere buying my shitty merch!’ Gimme a break.”

“Holy fuck, I know you’re a cynic, but you have gone full pessimist lately,” Gabbie laughs at your impression, shaking her head. “They aren’t bad people, (Y/N). David isn’t either, he’s just young and rich and a little dumb. And Jason is probably the most down to earth one of them. Just think about it.”

“Ugh, fine. Fine, just no more talk about it. How’s your book coming?”

You change the subject, firm that the phone number she programmed into your phone will never get any use.

——

Then Defy Media goes under and Clevver, the main source of your rent lately, is done. You are out a decent paying job and next months check, you are royally fucked. Staring at the number in your phone, bent over on your couch, your thumb hovers.

You need the job. You want work, being at home with nothing to do all day makes you stir crazy. But all your points listed out about this still stand.

Fuck it.

You type out a quick message to Jason about Gabbie and his need for an editor with a link to your reel. You press send before you can talk yourself out of it. Then, it’s a waiting game. You’re scouring the internet for job postings when you get a message in return.

Hey! I’m so glad you hit me up. I desperately need help and would love to have you as my editor. Your reel is great! Can you meet for coffee in like 2 hours? I’m behind already and we can talk logistics.

You’re shocked. He must be desperate if he’s hiring you sight unseen and already getting you to work. But it’s a saving grace and more than you could of wished for. You’ll get a paycheck sooner and not have to worry about eviction. You let him know that’s fine and arrange a place.

The meeting goes well, Jason is a cool dude who doesn’t seem as wound up as your usual content creators were. You agreed on a wage (like 35% higher than your last gig, fuck yeah) and got to understand Jason’s edit style and post dates.

What didn’t shock you about the job, but you were hoping you could circumvent, was that you would be working closely with Trisha and David, as Jason often traded footage with both of them. And unlike Jason, they both edited their own vlogs because they had either, fewer responsibilities in their lives (Trisha), or were anal about their edit and wanted to do them personally (David). Great, great, great.

A jobs, a job though. You’ve survived working with some shitty people in your time and honestly didn’t think you’d have any problem on your hands.

——

There are problems though.

Yeah... there are a couple.

——

The first is Trisha. Well, she wasn’t a huge problem, but an obstacle. She was super insecure (you knew this going in) and the first time she came over to Jason’s and you were chilling on the couch, finishing up a vlog, things got tense. She knew you were hired, but she hadn’t met you before. You’d introduced yourself and shook the woman’s hands, wearing your usual editor getup of jeans and a giant hoodie, no makeup, hair not really done up but presentable enough for the public and giant headphones, to tune out the world around you.

You think that helped you because Trisha made a comment about how you were at least not trying to look good for Jason. You laughed at that, and looked her straight in the eyes with meaning behind them, and maybe a little intimidating,

“You couldn’t pay me into retirement to sleep with Jason.”

She’s taken a back for a second and you both look over to the man. You say no offense softly as the man shrugs, but don’t apologize or try to take it back. Trisha just snorts and says she likes you, claws retracting and a calmness returning to the room. Jason looks like a bomb’s been defused and ever grateful for you.

Bullet dodged... hopefully.

——

The next problem is David...

He’s actually the rest of the problems you have with your new job.

See, Trisha got over her bullshit pretty quickly and began texting you once a week for specific footage with Jason. She would describe them well and stay on the phone while you found and verified the clip, and then you’d send them to her. No muss, no fuss. She was an editor’s literal dream.

But, David fucking Dobrik was a nightmare.

Constantly texting you about clips from things that weren’t recorded, but he’s “sure they were because Jason was holding his camera like it was recording”, or waking you up in the middle of night to make sure you weren’t using a certain song for a montage or outro because he was going to use it in the next week.

And that was besides the ridiculous amount of times David was reminding you not to post certain things that were gonna premiere on his channel first. Like, yes, it’s fine to tell you. If it makes David feel better that you’re hearing it from him and not Jason, FINE. But to text you every post day, over a dozen times? It was a fucking joke and has been going on through week four of your new job. And you’d had enough. You’d mentioned it to Jason, but he’d just shrugged it off as David being David.

Well, fuck David.

You’d never even met the man in person at this point in time, but he was living up to every one of your terrible expectations. That’s when the 14th text comes in, as you’re exporting Jason’s latest vlog and just leaning back to relax on the older mans couch. That’s also when you snap, hitting the call button on the text and calling the douchebag.

“Hello? (Y/N)? Why are you callin-,” he starts after a few seconds of waiting for it to connect.

“Hey David! Nice talking to you finally and not just reading your utterly demeaning and demanding text messages!” You start in, just letting loose all the irritation he’s caused you over the last month. “Super appreciate the literally DOZENS of messages you leave me on post day, not to mention in the middle of the god damn night the rest of the week. I’m glad you understand what an invalid I am and how the constant texts actually do help me! It’s absolutely not a slight to my four year education and years of experience in my profession. Or the fact that I do heed your words the FIRST time I hear them, because it’s my literal job. A job I have that actually doesn’t revolve around you. Crazy, I know!” Your voice is just dripping with sarcasm at this point. In your brief pause you can hear a soft, amused breath from his end of the call. It doesn’t stop you at all.

“Anyway, I just wanted to call and let you know how productive you’re making me, and thank you! I really don’t know how I would function in my chosen career without your undying, unrelenting, un-asked for guidance. Hope the vlog that just posted meets your standards! Leave a comment if it doesn’t. Just please, please don’t text me about it.”

And you’re slamming the end button before he can respond. You look up and Jason is standing in the entrance way to his living room, jaw dropped. And all he can say after lifting it off the ground is,

“I didn’t know he was texting you in the middle of the night! Yeah... fuck him.”

You’re glad this ends with you both laughing and not you being fired.

——

“Your editor’s got some mega fucking attitude, dude,” is the first thing David says to Jason, picking him up in the Tesla the next day. Jason just starts cackling at that.

“Yeah, whatever. Don’t text her in the middle of the night. Most people’s work schedule doesn’t extend to 3am, Dave. And I thought she had quite a few points. Like, she works for me. And she does in fact know how to skillfully edit my shitty vlogs,” Jason’s laughing this out and is glad to find David just as amused.

“I wasn’t expecting to get ripped a new asshole is all. I was in an Uber to some event and Natalie heard the whole thing,” David replied, kinda sheepishly.

“You’re just butt hurt that there’s someone in this world that doesn’t give a fuck who you are and is willing to talk shit to your face. And that now Natalie and I know someone put you in your place,” the older man retorts, pointing at him accusingly before going on, “I’m not reprimanding her for having enough of you. She’s doing great AND Trisha likes her. Fuck off dude. Just text her less.”

“What do you mean she doesn’t give a fuck who I am?” Of course this is the part of what Jason was saying that David focuses on.

Shaking his head, he explains, “Well, she knows who you are and is absolutely comfortable enough to basically call you a dick within the first month of being my editor. Also, Gabbie told me the first time we talked about her that (Y/N) hates working for the bigger creators on the platform, and that she thinks they’re all materialistic and out of touch assholes. So, you know, I thought she would be a perfect fit for me. I’m basically nobody. But you? There’s no love lost there from the beginning, but she’s obviously professional enough to keep from snapping on your ass for like a month. I don’t know, Dave. What? You want me to force her to care who you are?”

“No! That’s not what I meant. I guess I just figured-“

“Sorry, dude. Not everyone loves our golden boy. But she’s not a mean person. She’s never even mentioned it. This is what Gabs told me forever ago. Either way, she doesn’t have to be blown over by you to be my editor. Right?”

“No, yeah, right. I guess I didn’t think I was bothering her. I’d always hit you up the same amount.”

“Yeah, but we’re friends. She works for me. It’s different,” Jason’s explaining as David nods along, eyes on the road, thinking.

(Y/N) doesn’t like him? Everyone likes him! YouTube world or not, David was charming as shit. It perplexed him, stirring uneasiness in his chest. This was just going to be a challenge in his eyes now.

She doesn’t like him? That’s fine. She will though.

David guar-an-fucking-tees it.

——

David Dobrik sends you an apology Edible Arrangement. The good kind, all chocolate covered fruit.

There’s a card attached that says,

Jason’s last vlog def met my standards, so you obvy don’t need my help. I’ll stop being such a dick.

(See? I didn’t text you.)

-D

It makes you laugh fucking hard.

You find it a little endearing but also, yeah, you deserve an unhealthy Edible Arrangement. He probably has a contact at the fruit company for appeasing all the people he steps on to run his empire. You’re not special, but the thought is at least there. Whatever. He had stopped bombarding you with texts and had been much more polite in general, so you were more than fine with the whole situation now.

You had hoped this was the end of it.

——

It wasn’t.

——

#david dobrik imagine #david dobrik x y/n #david dobrik x reader #david dobrik fluff #david dobrik smut #david dobrik fanfic #david dobrik #vlog squad imagine

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pilgrimbenham · 5 years ago

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David & Goliath

I wonder if we really understand the purpose of the story of David and Goliath in 1 Samuel 17. Most of us have read it and understood it from a shallow me-centered approach. Many of us make these sort of statements after reading the story:

“Like David, I need to fight my giants.”

“All I need is boldness and confidence and I can take on any challenge”.

“Though I’m misjudged, I have great experience, and against the odds I can silence those who threaten me.”

But is that the point of this story?

Do we need more boldness? Is this story included to teach us how to fight giants? Or is this a story that shows us the power of the Gospel?

An Incomplete Reading of David & Goliath

Chad Bird recently wrote this on the website 1517.org:

Ever since it’s appearance in the late 1700’s, Sunday School has played a key role in teaching boys and girls how to read the Bible like they’re not Christians. When little Johnny is taught the story of Noah’s ark, he learns three truths from it:

1) Noah was good and God loved him;

2) Noah was obedient and God saved him;

3) If Johnny is good and obedient, God will love and save him, too.

When young Teresa is taught the story of Daniel and the Lion’s Den, she learns:

1) Daniel was faithful even when bad men were against him.

2) God rescued Daniel because Daniel was faithful to God.

3) If Teresa is faithful, God will rescue her from bad people, too.

All narratives are easily kidnapped and pressed into service by our self-absorbed egos. Give us a story, ask us which character we identify with the most, and we’ll choose the hero or heroine. We see ourselves in them. They embody our desires for victory, success, approval. Bible stories are no different.

Take the account of David and Goliath. Do a Google search on this story. You’ll find hundreds of Sunday School lessons about “Five Smooth Stones” that you can use to battle giants in your own life.“With Courage, Confidence, Preparation, Trust, and Victory you can take down the giants you face!”

Each lesson is a variation on the same threefold theme:

1) David chose five smooth stones when he faced Goliath.

2) God has given you Five Smooth Stones to face giants in your own life.

3) If you use these stones, you too will be victorious.

A popular meme summarizes it this way: “Sometimes God puts a Goliath in your life, for you to find the David within you.”

Notice that there’s almost always one thing missing from lessons such as these: Jesus. The One the Bible is all about. The center of the Old Testament. The author and perfecter of our salvation. And who has taken his place? We have. Our faithfulness. Our obedience. Our battles, weapons, victories. Sunday School has become the place for self-affirmation, self-actualization, self-esteem. As we do in daily life, so we have done in our reading of the Bible: we have placed ourselves at the center, and Christ at the periphery.

A Gospel-Centered Understanding of David & Goliath

Bird describes a Christ-centered approach to Bible reading that is foreign to many Christians and absent in many pulpits. As we read this story, we have to realize that we aren't David! Jesus is the true and better David. Think about this story in light of the Gospel: An ill-equipped group of people stands hopeless and helpless against an impossible foe. We have in our federal head--our representative--an unlikely Savior who was sent to the battleground by His father, after coming to His brothers who did not receive Him. He fought not with the worldly weapons we would expect, but fought a battle where the victory was assured even before it began.

Bird continues:

You see, you and I aren't David. We are more like Goliath. The Philistine behemoth of a man who stood on the battlefield is more like we are than we care to admit. He is, in fact, the incarnation of everything that’s wrong with us. We are born enemies of God. We are full of ourselves. We not only have a giant problem; we are a giant problem. We defy God. We exalt ourselves. It’s all about me...A navel-gazer. An ego-addict. This is who we are as sinners. We’re foes of heaven, giant sinners.Goliath needs one thing: he needs to be killed. And that’s what our David does. Our David, the new and second David, marches onto the battlefield to slay us. We need to die before we can live. There is no other way. But Christ, the Son of David and David’s Lord, does not sling a rock into our big heads. He has a liquid weapon. He holds us under the water of baptism. In that wet death we are joined to a bloody death—David’s own. “Do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death?” (Romans 6:3). We die, but we die with him. We are drowned, but we are crucified with him. David wraps his arms around us Goliaths and plunges into the watery grave with us. Together we die. And together we rise.

Amen! Christ has defeated the impossible foe--sin--the flesh--and our final enemy--death, by dying in our place. Jesus rose from the dead triumphantly and has crushed the head of the serpent in this singular and decisive death blow--and Jesus used Satan's own weapon--the cross--against him! Now all who trust their representative have been set free from the foe, and have received the victory!

So rather than trusting in my own boldness to beat my giants, I can place my faith in Jesus to fight the battles for me. Instead of thinking I am the hero of my own story, I realize that I am the villain. Jesus is the hero, and by His grace He saves me from the wrath of God, from my sin, and from myself.

I’m not David--I’m Goliath.

(This blog was adapted from a recent sermon preached at Shoreline Church. Listen to the sermon here).

-Pilgrim Benham

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