#he can't even let her have peace during mass

[hetagrammy]

Based on this post

The Tudor Conquest was not the first nor the last time Arthur tempted Molly to commit fratricide

Molly's reaction under the cut

[hedgehog-moss]

(TW POLICE VIOLENCE)

France has been feeling like a police state this week, there were 5000 cops deployed in Paris yesterday (watch this video and tell me this is a normal amount of cops and they're behaving normally) and they keep acting like they have total immunity*, to beat up protesters, to arrest protesters, or just random people walking in the vicinity of a protest. My 70+-year-old dad tried to go to a peaceful protest and had to abandon the idea because of all the tear gas being used by police.

*Which they do—as Le Monde pointed out, the cops who are violent risk nothing because they can't be identified because almost none of them wear their identification number even though it's supposed to be mandatory. They're not being penalised for not wearing them, so why should they?

If you can stomach it, please have a look at the photos and videos on this Twitter account documenting French police brutality against protesters—as I write this, the most recent tweet is about a journalist who was beaten up by a BRAV-M cop* using his steel baton; he had his head cracked open and his hand broken.

(* BRAV-M is a motorised repression corps—cops on bikes—a unit that was dissolved in 1986 after some of them beat a student to death, who wasn't even attending a protest but walking near one. Macron changed the unit's name, from Voltigeurs to BRAV-M, and reestablished it to suppress the Yellow Vests protests. This week, a BRAV-M cop deliberately drove over a 19-year-old's leg at a protest after chasing him on his bike. The victim said he heard a cop say to others "Smash him." Another BRAV-M punched a protester unconscious on March 20. And today Le Monde published an article about BRAV-M cops being recorded bragging about "breaking elbows and faces.")

In Paris last week the CRS arrested a 14-year-old kid because they took him for a dangerous black bloc protester I guess?? A child spent a night in police custody without knowing why. They've also arrested several 15 / 16 year-olds. Let's teach the youth what happens when you exercise your right to protest!

On March 16th in Paris, within one evening, they arrested 292 people, and 283 were released without charges, which means they're mass-arresting people for peaceful protests as a strategy of intimidation. The student I mentioned in my post the other day, who spent 48 hours in custody and was eventually charged for refusing to have his DNA samples taken and filed, asked the cops why they were arresting him + 4 other people who were walking down the same street and they said "Because you look like fucking leftists."

The government tells us "We fully support our brave police forces" when the cops are arresting people for "looking like leftists." How are we still a democracy? The guy also mentioned that during the time he spent at the police station, the police was mostly arresting Maghrebis, though they made an exception for him, a Black guy. There are videos from the past week of cops beating up women, tear gassing protesters in the face from 20cm away, kicking protesters in the face when they're already on the ground, crushing their heads under their boot, brutalising a homeless man and old ladies, tear gassing crowds with young children in them. I'm having trouble finding links to these specific incidents I remember because there are so many videos circulating.

Look at this video, they're violently striking the back of people's heads with steel batons even when the protesters are already going in the direction they're told to. The little old lady shoved around and trying to protect her head from the strikes is breaking my heart.

Surely at the point when enforcers of state authority are arresting middle schoolers, beating up citizens for exercising their rights and gassing and pepper spraying elderly people, children and babies in strollers, the government might want to make some sort of statement condemning this state of affairs, but instead they have been telling us they're proud of & grateful for their police forces, which of course angers people and makes protests more violent. The Minister of the Interior, who supervises the police, praises them wholeheartedly and excuses all instances of deliberate brutality as 'isolated incidents' due to 'tiredness'.

Here's a thread in English describing a protester's experience—"Yesterday (March 23) the level of arbitrary police violence clearly leveled up. I was tear gassed three times without being able to move in a very dense crowd; policemen took advantage that people were unable to move more than 20cm to pounce on us and bludgeon us in a totally arbitrary manner." (you can see an example of this behaviour in this video from a different protest)

Yesterday, after a day of nationwide protests that brought a fresh new wave of video evidence of cops beating up protesters and making reckless use of tear gas—at the end of a day when a special ed teacher at a protest got her thumb torn off by a tear gas grenade—this is what the French Prime Minister said:

They're not even trying to play it off like "both sides made mistakes" they're telling us they condone everything the police is doing, that this is what they're deploying them for:

(screencap from this video)

(this is from this video, in which you can hear a woman screaming "Stop it! You're strangling him! You have no right! I'm filming you!" The cops don't seem to care about being filmed. They're beating up citizens with the government's full blessing after all.)

Macron's government is trying to intimidate people into giving up their right to protest, by deploying cops in huge numbers and publicly voicing complete support for their behaviour, by allowing them to beat and arrest hundreds of people and to use tear gas indiscriminately. Tear gas has been completely normalised as a means of state violence, it's very practical that it doesn't leave traces of blood or broken bones I guess, but it's still violence, it burns, it's a chemical whose effects on people's health we don't know a lot about.

^ Paris (from this vid; caption: "one tear gas grenade after the other")

Macron condescendingly told us there's no "magic money" which is why the pension reform is needed, but he did find the money to stockpile these apparently unlimited amounts of tear gas grenades to suppress protests against his reform to make poor people work longer.

^ Nantes (screencap from a vid in which the cops throw three or four grenades at once and you can hear people say "oh come on, seriously? this is crazy. Why? go fuck yourselves" in a tired tone)

We've also found out yesterday that three Corsican MPs were pressured not to support the Assembly's no-confidence vote against the government—by being told if they didn't vote it, a teaching hospital would be built in Corsica.

The island of Corsica is the only region of France that doesn't have a teaching hospital; due to lack of medical resources Corsicans often have to travel to mainland France for healthcare. Just last month the Minister of Health said sorry, still no teaching hospital for Corsica, it's just not possible right now. Then last week some "magic money" was apparently found to build it but only if the Corsican MPs didn't support the no-confidence vote. I know this kind of thing isn't exactly unique in politics but Macron has been slashing hospital budgets to the point that 20% of French hospital beds are closed due to lack of staff, and he used the health of 340,000 French citizens as a bribe to save his ass. The three Corsican MPs ended up voting in favour of the no-confidence vote despite of that, as it was what their constituents wanted (honour to them). Macron's government survived the no-confidence vote by only 9 votes.

Whatever legitimacy Macron has as a President right now is being clung to by MP corruption and police repression. How do we move forwards knowing that, I don't know. How does he have legitimacy to govern on any issues after the way he handled this reform and the following protests? His police forces are drowning city centres in tear gas, a chemical whose effect on birds and other fauna is not known, and we're supposed to listen to him talk about the environment? They're wasting thousands of litres of water using water cannons to disperse protesters, and we're supposed to listen to him talk about low groundwater levels and how we need to save water? I was going to say, what about his legitimacy abroad but other Western governments don't seem too bothered so far by his handling of the protests—though I'm grateful that Amnesty International did condemn it, and that a Belgian deputy made a speech in Parliament this week asking his government to condemn Macron's use of violent police repression.

[Wait, I just saw that as I was writing this post, the Council of Europe condemned the "excessive use of force" in France. Saying that 'sporadic acts of violence' of some protesters can't 'justify the excessive use of force by agents of the State' or 'deprive peaceful protesters of their right to freedom of assembly'. This is the opposite framing as the one our government is standing by—sporadic acts of violence by cops that are either justified or excusable—it's refreshing.]

Between that and Charles III cancelling his visit (and lots of tourists cancelling trips to Paris which is bound to piss off the tourism industry) and our own media waking up and starting to talk about the government's brutality, I hope Macron starts being held accountable. He has been fanning the flames of this crisis at every turn, by telling us that the crowds protesting in the street have 'no legitimacy', by sending cops to break strikes even though striking is a Constitutional right (but the only part of the Constitution he cares about is the one that starts with 49.3), by condemning the protesters when asked to condemn police violence—saying "When [protesters] use violence, unregulated, absolute, we're no longer in a Republic." I agree, but he's describing himself.

When you resort to using article 49.3 to bypass the National Assembly for the 11th time this term to impose a reform that 70% of the country is against (and 93% of working people) that will force the poorer classes of the population to work longer, and your only response to people's distress at being told to work until they die is to force them to accept it by allowing your police forces to beat up protesters, to arrest them and to gas them, you have failed as a democratic leader.

The next organised protest and strike is next Tuesday (if you want to give something to the strike solidarity fund, here it is); in the meantime spontaneous protests are still erupting pretty much every day and cops are getting burnt out (good! There are fun videos from yesterday's protests of cops accidentally tear gassing one another, or a police car accidentally running into another as people laugh and clap.) And yes some protesters are getting more extreme and destructive, but Macron is the one choosing to stand by his reform at all costs and let this country burn. And when I look at what we're being expected to tolerate and to normalise, I'm kind of proud that French people's gut reaction was "burn it all."

Some popular Twitter hashtags for the protests:

#ToutCramer - Burn everything #CensurePopulaire - People's no-confidence vote #MacronDémission - Macron resign #OnLâcheRien - We won't cede an inch.

[nightingaelic]

Since I’ve seen you also do fallout 4 Reacts, how about this, romanced fallout 4 companions react to synth Shaun calling the mom/dad

They had known, going into this thing they shared with Vault 111's sole survivor, that the road to a happy ending wasn't going to be easy. Love was already hard enough to navigate, even without the person on the receiving end being a pre-war relic, a figurehead of the Commonwealth, and number one most wanted on multiple factions' bounty lists. Those moments of peace they managed to snatch were fleeting, but they teased of greater things, and when their fingers and the sole survivor's intertwined atop the roof of Mass Fusion as the Institute crumbled into the Charles River below, they selfishly wondered if this meant a newfound freedom for their relationship.

Then came Shaun. Pure, naive, starry-eyed Shaun, who looked up at the sole survivor with the sweetest smile and gifted them the saddest holotape, who held out his arms for one person only and folded inward if left with anyone else. He confounded everyone, not just the sole survivor's chosen partner, but it didn't matter. His remaining parent held him close during the darkest hours, told him stories and sang him lullabies until he stopped shaking and slept. It was on one of these late nights that the sole survivor's companion resolved to do right by both of them, no matter what it took, and pressed a gentle kiss into the crown of the sleeping boy's head.

Cait: "You envy him," the sole survivor said quietly the next morning as they watched Shaun skip ahead on the road to Diamond City.

Cait swallowed. "I do," she admitted. "I've told you what my own parents were like. When I look at you, I can't help but notice every last little thing they didn't do. Everything you are doing, with him. He's damn lucky, and he doesn't even know it. Then there's me, and kids... All the ones I spent time around were just as broken as I was, older souls than they deserved to be. He won't ever know that kind of fear, and I'm fucking glad of it, but it also means I can't talk to him."

"Well, you have to start somewhere. But I get it." The sole survivor pulled her in by the waist and kissed her. "I love you, Cait. I can't tell you not to feel sad about the way things worked out- just don't take it out on him. He's been through a lot, too."

Cait rolled her eyes when they weren't looking, certain that she was always going to be the distant, red-headed stepmother to Shaun's actual parent, but her moment came sooner than expected. Batty old Moe Cronin was still hawking his baseball gear in Diamond City's town square, beckoning to anyone who wandered too close. "Swatters, right here!" he called as the sole survivor and their little family passed by, clearly aware that Shaun had perked up his ears. "Don't let down the home team! Why, even kids will appreciate a swatter in their hands, when they're traveling the Commonwealth!"

"No thanks, Moe," the sole survivor said, waving the salesman off. "He's still a little young for that kind of sport."

"I disagree," Cait cut in, putting a defiant hand on her hip. "Best to start him young, else he won't know what he's doing until it's too late."

Shaun looked between his two guardians. "Please?" he begged the sole survivor. "Mom's okay with it."

Cait could've melted, right then and there in the marketplace. Before the sole survivor had a chance to answer, she'd turned back to Moe, fumbling for her caps. "That one," she said, pointed at a lighter model splashed with indigo paint. "Seems about the right size."

Moe took it down from his display wall and presented it to the boy. "A genuine model, there. Perfect for a first-time owner. You take good care of her, kid."

Cait pulled the boy close to her hip and ruffled his hair. "He'd better. I was planning on using those caps to buy us Power Noodles."

Shaun smiled and closed his eyes as he hugged the baseball bat close. "Thanks, mom."

Curie: Although her educational modules had only been installed for the purpose of making her a better laboratory assistant in Vault 81, Curie still had the full knowledge repository of a Miss Nanny robot to draw upon stored up in her new synthetic brain. Caring for a 10-year-old boy meant following clear developmental guidelines and standards, and she set about writing a rough curriculum for him so as to give him some semblance of schooling while he wandered the Commonwealth with his guardians.

To her delight, Curie found Shaun to be especially receptive to her lessons. He was very interested in biology and history, perhaps because of the obvious blind spots that came with spending his early life inside the Institute. He wanted to know everything there was to know about the mutated creatures that walked the wasteland, coloring in the pictures of radstags and deathclaws and bloatflies alike in Curie's battered notebook as she sketched them. For history, though, Curie had to turn to those around her. The most recent history of the Commonwealth could be found with the sole survivor, who had spent most of their post-vault life at the center of it. Further accounts came from Preston Garvey thanks to his experience with the Minutemen, and Piper Wright and Nick Valentine had quite a bit more in their extensive periodical and case records. Even Paladin Danse pitched in, offering a rather thorough recollection of the Brotherhood of Steel's history on both coasts of North America and in between that left Shaun playing at being a Scribe for over a week.

Shaun's best subject, though, was language. He had an adequate grasp of English, but he began to press Curie early on to teach him French. She added it in between her other lessons, until they could carry on basic conversations. "Pourquoi vouliez-vous apprendre le français?" Curie asked him one day when it was just the two of them, curious. "Oui, ç'est une belle langue, but it is not especially common in the Commonwealth."

Shaun smiled. "Parce que ça nous appartient, maman."

"Maman?" Curie smiled back. "I did not teach you that word."

"You did," Shaun insisted, crawling into her lap to hug her. "Oui, maman, you did."

Curie ended the lesson early and gave him her pencil and notebook to draw pictures in. When the sole survivor returned that evening from their trade excursion, she presented them with the piece of art he had made, depicting the three travelers locked in battle with a mirelurk queen. The sole survivor looked over it with a smile, ran a thumb over the words he'd scribbled next to Curie's blazing laser rifle. "'Ma maman,'" they read with a grin, drawing her into a one-armed hug. "Congratulations, mom."

Paladin Danse: "I'm a liability to you," Danse argued with the sole survivor the next day, as they packed their things to hit the road again. "To both of you. You know what will happen if a Brotherhood patrol recognizes me."

"So wear this." The sole survivor tossed him a ratty shawl and a red bandanna. "Cover your face. Plenty of people do, in these parts."

"And if they recognize my voice?" Dance argued. "Only the greenest Initiates would be fooled by a disguise this thin."

"You're giving the Brotherhood too much credit." The sole survivor straightened up from organizing their pack. "Just let me do the talking and try not to worry."

"Easier said than done," Danse grumbled, picking up their wasteland fashion offerings with obvious distaste.

They were ready to go by noon, the sole survivor's pack slung over their shoulder and Shaun's hand firmly grasped in theirs. Danse brought up the rear as they crossed the bridge out of Sanctuary, and he tugged the bandanna around his neck up to cover his face once they reached the other side of the river.

When Shaun next turned back, distracted by some dry branches creaking together overhead, he giggled in surprise. "Why are you wearing that?" he asked, pointing to the bandanna.

"It's not safe," Danse grunted, lowering his laser rifle a little.

"But why does that help keep you safe?"

The sole survivor reached down to ruffle their son's hair. "It's a little hard to explain, Shaun. Some people out here don't like Danse. He's trying to hide his face from them, so they don't know it's him."

"But there's no one here," Shaun insisted, throwing his arms out to indicate the barren landscape and its silence.

"Well, you never know," Danse said, taking the bait. "Come here. Look at that tree. That big one, see it? I'd say it's wide enough to hide a man behind it. Maybe even a raider or two, if they're skinny."

"What about that one?" Shaun asked, pointing to a larger tree.

Danse nodded solemnly. "Three raiders. Easily."

He winked at the sole survivor, who was stifling their giggles. Shaun, who was staring open-mouthed at the trees, missed it. "Can I have one too, dad?" the boy asked, tugging Danse's sleeve.

"One of what?" Danse replied, unable to keep his voice from cracking.

"A bandanna." Shaun looked up at him with a smile. "We can hide together."

Danse, lost, looked helplessly to the sole survivor. Without a word, they pulled a navy blue bandanna from their pack and handed it over. Danse knelt down and carefully tied the cloth around Shaun's face. "There you go, soldier," he said when he was finished, and the words felt softer in his mouth than any of the other times he'd said them.

Mayor John Hancock: Though he was brave enough to risk a little affection after the kid was asleep, Hancock gave Shaun plenty of space during the waking hours. He wasn't blind to the way some people looked at him. Most kids stared.

Shaun wasn't any different in that aspect, but the fact that this red-coated, tricorn-bedecked ruin of a man was keeping his parent company proved too much for his curiosity. Once the stage of open-mouthed, morbid fascination had passed, Shaun's face grew more contemplative. He started to watch closely as Hancock did basic things. Eat. Sleep. Tie some cloth over a wound. Brush his teeth. He didn't seem embarrassed when Hancock made it obvious these attentions were noticed by waggling his brows or pulling funny faces in the middle of a meal- he just looked like he was filing the information away in his head. He wasn't immune to Hancock's infectious humor though, and he eventually started to giggle and make faces back. The sole survivor rolled their eyes at the pair of them, but Hancock egged them on until they, too, succumbed to the silliness.

When the trio paid their first visit to Goodneighbor and people on the street began to greet Hancock as "mayor," Shaun's eyes grew as wide as Port-A-Diner saucers. Hancock relished the attention, stopped in at every trading stall and tipped his hat to every vagabond they passed. Though Shaun kept a tight hold of his parent's hand, it was obvious he was a little lost between the attention that the sole survivor and the returning town leader were receiving. Things came to a head when a crowd gathered around the travelers and Shaun's grip on the sole survivor's hand was jostled loose. As would-be admirers moved in and separated them, Shaun's voice was thin and high under the boisterous conversations. "Ha-Han... dad!"

"Whoa." Hancock threw his arms out, pushed the crowd back. "Give us some space, folks. Yeah, you, back up or I'll sic Fahrenheit on you."

Shaun was clinging to his leg, and he relaxed a little as Hancock lifted him up to eye level with the adults. Hancock puffed with the effort. The kid was heavier than he looked. "Now this here," he said, grunting as he re-positioned the boy on his hip, "Is Shaun. He's with me."

"Is he yours, Hancock?" teased Rufus Rubins from somewhere in the crowd.

"As good as," Hancock replied proudly. He looked at Shaun and smiled. "It's okay, kid. I've got you."

When the boy smiled back at him shyly, Hancock plopped his tricorn onto the boy's head. "Ever thought about becoming a deputy mayor?" he asked. "Don't worry. It's a pretty easy job."

Robert Joseph MacCready: More than anything, MacCready wondered if he was being fair. He'd just gotten his own son back, and Duncan's renewed presence in his life was a constant reminder of just how much he'd missed. How long had it been, since he'd left his little boy with friends and trudged north, hoping against hope that he'd find a cure for the illness that wracked his little frame? How many pounds had he put on since he'd sent the miracle medicine home? How many inches had he grown, how many questions had he missed? He couldn't help but marvel at this little boy who was so big now, so much like Lucy and so much like him.

Shaun was older, Shaun was quieter, and Shaun was watching every time MacCready felt the need to pause, staring at his own little creation in awe. He knew it. He started consciously doing the same for Shaun, just so he wouldn't feel left out, and to his surprise, taking the extra time meant he noticed things he initially hadn't. The way he looked warily at the settlements they visited, searching for hiding spots to retreat to. The way his eyes gleamed in the light of his parent's Pip-Boy, entranced by the holotape games they collected. The way his cheeks dimpled when he smiled, the way he pronounced certain words, the way he tied his shoes and drew his letters and grabbed his guardians' hands when he was scared. Yes, Shaun was a miniature sole survivor in countless ways, but there was a little bit of MacCready in the way he approached the wasteland.

MacCready began to mix them up, Duncan and Shaun, and they laughed and corrected him and teased him to no end along with the sole survivor. It only made him smile wider. They were between Bunker Hill and Goodneighbor one day, playing "I spy" as they passed through the ruined city, when Duncan picked a rather obvious target for the guessing game. "I spy with my little eye... something that is... green."

"The water," the sole survivor guessed, pointing toward the Charles River. Duncan shook his head emphatically.

"It better not be a super mutant," MacCready said, only mildly concerned. The streets had been quiet for their entire trip.

"Dad's hat," Shaun guessed.

The sole survivor and MacCready stopped in their tracks. MacCready's hand went to his cap. Duncan nodded and giggled, and he squirmed with joy when his dad plopped the hat in question onto his head.

MacCready swept Shaun up into his arms. Shaun looked at him, wide-eyed, unused to the overt affection. "What?"

The sniper cocked an eyebrow at him. "Dad?"

"Yeah."

MacCready planted a scratchy kiss on the boy's cheek, reveling in the shriek of surprise it elicited. "Okay," he said with pride. "We do look alike."

"We do not."

Piper Wright: It was a promise that Piper had made once before, after her dad had been murdered and she'd been left the sole caretaker for her little sister. She and Nat had managed to navigate their new roles eventually, eked out a living in Diamond City and grown together as best they could. Piper had settled into something that wasn't quite sisterhood, parenthood, friendship or work partnership, and yet encompassed all of the above. The sole survivor had fit into that life alongside her fairly well, what with their transient inclinations, responsibilities to their associates, and being a lightning rod for Commonwealth intrigue, but Shaun presented a new challenge.

"Diamond City's the best place for him," Piper insisted to the sole survivor any chance she got. They were at Home Plate for now, but the wasteland wanderer had that look in their eye that suggested they were growing restless, unsure of their safety and the safety of their child. "There's a school, there's food, running water and a security force and oodles of people who dote on him just because he's a kid in the wasteland with manners, which is a rarity nowadays."

They always looked at her sadly. "A synth kid, Piper. People will notice eventually."

"So what? Nick's a synth, Diamond City got used to him!"

"We need to go soon, Piper, for his sake. It'll be okay."

"Stay, Blue."

The pair went around in circles like that whenever they got a spare moment, saying it every different way but getting nowhere. They were in the middle of one of these arguments when they were interrupted by Nat and Shaun, who blew into the little house with a gust of wind, rain, and flapping newspaper pages. The two kids had their arms locked at the elbows and were giggling wildly, but they stopped short when they saw the way their respective guardians were talking. "Is everything okay?" Nat asked warily.

"Yeah," Piper answered quickly, hiding her expression by removing her cap to scratch her head. The sole survivor had other ideas, and took this moment as an opportunity. They got down on one knee and took Shaun's hands in theirs. "Shaun, buddy, we need... I need to go on a trip. For a while. Do you want to come with me?"

Shaun's eyes flicked between them and Piper, uncertain. "Are mom and Nat coming, too?" he asked.

Nat's eyes widened and Piper's heart leapt into her throat. The sole survivor choked on their words, and tears welled up in the corners of their eyes. They looked up at Piper, their apology plain on their face. "She- we-"

Piper dove in, wrapped Shaun in a hug and twirled him up in her ratty coat. He laughed, surprised, and the reporter beamed down at him.

When the two had ceased their little dance, Piper turned back to the sole survivor and helped them up off the rug. "Come on, Blue," she said, giving them a kiss on the cheek. "We're being stupid. Let's talk this out like a family. Nat and Shaun deserve to know what's up."

Preston Garvey: Preston had thanked his lucky stars several times over the last few months that the sole survivor had risen to the challenge of becoming General of the Minutemen, but now he found himself continually second-guessing that decision. As they pursued the Institute across the Commonwealth, unearthed horrific truth after horrific truth, he'd grieved their spouse and child with them and thrown himself into the work of rebuilding the Minutemen to help them fill that void of loss. He hadn't expected, at the end of things, that the Institute would leave them something else to help fill the void - and now, looking at Shaun, Preston couldn't help but blame himself for centering the sole survivor and leaving them with responsibilities that got in the way of caring for the boy.

So Preston did what he could. When the General was in talks with traders to negotiate caravan protections at the Castle, he took Shaun walking along the shores of Dorchester Bay, hunting for mirelurk eggs. When the General was away from Sanctuary helping settlements, he tucked Shaun into bed at night and read him stories from a worn book of fables that Sturges had bought off of Trashcan Carla. When the General came home late looking like they'd crawled through a yao guai den on their stomach, he hung up their coat, pushed them into the shower, and made dinner with Codsworth while Shaun supervised and decided whether it needed more salt.

"I don't deserve you," the sole survivor said gratefully each time.

"You do," Preston always reassured them. "You both do."

Shaun was less quick to appreciate Preston's care, but slowly he warmed up to the General's right-hand man. He remembered the best spots for picking raspberries that they found together, he started to request tales about the Minutemen as his bedtime stories, and whenever Codsworth asked him about his day, he would shyly look to Preston before relating their adventures together. It was slow going, but each time the boy looked at his parent's partner, there was less and less hesitancy.

One night after a particularly long day on the road, Preston and Shaun were pinching together some ground mole rat potstickers for soup while the sole survivor washed up. Shaun had a case of the giggles and kept leaving floury fingerprints on his own face, which Preston kept trying and failing to wipe off with a kitchen towel. As Shaun fought off another of these attempts, amidst his happy laughter, he pushed the towel away and shrieked, "Dad, stooooop!"

Preston froze. In the bathroom, something clattered to the floor. Even Codsworth paused chopping vegetables to swivel his eye stalks toward the kitchen table. Shaun made a face. "What?"

Gently, Preston put his thumb over one of the flour spots on Shaun's face and rubbed it away. He tousled the boy's hair and chuckled. "Nothing. Nothing at all. Save the razorgrain flour for the dumplings, buddy, okay?"

Porter Gage: Even compared to everything else in Nuka-World, Porter Gage knew he was the rustiest piece of equipment in the park. Well, everyone in Nuka-World was an antique of some sort, hanging onto a bygone or kitted out in tattered costume from days gone by - hell, the Overboss was practically a pre-war collectible - but Gage felt stiff and dusty, even compared to them. He was old, for a raider. Raiders didn't get old. There was safety in being overlooked because of your age and lack of ambition, but it sure didn't make you interesting to the average kid.

Eventually though, that ability to be overlooked came out in Gage's favor, when it came to Shaun. Shaun was an oddity in the park. Anyone who was stuck firmly to the side of the Overboss was an oddity, but beyond that, Shaun was a kid. Raiders didn't get old, and they definitely didn't have kids if they could help it. Most of the gangs were respectful to the Overboss and their kiddo, but when they'd passed out of earshot, they talked. A liability. A loose end. Not even human, a few of them said.

Gage didn't say anything, but he did listen, and he did tell his partner what the situation was when Shaun was asleep for the night. When they had him pressed against the wall of Fizztop Grille's reception, he spun them ideas about what to do until they told him to shut up or rendered him speechless themselves. Honestly, that told him everything he needed to know. They were at a loss for what to do about the kid, too.

If he'd been a younger man, maybe Gage could've let things play themselves out. But he wasn't, so he took the boy under his wing. He gave him his best knife and his second-best pistol and taught him how to use both on the prop cutouts in Dry Rock Gulch. He taught him how to move silently through the overgrowth of Safari Adventure. He taught him the best places to check for supplies in abandoned towns, on one particularly memorable afternoon in Bradberton, when Shaun shot his first feral and only cried for a little bit afterward.

"It's alright, kid," Gage reassured him, rubbing his shoulder while Shaun tried to calm his hiccups. "They don't know themselves anymore. There's no going back. You did him a kindness."

"Doesn't feel like it," Shaun sniffled.

Suddenly, the boy turned into Gage's shoulder, hugged him awkwardly around the metal mess of his armor. "I'm not any good at this like you, dad. I'm sorry."

Gage closed his eyes for a moment. Against his better judgment, he unbuckled his armor, put his arm around Shaun and pulled him into his chest. "No one's good at first, kiddo. But I'll be here until you are. Promise."

BONUS!

Deacon: Though Deacon would never admit it, Shaun terrified Deacon. He'd wanted a kid at some point, obviously, but that version of himself seemed so far removed from who he was now. Different place, different face, different circumstances and perspectives. He wasn't sure he could go back to that mindset now.

Much like the sole survivor though, he didn't have a choice. Shaun was here, curiously peeking at the papers on Desdemona's workstation and getting shooed out of Carrington's clinic. At least Tinker Tom was self-aware enough to tone down his swearing and more dangerous experimentation, but Deacon and the sole survivor agreed that the sooner Shaun got out of HQ, the better.

"They're all intimidated by you," Deacon whispered conspiratorially to Shaun on the day they finally packed up their things. "You're the best Railroad agent here, and they all know it."

"Really?" Shaun whispered back. "I thought you were the best Railroad agent here."

"It goes you, me, Desdemona, then your parent," Deacon counted off on his fingers. He shouldered the pack Shaun had stuffed to the brim and groaned. "Oof, you've got a lot of stuff already. That's how I know you're the best agent. You're already hanging onto supplies in case of the worst. Smart."

The sole survivor pulled Shaun into a half-hug, caressing his head. "I still rank under Desdemona, huh?"

Deacon winked. "You're getting there. Come on, we'll go out the back door."

Once the three emerged, blinking, into the North End, Shaun took one of the sole survivor's hands and one of Deacon's. "Where are we going?" he asked.

The sole survivor squinted at the buildings around them. "North," they answered vaguely.

"To a deathclaw farm," Deacon said solemnly. "Where they hatch the little lizards and teach them how to be big, ferocious beasts."

"Deacon."

"Sorry. Just a rad chicken farm that's helped us out once or twice."

Shaun looked up at Deacon. "Are deathclaw farms real, dad?"

Deacon choked on his witty response and fell into a coughing fit. The sole survivor looked shocked too, but a smile came over their face and they slapped him on the back a few times until his lungs quieted down.

"Uh, eh-heh, no, buddy," Deacon answered, gripping the boy's hand a little more firmly. "But you know what they say: Be the change you want to see in the world. If you want to go all-in on deathclaw farming, I'm right there with you."

Desdemona: Every day after that, Desdemona expected to wake up and find the sole survivor and their son gone. She couldn't leave HQ now, what with the post-Institute clean-up filling all their safehouses and gumming up the usual escape routes, and PAM changing her mind every minute about what predictions were most likely. All of that combined with the general atmosphere of uncertainty around the Railroad's future - what does the Railroad do, when all of the synths that can be rescued have been rescued? - kept her to-do list full and her mind racing. In the past, her busy periods were an invitation for her unlikely partner to depart on their own adventures, check in with things around the Commonwealth that didn't immediately concern the Railroad, and she fully anticipated this from them now that they had a child to care for, too.

But Shaun and the sole survivor stayed. Deacon's finest recruit rolled up their sleeves and joined her at the war table, read her notes back to her and pointed out strategic opportunities, discrepancies, details she might have overlooked. Desdemona was surprised by how well they managed to mesh with her style of leadership. In the past, anyone who had tried to butt in on her planning usually wound up clashing with her, prioritizing in different ways or misunderstanding critical operations they just didn't know the ins and outs of. Somehow, the sole survivor avoided all of these pitfalls and slid right into the fray next to her.

Shaun was less helpful than his parent, prone to doodling on less-important papers and humming along with the songs on Diamond City Radio, but his quiet presence was company enough. While the sole survivor was still catching up on the sleep they'd lost burying the Institute, Shaun seemed content to remain at Desdemona's side late into the night, watching her work.

It was on one of these late evenings, after all of the agents except the night watch had gone to bed, that Shaun let out a yawn as wide as the Charles River and blinked sleepily up at the Railroad leader. "Mom, I'm tired."

Desdemona paused her dead drop status review and looked down at him with a surprised smile. "I've got to stay up, Shaun. This is important."

"But I'm tired."

"Okay." Desdemona put her pencil down and picked him up. He was heavy, but not so heavy that she wasn't able to carry him to the cots in the back and deposit him gently next to the sole survivor. The movement was enough to wake them, and they pulled the boy in close and wrapped him in some of their blanket. Desdemona tucked them in and went back to the glow of the lanterns with the sound of Shaun's words ringing in her ears.

Elder Arthur Maxson: The Squires on the Prydwen tried to adopt the new boy into their number, of course, but to the sole survivor's dismay, Shaun's odd remarks about "life on the surface" soon labeled him as an outcast. The boy turned even further inward, befriending an odd group of individuals: Scribe Haylen, Paladin Brandis, Senior Scribe Neriah, Emmett the cat. All of them were kind and patient with Shaun, but none of them were exactly peers.

"I don't suppose you could order the Squires to be nicer to him," the sole survivor remarked with a hint of bitterness during one of their visits to the Elder's quarters.

"Let him find his own way," Maxson replied kindly. "If I interfere, they will only resent him for it."

It felt harsher when he said it out loud, but the sole survivor respected his judgment. Still, Maxson couldn't help but recall his own difficult childhood spent searching for friendship, for anyone who might see him as a person instead of a future Elder. When he next had free time, he visited Proctor Quinlan's library of holotapes and came away with a stack of games and transcribed books.

Later that evening, the sole survivor walked into their quarters to find Maxson and Shaun on the bed with their Pip-Boy, Maxson cheering the boy on as he navigated his band of adventurers through a dungeon level in Grognak & the Ruby Ruins. "Go left," Maxson urged. "There's a treasure chest down that hallway."

"How do you know?" Shaun asked, screwing his mouth up in concentration as he input the commands.

"I've been playing this game since before you were alive. See, in the corner over there."

The sole survivor joined them on the bed. "Watch out for goblins."

"Oh, dad showed me how to fight them off already."

Maxson stiffened, and looked quickly over Shaun's head at the sole survivor. Their eyes widened meaningfully, and they tilted their head down toward their son. "Did he show you the goblin village yet?"

Shaun looked up at Maxson. "There's a goblin village?"

"There... there is." Maxson swallowed his misgivings for the moment and directed his attention back to the game. He put an arm around the boy and tilted the Pip-Boy so he could see a little better. "Let's get through this dungeon together first."

Nick Valentine: To Nick's surprise, Shaun warmed up to him fast. He wasn't put off by his missing parts, his glowing eyes or the occasional whirring noises that emanated from inside his chest cavity like most kids. In fact, he liked to press his ear up to Nick's shirt and listen, trying to figure out what the noise was. "It's like your heartbeat," he always said.

"What's it saying?" Nick would ask. Shaun would imitate whatever noise he was hearing, and they would both laugh.

"He grew up around synths," the sole survivor reminded Nick when they were alone. "Er... well, he's been around synths for as long as he's... you get my meaning."

Nick raised his cup of tea to them. "I do. I'm just so used to kids being wary. It's a nice change of pace. How's he doing in class?"

"Great in science and math, horrible at spelling. He could use some practice that isn't just me peering over his shoulder, you know how he hates doing schoolwork if he can't relate it to the real world. Is there any way you could...?"

Nick held up his metal hand. "You don't even need to ask. I'll get him to help Ellie take notes on some cases."

The sole survivor smiled. "How's Ellie's spelling?"

"Impeccable."

A few days later, the little family was ensconced in Nick's office with Ellie poring over a case that had come in from Vault 81 about a missing person. Ellie had given Shaun his own clipboard and pencil, and the pair were scribbling furiously while Nick went over everything that had been written in the letter from the vault's overseer, Gwen McNamara. "Says here that she might have gone to seek her fortune with one of the local caravans," Nick noted. "If she hitched a ride with one, she might have paid them to cover her tracks, but it'd still be worth paying a visit to Bunker Hill to see if they've seen her. Shaun, do you know how to spell 'investigate'?"

"I-N-V-E-S-T-A-G-A-T-E," Shaun answered confidently.

"It's 'I' after T, not 'A'," Ellie corrected him.

"Oh." Shaun deflated a bit. "Sorry, dad."

Ellie dropped her pencil and the sole survivor choked on the Nuka-Cola they were drinking. Nick lowered the letter, perplexed, but when he caught the shy look on Shaun's face, he couldn't contain a grin of pride. "It's okay, son," he said. "We'll keep practicing together, okay? We've got nothing but time."

Old Longfellow: "The island's no place for a child," Longfellow told the sole survivor when they first brought the boy to the docks of Far Harbor.

"You wanted one, once," they had retorted, grabbing him by the lapels of his coat and planting a kiss on his bearded face. "Were you planning to leave, once you'd had the baby?"

"That was different. Wasn't as bad then as it is now."

"Take us back to your cabin on your sand bar, old man. Shaun and I are survivors. And if it gets worse, we'll get on my boat and go back to the Commonwealth."

So Old Longfellow rowed them home to his shack under the pines, and he double- and triple-checked the fog condensers he'd bought off the scientists at Acadia. Shaun followed him around, taking in the little island's woods, beach, and craggy landscape with a pair of eyes wider than a mirelurk's shell. This relationship continued for well over a month: Daily excursions to check the traps and mechanical equipment that kept them all from dying, weekly trips into town to trade and stock up, and the occasional trudge down to the beach to see if anything interesting had washed up. Sometimes the sole survivor remained behind, skinning a radstag or shucking oysters, leaving the old man and the boy to their daily chores outside in the chilling sea breeze. On one of these occasions, Longfellow was making his way toward the wood pile he'd been stocking up and didn't realize that Shaun wasn't right behind him as usual. He might never have noticed, if he hadn't caught the quiet word on the wind at his back: "Dad."

Longfellow spun and found Shaun frozen, staring at the edge of the woods. Staring back was a radstag, glowing faintly from internal radiation, with only one head and pair of antlers.

It was a ways off, but Longfellow still moved to grab the boy and pull him out of harm's way. The movement startled the creature and it huffed before alighting into the trees, its tail flying a warning as it bounded off. Longfellow pulled Shaun close and sighed, trying to catch his breath again. "Stay close, boy."

"They all used to look like that," Shaun replied softly, watching the deer's retreat. "I never thought I'd see one without two."

"Rare as hen's teeth," Longfellow agreed. "Must be our lucky day."

X6-88: X6-88 knew that technically, his role with the director was a protection assignment, but excursions to the surface and a growing trust between them had blossomed into something else. He also knew that technically, Shaun was an assignment too, one that Father had bestowed upon the sole survivor just before his death. In the safety of their Institute quarters though, they could be something more to each other. They could talk about what it was to be a synth, to live apart from the world at large, and what within their little underground haven could be changed for the betterment of something beyond mankind.

He and the sole survivor were cautious at first to talk about these sorts of things around Shaun, but the synth boy soon proved bright enough to understand the dangers of self in this place, be they realization, expression, or actualization. "It's not fair," Shaun would say at dinner. "I want to become a scientist. I want to grow up. And I can't even talk about it anywhere else."

"We're working on it," the sole survivor always said. "Dr. Li and I have some ideas. You won't always be a child, Shaun."

X6 knew that they were doing their best, but they were hiding the fact that Dr. Li had pushed back on the project multiple times. She'd believed the synth child was a waste of time and effort from the beginning, and extending that effort would take more than just a few ideas from the sole survivor. He knew they would keep trying, but it would never be fast enough for a 10-year-old boy. And every step they took toward that goal would bring the scrutiny of the Directorate, some of whom were eager to find any reason to discredit the brand-new upstart that had passed them up to lead the Institute.

"We should leave," X6 suggested as he lay in bed next to the sole survivor after another night like this. "Before it's too late."

"We can't," they replied in a whisper. "They don't have the tech on the surface to help Shaun, and we have so much we could offer the rest of the world. If we leave, we'll never see this place again."

"It would be difficult, but we would be together."

"Just give me a little more time, X6. Please."

The Courser lay awake long after the director had gone to sleep, trying and failing to come up with a better plan. As such, he was still awake when Shaun stole into bed with them, rubbing tears from his face with his little hands. X6 settled the boy in between himself and the sole survivor and wiped the rest of the tears away with the sheet.

"I had a bad dream, dad," Shaun explained, sniffling. "I've been having them a lot."

X6 didn't have the heart to correct the child. "I know," he said instead. "I've been having them too. Dreams can't hurt you, Shaun. If they try, I'll protect you."

[myuntoldstory]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love! ❤️

aw, thanks jayne! i appreciate you sending this. i'm a little embarrassed about this, lol, since self-promotion is not really my thing. anyway, here are the fics in post order (oldest to newest):

bitter, beloved, rebellious (3.9k words, one-shot, complete)

“Only call me Mary when it’s important. Then I’ll listen to only you.” As the war escalates, Sirius faces a future vastly different from the one he didn't mind living in.

commentary: this is a favourite of mine because it's one of the fics that made me teary while writing it. 50% is because it's macblack/blackdonald. the other 50% is made up of everything else i felt while writing it, like existential fear, grief, loss, mourning, all those good things. like, i distinctly remember thinking about this story while waiting for a bus. imagine getting teary-eyed while waiting for a bus, jesus christ lol.

lento con gran espressione (before the end) (2.6k words, one-shot, complete)

"This was what peace felt like, this quiet moment with nothing but the rain, tea, and both of them wrapped in each other." 1979. James and Lily spend a quiet Halloween night at home.

commentary: this is a thematic sequel to the first ever fic i "officially" (because i have posted things way back, like 2004, dksfjldksfjdfls but i deleted them out of self-doubt) posted in a03/ffnet. i guess with this fic, i'm happy with my descriptions, how self-contained it is, and the cosiness of autumn that has that undercurrent of hopelessness because of jily's situation. (sorry wow lololol)

water of the womb (6.3k words, one-shot series, complete)

Coalescence: verb. come together to form one mass or whole. Divaricate: verb. stretch or spread apart; diverge widely This short series is an exploration of Andromeda Tonks and Narcissa Malfoy—the choices they have made and what led to these choices. In Coalescence, Narcissa's past and present combine, focusing on her ultimate choice in the Second Wizarding War. In Divaricate, Andromeda's choice has led her back to the past… but would she be able to reconcile with it?

commentary: sorry i cheated a bit with the series, but i can't really self-rec one without the other. happy with the cohesiveness of these two fics, how (i think) i managed to present the tenuous connection between andromeda and narcissa. i like how i ended it as well because it was realistic and right, i feel. i was also proud of how i wrote teddy lupin and the golden trio kids, i think.

sillage (2.1k words, one-shot, complete)

On the day before his exhibition opened, V finds MC staring up at his work with tears in her eyes. It was a reaction he never saw before. So he approached her to find out why.

commentary: i'm proud of this purely because i managed to wrangle the huge philosophical and metaphorical story that is kim jihyun's in mystic messenger. even now i still get confused by some of the metaphors in his storyline. but anyway this fic was during my (still ongoing) phase of "justice for jihyun kim". because why does everyone get forgiveness and love except him? and i'm still super salty about things like saeran's after end and finally getting a kiss cg but not during gameplay, but after the fact, like as the game's app intro cg like sldkjflsdj nah dude, i ain't taking that as a win.

carry on, carry on (1.6k words, one-shot, complete)

"So whatever happens. No matter what the future has in store for us. You carry on, Dromeda. You carry on." Andromeda learns of Ted's death.

commentary: i just read this right now and... holy fucking jesus christ why is it so sad??? ahahaha. and my end note is "i hope you enjoy". uh. wow, i'm so sorry to those who read this way back. i guess i'm sorry to those who might read this in the future also. again, i like how this is self-contained. i said in my end notes that i've developed a strong curiosity for off-camera moments. and that's still true. one of my prouder moments is the letter because in ffnet you couldn't strikethrough (i don't know if that's still true now); so with strikethrough being allowed in ao3, i could properly write the letter and bring to life ted's obvious mistakes (read: honesty) when writing his "last" letter to andromeda.

[kob131]

Ugh, here's Dextixer's newest bullshit spouting thread, trying to accuse the CRWBY of being anti-union and racist. ...I'm so done with this fucker getting to post this hateful shit and the mods turning a blind eye to it.

www(.)reddit(.)com/r/RWBY/comments/yy1jpp/crwby_and_antiunion_political_messages_in_rwby/

Oh come on, it can't be that bad?

RT and RWBY itself are no strangers to political content and discussions surrounding it. The series started with a stand-in for minorities in the form of Faunus. It started with a racial discrimination subplot. A subplot that was heavily mishandled and eventually, for the most part, abandoned after Volume 5. The writers themselves admited that they were ignorant on the subject. And yet... And yet they cannot seem to keep away from once again diving into political topics, again and again.

Oh for god's sake.

The Fanaus are not political. In order for something to be political, it would have to be talking recent events rather than universal issues. Bigotry is nothing new.

Also, know how people bitch about the Fanaus plotline because the WF was portrayed as bad even though civil rights groups can be bad because they're still made up of people and were still in-fact BETTER than their human counterparts? Those details that break any accusation of racism because it still treats the Fanaus better than the humans? Well-

During the story of RWBY: Arowfell our protagonists discover orbs that seem to attract Grimm to them. Eventually they find out that the person behind those orbs is no other than Hanlon Firestone, an ex-soldier of Atlas who became a very known and popular Union leader in Mantle, at least in the Arowfell universe.

It is discovered that he has a semblance with which he can extract raw fear out of people, which is then used to power special orbs that can contain fear. The protagonists then find him in Mantle, extracting fear from a young faunus woman by threathening to take out her eyes.

After some combat sequences he yelds, makes a short speech about how "This is not what i wanted" and reveals about his past efforts in trying to keep peace between Atlas and Mantle, and is then taken away by Atlas soldiers. While being taken away he also stated that "Whatever happens next is entirely your fault" while activating a Remote.

It is quickly found that this remote activated 4 separate Grimm attracting Orbs. Their activation not only results in increased Grimm activity but also results in the destruction of at least one village.

Hnalon isn't the main bad guy of RWBY Arrowfell.

That's Bram Thronmane. An ATLAS elite. Who caused this mass destruction as a means of petty revenge.

So not only is the union leader not the main bad guy, undercutting the whole 'unions are EVIL!' narrative he's pushing due to how fast he's swept away, but he's actually more MORAL than Bram. At the very least, he wanted to try and make things better. Bram was just being petty.

Sound familiar?

But hey, it's not like Dextixer is politically biased or anything that would cause him to treat this as a personal attack or anything. I'm sure this is an honest mistak-

Sincerely, an European Democratic Socialist.

... So let me get this straight.

You, a socialist. You, someone who preaches an ideology that nominally supports union leaders is preaching about how the poor union leader is bad while the elite is portrayed as bad or worse.

You know, I was operating under the idea that you made a rash decision and made a post before having all the facts. Bad but not the worst. But now, I have to question if you're being willfully ignorant to push your own politics. Just like the people who bitch about the WF.

Union leaders and workers have been long villainized in Media of all stripes, especially American media. They are often portrayed in three main ways, obsolete remnants of the past, corrupt thieves or completely unrealistic and uneeded.

In the case of Unrealistic and uneeded - It involves glorification of bosses and managers, or the glorification of the "bootstrap" mentality, of workers managing to rise up on their own merit.

The same is with their portrayal of being remnants of the past, although that usually takes a bit more positive spin on the past. It tells the viewer that "Bosses were bad in the past, and unions were good" and then proceeds to sell the myth that "Everything is fine now".

The portrayal of unions as being corrupt organizations full of thevies is a long standing one at this point. Often union leaders are either shown like "mob bosses" or are shown to pretend to be nice to the public while stealing money under the table.

Animation, Gaming and Movie industries have LONG been resistant to Unions despite the many reports of underpayment, workplace abuses and a long list of other issues.

You know, this might have...meant something if not for:

A. You providing no examples while all my time as a natural born AMERICAN lead to me growing up thinking unions were good.

B. You admitting to being a Socialist. You have ideological reason to misconstrue things. We can even tell by that little "It tells the viewer that "Bosses were bad in the past, and unions were good" and then proceeds to sell the myth that "Everything is fine now"" comment.

This isn't a villainization- It's actually a praising of unions as they improved conditions. It's only a villainization to you because your ideology says 'anything that gets in the way of smashing capitalism is evil!'

I do not think i need to rehash the RT drama of what happened nearly a month ago at this point. The stories of RT treatment of its workers are well known at this point. Sexual abuses, underpayment, overworking, these are well known and recorded. I have heard some talks of unionizing, but that has not manifested into anything just yet.

And yet here we are. Here we are with an Union leader who seems to be treated as a hero in Mantle. And he is evil. EVERYTHING about his portrayal screams, pure unadalturated evil, there are many intentional decisions taken to portray him like that.

So, if he really is pure evil, he surely can't be better than Bram then, right?

A) The first scene we see him in he is threathening and draining the fear of a young faunus girl. While doing so he looks smug, smiling, enjoying himself. After finishing the drain he just throws her away, like a rag to be discarded.

Counter: Bram using Olive and Team BRIR as pawns and lying to them for his petty revenge.

B) If that was not enough, i have to point out the very uncomfortable implications of him being portrayed as a large burly person of colour in a position of power and hurting a woman. There is a reason why he is not shown to be manhandling a man.

Counter: Did I mention Olive is black and a member of Team BRIR is as well? Also, this might have to do with the fact that people don't care if a dude would get hurt.

C) We are also heavily hinted at the fact that he hunts down specifically Faunus. An encounter with a faunus girl before his encounter reveals that faunus have been dissapearing in Mantle. Hanlon is a human, an union boss of the majority race is shown to secretly be abusing minorities.

Counter: Bram doesn't even have that. His actions would have destabilized all of Atlas all because James didn't hire him to his dream position.

D) During his fight his voice acting is specifically geared to be a villains. When he makes some of his attacks he laughs in a stereotypically villainy way. During the non-voiced talks between him and team RWBY he GROWLS and he starts his fight by saying "Let me show you what real fear is".

Counter: Bram too, just a pettier, more pathetic version.

E) After the fight is over and he is beaten. Instead of being humbled and surrendering peacefully, he activates 4 extra Grimm attracting Orbs to cause more destruction and puts the blame on team RWBY

Counter: Bram tried to have BRIR KILL them.

Let us be very clear. The ENTIRETY of the game when you meet him, makes him out to be a villain.

I think i have to be fair to mention that after he is beaten, he says that "This is not what i wanted" "I had no choice", but these two lines COMPLETELY do not match the rest of his character in any way shape or form. These phrases seem especially hollow since it is after saying those phrases that he activates the 4 grimm attracting orbs to cause even more destruction.

Really now? Cutting some context there.

Here's what he said in full- (6:48)

Sound familar? It's the basic essence of socialism. No wonder he takes it so personally huh?

Did I also forget to mention that you fight an Atlesian big shot's giant mech, before which he blusters but then runs away like a pathetic bitch?

Yeah, the whole narrative is just collapsing at this point.

Hanlon shows no positive traits, no signs of being forced, no signs of him not wanting to do what he was doing. As i pointed out above, all signs point into him ENJOYING his actions and he is portrayed as a villain.

He was once a hero and was trying to make things better. More than can be said for Bram, who's just a hairy Jacques.

Him being a person of colour in a show that seems to have next to no protagonists that are people of colour and instead seemingly relegades characters of darker skin tones to villain/antagonist roles is just a cherry on top.

The main bad guy is WHITE.

There is also no excuse that can be made for "He was forced" argument because team RWBY after that fight soon gets betrayed by someone they thought to be an ally. Olive Harper.

Olive Harper betrays team RWBY and tries to get them killed after the 4 orbs get dealt with. When team RWBY finally reach Olive. There is no fight. They reach Olive while she is crying, not only is she crying but she also gives an entire story of how she was foolled into betrayal by believing that the main villain of the game would make live better for those who live in Mantle/Atlas.

Not only does she do that but after team RWBY talks to her, she gives them 4 skill points to make them better in battle and to stop the main villain.

Does anyone else note the difference between how Olive Harper, a traitor that tried to kill team RWBY is portrayed in her redemption. And the difference in how Hanlon is portrayed? There is not even a comparison to be made here...

Notice how A. He doesn't mention what Olive's skin color is (since that would kill his race baiting bullshit) and B. He doesn't mention what the main villain's name is (which would destroy his narrative).

You don't 'accidentally' do this. He's withholding facts to manipulate people's view.

As with any arguments made, i can already foresee some of the excuses already being made as to why RT is not at fault for how Hanlon is writen about how they are still an "Amazing progressive company".

As for the arguments of 'You're a fucking socialist, you have every reason to lie to play the victim' and 'You completely ignore the final boss, who is basically Hanlon but worse, an elite and white'?

Nothing? Funny that.

D) And please, let us there be no excuses of "Well, RT didnt know, it was Way-Forward fault", this excuse has already been used way too much. When Blake slapped Sun it was the fault of animators, when people perceived Clover and Qrow being somewhat flirty it was animators, and in the case of Ice-Queendom all blame was laid before the feet of Shaft. RT intended for this portrayal.

The animators admitted it. BOTH times.

And Shaft outright SAID they wrote the story.

But nice little fallacy there.

I dont think i can say anything more on this topic than what i have already stated. RWBY has always been bad with covering political issues, and i had hoped that they learned their lessons, but that does not seem to be the case.

You know, every single time I have seen someone say this, I have replaced it with 'Either preach my ideology or I will do everything I can to misrepresent you.'

It's never once failed me.

[valkyrieandstrangeridingaragorn]

On your 'Stark isn't a role model most most people like' comment; that's the unfortunate thing, a bunch of people DO see him as a great character and role model. I can't tell you how many arguments I've gotten into irl who thought Stark was a good person. Despite, you know, the fact that he is a literal war profiteer, hypocrite, and bigot. (Don't even get me started on him grooming Pepper) I'm pretty sure it's an Elon Musk type thing where people just assume 'rich = good and right' and its yikes in every way

Absolutely, there's a weird love for billionaires that I never quite understood. I don't know if it's because some people think by kissing their ass they'll turn into one or if dealing with them makes them think they're part of the elite group and better than us poor and stupid sheep struggling to make ends meet.

I can understand people liking him but most of the stuff he did in the movies is unjustifiable. He was a war-profiteer and didn't stop selling weapons until it affected him and a bunch of American soldiers (he didn't give a damn if non-white people died. And the folks who claim he didn't know? He didn't want to know, there's a difference).

Then he spent years building weapons of mass destruction, refusing to answer to the American government and of course he was allowed to do that because of who he was. Which hey, I'm more than happy that he didn't hand the suits to those fuckers but let's not forget his privileges are the only reason he got away with it because what happens when others want to do the same and keep acting without the government's interference? Oh right, the Raft.

He's never been held accountable for anything, he's never had to face any consequences for his actions, the only shit he's had to navigate through is problems of his own making and Thanos.

What price did he have to pay for building Ultron and destroying a good chunk of land in Sokovia? A little bit of guilt after a mother told him about an American kid dying there? What of the Sokovians who died during the attack? And what does that guilt translate into? The Accords. Something that doesn't affect him at all since he's not enhanced. So the rest of the team suffers from it but he doesn't.

What price did he have to pay for kidnapping a 14 year old, taking him out of the country without telling his legal guardian and getting him involved in a fight with powerful individuals who didn't know who the kid was? None. Or worse, he's told he's a "father figure". Oh and before he was going to introduce him to the world as the new avenger, did he speak with May? Did May know? She's his legal guardian but he didn't tell her, he doesn't own that kid but who cares, right?

What price did he have to pay for trying to murder Bucky in cold blood? None, he went back to the compound and was free as a bird while Steve, Sam, Wanda and Natasha were forced to go hiding, Scott and Clint had to agree to a deal with the government while informing them of their families and Bucky went on cryo again.

Does he ever learn from any of this? He doesn't. He keeps making promises of change and growth but whenever shit hits the fan he always acts the same way. He destroys the suits and promises to stop but he keeps building them anyway. He sees he has stepped over people's boundaries and he says sorry only to do the same over and over again. He claims to understand civil rights and feels guilty over his actions but when the time comes he's more than happy to violate them. He speaks of freedom and peace but builds devices to control the citizens, even has one of them in house arrest because in his eyes she's a "weapon of mass destruction" not a human being.

He was so full of it and the worst part is Marvel kissed his ass so bad that every time he started with his idiotic speeches not a single character was ever allowed to correct him, so it doesn't surprise me that some people think he's a role model. Or perhaps they think he's a role model of what not to be in which case... I'd agree with them.

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

Loosely inspired by derinthescarletpescatarian’s post on who is a war criminal in fiction, but I just realized that among other violations of rights, the yeerks I have committed one of the few violations of the third amendment of the U.S. Constitution:

“No Soldier shall, in time of peace be quartered in any house, without the consent of the Owner, nor in time of war, but in a manner to be prescribed by law.”

And depending on how you interpret it, the Animorphs accidentally violated this one as well, and it would be hilarious if it got brought up in court and everybody was just baffled by the charge.

Okay, so let's see:

Jake houses Tobias in a home that technically belongs to Jake's parents for a few months (#1 - #3), specifically pulling a few slats off the roof and setting up a nest in the attic without their permission.

Marco only has David illegally living in Peter's apartment for like two nights (#20) but it is once again canon that he does not have Peter's permission and once again clearly established that this an act specifically intended to further the war effort. (Would he need their landlord's permission, if they're renting?)

Cassie lets Ax, Erek, and eventually Tobias live in her parents' barn for a week or two while Ax and Tobias are recovering from Yamphut (#29).

I don't think any of the sleepovers count, nor does David breaking and entering at first the hotel and then Rachel's house.

So: if I was the Animorphs' lawyer (presumably Naomi), I would go with the defense that what happened with the yeerks doesn't technically count as being a war. Two sovereign powers have to declare war for it to "count" according to the U.S. constitution. For example, the Korean War isn't officially a war because the U.S. said so, and no Uncle Sam don't want to hear anything about it being fucking convenient to pretend we never went to war there. Given that the Yeerk Empire isn't a sovereign Earth power, and likely wouldn't be bothered to "declare war" on its prospective livestock, the "Human-Yeerk Conflict" wouldn't count as being a war. No war, no soldiers. No soldiers, no violations of the Third Amendment.

It's a slippery slope to make that argument, since all kinds of actions illegal during peacetime are protected during war — the most obvious being murder — but I still think it'd be worth it. No government is likely to charge the Animorphs with actual crimes (witness the outrage when Visser Three's lawyer points out Jake is a mass murderer in #54) so it seems reasonably sound. Not only that, but there's no law against killing yeerks at the time when the kids do it, so it'd be tricky to charge them with anything that was definitely a crime at the time when the war happened. Even killing human hosts could arguably fall under self-defense, because it always happens in circumstances when one of the kids or their allies are under immediate threat of being killed.

Alternately, Naomi could argue that the war was a war but Tobias can't be a soldier because he's too young. The U.S. requires that you be at least 18 to count as a soldier, and the Third Amendment only applies to soldiers. Sure, there are precedents for informal militias including children (both the American Civil War and the American Revolution had underage fighters) but no one wants to open up the possibility of child soldiers being legally recognized.

[kali-writes-meta]

That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime Blogpost #5 Episodes 17-19: The Cold War

The remainder of the first season is mostly taken up with two story arcs. In-story they deal with the theme of strengthening relationships, and tangentially refer to Valdora. Metaphorically they deal with events that happened in Japan in the 1950s, and tangentially refer to nuclear weapons. But there are big operational changes that happen in each story, so we'll take them one at a time. The first story is a Cold War analogy.

In some ways the Cold War was a disorienting time in Japan. The three major players, all superpowers, were China, the Soviet Union, and America. China formed Japan's western border across the sea, while the Soviet Union formed Japan's northern border, occupying what Japan considered it's northern territories, the Kuril Islands. America held large tracts of Japan's southern island of Okinawa. If overt hostilities had broken out between any two of the three Japan would have been crushed.

But this was the Cold War, and overt hostilities were a small part of the picture. Japan had previously fought and won wars with both China and Russia, and had lingering issues with those countries (Japan never signed a peace treaty with the Soviet Union because of the Kuril Islands.) During the Cold War Japan found itself relegated to a secondary status as China and the Soviet Union used it as a pawn in their jostling with America instead of dealing with Japan's own issues with them. (Which is largely why Japan never signed a peace treaty with the Soviet Union because of the Kuril Islands.) Japan found the tendency of the superpowers to overlook Japan's own legitimate concerns in favor of scoring points against each other -- annoying.

On to the story. Like almost every Cold War tale it has elements of the cups and ball trick, so keep your eye on the ball.

We start with Rimuru getting a progress report from Vesta the Tech Dwarf. Vesta is able to synthesize Rimuru's healing potions better than Dwargo's techies can. He wants to mass-produce and sell low-quality healing potions after working out a deal with Dwarf King. Dwarves would supply raw materials to be assembled in Rimuru Town's local factories. (This is similar to the arrangement Japanese factories formed internationally after Reconstruction. Japan is low in raw materials, but high in skilled workers. Japan became a leader in manufactured goods, starting with low-quality items and working their way up to high-quality items.) I am amused to note that Vesta has in his lab every early 20th century boy's favorite DIY project, a crystal radio kit, although this set apparently has a magic crystal. Either way, it's the first item we've seen of post-Industrial, even 20th Century tech. Rimuru starts thinking about a deal for Dwargo, presumably to be worked out over said radio.

Meanwhile back at the plot, everyone else wants to check out the new neighbors, including the two of the three Demon Lords we met with Milim (who promised neutrality) and at least two neighboring human kingdoms. Demon Lord Carrion sends a scouting party to claim the territory for himself. I feel doubly insulted on Milim's behalf. First, because Carrion went back on his word to her. Second, because he chose a scouting party not much more powerful than the human scouting parties with an idiot leader named Phobio who thinks he can personally conquer what both an Orc Army and Milim couldn't conquer. (Although since this is a Cold War story we can't be sure that Carrion didn't set Phobio up as a useful idiot.)

As a scout Phobio is a miserable failure. He should be quietly gathering intelligence to report back, and let his superiors decide what to do with the information. Instead he comes across an advanced town in the middle of nowhere whose inhabitants are powerful enough to hold off an Orc Army and tries to intimidate them into submission. It doesn't work. He disfigures Rigurd and Milim pounds him into submission. Rimuru catches up to them, heals Rigurd, and tries to punish Milim be denying her lunch. That doesn't work either. Milim is very much the 300 pound gorilla of Rimuru Town. She's going to do what she wants to do, and all anyone else can do is encourage her to want to cooperate.

Back at Rimuru's office Phobio refuses to believe what his eyes are telling him. He refuses to believe a slime is asking him questions or running the town. He belittles the monsters who serve Rimuru, and by extension Lady Milim for being a friend to a "lowly slime". Phobio doesn't know what to make of the fact that Lady Milim will obey a "lowly slime" even on little issues. Rimuru tells Phobio that his poor behavior could start a war for his boss with the forest alliance, but Phobio blows him off. He tells Rimuru that he's looking for potential recruits for Lord Carrion. Rimuru tells Phobio that Carrion can make an appointment if he wants to talk, but privately doubts Phobio will deliver the message.

Milim is quietly pissed at Carrion for breaking his word. Phobio is quietly pissed with Milim for humiliating him. He can't bring himself to take responsibility for his own foolishness or to blame a "lowly slime" for his comeuppance. Rimuru gets the details on the Demon Lords' original plan to create a puppet state in Jura from Milim in exchange for promising her a new weapon.

Remember those two human kingdoms who are investigating the goings-on in the Jura Forest? The nearest kingdom sends in the (less than stellar) Adventurer's Guild squad we've already met under the watchful eye of their boss. The kingdom further away sends a crackerjack mercenary team. On top of that Demon Lord Clayman sends in the clowns, aka a clown-based squad of "independent operatives" who coincidentally appear to only work for him.

Both human parties run into a very nasty monster, which doesn't last long after it runs into a very hungry Gobta. Everyone ends up at the Chancellor's table in Rimuru Town (including the monster, who is lunch). The humans are a bit freaked over the fighting, tech levels, the connections to the Dwarves they've seen, and that a slime is running the joint,. Rimuru is a bit freaked that tales about his prowess might attract the wrong kind of attention. He impulsively hires both groups of humans -- the mercs to pretend to be the heroes who took out the Orc Army, and the head of the Adventurer's Guild to train them to up to the point where they look somewhat convincing. Turns out the mercs have a few too many people mad at them back home, so they're eager for a chance to make a fresh start somewhere else, especially in a place where diverse peoples are working together in peace and harmony. It's a crazy plan that just might work -- at least until someone with two brain cells to rub together comes along to verify it, or gets access to Clayman's video of the battle.

Guild boss Fuze sets the mercs up with a fake reputation as heroes, and Rimuru offers to build a road to Fuze's kingdom of Blumund to facilitate trade, in exchange for a contact with marketing savvy to get them some international commerce going.

All the scouting parties have one thing in common. Their initial reaction is disbelief that a slime could be that powerful or that the town could have grown so strong so fast. This is similar to the reaction other countries had to Japan's rapid recovery after practically being bombed back to the Stone Age in WWII. Even with all the help, many observers thought it would take over a century for Japan to recover, not around a decade as they went through the fastest period of sustained progress in human history.

(This was hardly the first time the West found Japan confusing. My daughter the historian was once shown archival military footage of one of the first US landings on a Pacific island held by the Japanese. The American soldiers saw Japanese soldiers in the flesh for the first time, stopped in confusion and asked each other loudly enough for the microphones to catch it, "Why are those little guys firing at us?" At that time the cultural taboo that proper American men didn't beat up on "little guys" was so deeply ingrained they had trouble believing they were supposed to fight them.)

Turns out Clayman's hired clowns are the best scouts. They've been quietly taking notes the whole time. Their boss is intrigued. He also wants to know why Demon Lord Frey is the only one NOT breaking their promise to Milim, but Frey is apparently more concerned about the awakening of someone or something called "Charybdis". It's said to be a monster with the power to rival a Demon Lord, but in typical Cold War fashion all Clayman wants to know is if this great power can be turned into an asset.

That's all the cups on the table. Now watch the ball.

By nightfall Phobio has had time to -- well not calm down, but at least realize how badly he has messed things up. The townspeople have skills even his people lack. They would have made useful contacts, but he blew it. Instead of blaming himself for attacking the headman, he blames himself for not being able to take out the much more powerful Milim all on his lonesome. Either that or he blames Milim for being in the way. I'm not sure exactly which prejudice he's using to deflect the blame from himself to her, but he's got more than enough to do the job. He wants revenge on those who kicked his ass so he won't have to tell Lord Carrion about his failure. (Damn son, that amount of hubris always leads to a dirt bath.) Phobio is aware that he's not being rational, but he's not ready to man up and accept responsibility for his mistake.

And that foolishness makes him entirely too tempting to the fools.

The clowns reveal themselves and offer him the power of Charybdis, power to rival a Demon Lord -- if he isn't too cowardly to brave the associated risk. His squadron tries to talk him out of it, but the chance to reach Demon Lord level and take out the woman who humiliated him is too tempting. He resigns Carrion's service to devote himself to revenge. (Good grief, the lengths some young men will go to to avoid saying, "I screwed up.")

The clowns take their mark to the cave where Charybdis is sealed, and tell him that in order to control the beast he must allow it to posses his body. And suddenly we're in the middle of a 1950s Universal Pictures monster movie, complete with an idiot wanting more power than he can control. Turns out the clowns were planning to revive it by sacrificing a bunch of dragons to it, but the chance to use a sucker with more muscles than brains as a living sacrifice was too good to pass up.

The Dryads send word to Rimuru Town that Charybdis is coming, and suggest an air assault. Their rep explains that it's an incredibly powerful mindless monster capable of dying and being reborn, originally generated by a cloud of magic from the storm dragon Veldora -- okay, so not an Universal Pictures monster after all. This is Godzilla.

There's an ancient trope about the Mediterranean gods smiting humans in retaliation for them making too much progress, either from multiculturalism (the Tower of Babel) or the conquest of fire (Prometheus). It simmered away on the back burner of human consciousness until the Industrial Revolution, when progress hit the accelerator. Coal-hungry humans dug more and deeper mines than ever before, and found the fossils of huge dinosaurs. The trope mutated to become the myth of a primeval monster awakened from the deep to smite humanity for its progress, either from multiculturalism (Cthulhu) or the conquest of nuclear power (Godzilla). So which is Charybdis complaining about, multiculturalism or technology? Looking at all the diverse peoples working together in Rimuru Town I'm going with multiculturalism. We can't have folks living together in peace and harmony: it makes them so much harder to manipulate!

And this particular Godzilla brought his homies with him. The 13 excess dragon corpses have been repurposed to house evil flying armored shark spirits called Medalodons, just to make the day even more special.

Hearing that Charybdis is Veldora's spawn, Rimuru quietly panics, just as he panicked at the battle with the Dire Wolves. He frets that Charybdis knows what he did to Veldora and wants revenge. In his panic Rimuru breaks his battle pattern and makes a critical error. He assumes he knows why the monster is attacking, that it's after him, and he doesn't investigate to find out for sure as he's done with every other battle since the first one.

Milim offers to take care of the problem in no time, but the ogres persuade Rimuru that propriety insists that he, as the host, take the literal first stab at it. This arrangement hurts Milim's feelings, and doesn't please Rimuru either, but he can't afford to appear weak in front of his people or their new allies. Fuze finds his thinking very human, and Rimuru confesses to being a reincarnated human Otherworlder.

The next day in the forest outside town Charybdis and his Old School mates show up, doing a remarkable impression of a B-52 Stratofortress leading a support squadron of fighter planes. They square off against Rimuru and every fighter he could round up, including a battalion of Dwargo's flying knights. The battle goes as can be expected. The flying sharks are quickly but with a great deal of effort turned into sushi. Milim wants to play but gets benched. An all-out assault on Charybdis that lasts all day and takes out 30% of their forces barely makes a dent in the monster, and that damages quickly repairs itself. It doesn't look good for our side.

Finally an exhausted Rimuru does what he should have done in the first place. He stops assuming he knows what Charybdis wants and finds out for himself. Turns out his assumption was wrong. Charybdis, as powered by Phobio, is only interested in Milim. He could care less about Rimuru or the rest of them. Just like with superpowers, in the grand scheme of Demon Lord vs. Demon Lord contests, their little country is only a pawn.

So Rimuru explains the situation to Milim, asks her to take out Charybdis but spare Phobio for his intelligence and political value, and recalls every other fighter. One minute later, the battle ends with one blow from Milim. Had Rimuru checked his facts before starting the fight as he should have done, they could have all been home in time for brunch. That was poor leadership on his part.

Rimuru removes Charybdis from Phobio and isolates it for analysis. The Dwarf Captain wants to meet Rimuru's superweapon, but refuses to believe it's really Demon Lord Milim (we have a pattern here.)

Phobio wakes up contrite and tell them all he knows. Notes are compared, and people realize that clowns have been behind a lot of the trouble recently. Milim says she doesn't know anything about them, but suggests they may work for Clayman, who indulges in that sort of scheming.

Phobio offers his life in payment, gets forgiven, and Milim calls forth Demon Lord Carrion, who has been lurking in the shadows. Carrion physically reprimands Phobio, and tries to paint himself as a reliable neighbor they can come to for help. Rimuru presses him for a non-aggression pact. Carrion agrees -- as the Lord of his kingdom, but NOT as a Demon Lord. How much wriggle room this grants him remains to be seen.

And where does that leave Rimuru? With a lot more foreign officials having met him, including a few potential allies. As for Carrion and Clayman, I'm tempted to say that the more bestial Carrion is a stand-in for Russia/the Soviet Union, while the scheming Clayman subs for China, but I don't know enough to say for sure. I definitely trust Carrion about as far as I could throw Charybdis.

That's as much Cold War skullduggery as most people can take. Next story we visit Japan's entry for the Cold War's greatest tragedy.

[epicspheal]

Can I just say I love your characterization of Marsha? She's so interesting when she's put next to the rest of the Alola cast! It's that complexity that really makes her shine ( even when kinda hating Kukui and others hurt my soul just a bit but also I can see why). I can't say that her and Aster would be friends ( Marsha being older and just both similar yet so different personalities), but I know that the two will have a interesting dynamic!

Hi there @ihopethisendswell!

I'm glad you like her. Honestly, she's probably one of my favorite OCs to actually write about because it's honestly kind of fun to write a character who is lowkey done with everything and everyone.

For even more context as to why she's low-key so hostile to her fellow Alolans, Marsha's a military brat. She grew up in Koni Koni City until age 9, when her dad got an assignment in Kanto. So she missed going on the island challenge with her friends once they turned 11. She had heard stories from her older brother and her parents (and then her friends as they'd write to her) about their time on the island trial, and she was just enamored with Alola's cultural traditions. So when her mom got a chance to move back to Alola (her dad's assignment was almost up, and they wanted to MeleMele anyways to be closer to Hau'oli City), Marsha jumped at the chance to go with her as she was still eligible for the island trial as they had a strict age cutoff (something she would fight to remove as champion later on after her experiences).

During her time in Kanto, she heard endless stories of the living legend Red. Now don't get me wrong, she respects Red and what he did, but she just didn't want anything to do with saving a region or taking down some villain. While many of her Kantonian classmates dreamed about going on a Red journey (and during my heavily modified Let's Go storyline, so many were hoping to be a part of that action and got a quick reality check). Unfortunately, a peaceful island challenge was never an option for her, and so yeah, she's a little bitter. Sometimes she wishes she had just done what her baby sibling did and tried the gym circuit in Kanto. She's a powerful trainer, and she would've cleared the 8 gyms and become champion with potentially way less stress.

And yeah, honestly, it hurts writing her being abrasive to characters like Burnet or Kukui, characters I genuinely like. But in the end, it wouldn't make sense, given the story, to make her super fond of them just because I like them (likewise, just because I dislike a character doesn't mean I'm going to go out my way and make everyone in-story dislike them especially if it makes no sense).

The thing with Kukui, in particular, is that Marsha was very much a fan of Kukui. She had heard how close he came to becoming Kanto champion when he went through the Indigo League (since prior to the Alola League, many youths and adults from Alola would move to other regions to get a shot at becoming champion, so much so that it was a mass exodus of young people). And she loved that he wanted to create a league while respecting Alola's culture.

It's just Kukui is a victim of "Too Many Hats" Syndrome. By that, I mean he's trying to balance too much at once: being a professor that's still in the early stages of his career, trying to create a league and become chairman, AND the masked Royal identity. That's a lot, and it takes a toll on him mentally, so he's not really all that cognizant of the struggles Lillie, Marsha, and the others are having. Of course, if he was more aware, he would've stepped in, but that's not what happened. So that's where the loss of respect comes from Marsha's end. Kukui does care for her, but his actions don't really show it, and Marsha is the type to hold "actions speak louder than words."

And then there's Lillie, whom she's not particularly fond of at first. Marsha does actually care for Lillie's well-being, but she's frustrated by how Lillie keeps a lot of what's really going on to herself. Going back to the whole military brat thing, Marsha picked up from her father to always make sure you have the most information and the right information. Lillie's initial reluctance to really say anything (which, to be clear, wasn't just aimed at Marsha but everyone as we see in games) just put alarm bells in Marsha's head. And there were many times Marsha lost her cool with Lillie, which obviously didn't help situations, but Marsha was also still a minor, and you know, not an army commander, so she really didn't have the skills to handle the situation in the most sensitive manner.

That being said, Marsha always came to help Lillie out because her dad had told her "never leave a soldier behind". That's why the in-game dialogue from Lillie saying "You came" at the aether foundation is really significant in cactusverse because Lillie was aware of how frustrated Marsha was with her, and she was always expecting her to just ditch her and the fact that she still showed up was rather significant. Of course, Marsha had caught on to the abusive nature of Lusamine before it was explicitly shown, and though she was way out of her depth dealing with this, she wasn't just going to leave Lillie stranded with her mom (thus, we get the scene of Marsha giving Lusamine a two-piece courtesy of her dad's self-defense training).

All of that being said, Marsha, Lillie, and Kukui do, over time, patch things up. Lillie and Marsha are never super close, but they team up in the Rainbow Rocket Takeover and are regular tag team partners at the Battle Tree, where they make a very effective team. Kukui helps her enact some fairer rules regarding the island challenge (mainly taking off the age cap for doing trials and giving the trial captains actual pay) to help keep more of Alola's talent in Alola. Eventually, they get people willing to take over the Battle Tree from Red and Blue as them being Battle Tree Heads was always supposed to be a temporary assignment mainly to foster goodwill between one of the oldest leagues (the Indigo League) and the newest one.

And yeah, I'd love to see some interactions between Aster and Marsha. Personally, seeing characters clash a bit is always interesting and who knows maybe they'll find some common ground with each other.

[ezra-iolite]

Hello! For Swift for the oc meme: 💤☕️🌌⏳📎🌪️💙💔 I know it's a lot but I have so many questions about her! Thank you! :D

Oh my gods, thank you, bud-bud!! I've been saving these answers just for you~ ;3 Prepare for a nice long reply and infodump on Swiftwire!! Oh and also be prepared for both wholesome fluffiness, heartbreak/angst.... and some plot reveal~ ¬w¬

Enjoy this LONG ASS infodump!

💤 SLEEPING - Do they fall asleep easily? What helps them sleep?

Sadly, sleep is something that comes with great difficulty for Swift. Despite her being relatively healthy and managing her mental health as best she can, her past still greatly haunts her in her dreams. As such, only one thing has been proven to help her fall right into a deep and peaceful sleep... She cannot fall asleep without being held. Be it spooning, sleeping on someone's lap, it doesn't matter. As long as someone is there to lend their physical warmth or mere presence, Swift will be able to fall asleep in only a few short minutes.

This habit was created by Optimus on accident during her time as a human, when she was going through a rough time readjusting to a normal routine after her "first betrayal" and the most traumatizing time of her mortal life (*cough* Smokescreen ditched her in a forest for two entire weeks *cough*). She was also finding it difficult to adjust within their new base of Hanger E, and during another night of trauma-based nightmares and waking up in a screaming panic, Optimus decided to lend a hand by staying with Asya the few nights he could remain at base, mostly by sitting beside her bed, reading to her and letting her hold his hand in her sleep, all to teach her subconscious mind that she was safe. And when he was forced away, he ordered Bulkhead, Miko or Jack to help Asya through her PTSD nightmares.

However, it wasn't until Asya was found sleeping on the couch, waiting for Optimus's return, that the Prime decided to do what he swore never to do out of fear of hurting her accidentally... He took her to his room, mass converted to her size, and spent the entire night holding her against him as they slept. He did this only a few more times until Asya finally broke free of her nightmares and began to sleep without any further hassle. But, eventually, she would sneak into his room and curl up beside his neck, falling asleep to the warmth of his faceplate and a gentle kiss upon her head. This did stop, sadly, once she became Swiftwire the Seeker. Those nights were the hardest for her, and she still secretly longs to feel his presence in her sleep to this day.

Now, Swift is never alone when she sleeps, even during the times Knockout works the nightshift in the Iacon Hospital, as every night Conduit would do exactly as she did with her father in the past and sneak into their room and curl up beside his sleeping mother, who would instinctually pull him close and hug him to her chest. And when Knockout is present, Conduit will often find himself smothered comfortably between his parents. And whenever Conduit chooses to sleep in his own room, Swift will usually stay up to wait for Knockout's return after work, where the two will crash into bed together and sleep entangled in each other's arms.

And if you're curious... Swift sleeps on her stomach or side due to her wings, with Knockout usually holding her on his chest or against his side when he sleeps on his back, and when he goes onto his side he will usually be the little spoon, since Swift is slightly taller than him and to avoid her wings from whacking him in the face... again. But every time, no matter what position they fall asleep in, Swift will always be hugging either Knockout's torso, his shoulders, or an arm of his. All because it's her subconscious instinct to hug something or someone in her sleep~

~*~

☕️ HOT BEVERAGE - Do they prefer hot or cold drinks? What is their favourite drink? Well... Since Swift can't exactly drink regular drinks as a Cybertronian, I will say what she used to enjoy as Asya the human. During her free time while she attended her final year of Jasper High with Jack, Miko and Raf, Asya was the kind of person who would go to Starbucks before class or during lunch and get a coffee with her food. Once she began to truly warm up to the gang, she would eventually buy them drinks too.

Her favourite kind of drink was usually an iced latte, but when the seasons got cold, she would switch it out for a regular hot latte. Her favourite kind is a coconut and chocolate, or a coconut and caramel. She's MASSIVELY into coconut, if you couldn't tell?~

~*~

🌌 MILKY WAY - What was the inspiration behind your OC? What was the first thing you decided about them? Oooohhh I've been dying to reveal this one!!

Swiftwire was originally going to remain just as her human self, as Asya Mutheru the transwoman in the care of Team Prime, and her entire theme was going to be about the journey of becoming her true self in terms of her gender identity. But then I realized how much better it would be if she could become what she dreamed of being, but at a cost~

But what truly inspired her creation was the lack of a certain community theme in the Transformers fandom and the AO3 tags. There was barely anything on transgendered characters or trans self-inserts on AO3. So I began there, crafting an OC that represented my own struggles with finding my gender, while also making sure she was a part of another underrepresented community in general literature, just to make sure her being trans didn't define her entire character... That being the black transwomen community, something I've very rarely seen in literature.

So, Swiftwire is an avatar of representation and the struggles of defining one's self, as both a black woman and a transgendered young adult. (So yes, if they were human or went out in their holoforms, Swiftwire and Knockout would most likely be an interracial couple~)

It certainly doesn't help that I'm a white European and a clueless author on such topics, but with every detail I add to Asya AND Swift's journey, I always make sure I do my research to back it up, and always with an open mind to make sure I correct any mistakes I make. I am not stubborn in how I write, so I will always be open to criticism to make sure that what I do is done with the best interests at heart.

However, More Than A Name is more than just the journey of a woman finding herself through the struggles of what is thrown her way... it's the journey a person's name can go through when they are a part of the trans or gender nonconforming community. To a regular person who has never questioned anything about their identity, the name they were born with is merely an extension of their identity and family, something they were given and never feel the need to think about it beyond remembering how to spell it. But to someone who never felt right bearing their own name, it's a sense of freedom and relief to finally figure out who and what you are by changing themselves in that area. A name is so much more than a title or label to those of this community... It's a way of expressing yourself in a way that defines you as the real you.

Hence the title of my fanfic... A name you call someone can sometimes be more than just a name to them. Asya and Swiftwire are more than just the names of one individual... they're the titles of the paths she has taken in her life to earn the pride in having them define who she is beneath her flaws and beauty. Swift may be her nickname, but Asya will always be what calls to her at her very core... what defines her as the real Asya Mutheru-Pax. It is her name, and it's why Ratchet and Knockout call her this in private. They know the power this name holds, and why it is so important to her.

~*~

⏳ HOURGLASS - Are they usually late or on-time? Swift is quite organized in her sense of timing. I mean, she has to be for her role as "Lady of the First Dawn", along with all the responsibility it brings. But, she still hates waking up in the morning, and will often sleep through her alarms if she's really comfy or tired, mostly due to the fact that she's a night owl and will often stay up when Knockout is working the nightshift to ensure he comes home to a warm welcome.

Does this tire her out and affect her schedule for the following day?

Yes. It 100% does.

Does she still do it anyways, knowing that she'll get her own warm welcome when she returns home from work to her awaiting husband, and a nice long cuddle to bring them both back into their regular sleep schedule or to simply regain their energy for the next day?

Yes, and it's absolutely worth it to her~

~*~

📎 PAPERCLIP - A random fact I'll use this bit to answer another question that actually helped me to figure something out about Swift, only because it took me ages to figure this out.... But at long last, I FINALLY FOUND HER VOICE CLAIM!!!! And as a bonus, I'll include another fact at the end, just for fun~ ;3

- > 📣 MEGAPHONE - How loud are they? What do they speak like? Got a voice claim? When speaking normally or to a single person, Swift speaks in a very soft voice that bears a slight huskiness to it, with a tone that is deep but also pitched to fit her gender. When speaking in a serious manner to someone, her voice can easily carry both the weight of what she wishes to express, and the gentleness of her maternal nature. When she allows herself to be confident and bodacious (Knockout has clearly influenced her ever since the two first became friends), she speaks with a hint of velvety sultriness and a level of charisma that is seen throughout her body language, which only further proves how and why she is capable of addressing groups of people without any strain to her voice, all thanks to the time she spent doing theatre and practicing her way of speaking while in the closet... and a little of her acting like Optimus when she gives speeches.

She's quite fond of singing, like the theater kid she is at heart, and loves to sing Disney and broadway musical songs. In fact, when she first heard her own voice upon seeing herself as a Seeker for the very first time, Miko was the one who demanded asked if she could try singing, to see how her new more feminine voice sounded.... Swiftwire cried tears of joy the moment she reached the chorus.

And this is how I imagine her to sound when she speaks. The singing just perfectly captures how I imagine her to sound when she speaks to Conduit or just in her general motherly tone, a tone which carries the benevolence she always tries her best to embody in her everyday life. And perhaps when she sings softly enough to perform lullabies to Sira and Conduit, this is how she sounds: https://youtu.be/aW_-RjF8AMw

However, when she TRULY sings and allows all her pride and passion to be free and flow through her, she's very much a soprano, and her voice changes dramatically from its usual low and husky tone to a sweet melodic sound... A skill she is deeply proud of and ensures she practices whenever she's alone: https://youtu.be/Crs5A0Qu8wk?t=53 And yes, she would SO belt out this song, as I imagine it being her favourite musical... Poor Knockie got so annoyed of it at first, constantly hearing her playing the entire album over and over again, and nearly falling asleep after watching literally every movie version of the musical with her... But when he finally heard her singing it without the music, just while she was cleaning the apartment and doing her own thing while not noticing him behind her, he finally figured out why she loved this song... It was the first song she ever sang when she became a Seeker, the song used to allow her to hear the voice that finally fitted her. He now treasures every moment he hears her belting out a song whenever she thinks she's alone~

(Music has surprisingly become an important thing to them both, ever since those days Asya would sneak out at night to meet Knockout, the nights that truly shaped their bond to become more than just a secret friendship. In fact, the song used at the first dance of their wedding was the same song that played on Knockout's radio when Asya first realized she was in love with him.... Time after time by Cyndi Lauper~)

Her voice as Asya the human, however, was completely different, due to the fact that she was still stuck in the body of a man. With her entire existence needing to be kept a secret, for her safety from both the Cons and her own father, Asya had no means of gaining the surgery or therapy needed to become her true physical self. But that didn't stop her from feeling proud of what she could accomplish for herself, including her singing. With a little training and practice from her days attending theatre class, and plenty of nights out hitting the karaoke bar with Knockout in secret, Asya's usually low, rumbling and grating masculine voice was soon replaced by a more high-pitched, slightly raspy but silvery tone.

And this would be Asya's singing voice: https://youtu.be/mVVRJD60DBo?t=205

~

And here, a free random fact, as promised...... Everyone in the Mutheru-Pax family (Swift, Knockout and Conduit mainly) are a part of the LGBTQ+ community. Swift is not just a transfemme, but also a masculine-lean Omnisexual (prefers men/mechs, but finds pretty much anyone of any gender attractive), and if the chance ever arose and she discussed this with Knockout and Conduit for their say on the matter... she would happily be Polyamorous too, especially with Breakdown if he were alive. But for now, she's very much happy and content with just her husband.

Knockout (in my headcanon) is Panromantic-Demisexual. I mean... come on. It's clearly accepted in the fandom that he'd flirt with anyone and everyone, especially the mechs/men, and I do accept the canon ship between him and Breakdown as something this KO experienced before his eventual death in TFP. So, to that end, I feel he would be considered a VERY fruity boi with no preference to a person's gender identity, just as long as they treat him right. However, I believe he would prefer to take things slow and get to know a person over a long period of time, before he would even dare to consider opening up to them in an intimate manner, let alone start anything serious with them. It's why Swift waited three years before she decided to confess her love to him... alongside the adrenaline of battle urging her to spill her secrets. (For a timeframe to help visualize this... The two have known each other for a total of eight years; they were friends for three, dated for three (give or take), and have been married for two.)

And Conduit, once he's older and starts looking into what he likes, is simply gay. In the future, he will find a mech to bring home and introduce his parents to as his boyfriend, and when that happens.... Swift will scream in excitement at the fact that she has achieved her dream of having a queer child, and will smother both her son and her future son-in-law with kisses and hugs and squeal her delight at how proud she is of her baby boy. Knockout, meanwhile, will simply pat the mech on the back and welcome him into the family, before giving his son "the talk" and pass on his tips and tricks on how to manage a long-lasting and healthy relationship.

As for Sira... I'd imagine that once she reaches her mature years, she'd be a supportive ally to her brother and queer family, but would actually have no interest in dating or anything else for herself. So I'd say she could be Aromantic-Asexual, the type who would go on to marry someone, but it would be a platonic marriage rather than what her parents have... But she'd still find new ways of embarrassing her older brother in front his boyfriend/husband~

~*~

🌪️ TORNADO - What is the biggest change you've ever made to them? How have they changed from their original version? As mentioned previously, she was designed to remain a human throughout the story, but I was also planning on her having a different kind of relationship with Optimus and a few others. And I, for one, am so glad I changed it.

Originally, Swiftwire was going to be in a large polyamorous relationship with Optimus, Knockout and Starscream, but each relationship would be different.

Swift and Knockout still are like high school sweethearts who followed their hearts and remained together, even after what life threw their way to keep them apart.

Swift and Optimus would have been like an old married couple, spending their time together in content silence and exchanging words of wisdom or humble moments of blissful romance.

Swift and Starscream would have been an enemies-to-lovers type of relationship at the start, and once they came together with OP and KO, the two Seekers would end up becoming a sassy duo, the two finding new ways to playfully annoy each other and the others of the group. Sira was originally going to be their biological child, rather than Swift's and KO's.

Knockout and Optimus would have been like awkward lovers, with Knockout being the lead and Optimus feeling too shy to initiate anything in the relationship for a good while, before the two would eventually become more comfortable with each other as time went on... and both equally tolerate Starscream as a lover.

Knockout and Starscream would have been what they were in TFP, as best friends and eventually lovers, but would vibe the best when together with Swift, as the three of them would become party animals and tricksters towards Optimus.

And Optimus would just tolerate Starscream as a metamour, someone he doesn't have strong feelings towards but would still respect as the partner to his lovers.

Yeah.... I yeeted that idea right out the window and kept only a piece of it. 😂 It was just way too complex for my liking.

~*~

💙 BLUE HEART - Do they miss their s/o easily? How do they act when their S/O isn't around? Swift does respect the fact that anyone, even those who have been married for a long enough time, should have some private time to themselves every now and again to unwind and mentally recharge. It's why Swift created her own art studio in Vos. However, with the fact that both she and Knockout work away from home, Swift less often due to her not needing to show up as much to perform her duties, she will often spend her free time at home reading and doing arts and crafts when Knockout and Conduit are busy, a hobby they have all picked up on thanks to Swift's ever expanding book collection from Earth.

But, like the traumatized bean she is, Swift does miss her beloved Red McDreamy when he works the long shifts and she has the day off. With the apartment empty, she'd most likely get bored very easily and start creating sketches for her next idea on what to paint on his face and frame, since Knockout loves to let Swift decorate him with African dot art and be her living canvas. All the while, she would yearn for him while doodling on his photos in her datapad, longing for his touch and hugs when he's only been gone for two hours by that point. So in a way, she is a tiny bit clingy... And if you're curious about everyone's book interests.... Conduit's favourite books are Watership Down, Maurice by E.M Forster, and Good Omens, while his sister Sira (once she reaches her teen years) will enjoy reading Shakespeare, many of the classics such as The Great Gatsby, and plenty of theatre sourced books (due to her shared passion of musicals with her mother) such as A Doll's House, The Count of Monte Cristo and The Phantom of the Opera. KO's favorites are The Song of Achilles and, a joke gift turned into his guilty pleasure, Pride and Prejudice... Yes, he watched the movie (the 2005 version), and immediately developed a crush on Mr. Darcy. Swift still teases her darling queer hubby about it to this day, while also gushing about her old crush on the character with him. It's their favourite thing to do on a quiet night in, to find movies to watch together that include hot leading roles and either mock their acting or gush over how hot they are.

~*~

💔 BROKEN HEART - What could their partner do that would absolutely break their heart? Prepare for your own heartbreak here...

Swift has loved Knockout since his Con days, and even when he threatened her Autobot family in the past, she still loved him through it all. And because of her unwavering faith in him, he recognized his feelings for her and eventually opened up to her. And ever since the day she confessed her love to him in the middle of a battle, the two have been inseparable and have constantly helped each other through thick and thin, as best friends and lovers. However, Swift still feels guilty for the one thing she did that broke Knockout's spark all those years ago........

On the day her father died, the day that would forever haunt Swiftwire to this day, Ratchet approached her bearing a heavy burden on what she would inherit from his death, telling her on that day to allow the reality of the situation to settle and to let her mull his revelation over while healing from the ordeal. Instead, she lashed out in her pained grief, shouting in her tearful rage and getting so angry with him that not even Knockout could calm her down. When she finally stopped to catch her breath, Knockout suggested that she take some time to think things over, to simply let what had happened settle and together they could figure out where to go from there, to ensure that she knew that she wasn't alone in her pain.

Too hurt to think clearly and too overwhelmed with emotion to respond, Swift did the only thing she felt she needed in that moment, without saying another word to Knockout or Ratchet.... She transformed and flew away. She kept flying across the entirety of Cybertron's surface, travelling further and further away from everything until she could fly no further... only to continue this cycle the next day. And the next. And the next... She did not return until a month later, when Iacon was halfway complete in its reconstruction. And she did not return alone...

Since that day, Swift has never forgotten just how strongly Knockout hugged her when she returned to him, or the fact that he requested a pause in their relationship after that to allow them both to heal emotionally and to mentally deal with all that was happening back then. But deep down, Swift knows she hurt him badly, even if it was never intentional.

And deep inside her very core, she wouldn't blame him if he left her the same way she did all those years ago. It would break her and cause her to spiral into a deeper depression than what she felt during her month away, and on every memorial day since, but a part of her feels that she would accept it, that she deserves it for what she put him through.

Of course, seeing him die would break her heart/spark, as any person would when seeing the death of their soulmate... But to see him leave without a word would be the worst kind of pain she could ever feel in her life, due to so many people abandoning her in the same fashion since her childhood, but it would be a pain she would force herself to relive every day as punishment for what she made Knockout go through due to her blind grief-fueled rage back then.

~*~

Thank you for letting me ramble, my friend! ^w^ I really enjoyed doing this, so please feel free to ask me anything else about Swiftwire from the list or from your own curiosity!

[enigma-im]

Mercury in Retrograde

Rating: Mature Relationship: Imposter Monster x F!Crewmate Warning: Violence, Murder, Attemptive murder, blood mention, mourning, comfort, Red is sus

Word Count:5407

      Murders on the ship causes chaos among the crewmates

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

A crewmates' job is never done. Lights to fix, destinations to set, filters to clean. Everyone plays an important role in a spaceship like ours. It's humbling in its own right, to work as a unit to reach a common goal. No one is against another, all are part of a team. With 18 workers on a supply ship, it's impressive that everyone is working so harmoniously.

Electrical work is shockingly my favorite chore. Many are scared of the isolated room but I find solace in having some alone time. I connect wires, humming to myself before clicking the panel shut. Walking over to the tablet to let admin know everything is up and operational I faintly hear the doors whoosh open. I toss a look over my shoulder to the dim room, looking over the fuse box. I hear nothing, not even faint footsteps. Curious, I step away from the tablet.

"Hello," I call into the room. I walk closer, slowly revealing the other half of the room. My heart nearly slows to a snail's pace, tension morphing my previously lax posture. My feet clank against the metal floors, echoing around the light hum of the machines. I turn the corner, the door coming into view slowly. I open my mouth to call again when someone steps into view, grabbing my shoulders. I yelp, jumping before backing out of their hold. I look up to a sort of familiar face.

"You alright, B," they ask," I didn't mean to startle you." I take a deep breath, rubbing at my chest to soothe my racing heart.

"All is well, just wasn't expecting you to be around the corner," I chuckle," you are a quiet man, Wes."

"Yea," they huff," I get that a lot."

I straight myself, chuckling once more before walking towards the door. It opens at my proximity, staying open as I pause and look over my shoulder.

"I'm heading up to Nav," I wave," see you later, Wes" they wave stiffly, staying into the partially lit room. I twist away with a pep in my step, walking out to my next chore.

Days on the ship feel like they mix together, no one really understanding what day it is. A lot of the crew break up the monotony with game nights, scheduling them for the same day of the week. It's a fun little get together that a good group of people take part in. great conversation and comradery with some cards and snacks. I take part in the activities once in a while, catching up with my fellow coworkers. It's nice.

Another Friday comes and a small group gathers in the cafeteria. Everyone is jovial; teasing, and joking with one another. We bet meal passes and favors, adding some stakes to the games. Just another casual game night.

I look to my cards, thinking on my next bet. My hand isn't good but what they don't know won't hurt them. I call, setting my cards down the same time the door opens. A few of us look over, spotting Wes walking over. He takes a chair outside the circle, sitting at a distance in favor of watching.

"hey," I catch his attention," you wanna play next round?" Wes looks to me startled, taking a tad too long to answer.

"No," he crosses his arms," I'm good."

"Wes doesn't like playing with us peasants," Rebel answers. His loud boisterous voice carries around the room, his laugh just as bad. The large man has been wrecking shop as of lately. He is a poor excuse for a coworker, not that he doesn't do his jobs but does them poorly. A few of us have tried to keep game night out of his mind, 'accidentally' forgoing reminding him.

"It doesn't hurt to try," I shrug," more players means more asses to kick in this game." I get a few chuckles and a snort from Wes. I'll take that as a win.

The night progresses until we are nearly tired of playing. As I'm ready to call last round another person walks into the room, leaning against a table as she comes in. she is panting and wheezing, sweat making her hair stick to her face. We all begin to stand, looking confused and worried at one another.

"Penelope," someone calls," you alright?"

"he's dead," she mumbles. We all stiffen, the room snapping in tension.

"Whose dead," another asks.

"Greg is dead," she says louder, jerking her head up to look at us all," I can't…I was… oh god." she falls to a seat, cradling her body as she shakes.

We all look around, confusion decorating our faces. Rebel looks to Wes, giving a strange look to the man. Wes sneers, turning away with a jerk of his head. A few workers walk over to Penelope, comforting her, while others leave to investigate.

The rest of the week is tense as the investigation is taken place. As a first look, we all knew Greg's death was no accident. Nothing on this ship could rip up a man the way he was torn apart. The coms room he was found in was locked off for a while, only confirmed personnel allowed in. everyone is on high alert, tiptoeing around one another. Some stick to a tight circle of friends, traveling in groups to avoid suspicion and attacks.

It's not till a few days later that another attack is reported. Two people were found dead in medical. The three deaths send the whole ship on lockdown. Everyone is to be kept in groups and no one is to be walking around after curfew. The previously peaceful ship is now left in shambles of panic and stress.

My stomach rumbles as I sit alone in my bunk. It's annoying in its own right to not be able to walk to the cafeteria on my own. Now having to contact some friends to walk with me. I manage to scrounge up two people to walk with. Lindon and Oliver.

"While we are in the cafeteria you guys don’t mind watching me while I deal with the trash," Oliver asks as we walk to the halls.

"Not at all, I'm just glad to be out of my room for a while," Lindon stretches, yawning as he talks.

I huff," I know what you mean. At first, I enjoyed going to my room at the end of the day but now I relish in the work just to be able to walk around."

We chat amiably as we grab food. It feels almost normal amongst the chaos to just talk with friends. I can almost put the deaths behind me and pretend everything is normal.

Oliver walks over to the trash shoot as Lindon and I talk a bit more. We all head out towards storage, leaving Oliver to lead as Lindon and I joke around.

"Buck tried to screw around with shields and ended up turning them off, like how! It's the easiest system to work with on this whole damn ship," Lindon laughs.

"Buck just needs to stick to weapons and never touch anything else," I snort, chuckling along with them. I barely watch as Oliver turns the corner on the storage bins. We follow after him, laughing all the while. Before I can turn the corner I get a ping to my device and lights flash around the room.

"Something wrong with the reactor," I mumble, nervously looking towards the hall," You don't mind sticking with Oliver while I go check?"

Lindon waves his hand," that's fine, be careful though. Just scream really loud if you see something." I scoff, smiling at them before I walk down the hall. I jog up to the reactor and meet up with another crew member. Yasha waves before heading to the opposite side of the room. We both quickly clear the machine, meeting each other at the door.

"That's weird, right," I ask, thumbing behind me towards the large reactor.

They shrug," it's happened once or twice, it's when the alarms go off that it's serious."

"huh," I nod," Hey, you don't mind walking with me back to storage. I left Oliver and Lindon there to finish up some chores."

"I don't mind at all," they answer.

We silently walk towards storage, heading towards trash. Yasha pauses at the door, waving bye as I walk around. I casually look around the bins, ready to catch sight of the two. As I look over I don't see two people, instead of two masses on the floor.

"Oh my god," I gasp, startling back at the blood pooling over the floor. I gawk, staring wide-eyed at the bloody bodies sitting close together on the floor. I can't think, barely breathe as I just stare.

"B," someone shouts," What did you do?"

I jerk my head over to the small group of people crowding the hall from coms. An older man leads the charge, glaring daggers at me with great accusations sitting on his tongue. Behind him is Rebel, staring blankly towards me, and Penelope. I sputter, not knowing what to say.

"i-," I try to speak. I give up, knowing any excuse would lead to more distrust.

I make it by with the skin of my teeth. Yasha is the saving grace with an alibi that explains where I was beforehand. The meeting was filled with shouting and harsh accusations. People formed terrible reasons and false sightings of where I was during each murder. It's awful.

I sit in the cafeteria alone, nursing a drink that Yasha had stashed away before we launched. I owe them my life, helping me by speaking up. Though I now live day by day with accusing glares and harsh words. It's fine, I'm alive and not launched off the ship for murder. God, what has my life become?

As I take a sip, relishing in the bitter taste, someone grabs a chair beside me. I wince at the sound of the chair scraping, preparing myself for a confrontation. No one has been so bold to corner me but what do I know of these people? One of them is a murderer.

"You doing alright," they ask. I look to them, confused at the concerned question. Wes leans against the table, fidgeting with his thumbs.

I look to his hands then back to his unemotional face," What?"

"Are you alright," he asks again. I watch him, looking for some mischief or distrust. He remains blank, just watching me without a tick or twitch.

I scoff, turning back to my drink," why would you care? Looking for more pointless evidence to get me shot out?" I suck down the rest of the liquid, shotgunning it in hopes of being more amicable to this conversation.

"No," he huffs," I know you didn't do it."

I side-eye him," really?" he nods, fiddling with his thumbs instead of speaking. I watch him pick at his nail, scratching down the side of his finger aggressively. "You ok," I ask, watching the red whelps litter his finger in clawed lines. He freezes, tugging his hands back and leaving them on his lap.

"I'm fine, just been itchy lately," he mumbles. I nod, dropping the subject in favor of watching the empty glass in my hand.

"Why don't you think it's me," I suddenly ask, preparing myself for an answer I won't like.

He shrugs," I just have my guesses."

I look to him," humor me, why don't you think it's me?"

"Do you want me to think it's you," he nearly smiles," doesn't seem smart if you are in fact innocent."

"Yea," I huff," I guess your right." we sit in silence once more. I swirl my finger at the top of the glass, too busy thinking.

"You're too nice," he answers. I snort, looking to him amused.

"You think I'm too nice to murder anyone?"

He nods," you are too nice to everyone to have the guts to kill them."

I humor him," wouldn't that be a perfect plan? Lower their guard so they feel safe around me?"

"well, that would make you a psycho instead of a murderer," he slides down his chair, laxer.

"What's the difference," I turn fully towards him.

He crosses his arms, thinking before answering," a psycho would enjoy the kills while a murderer sees them as walls in the way."

"You think the killer is trying to reach a goal," I ask. He stiffens, looking to the floor.

"it's just a guess," he shrugs.

"It’s a particularly specific guess," I lean towards him. He just shrugs again, looking like he rather be anywhere but here. I watch him, suspicion forming in my mind.

"Why are you here," I ask instead. His eyes flick around the room, looking from one spot to another. He scratches at his hand harder, short little flicks of his finger.

"I was worried about you," he says," everyone is ostracizing you and I don't want you to be alone while he is out there."

"who is out there," I try to catch him in a lie.

He stutters, opening his mouth before closing it. The accusation sits heavy in my chest. It can't be Wes, but it really could be. If it's true then I'm in complete danger being alone in here with him. I look to the door. How long will it take to reach the door before he can run up and grab me? Could I make it while he is stuttering over his words?

As I think, he touches my knee. I jump, snapping to him with wide startled eyes. His previous anxiety seems to have melted away to a calm composure, almost sympathetic and compassionate composure.

"B, I just want you to know that I will keep you safe from whoever is out there," he says seriously," you all will catch them and everyone will think of this as a bad dream. Just keep your head up and don't go anywhere alone."

"o-ok," I stand from my chair," I'm going to head back to my room now." I walk across the room before he can answer, trying to keep some self-control until I reach my bed.

"Wait," he calls out," let me walk you back." I stop, back tense, and shoulders near my ears. His footsteps lead up to me, stopping just beside me.

We walk out the cafeteria towards my room, the silence deafening the empty hall. Each step is taken with anxious effort. I wait for a pen to drop so I can dart away from him. I know he is tense too, keeping a bit of a distance from me. I can't tell if he is waiting for an opening or he truly meant what he said. Either way, I cannot tame my racing heart.

I spot my door and relief nearly makes me sigh. As we step closer I hear voices down the hall. Around the corner, two figures walk towards us. As they near I can make out two familiar faces, Rebel and Casey. Casey is giggling at whatever Rebel said to her. Rebel's face is cocky, arrogant even. As they pass Rebel throws an arm over Casey and winks to us.

I can't pay them any mind as I quickly try to open my door and head inside. Looking over my shoulder I watch Wes sneer down the hall, nibbling on his lip when he looks to the floor.

"Uh, thanks," I nod," night."

He jerks his head towards me," Night."

And the night ends there. Sighs of relief and suspicions.

Slowly but surely people start dropping like flies. Solo kills all around the ship makes our numbers dwindle till we are nearing single digits. People start accusing me more till they start following me around and realize I have nothing to do with it. The previously split crew has become a closer unit, the commander getting everyone left to sleep in the cafeteria. It's hard to kill someone with so many eyes watching.

I look to the room hardly filled with people. The commander sits with three others, talking amongst themselves. Wes and Rebel sit in a group of two others. A few stranglers stress out around the edge, like me. We all wait patiently, none of us wanting to lose someone again.

My eyes grow heavy as I sit leaning against the wall. I look at the group, watching them all sleep or lay in their little cots. If there was ever a time to act it would be now. To sneak around and slit the throat of a dreaming crewmate. I can't fall asleep, someone will die. I keep reminding myself that until my eyes burn.

As my lids nearly close an alarm rings around the room. Playing for just a few seconds before we are all collapsed into darkness. People scream and shuffle, everyone awake. I shoot up from my spot, not being able to see in the utter darkness. Only a few stars visible from the giant window offer guidance. I quickly get out my tablet, turning it on for light and information. I click wildly, finding that light fuses have been tripped.

I try to open my mouth to scream to the crew what the problem is but they are all still shouting and screaming. I grind my teeth, not liking what I have to do now. Without thinking it for too long I hug the edge of the room and head towards electrical.

The tablet only lights a few feet in front of me, and only in front of me. I listen to the fading yells of the cafeteria and try to focus on if anyone is following me. My heart is ready to burst from my chest as I round the corner and spot the doors to my destination. I don't wanna be here, by the heavens I don't wanna be here. Swiftly I rush to the door, opening it forcefully as I slip inside. I'm nearly hyperventilating as I shine my light on the switches before me.

"Just turn them off then on, simple," I mumble to myself. I flick the switches with stumbling fingers, hands shaking with the mountain of stress. I stiffen as I hear a high screech noise from beyond the room. Waiting, I listen on. My finger hovers on the last switch but if it’s the killer perhaps I can use the cover of darkness to flee. Listening closely I hear nothing. Quickly I flick the final switch.

I sigh in minimal relief, knowing I still have the trek back to the cafeteria before me. With a courage-building breath, I turn around. Red fills my vision until I look up at a horridly stretched out face. I faintly notice the familiar stubble and bushy eyebrows of a strongly disliked crewmate. His cheeks are ripped, his right cut leading up over his eye. Writhing tentacles stretch out the large gash.

"Hello morsel," he says in a guttural vicious voice. I jump, falling back against the fuse box. His lower body splits, a larger tentacles slithering out to lash at my person. Thinking quickly I jump to the side, not looking back as I craw further into the room. I realize my mistake as I scramble towards a corner. He notices as well, chuckling in a nonhuman laugh.

I clamber towards a wall of wire and panels, turning so my back presses firmly against it. I look to Rebel, panicking as I try to figure something-anything- out. I look around the room, trying to find any weapon as this monstrous creature prowls closer.

"No way out," he teases," nowhere to go." his stomach appendage slithers on the ground towards me, wrapping around my ankle. He tugs softly, allowing me to fight effortlessly. I cry out, jerking my leg towards myself. He laughs, pulling harder so I may fall onto my back. I claw at the ground, my nails bending backward as I try to find purchase.

"Please," I whimper, not knowing if I'm talking to him or a higher power. He steps between my feet, laughing as he leans down. I clench my eyes closed, bracing myself.

"No one is going to-," he doesn't finish. My leg jerks a bit but I remain still. A loud thud follows shortly after and a shout. I open my eyes slowly, looking ahead into the room with unease. Standing before me is a man, seething with fist clenched at their side. Beyond them is Rebel propped on his elbow, having been forced to the floor.

"What the hell," Rebel shouts. The man in the white shirt says nothing, merely glaring down at the …thing. Rebel gets up from the floor, his face forming once more into a hateful sneer. His stomach tentacle writhes in the air, threatening without action. The man takes a step back, looking over his shoulder briefly before keeping eyes on his opponent.

"Wes," I whisper to myself," what are you doing here! You have to run!" I try to warn him, clambering to stand as he faces the monster down. Wes remains still, waiting on Rebel.

"You wish to do this," Rebel asks. As Wes doesn't answer Rebel shrugs," Suit yourself." before anyone can react Rebel's tentacle shoots out and wraps around Wes's arm. Wes leans back, fighting against the grip. It's in vain as the limb pops and rips at the shoulder. I can see the light shine between the sinew trying to hold on but to no avail. It snaps, detaching completely into Rebel's grip. I don't have time to gasp before the arm wriggles and writhes, lashing out farther than I thought possible. The fingers spin into a single appendage, wrapping around Rebel's arm.

"What," I gasp, looking to Wes' body. Where his arm was previously is a mass of wriggling tentacles.

I can't process anything. Watching blankly as the two fight. The scene is straight out of a monster flick, reminding me of a movie that takes place in the arctic. The bodies morph and slash, normal proportions of a human being stretches and rips. Its something I know I'll never forget till the day I die, which I hope won't be soon.

The writhing mass I believe to be Wes grabs at two points on Rebel, lifting him up and pulling. The stomach gash rips loudly, some of the tentacles caught at the two points tear as well, popping as the tension relieves. Soon Rebel is torn in two, writhing and screaming. Wes keeps tearing, splitting the half into smaller halves. It's when the mess stops moving does Wes stop, standing above the destruction.

Everything is silent, only the sound of my panicked breathing is heard. I watch Wes, not knowing what is going to happen next. Is he going to turn to me next? Surely no one kills a murderer just to turn and kill the victim.

"Wes," I ask gently, stepping towards him cautiously. He twitches, his body snapping into place with shocking speed. I gasp, startling back. He looks over his shoulder, a bit of blood on his cheek catching the light.

"you ok," he asks.

"I gue- yea," I answer," a-are you?" he nods, turning fully to me. His shirt is covered in blood and rips, though no injuries of his own. As I curiously look for any bruises, cut, gashes, he walks over. He crowds me to the wall of wires, grabbing my arm and looking me over.

"He didn't do anything? When you were out of the room I quickly got in the vents and headed here. God, I was so worried when I didn't see him in the cafeteria," he sighs, dropping my arm and leaning his head to my shoulder. The concern is confusing. I awkwardly raise my hand to his hair, petting him.

"well, I'm fine now," I mumble, more worried about the alien resting against my body.

"Good," he nuzzles towards my neck, wrapping his arms around my waist to hug me close. My heart beats hard, my breath is shaky. I want to push him away, fight him off. Raising my arm I touch his shoulder, prepared to force him back.

"Wes," I start, a shakiness to my words.

"I won't hurt you," he mumbles," you are safe with me, B." he presses a kiss to my neck, tender and sweet. I stiffen, worried for a new reason. I wait for a reaction, wait for some more 'affections' that tell me his true intention. Instead, he just holds me. I fall for the charm, exhausted above all else. Falling lax in his hold, I wrap my arm around his neck and bury my face against his neck.

The crew search around the ship and soon come to Wes and me. They first see the bloody body, a true mess upon the floor, then us cuddling in the corner. Questions are thrown around before we are even taken back to the cafeteria. We answer, me doing most of the talking, telling them all about what happened. I leave a few details out, looking to Wes with concern. This crew has been on edge all week and will not take kindly to another alien aboard their ship.

With everything sorted out and the body launched into space things settle back to normal. We make way to heading back to base to finally put this behind us. It’s a lot quieter now as we all take the time to grieve and collect our thoughts.

I lay in bed next to Wes, laying shoulder to shoulder as we look to the ceiling. It's nice to finally have a moment alone with him, to ask the questions plaguing my mind since the fight. Yet, sitting here is all I can manage. We get some much-needed rest, seeking comforting in the other's company. Now, we lay here in silence.

"Wes," I barely whisper. He hums," you’re an alien?" it was a dumb question but I need to hear him say it.

He turns to me," Compared to you, yes." I nod, still staring at the ceiling.

"Why did you save me," I ask. He sighs, turning onto his side to look at my better.

"I like you," he shrugs," I didn't want you to be killed like the others, it felt like a greater loss than the gain of your death." I squint, snapping to him.

"What gain," I ask.

"Capture the ship," he answers," we stowed away when you all first departed. The supplies here would benefit my people but it's more along the lines of greed than necessity. It felt like an easy task."

"Wes," I nearly scoot away from him," did you kill my crewmates?" we stare into each other's eyes with great determination. Seeming to be a battle of wills, who will bow first to such an important question. He caves first, sighing as he twists back onto his back.

"yes," he answers simply.

"who."

"Not sure, I don't remember most of your names," he says," Rebel killed more people than me though, I got around five. I didn't have as much enjoyment as he did in the job. He was a true psycho, I was just a murderer."

His confession sits unwell in my chest. I want to run out of the room, not lay next to someone who killed my friends. Yet, I feel too exhausted. He saved my life, but that won't excuse him. It just numb. I feel him turn to me once more, I can't bring myself to look back.

"Say something," he requests. I sigh, closing my eyes.

"It hurts," I mumble. My heart feels like is being squeezed, like the weight of their death is sitting on my chest. Is it wrong to sit so companionly next to their killer? A change of heart cannot excuse the sins of the past. Either way, I can't ignore him or walk away. The trauma feels shared although it's not. He was there in the end, that should count for something.

"I'm sorry," he sighs," if I could take it back I would."

"I know," I say. We sit there, quiet once more. He watches me, I can feel his eyes on my face. I'm not sure what he is doing, checking my reactions, or finding joy in just looking to me. The chance of manipulation is there, though I can hardly believe he would do that. Just leave me to Rebel's abuse and there would be no need for trust-building. I don't know what to do.

"B," he breaks the quiet.

"yes?"

"can I touch you," he asks. My eyes suddenly open. I turn to look at him, confused at the request, and confused at the timid way he asked. He looks shy, worried at the potential of my response. It melts my heart, easing the grip the deaths have caused. I turn to my side, inches away from his face.

"Ok." Wes eagerly reaches out and touches my face. His fingers dance over my cheek, nose, mouth. He watches his hands with great interest.

"Soft," he mumbles. His fingers trail to my hair, grabbing a strand between his fingers.

As his curiosity is soothed he wraps an arm over my waist and pulls me close. I cuddle against his chest, resting a hand on his pec. As I sit there I notice he doesn't have a heartbeat. I hear nothing, not even the sound of his breathing.

"Wes," I start," what do you really look like?"

He shrugs," not like anything describable. I just mimic things, I don't really have a body."

"just a blob of tentacles," I jokingly ask. He snorts, squeezing me closer.

"Not too far off," he smiles," but I have more flesh than just a pile of worms. But for now, I look like this, this is my body." I pet his chest, trailing down under his shirt to touch at his stomach. He jumps, the muscles of his body flexing. The tips of my fingers gently glide over him, feeling the strangely rough skin. I slowly make my way up to his chest once more, laying my palm flat against him.

"This is you," I nod," alright." I fall lax once more to the bed, keeping my hand against him. It's quiet for now. The words rest in his head, seemingly accepted and approved of. It almost feels like the conversation is over.

"Do you hate me," he asks suddenly, saying it like he wasn't intending to ask. It's a question I've been asking myself. Could I hate someone who saved my life, tearing apart their partner in crime to protect me? I think the answer depends on what he is to do from now on. Would he leave to attack another ship or…

"Will you leave? Will you go to another ship and repeat what happened here," I ask guarded.

"No," he answers quickly," I cannot."

"Cannot or will not?"

He bumps his head to mine," will not." I look to his eyes, feeling the sincerity in them. It's odd seeing such feeling on someone previously so blank.

"Are you going to stay and work?"

"Is that what you want? For me to stay and work with you," his fingers twitch on my waist, his nerves shining through.

"With me or without me, I'd like you to work," I answer. He grips me a bit tighter, his lip twitching near disgust.

"I rather work with you than anyone else," he says. I pet at his chest, soothing the ire he seems to try to hide.

"Ok," I nod," if that's what you want then you can work with me."

Reaching that agreement I lull back into the security he gives. I feel like falling asleep, relishing in the warmth of his hug. I allow myself to stop thinking, ignoring any ideas and doubts that try to pop up. My eyes slowly fall until I'm nearly asleep.

"Do you hate me," he asks again, his low rumble forcing me back awake. I keep my eyes shut, snuggling closer to him.

"No," I say firmly," I don't hate you." he hums, cradling me with a kiss to my forehead. I bite back a smile, not ready to give him the satisfaction.

"Thank you."

We fall asleep once more, ignoring the lingering issues and just feeling some sort of peace.

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

Yep, I wrote this. It is 100% for me and I stand by this garbage fire, it will keep me warm in the winter. It was so fun writing this trash heap that i may write another with a far more aggressive Imp who has a soft spot for his crewmate.

Won’t count to my weekend post cause this was thrown together at 2am.

Check out my Archive | Masterlist | Main Blog

[alexhogh7137]

The Battle Between Love and Fire-

Ivar the Boneless × Reader

Chapter Forty-Five

Chapter Forty-Six: "..it means divine beauty.."

Word Count 3.1k

Warnings: mentions of blood, heavy angst

When you reached Kattegat's border, you were already bleeding. You could feel the droplets slipping down your leg and onto your dragon's scales. You hear Neith cry out when she notices you bleeding. 

"I-ah...I'm alright! Boy..land!" You stammered but he obeyed. You slide off of your dragon and fall to the ground. 

"Torvi!" You shouted, "Torvi!" You shouted again, until you saw her before you.

Torvi "Y/n..Y/N what is it!?"

"Ah, the baby..she's coming!" She took no time at all to call a group of vikings over to you. They lifted you up and when they did, Torvi saw the puddle of blood that was underneath you. The thing is, you have not been sitting there for very long. Worrying her. She looks at the horizon, hoping to see a group of men on horses, riding into the gates but she does not. She took a deep breath and ran inside to help you deliver your child. 

When you are placed on your back, you have the immense urge to push. You scream out because you are trying your hardest to keep her in until your beloved is by your side. 

"My queen, you are bleeding-"

"I kno-Torvi!" 

Torvi "I am here, I am here." She took your hand and you squeezed hers long and tight. 

"Is..the bleeding normal?" You stammered.

Torvi "Yes, dear one. I bled with all of my children."

"Ivar..Hvitserk..they won't make it!"

Hvitserk "Says who?" You look from behind your friend's figure and see both of them, out of breath in the doorway. You burst into tears from relief. Hvitserk rushes to your side and takes your hand in his own. While Ivar on the other hand, sits in front of you. Looking like he is going to have a heart attack, or vomit from the panic and the fear. 

"You made it-"

Hvitserk "Of course I did," he said caressing your cheek, "I swore to you that I would not miss it." He kissed your forehead but you scream out in pain. "TORVI!" He yelled at her to get in there, to check to see if you are ready to push or if it is only contractions. You feel her checking, and that hurts just as bad. 

Torvi "Okay, my friend..are you ready to have this baby?"

"No.." Torvi giggles. 

Hvitserk "I have you." 

Torvi "Push." You did as she told you and screamed until she told you to pause. Ivar covers his ears, trying to block out your screams because he cannot bare it. 

Torvi "You are doing so well, only a few more!" You continued following her guidance until you felt a release within you, and you knew that she was here. 

Torvi sighs, "It is indeed a girl." Hvitserk looks at her and cries tears of joy. 

"Oh..can I-can I see her?" 

Torvi "Of course." When you see her, she is just as your visions foreshowed. She is simply perfect. Ivar cried with you. So happy to hear this news and to hear her cries for you for the first time. 

"Hello, beautiful." You say as you help her to latch onto your breast. "We have been waiting for you for so long." Ivar gets up from his seat and walks his way to your bedside. But he stays silent. 

Ivar "Y/n.." you look up at him and you see the fear in his eyes. That is when you look down and notice the blood surrounding you. That is when you feel your adrenaline die down and you feel as weak as you should be. 

Hvitserk "Let me take her.." she finished feeding when Hvitserk took her from your arm's. 

Torvi "We need to stop the bleeding, she tore giving birth to her.."

Ivar "What can I do?!"

Torvi "Get me stitching, and hurry."

"Hvitserk," he looks at you from staring at her, "what if-"

Hvitserk "No, don't even think that way..do you hear me?" You slowly nod, "Torvi will-will stitch your tare and you will be fine. I promise."

"Mm, what is her name?" He looks at you and then down at her and smiles. 

Hvitserk "what about Asta?"

"Asta.."

Hvitserk "Yes, it means divine beauty. And she looks like you."

You smile, "Asta is perfect." Ivar comes back with the stitching and when you see the needling, you feel your eyelids getting heavy and soon enough, you are unconscious.

..

Hvitserk and Ivar stay with you even though you were asleep. They did not leave your side until the bleeding had stopped. 

Ivar "When will she wake?" He asked Torvi.

She sighs, "I am not sure. She lost quite the amount.."

Hvitserk "What are you telling us exactly, huh?" He said, rocking his daughter. 

Torvi "She may not wake for a day or so. I do not know how fast her body can heal itself!"

Ivar nods, "I have to go.." Hvitserk makes eye contact, "I can't see her laying there like that. I've seen it before, I can't do it again." And just like that, without another word, he left. Hvitserk holds back the tears as he sits down by your bedside, rocking Asta. 

Hvitserk "Your mother has been through too much during her lifetime, little one. And I wish that was not the case." She coos, "But she is strong. She is a warrior, a shield maiden..a queen." He looks up at you, "She won't leave us."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When you wake, it feels like you are in a whole other world. Everything around you is gloomy, and quite dark. But you find it all splendidly peaceful. You walk further and find a body of water. The lake was surrounded by dragon statues of great mass. 

"Gods...where am I?" You say to yourself as you walk further. You walk and walk until you reach a cave. In this cave were two dragon eggs. White and red in color. You smile to yourself and think to yourself 'this is why I am here, for little Asta.' And in that moment, you took a deep breath and came out of your vision. 

When you look to your left, you find Ivar with his head down. Asleep. You try to move but the pain in between your legs stops you. But only for a moment, you see, because Ivar was not with Asta, so you had to find her. You silently got out of bed and wobbled your way out of the chamber doors. You find two guards and they stop you in your tracks.

"My queen, you should be in-:

"Bed? Yes, I think I have been in bed long enough. Where is my daughter?" Your voice woke Ivar dead in his sleep. 

Ivar "Y/n?" You look back and your eyes connect with his bright blue eyes. "You are awake!" He walks to you and cups your cheeks and kisses you softly. 

"How long have I been asleep?"

Ivar "Two or three days..I am not quite sure."

You sigh, "Where is Asta?"

He smiles and caresses your cheek, "She is perfectly well, my love."

"I'll go find her-"

Hvitserk "She is with Hvitserk." You nod and make your way to his chambers, where you find him fast asleep, with the baby asleep on his chest. Your eyes welled with tears, but the most joyous of tears. When you sat down on the corner of the bed, the pain became excruciating and you could not hold back your yelp. This woke Hvitserk up and when his eyes adjusted, he lost it. His emotions overcame him and so did yours. 

Hvitserk "You-"

"Hi.." he laughs and raises himself and Asta from his position in the bed and he makes his way closer to you. "I missed her first few days of life-"

Hvitserk "Nothing happened, kitten..she barely has her eyes opened yet." You nod and sniffle away the last of your tears as he hands her to you. 

"Gods she is so perfect." He nods and kisses your forehead. "Has Ivar held her?"

Hvitserk "I offered but he refused. He said that he would not hold her until you woke from your deep slumber." Your brows scrunch together in confusion, "He meant that if you did not awake, then he would want nothing to do with her." 

You scuff, "I don't believe that-"

Hvitserk "Y/n, he killed a son that his wife told to be his own because he was born different.." you think back on that story that Ivar told you a long time ago. You forgot about that, because you did not want to believe that he really did such an awful thing. 

"Well, I am awake.." he nods, "I do not want to think about the past. I just want to be here and now, with her. You and Asta are not in my past." Another tear falls from his eye as he leans down and kisses Asta's forehead. 

Hvitserk "You two are my everything. You know that, yes?"

"Of course I do, I love you." You lean in and kiss him gently before kissing your sweet daughter. "She is so tiny."

Hvitserk "She is. She does not look real, she is so perfect." In that moment, she opened her eyes and you saw the color for the first time. They are your blue but in the center, they are his green. 

"Wow.."

Hvitserk "Mhmm.." he nods in agreement. 

"How did we make her?"

Hvitserk "What can I say, we are just beautiful-" you two burst out laughing, making Asta start to fuss. 

"Shh, shh. I've got you." Hvitserk sits there and admires the both of you. Until he saw his brother's gathering in the doorway. 

Ubbe "Momma bear is finally awake!" He shouted but not too loudly. 

"I am." You said, exhaling deeply. He walks over to you and kisses your forehead. 

Ubbe "I am happy to see you holding her, she looks just like you."

"Mm, I see both of us in her." You say as you look at her. 

Ubbe "A little bit," he winks at Hvitserk, "But you should eat."

"I will soon, I just want to spend time with her."

Ivar "Let her be with her." Ubbe looks at his brother and nods in agreement. 

Ubbe "I'll leave you two be then." You nod and then watch him leave the chamber. Ivar stayed, of course. 

Ivar "She does look like you, my sweetheart."

"Thank you. But would you like to hold her?" He walks closer and smiles once you smile at him. He sits down next to you and Hvitserk, and takes Asta in his arms. You hear his breath hitch and his eyes begin to water. 

Ivar "You know," he sniffles, "I thought that I would never hold her." 

"You would. Maybe not at first, but you would Ivar."

Ivar shook his head, "I couldn't. I could never love someone that took the love of my life away from me." He looks up at you. "If I lost you, then what would be the point of my life, hmm?" You do not answer him, "So no, I couldn't. If I lost you, I lost the will to live."

"I am here, Ivar. You do not have to think that way."

Ivar "I know that. But I had to let you know that. I am sure that Hvitserk told you that I did not hold her while you were asleep, so I had to tell you myself." You nod. 

"I love you, my love. But if the day should come where I pass on before you do, I want you to be happy." He looks disgusted, "And Asta needs you."

Hvitserk "I think we all need to stop worrying, aye?" He tries to break the tension, "You are here, you woke..Asta is here and she is healthy. And we are all together. So why sadden this wonderful day with what could happen in the future, huh?" 

"Hvitserk is right." Ivar nods and glances down at Asta. She coos and he chuckles. Hvitserk rubs small circles on your back and takes in this moment that he thought would never happen, nor become a possibility. 

"I have to tell you something-"

Torvi "You are awake! Ubbe just told me!" 

"Hi!" She runs to you and greets you with a warm and friendly embrace. 

Torvi "How are you feeling?"

"Like I tore.."

Torvi "Mm, I need to check the stitching every now and then but not now. I want you to take this time with Asta."

"Thank you, for everything."

Torvi "My pleasure." She walks back out, to give you all this time to yourselves. 

Hvitserk "What is it that you have to tell me?"

"I know where her dragon's are." Hvitserk's eyes sparkled with excitement. 

Hvitserk "Really? Where?"

"I am not quite sure of the name of the place, but I know what it looks like!" You explain your vision and Ivar is amazed to know that such a place existed. 

Ivar "When should we go?"

"Not any time soon. We need to be home with her. I just want to have them for when she is old enough."

Ivar "I understand." 

"I should feed her and then feed myself." You force a laugh. Ivar smiled and handed her back to you and headed for the door. 

Ivar "Hvitserk, will you join me for a moment?" Hvitserk growled but got up and followed his brother's orders anyway. 

"It is just you and me, little one." You smile, "it should have been this way on the first day of your life but the God's had other plans." She suckled and listened, "But because so, I know how to gift you the best gift that my father had ever given me. And now I can give that to you. One day, of course." You think to yourself and smile, "I love you so much, little Asta. So so much. I hope you never forget that." She coos, "And you will grow up to be a strong, powerful woman. I promise. You will be safe and loved by so many, and be admired from all over the world. But most importantly, your father and I love you most."

Ivar leads his brother to the dining hall to sit down and chat. What about? Hvitserk would soon find out. 

Hvitserk "So what is it you wanted to talk about, Ivar? You know that I want to see-"

Ivar "Y/n, I know."

Hvitserk "So why am I here and not with her, hmm?" Ivar chuckles, "what couldn't you say with her in the room?"

Ivar "I would like to talk about Asta, of course."

Hvitserk "What about her?" He already began to fume. 

Ivar "You know exactly what about her. I am not her father-"

Hvitserk "No, you're not."

Ivar "Do not test me, brother. I am trying to be kind." Hvitserk stops himself from talking any further by resting his hand to his face. "I would like to hear your thoughts on the matter."

Hvitserk "I suppose you would like her to grow up thinking that you are her father..no?" Ivar thinks for a moment and smirks. 

Ivar "You are not wrong." 

Hvitserk "But think of Asta. How would that affect her?" Ivar lets his head drop when he hears that question. "This is her life, we have to take care of her Ivar."

Ivar "And I will-"

Hvitserk "Will you? You see, you did not even want to hold her!"

Ivar "I couldn't. I told you why."

Hvitserk "I understand why, but even if something did happen to Y/n, Asta would still need us Ivar. You know that." Ivar nods slowly, inhaling deeply. 

Ivar "Asta will know that you are her father when she is old enough to fight. Until then, she will be mine." And before Hvitserk could protest, he got up and left the room. For a moment, Hvitserk couldn't believe it. But then he realized that it was Ivar, so he believed it. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You managed to eat today but only a little. When Torvi checked your stitching, it felt like hot coils burning your core. It was so painful, but you managed not to scream. Ivar was by your side through that moment, which surprised you. He held your hand and helped you through it. Which was the first time he could see you in pain and manage to help you through it. 

Torvi "It is going to be painful until it heals completely, so no fighting.." 

You smile, "I won't be going into any battle anytime soon."

Torvi "Good. You can do what you are able but no sex or anything that could tare the stitching."

"Thank you Torvi."

Torvi "Of course." She hugs you tightly, "Now I'm going to go coddle that little princess of yours." 

You giggle, "Go, before I steal my own daughter from you." She bursts out laughing. 

Ivar "Seems like you and Hvitserk won't be having fun for a few weeks."

"Don't talk like that."

Ivar "I am sorry."

"So what did you and Hvitserk talk about?" You stammered as you got yourself up from your laying position on the mattress. 

Ivar "I told him that Asta would not know that he was her father until she was old enough to fight."

"And I suppose I have no say in that?"

Ivar "No, it is the only way I can keep it from my people. If they knew, they would belittle me..I cannot have that."

You nod, "No, of course not."

Ivar "That day will not be easy for me-"

"Nor will it be easy for her."

Ivar "You are right. It won't but this is how it must be." 

"Fine. Will you please help me up?" He rises and helps you off of the bed. You attempt to walk away from him but he holds you close to him. He holds you tight to his chest and your hearts beat at the same time. 

Ivar "I know that you must hate me right now, and for that I am sorry. If she was mine, it would not be an issue. And I am happy for my brother, but it has to be this way." He loosens his grip so that you have enough room to look up at him. 

"Okay Ivar." He caresses your cheeks, leans in and kisses you. You kiss him back, of course. 

Ivar "I love you."

"I love you too." 

Ivar "Go ahead." He lets you go and he watched as you walked out of the door. Thinking to himself, "Was this the only way?" 

@hvitserkmarcosource @a-mess-of-fandoms @youbloodymadgenius @ivarsgoddess @krissydclayton93 @heavenly1927 @saldelys @conaionaru

[bai-zewarrior]

So I finally nailed down my designs for the black heart characters (except colossus, perry/predator and Madusa I'm still massing with them) along with some head canons! The characters might look a bit weird next to each other, I didn't draw them all on the same canvas. I know I'm suppose to but I was lazy and didn't want to re draw the refs on one canvas. I also appologize for this being so long.

I'm hoping to start a comic with these guys. I always end up saying no to projects like this because I don't think my art is good enough but I think I'm going to put my foot down this time!

Hal:

Can talk(unlike my version of Cyan)

Pretty laid back but knows when he needs to be serious

Will curse you out

Thinks Aura and Nautilus are cute together

His cape works as his "soul meter"(idk what to call it). It has 3 squares on the back that represent Hal's souls. The cape becomes tattered and ripped when souls are taken.

He just wants 5 minutes of peace without someone trying to take his souls, please give him his 5 minutes of peace.

Really hates colossus

In the context of black heart I don't consider him a nano bot. He can bleed and stuff like that.

When he sleeps his body starts to heal any wounds and mend his cloths. This leaves him defenseless as he will remain unconscious until it's finished. He tries not to sleep out in the open and often uses caves and trees as temporary shelters when he needs to sleep. This can also activate when he is knocked unconscious but in cases like with Colossus the healing part is stopped.

He can change colors but he prefers red. His cloths don't change colors with him. Just his skin and his cape.

Again, in he context of black heart, I imagine Hal just kinda woke up somewhere with a bit of knowlage about himself and that's about it. Shortly after works he ran into Aura and Nautilus for the first time. He considered the battle a joke.

Nautilus:

Has glowing markings all over his body. He can cause them to glow at will

Can only breath air for around 10 minutes( this time can decrease with some conditions such as heat or cold. This is because his gills need to be wet for him to breath air, so if it's really hot out his gills will dry out faster)

Has a stutter due to the N.A.T.U thing, among other things. Like trust issues when Xero is around

Is euryhalinr(this just means he can breath any kind of water)

His suit adds about 100lbs to him (material, water, and special boots to help with balance when moving around in the suit)

Likes to make jewlary with shells and stuff

Loves Aura to death. Would litterally die for her.

His teeth work like a shark's. One falls out? You've got plenty more to fill the gap! He has given pretty much all his friends breif heart attacks when he casually spits one out after they hear the loud bone cracking noise of a tooth braking. He keeps all the teeth.

Runs on all fours for some reason. No one knows why, including Aura.

Aura:

Learned all her magic from her parents

Her parents lived like hermits because they believed people still hold witch hunts. Aura hated this because she snuck out a lot and knew that this wasn't the case.

Can be a bit forgetful with spells so she always keeps her book with her at all times

Love Nautilus to death, would die for him too.

Can't swim, her body it denser then water so she just sinks. Nautilus is almost always with her when she's near water for this reason.

Aura's wand is broken but she just keeps fixing it with tape because she doesn't know how to make a new one. She also doesn't want to ask her parents because they wouldn't let her live it down.

Made the headphones Puffer wears so he doesn't have to worry about Siren trying to mind control him, again.

Aura has a secret garden. She uses it to grow her magic plants. It has a defense system that even Jestar can't get past. Only those she has given permission can enter, but those people can give temporary permission to others. Only Nautilus, Puffer and Solario have permission to go into the garden.

Has gotten use to the weird things Natalie can do.

Puffer:

A bit of a hermit, but will open up when he trusts someone

Always has his eyes closed because he thinks his eyes look scary. He can still see for some reason? (Like Brock from pokemon, idk how he could see but he traveled like 3-4 regions like that)

Changes colors depending on emotions. Blue is calm and happy, purple is upset and sad and red is anger and frustration.

Puffer can create lots of spikes all over his body if needed as well as a set of claws. He doesn't do this often.

Likes to cook but keeps it a secret from everyone. (Aura and Nautilus found out though, they just kept the secret)

He really doesn't like Siren after what she did to him, but he will talk to her and hang out with her if someone else he trusts is around.

Really wants to apologize to Hal but he hasn't gotten the chance to yet.

Is really self conscious.

He's not very good at swimming but Nautilus teaches him when Siren isn't around or in Aura's secret garden.

Siren:

Likes to sing for no reason

Has a not so small army of skeleton fish

Is litterally heartless (she doesn't like to talk about it)

Has a crush on Puffer but she doesn't know how to fix the bridge she burned with him

Plays chess with Myst a lot(and wins a lot, much to Myst's dismay)

She can shape shift her tail into a pair of legs. This was a "gift" from Jestar to help her be a better assassin for him

Thinks Xero is a prick

Likes to steal Xero's alcohol sometimes

Can water bend. She can't blood bend though. She's tried.

Likes rock and country music for some reason

Nautilus likes to play with her fish some times.

Knows a bit about necromancy. She doesn't like to talk about it though. She never does it in front of anyone besides her fish army

Myst:

Doesn't like to talk about his life outside work

Is well over 100 years old( he lost count)

Is very protective when it comes to Shade

Doesn't really understand Shade but will support her regardless

Likes to smoke when he thinks no one is around

Can create an umbrella to protect himself if he is caught outside when the sun comes up

Likes to play chess

Is basically a dad to the other assassins

Rarely opens his third eye. This usually only happens when he gets frantic, scared or extreamly angry

Does not have any remorse over killing Parry

He doesn't eat in front of others if it can be helped

Myst told Nautilus about Shade once. He had a bad feeling and asked that if anything happened to him Nautilus would take care of her. Only problem was no one thought about the address of Myst and Shade's mansion. He found her though, don't worry.

When he is exposed to sunlight it will immediately cause him to get sunburned. If he doesn't leave after about 30 seconds- 1 minute he will start to die slowly and painfully. He has taken a lot of tea baths because of the sun

Solario:

A big dork

Very loud and bubbly

Is a prince from a kingdom galaxies away from where black heart takes place in

Was suppose to marry the moon from the moon is getting away level (haven't given her a name yet) but she unknowingly broke Sol's heart so he left. He wanted her to be happy and he clearly couldn't give her that happiness.

Doesn't understand "mortal" things but wants to learn.

Nautilus taught him the word yeet and now he won't stop using it

I headcanon that his voice actor would Gary LeVox(lead singer of Rascal Flatts)(don't ask why, I can't change what has happened in my brain)

Will stop at nothing to see his friends happy

Likes hanging out with Aura, Nautilus and Puffer

Can make himself hotter or colder at will. He tends to stay at a heat that won't hurt others when the go near him, but not cold enough to cause himself harm.

If he gets to cold he can die. He also starts to become extreamly cold or extremely hot before death. The direction his tempature goes in is dependent on what he was doing before hand. (Example: reading a book, gets shot, starts to get colder and colder. Attacking Hal trying to get his soul, shapeshifts so much he almost blows himself up, gets hotter and hotter)

Can be a bit over dramatic sometimes

He is incredibly strong. He can lift both Puffer(who whieghs roughly 230 lbs) and Nautilus when he's in his suit(so about 250 lbs) with no trouble. He forgets about his stranghth some times and has accidentally thrown a few things before quickly trying to fix it.

His shapeshifting isn't limited to just objects, he can shape shift small things about him self like his cloths or his entire body into something like a dinosaur. He doesn't do it often though. Mostly just the cloths thing.

Jestar:

Yells a lot

Thinks everyone is incompetent except Xero, for some reason

Accidentally took Puffer when Siren joined do to a confusion about Sirens powers. He refused to send Puffer home.

Colossus is basically just his pet

Xero is the only one who can get away with yelling at Jestar. No one really knows why but they hold really long arguments about all sorts of stupid stuff

Did I mention he yells a lot? I did? Well I’m saying it again. He yells A LOT.

Can shapeshift in to anything

Does not know how to handle baby Madusa. He doesn't know how to handle people in general, and he thought creating a baby was a good idea.

Xero:

Smokes and drinks a lot

Has a German accent(I can’t un heard it, I’m sorry)

Has a wrapped sense of humor

Calls Natilus “shark boy” after natilus bit him(this is related to what happened before N.A.T.U)

Calls everyone a nicknames besides Jestar.

Makes more robots then he needs and holds robot death battles at night.

Wants to dissect Siran after he found out she’s litterally heartless.

Is drunk 90% of the time but that's when he works best. He doesn't care that he has a problem either

Dressed Madusa up is costumes a lot during the 2 weeks it took him to grow up. He created a scrap book with photos of them too.

Can actually be a really nice dude when he wants to be. He doesn't normally want to be nice

90% of his robots are idiots

He's left handed

Colossus:

Is basically Jestar’s pet

Doesn’t speak a language anyone knows

Is basically a king without a kingdom

Starts out really tiny but gets really big for a short period of time once he has infected someone

Shade:

Has trust issues

Is only like 16 years old

Has normal(ish) ghost powers because she was born a ghost

Drives Myst nuts with her edgy stuff

Likes talking to Perry(she meets him after the Funk Hole level)

Can bounce between having a ghost tail to having normal legs.

Her flower is technically apart of her but she doesn't consider it part of her.

Perry:

Kinda skittish around people who look scary to him(so 90% of the black heart cast)

Has a crush on Shade but won't admit it out loud because he's scared of getting bitten in half by Myst, again.

Around 18 years old

Left home because his mom and brother suck and he wanted to be a ghost hunter like the ones he saw on tv. He got his wish for like 2 hours?

Transforms into Predator during the full moons and special moons. Special moons can have different effects on his transformation and mental state. Like a blood moon causes him to become more blood thirsty but a blue moon causes him to actually retain his normal mental state.

He has a habit of spiraling about everything

Predator:

Can't say anything understandable

Each part of his head has a brain so they agrue sometimes

Around 5X the size of Parry

Acts like a dog sometimes

Would have probably just ate Hal instead of taking the souls.

Madusa:

Can breath underwater and air without issue

Doesn't like the fact that he looks like Nautilus

Hasn't figured out how to swim fast like nautilus yet but won't admit it

Calls Jestar dad

Actually gets along well with Xero

Xero calls him Moccasin

Has markings like Nautilus but they only glow in the dark and they aren't as bright

He's allergic to shell fish

Actually had about a 2 week period where he was a kid. Xero and Jestar just gave him a special serum that caused I'm to grow up faster.

Most of his teeth ended up like Aura's but his canines are significantly sharper then they would be. Xero also found an extra set of teeth under Madusa's adult teeth.

Doesn't like the idea that his whole life rests on a tiny, easy to brake, stone on his head but just rolls with it.

Scared Jestar and Xero a lot during his first few days of life. He not only descovered his allergy to shell fish but almost got himself caught by the others a bunch of times.

All these guys belong to OL666 except Hal, he belongs to vitamin games

[n7inky-fanfics]

One Day at a Time

The destruction of the Reapers did not mean galactic peace. While the treaties Shepard had brokered during the war remain mostly intact, there is no shortage of pirates, criminals, gangs, and terroristic organizations bent on creating chaos and destruction. The Council began directing their Spectres towards overseeing and protecting reconstruction efforts and maintaining peace. Now that scientists are close to unlocking the key to repairing the mass relays, the galaxy has settled into unease. No one knows if crime will get better or worse with the relays back online. All factions are getting agitated, and more fighting is breaking out.

Sometimes, Kaidan pities the poor soul on the wrong end of Shepard's gun. More than once, he has heard all sorts of people shout something along the lines of "Oh shit, it's Shepard!" as they realized they were about to die. Shepard is a skilled soldier who dominates the battlefield with equal parts strength and grace. Fighting alongside her can be almost beautiful in an odd and violent sort of way, especially when she used her biotics. It took her almost a year of practice fighting on her military grade prosthetic leg, but she has now found that grace on the battlefield again. In the end, her skills and her career could not be taken by the Reaper War. The galaxy kept its greatest protector.

Today, they are both back on Mars, of all places, fighting a remnant of Cerberus that is attempting to steal more data from the archives. If intel is correct, their goal is to find weapons they can use "for the betterment of humanity", which is their way of saying anti-alien terrorism. Kaidan does have to admit that some part of him enjoys taking down pieces of Cerberus. After all the horrible things he's seen them do, including all that they have put Shepard through, he's glad to eliminate every last cell in the galaxy. It's a worthy career goal.

As the smoke clears, Shepard begins checking the bodies for data pads, hoping to find anything to indicate how many of them are at the archives and what their exact plans are. After all, if this was just an outdoor lookout team, there's bound to be more already inside. She freezes as she reads one of the data pads. Kaidan can barely see her face through her helmet, but her reaction to the data pad can't be good. "Shepard, what is it?"

She clears her throat and says calmly "It's not pertinent to the mission. Let's move on." She drops the data pad and continues towards the entrance. Kaidan trusts Shepard, but curiosity gets the better of him and he glances down at the data pad as he passes by. It currently displays the owner's profile. He can see an image that he guesses matches the body they found it on and a name. "Andrew Mason".

As they enter the archive, they happily find a distinct lack of civilian and scientist casualties. This time, intel learned of the plan early and decided to evacuate the scientists and ship in more soldiers. Unfortunately, Cerberus still puts up a good fight and many of the Alliance soldiers were injured or killed before the Spectres arrived (travel between systems takes more time now that the relays are gone). Shepard hops on to the nearest terminal and accesses the system logs. "Ah, here it is. Someone opened an archive five minutes ago. We can take the tram there."

"Perfect. Maybe this time we'll make it through without getting shot at." Immediately after making the joke, Kaidan winces at the realization that bringing up their last mission on Mars might not be a good idea. Sure, they've worked everything out, but it still could be a touchy subject. He was pretty cruel to her last time, before he almost died in front of her.

"Doubtful." Shepard laughs lightly as they board the tram.

They ride quietly for a moment before Kaidan asks "So, will I get to know who Andrew Mason is?"

"Maybe later. Now's not the time."

"Fair." Kaidan says. He smiles at her, hoping she can see it through the helmet. His is much more open and visually blocks less of the face. Shepard's preferred gear usually allows less visibility, but it also has fewer structural weak points. He noticed a change in her treatment of her armor not too long after he got back on the Normandy, but he's never said anything. Without asking, he already knows why Shepard chooses armor with the most reinforced environment system, and why she carefully and almost obsessively maintains it. He would, too, in her shoes.

He refocuses himself on the task at hand as they begin approaching their destination. They've almost made it when a Cerberus soldier begins firing at the car. They both take cover behind the wall and the dance begins yet again. As the car docks, Shepard throws up a barrier and runs out, shooting at several men in a row as she charges to cover. Kaidan focuses on the heavy trooper slowly approaching from a distance and Reaves. Together, they feed off each other's energy. The can move in sync, watching each other's sixes and supporting each other throughout the entire battle. Before long, the docking zone falls silent as the battle ends.

They take turns clearing doors until they finally get to the archive. They take cover on either side of the door. He opens it carefully, and Shepard immediately swings around to cover him with her pistol. The immediate entryway is surprisingly empty. Shepard gestures for him to follow, then slowly and quietly moves inside the room until they reach a sharp turn. She takes cover against the wall and peers around the corner, gun at the ready. As soon as she does, she is thrown backwards by a large biotic force. Her gun fires before she even hits the wall. Kaidan swings around and unleashes a singularity that pulls the target into the air. Shepard fires again, making several headshots that eventually pierce the armor and hit their mark.

"Thanks for the cover, Alenko." She says, her smile coming through in the sound of her voice. She pats him on the back and pushes further into the room, where the target had been collecting data onto a drive. She plugs the data into her omnitool and runs it through analysis softwares. Liara would be able to tell them more, but it appears that intel was correct. They had been here for advanced weapons blueprints. Shepard begins forwarding the information back to the Normandy, then turns to head back to the LZ. Kaidan follows her.

Getting back to the Normandy and conferencing with Admiral Hackett is no big deal. After the verbal debriefing, they retire to her cabin to write their mission reports. Kaidan's ship, the SSV London (named for the Battle of London that ended the Reaper War), is still getting it's final touches before he'll be able to take it out on a shakedown run, so he rode along with Shepard for this mission and their last several. As they settle into the couch with their tea and data pads, he can't help but smile. This is a good life, one he hadn't expected to attain. Every day, sometimes several times a day, he still finds himself thankful that they had found Shepard after the Crucible. When the Alliance had formally declared her missing in action, with the caveat that she was most likely dead, Kaidan refused to lay down and wait for them to declare her death. He contacted Hackett with an emergency QEC on the Normandy and told him that until they found a body, Shepard was to be considered alive and in need of assistance. They all owed that to her. Seeing her here and now, living her life with him, is something he is grateful for every day.

As Kaidan is putting the final touches on his report, Shepard sets her data pad on the table and walks to her shower, stripping off articles of clothing as she goes. He fumbles over the keyboard, leaving a line of text that reads "ghdhshgdg" as he watches her go. Knowing that he's watching, she calls "finish your report first, and then you can join me." He deletes the line of typos, hurriedly wraps up the report, and follows her for an enjoyable interlude.

Their activities eventually end with them cuddling in her bed. She lay with her head resting gently on his chest, her hand absentmindedly rubbing circles on through his chest hair. He has one arm around her back and gently brushing strokes down her upper arm. He can feel her back subtly rise and fall with her breath. They lay this way for a while before he feels a slight dampness on his chest, where her head is. "Hazel, are you okay?" he asks, looking down at her. Her face is buried in him. She stifles a sob, and he feels the shift in her breathing as she forces herself to cry silently. He wraps his arms around her tighter. "Sweetheart, whatever it is, I've got you." Slowly, she pulls herself back and looks at him. He reaches up to her and gently wipes the tears from her cheeks. She pulls herself into a sitting position against the headboard, and he follows so that they are sitting side by side.

She leans her head on his shoulder and quietly says "You asked about Andrew Mason?"

"Yeah. Do you want to talk about it?"

"I knew him... from before the Alliance." she ends the sentence at barely a whisper. Her shoulders tense and she looks down at the floor. "He was one of the younger kids in the Reds before I left." He gently reaches for her hand and takes it in his as she continues. "I heard he'd gotten out, that he'd joined the Alliance some time after my death. I had hoped he'd do well and go far, but it didn't work that way. I checked his records when we got back to the ship. His team got ambushed by some pirates about seven months before the Reapers invaded. He was discharged honorably for medical reasons, for PTSD. I guess that's when Cerberus got to him."

"Hazel, I'm so sorry." he says.

"The hell of it is that I can see myself in that kid. In what he came from, in his escape. What if I somehow influenced his decision to leave like that? How many kids joined after hearing fantastical stories about my life, only to be swooped up by Cerberus when the Alliance didn't live up to their expectations or to die in battle before they got the chance to reconsider?"

"Hey, stop that. It's not your fault, Hazel."

"How many people died because of me? Will continue to die because of me? Because I failed?" Her voice cracks and she lets out a shuddering breath.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Backup. Failed at what?"

"I couldn't save them all. I can never save them all."

"Hazel, stop. Look at me." He gently places his hand under her chin and guides her to look at him. "You are not responsible for every person in the galaxy. You've spent far too much of your life fighting galactic wars practically on your own. Enough is enough. We stopped the Reapers. Now, we just do what we can to make things a little better. One day at a time, okay?"

She nods and he pulls her into a tight embrace. "One day at a time." She sniffles.

[script-a-world]

Is it honestly actually possible that bad people run most of the galaxy or several galaxies? Or at least even just an entire planet? It's done in sci fi a lot. However in real life that obviously has never happened. I'm not sure how to well, begin, create the circumstances that will give them that kind of vast power and not be defeated before. Even if they are the good guys, still, can't see how they can run everything either.

Bina: Totally possible since “bad” is relative depending on you who ask. If they have a believable facade of being “good” (or if they ARE doing good....... to just the right people (such as, politicians or powerful allies who will back them up)), and if they have a lot of supporters who think they’re the good guys, then it’s super feasible that they can take control of the majority of the galaxy with very little opposition.

Heck they can even get away with people just not thinking badly of them. They don’t necessarily need supporters who think they’re the right people to have in charge. Having people be neutral towards them can also be also good enough for them to take control without anyone complaining. All they need is people not caring. People supporting them is bonus, but apathy from the common man also goes a long long way in helping bad people come into power. 

In the end it’s all about controlling their narrative and their own publicity. They can be totally truly evil, but if they cover their tracks with enough propaganda and efforts to appear like they’re doing nothing wrong, or even that they’re doing things for the benefit of the people (or that they’re beneficial for powerful people who have more sway than the average person and can thus override the wills and desires of the common people), then the baddies can take power and the common man would either take no issue with it or be unable to do anything about it. 

Tex: The thing about leadership is that morality doesn't really calculate into it - they're two separate areas with very little overlap, especially if a leader is a successful one. The longevity of a leader's reign has more to do with their bureaucratic competency, organizational skills, competency to set and achieve certain goals that benefit those whom they rule (in some form), and ability to manipulate people. And, I hate to break it to you, but both "good" and "bad" people are manipulative, just for different reasons.

Al Capone is a classic example of how "bad" people can do good things that legitimately benefit others. He was a gangster that directly or indirectly had a hand in killing a great deal of people - but he was incredibly influential in making sure milk had expirations dates, among other things (Atlas Obscura). It could be argued that running bootleg alcohol at all was a good thing, given that a significant portion of the US population did exactly the same thing (to various degrees) during Prohibition. Is profiting off civil disobedience in such a manner against the mores of altruism? Murder or no murder, Capone straddles the line of "good" and "bad", depending on your point of view.

Martin Luther King, Jr, while on the surface might look like a paragon of virtue, did purposefully break laws with specific goals in mind - while his civil disobedience resulted in drastically fewer deaths than Capone's, he did still break the law. There are some schools of thought that believe adherence to the law is virtuous, and thus moral (and thus, "good"). Is MLK virtuous in this regard? Does his position as a minister of his faith grant him more morality than the average person, who isn't an official representative of a codified set of beliefs?

Both MLK and Capone caused immense upheaval in their respective eras and societies. Is this necessarily good? Is upheaval - change - bad? I'm sure there are proponents regarding both of them that can see the advantages and disadvantages of their respective actions. One is classically referred to as a "bad" person, and the other a "good" person. Why? And through whose lens are these judgements being made? Is the perspective itself moral?

Let me bring some fictional examples into this.

Emperor Palpatine, of Star Wars, is coded to be a distillation of evil - the evil, a scourge upon the galaxy. And yet, when he rose to power and declared himself emperor of a new empire, he was lauded as an incredible unifier. General evil-doer he may be, but his grip upon his own galaxy was ironclad, and his background as a senator and then chancellor shows that he was canny, able to organize his political agenda in influential ways that effected significant change upon the political and even economic landscapes of the respective eras of his life.

He was respected - yes, even by the Jedi - for his affable demeanour and bureaucratic acumen. His death, depending on the canon you subscribe to, did not end the vast reach of his influence, with post-mortem orders that were followed with the same fervent veneration as in life. Palpatine's opinion was trusted, and regardless of his moral compass, trust is still something that needs earning. What perceptions his followers are predisposed to, well- that's certainly another topic.

Aragorn II, son of Arathorn, of Lord of the Rings fame, ruled over the reunited kingdom of Arnor and Gondor after the war against Sauron. He is typically coded as the exact opposite of someone like Palpatine - generous, compassionate, wise. A unifier that began an unequivocal era of peace. However, his death toll is proportionally similar to Palpatine's during the war that secured his place upon the throne, and he had eschewed his responsibility as blood heir to the throne for a great deal of his life, a time during which there was famine, suffering, and death from Sauron's own influence. Are his reasons for obscuring his identity and being a Ranger good enough to justify the expansion of Sauron's reign through his relative inaction, his non-acceptance of leadership? Does the end of the war justify the means that Aragorn took to get there?

Is Aragorn more moral, more good than Palpatine, because his reign was brought about through total bloodshed? Palpatine's was wrought through the genocide of the Jedi, and yet his own reign brought a stability to his empire. It can be argued that the inaction on Aragorn's part, and the action on Palptine's part, during their respective wars pre-coronation, were a manipulation of the masses. They both chose to guise themselves for who they really were - the son of Arathorn II and the Lord descendant of Bane's line - only to unveil themselves at an opportune moment hastened on by their own actions to claim, and unify, these warring factions.

All four of these individuals, be the real or fictional, share something in common - the ability to be a successful leader. Their morality did not, in the end, impede them from swaying the masses to their opinions and leveraging the influence that they had - through argument, through force, through lineage - to assemble under a common goal. They all enacted dramatic, sweeping changes upon the society in which they lived, and utilized the power granted to them through their public's opinion to direct society in a direction that they wanted. They were good leaders, but that doesn't mean they had to be good people. 

Saphira: In my novel, I am working with two different rulers. One is an Empress and the other a Tyrant. I'll see what I can glean from each of these two to provide more context in a fictional setting.

The Empress has a positive perspective from her people, as he is backed by her Goddess and her long family line of rule. She has  well developed court, council and structure set by both the Goddess and generations of Empresses before her. (Yes, it's an all female-ruling lineage because they're Elephants and the species is largely Matriarchal, but I digress.) She uses generations of Faith-based morality and ideology  to cultivate the values and perspectives of her subjects. Her choices are just because the Goddess has told her to do it, and our Goddess is Benevolent for all. Behold, she has given us life and freedom beyond our bestial origins. She makes her decisions and rules her people using rigid methods and strict guidelines to keep the common life consistent and rational. Whether she is aware of it or not, it is not so much the faith or the prestige of her rule that is powerful, but that selfsame consistency and rationality of her people.

What I mean is this: because the way of life is consistent, it feels rational. Any good or bad that she does is ruled by the same beliefs as those before her. That makes it easy for her subjects to accept her decisions because it makes sense in the context of their everyday lives. Of course she is going to hoard all the 'non-essential' food in storehouses for the war, because we, the entirety of our people, have been preparing for the war that dominates over other races since our inception. Of course we will put finances into the arts, because we are the great race that will take over the planet and arts show how sophisticated and glorious we are. All of the laws that control, govern and guide her people tether to the same principles, and that makes her powerful. There is minimal resistance, because to resist is to change their daily life and core philosophies.

The Tyrant, on the other hand, has by definition stolen the power for himself by force, and that leaves him with a radically different set of tools to stay in power and rule his territories.

First is the Legacy. The narrative of his glorious victory, his noble war that dominated over the nations to protect the underdogs, helps give him some positive influence, but force is force. He is still dealing with those who will be able to mentally reject or object to his power. He could have taken one of two simple routes: A. Quell or crush any rebellion, or B. Wield that rebellion and outcry as a tool for positive change. A sometimes needs to be done, but his ideal is B. This helps create a positive influence over the territories to help reinforce his Coming to Power Narrative, and also fixes problems in the nation that allows him to turn his focus to other problems. Fun stuff.

His true power is that he is cheating. He is using his arcane ability (which won him the war in the first place) to A. live far longer than anyone has any right to, and B. give the overall impression that he can snap his enemies with the thought of snapping a matchstick. This makes his greatest tools Benevolence and Fear. Or, rather, Love and Fear. This gives the people two reasons to hesitate against him: "I don't want to because he does a decent job most of the time," followed by "also I just like being alive in general." 

Where he lacks in 'legitimate rule' with a long lineage, he has made  up for in a single, long lifespan. The current generation has never lived outside of his rule. Their parents were under his rule. Their great grandparents were under his rule. This also introduces a fear of change, and the fear of change is the greatest tool of all. If there is no great and colossal reason why something should be different (like, I dunno, a lot of people dying) then things tend to stay as they are.  

So what it comes down to are three factors, for staying in power. 

1. The populace thinking it's honestly not that bad, or it could be worse. 

2. Fear of change, or that this thing that claims to be better, isn't. 

3. The consequences of change are too dire. This person can murder me, my family and if they die the economy dies with them.

The moral strength of the character may be a direct influence over these factors. That moral compass might be completely irrelevant. That depends on the characters you want to write and what the narrative needs to present your ideas xor experience. Either way, it's how the ruler handles these factors, ether with skill or great lacking, that determines the strength and distance of their power. 

Constablewrites: Cracked just had an article about this from the perspective of the citizens: http://www.cracked.com/blog/5-ways-normal-people-allow-evil-rulers-to-thrive/ It's got some good links to sources discussing real-world regimes and historical examples.  

[ancientbooshartifacts]

I Can't Be In Love If It's Plastic

Author:  Vituperative_cupcakes

Year: 2014

Rating: M

Pairing: Matt Berry/Rich Fulcher

One of life's fleeting moments of uncertainty struck Matt when he first brought Rich to the club. His new acquaintance was a boorish yank, undoubtedly, and prone to buffoonery, skylarking and backsass. Also, he was a complete asshole. But this was part 32 of Matt's thousand-part plan to annoy the hell out of his fellow clubbers. No, the only worry was getting rid of the American, should he become a nuisance to Matt himself.

Bringing Rich into the club turned out to be a spectacularly bad idea for completely unrelated reasons.

Matt fell in love with him.

It had all the makings of a brilliant day: Rich had dropped Prince Albert's original can, wiped his arse with the club edict, and stuck his tongue down a visiting dignitary's throat. And that was just the first ten minutes. Matt bubbled over with amusement as he watched Rich bounce from table to table like an bawdy terrier, flinging his leg out with drunken enthusiasm, smiling adorably...

Whoa, cool tool. What?

Rich was beneath contempt. He would have to climb a stepladder to even touch the bottom of the barrel. And yet, as Matt watched the ensuing chaos like a game of perverted pinball, something stirred inside him. Something he immediately tried to drown with whisky.

Matt tested him. He stole his women, gaffled money from him, even poisoned him. And yet Rich never once declared their friendship over. He'd been so close, he'd thought, when Rich told him “you can be so fucking cruel.” He thought soon, Rich would leave from his constant onslaught of abuse. It never came. Hell's ballsack, he'd cuckolded him on his wedding day! But Rich took it all in stride, in his own obscenely Zen way.

It was that moment, with his gentleman's brigade still wet with Rich's lady love, gazing down at the man himself laughing radiantly, that Matt fell stupidly in love with him. It wasn't just the way he smiled, slow and secret, when they sat across from each other at the club. The way he wet his mouth, the way he sighed nasally when he was reading, or even his arse(though it was fine). It was how bloody forgiving he was, how eager to please Matt. Women were fickle creatures, so focused on “feelings” and “sensitivity” and “not having sex with the maid during her dad's funeral.” Rich was like a dog. Especially when it came to sticking his nose in other peoples' crotches.

Matt tried very, very hard not to love him, but that didn't work. Then he tried drowning Rich in a sea of the choicest trim, hoping that the tide of heterosexuality would deluge his bicuriosity. Dammit, why did Rich have to make eye contact during an orgy?

Matt learned to make peace with the fact that he would never be able to live his giant mancrush on this doofus down should it ever see the light of day. It was ridiculous. So ridiculous he would never be able to tell Rich how he felt. The man would laugh, as he had been trained to laugh at anything tender through Matt's influence.

Mat ran down the list of options:

He could kill Rich.

Tried. Couldn't.

He could get Rich deported.

Hell, if throwing up on the queen mother hadn't gotten him shipped off back to Pricksburg, Cockachusettes, nothing would.

He could get Rich interested in a lady.

This wouldn't work, because Matt's pride refused to let Rich go for one day of monogamous joy before swooping in to steal her.

He could have quick, dirty, meaningless sex with him.

...Interesting prospect.

Matt had resorted to many a quickie when it seemed like he was getting too attached to a skirt. Sometime in between kissing her and blowing a load onto her duvet, his infatuation lost its staying power. But maneuvering Rich into place would take a much more delicate operation than a pint of stout and some erotic lithographs. The first step was easy: get Rich blind-stinking drunk. Rich easily got so soused he didn't remember his own name. The second was difficult only because of Matt's aversion to displays of affection. He let his hand splay on Rich's knee during a viewing of Death Balls 3(Rich's movie choice) not kneading or massaging, just there.

When Rich did not react, he went straight to phase 3: grabbing Rich and shoving his tongue down his throat before the awkwardness could set in. To Matt's surprise, Rich moved fluidly from laughing at a man on fire to snogging like a mule eating an apple. Rich's tonguework was sloppy and rough and should have been ridiculous, but Matt tented his trousers almost immediately from the stimulus.

Phase four, mocking Rich until he went into bed without raising any objections, was promptly derailed when Rich grabbed two handfuls of Matt's meat seat and pressed him against the back of the sofa. Matt made a less-than-dignified noise into Rich's mouth as the American slipped a deft hand down the front of his trousers, cupping Lord Cardigan and the Light Brigade.

Phase five dissolved into a frantic dry-hump session as he and Rich tried simultaneously to have sex and disrobe each other. Rich's watch caught on his belt and they flipped onto the carpet in one horny mass, Matt on the bottom. It would have been terribly romantic if Rich hadn't landed elbow-first on his kidney. Luckily Rich understood his signal of a knee to the bollocks and backed up. He had his freed hand on Matt's belt, using it to pull him by his hips to the bedroom. Matt let himself be led, out of breath and completely out of phases. Rich was still smiling that insinuating smile, now paired with the bedroom eyes of an inebriated seal. Matt reminded himself to be angry later.

Now free of the constraints of sofa sex, Rich got directly to business. Matt's fly parted like the red sea, freeing the mighty tiger that had been pacing its cage all evening, then Rich put his mouth to work and Matt ran out of similes.

Rich was surprisingly good at giving head. Matt had to wonder, with what was left of his brain, when and where Rich had experimented. He also reminded himself that jealousy was pointless because he did not love Rich, he did not love what Rich was doing with his mouth. He did not love Rich's bum three times in quick succession. He did not love the little puppy-whimper than Rich made through his nose as he came. And he did not love the sight of Rich passed out beside him, all fucked out and smiling like a fat toddler.

The hangover came the next morning like a reproach. Matt rolled over and was horribly disappointed to discover that Rich looked just as cute in the harsh light of dawn. He swore into his pants and tried to leave without making noise.

Matt had a few hours alone with his paper at the club. Luckily, Sir Berry was busy with the pinball table Rich had won in a thumb-wrestling contest and couldn't smell the shame on him. Matt was just beginning to deny he was worried when Rich slid into the seat across from him with a “Hel-looooooo.”

Matt nodded curtly, not looking up from his paper. He'd been on the same page since ten-thirty.

Rich enjoyed a round of “mail, gentlemen” with Ken. His smile was still stupidly pretty, it was like the beatification on the patron saint of wanking.

“Morning, Matt,” Rich said, no difference in tone, no indication that anything was out of the ordinary.

Matt nodded again. Rich wet his lips and slid his hand absently down the leather arm of his chair. Matt had to cross his legs.

“I was just thinking,” Rich said, “we should go on a trip somewhere. Somewhere warm, like Newyorka.”

“It's Majorca, you tool,” Matt muttered.

Something picked at his pinky finger. Matt lifted his wrist and a warm hand slid into his.

“Sure, My-jorka,” Rich continued in his nasal whine, “or Rome. Or Italy.”

“Rome's in Italy, you berk.” Matt tried to ignore the blush creeping up his cheeks.

Rich's thumb stroked the back of his hand. Once Matt remembered how to breathe he asked Rich, “how the hell are you planning to pay for a trip right now? I have your money.”

Rich let another slow, lazy smile. “I could win it back from you. I'm really good at darts. Hey, I'd really like to blow you right now.”

Matt took a moment to process this statement. “1: in your dreams. 2: a blind cripple could best you at the board. 3: aurghruh—” his sentence melted into an inarticulate cry as Rich slid his hand into Matt's front pocket in broad view of the rest of the club members. He took a discreet look around, but no one seemed to be looking. Rich still smiled at him.

“I could do it in the bathroom. The regular one, not the scary one. I think it's like a Tardis, only full of hookers and magic instead of time travel. Hey, Hooker Who, there's a show for you!”

One of life’s fleeting moments of wordlessness struck Matt that day. Rich's stream-of-consciousness poured over him, drowning out the noise of the club. Matt realized his plan to seduce Rich had the opposite effect of what he'd hoped for, and in retrospect was really stupid. He would flee the country, travel through dark jungles and sandblasted deserts, scourging himself of his crush on this ridiculous manboy.

“Rich,” he croaked.

Rich stopped talking immediately.

Matt cleared his throat.

“My rooms?” he said.

Rich leaned forward. “The scary-bathroom-you with the turban said you'd go for that.”

Matt couldn't stop the smile spreading on his face. “Get in there you berk.”

He decided to put off fleeing for a few hours.