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scabopolis · 4 years ago

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Congrats on 600 followers!!!! How about Logan/Veronica and "Are you doubting my acting skills?" and/or any one of your 76 Danielle/Henry modern AUs?

Oh, Sarah, I’d do anything for you! I will eventually write a Danielle/Henry modern AU and it shall be dedicated to you, but for now, here is some Logan/Veronica friends to lovers inspired fake dating setup shenanigans.

--- Title: look at me like you like me Fandom: Veronica Mars Pairing: Logan/Veronica (side Wallace/Parker) Other Characters: Wallace, Parker, a frequent switching of tenses b/c this is barely edited. Additional Tags: Should be a multichapter probably, friends to lovers (or idiots to friends to lovers??), fake dating shenanigans, Wallace sees all and knows all Word Count: ~1,800 ---

Sitting at brunch, her plate piled high with pancakes, Veronica Mars wonders just how long her best-friend thought he could get away with this. Logan Echolls (said best-friend) is currently walking slowly back and forth in front of the restaurant as he talks on his phone. He isn’t speaking, which means his mother is in the middle of a persuasive monologue. And everyone at their table knows what that means.

“Charity gala?” Wallace asks.

“My money’s on a distant relative’s wedding,” Parker says.

“His parent’s anniversary is coming up,” Veronica says. “Could be their own party.”

“What will they celebrate?” Wallace asks. “Ten years of sleeping in separate rooms and ignoring one another’s affairs?”

“Regardless, I’m ready,” Parker says.

Okay. Apparently Veronica’s isn’t the only one thinking about Logan’s go-to family event strategy. “You think he’ll ask you?”

Parker frowns as she takes a sip of her coffee. “Why wouldn’t he?”

Veronica draws a line in the air, connecting Wallace and Parker. “Well, for one, you’re married now.”

“The people at these parties don’t know that,” Parker answers.

The woman has a point. Veronica turns to Wallace. “And you’re okay with this?”

“We’re living on two teacher’s salaries. If some wealthy man wants to be my wife’s platonic sugar daddy, who am I to stop him?”

“I wanted to buy a new dress for your brother’s graduation anyway,” Parker says.

“See! Perfect plan.” Wallace and Parker seal their agreement with a kiss and Veronica focuses on her pancakes. She cuts off a large bite with more force than strictly required and shovels the pancakes into her mouth.

She isn’t sure why this whole conversation needles her. Something about Parker’s certainty, Veronica supposes. That it is going to be Parker who Logan calls on. To be fair, Parker and Logan’s arrangement pre-dates Veronica’s friendship with either of them.

By the time Veronica met Parker their first year of grad school, Parker and Logan had been friends for four years. The pattern wherein Parker pretended to be Logan’s girlfriend at any and all society events his mother required him to attend was already well-established. Even after Veronica and Logan met, and it was quickly evident the two of them were destined to be platonic soulmates for the rest of their lives, it was still Parker that Logan turned to for help in these situations. Which, fair. Parker possesses levels of grace which Veronica can never hope to achieve.

Veronica is much more apt to give a Hollywood director in his fifties judgey facial expressions when he introduces her to his barely legal wife. (A real thing that happened at an Echolls family BBQ. At least it still makes Logan laugh all these years later.)

It just didn’t occur to Veronica that it would always be Parker. Especially now that Parker is married. What is going to happen when she and Wallace decide to have a baby? How will they prevent word of Logan Echolls’ pregnant girlfriend from making the tabloid rounds?

No. This is ridiculous.

“She’s definitely not listening,” Wallace says, disapprovingly.

“Some sort of fugue state?” Parker suggests.

“Could be.”

Veronica sighs. “What are you two talking about?”

“I wanted to know if it was all pancakes in general you seek to destroy, or if this one in particular had done something to upset you?”

Her first instinct is to glare at Wallace. And then at Parker when she sniggers. Introducing the two of them to one another is the worst decision she’s ever made. But then she looks down at her plate. Sure enough, at some point she traded in eating her pancakes for cutting them into smaller pieces and then smushing them into the maple syrup. They no longer resemble an edible object.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Sure,” Wallace says, taking a well-timed sip of his coffee. His expression is all smug and knowing.

Veronica is saved from additional Wallace stares and Parker sniggers by the return of Logan. He slides his phone into his blazer pocket and sits down beside Veronica, resting his arm on the back of Veronica’s chair. This is nothing new. Being best-friends with Logan means being comfortable with his rather tactile nature. But the look Logan’s action invites from Wallace is new. Veronica wants to spit at him. (Wallace. Not Logan.)

(Portrait of grace, indeed.)

“What happened here?” Logan asks, gesturing to Veronica’s pancakes.

“Nothing,” Veronica says. “What happened out there?”

Logan’s fingers still from where he is lightly tracing the contours of her shoulder. “My mom and dad are renewing their vows.”

For a moment all movement at their table ceases as they each take in this information. This despite Veronica's keen awareness of the fact that her guess was eerily close to being right.

“I’m sorry. What?” she asks.

“That was about my reaction,” Logan says. “Want my bacon?”

“Yes, please. They can’t be serious.”

Logan slides his slices of bacon onto Veronica’s plate. “Serious about drumming up some positive PR, absolutely. Aaron was spotted looking a little too friendly with a married co-star. So, he and mom are going on a romantic getaway to Italy. When they get back they’ll do a backyard vow renewal.”

“Logan—”

The man in question holds up a hand, stopping Parker’s softly spoken entreaty.

“No. I can’t do the talking about it thing right now. I can’t feel anything about it right now. What I need is a wedding date.”

“Of course,” Parker rushes to answer. “Just tell me when.”

“The weekend of June 11th.”

“Absolutely. Deal,” Parker says, nodding enthusiastically. “Consider it—,” she trails off, her gaze somewhere over Veronica’s shoulder.

“Consider it, what?” Logan asks.

“—Not something I can do.”

“Why not?”

“That’s graduation weekend,” Parker explains. “I’m the faculty speaker.”

“I’ll buy you shoes, too.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Logan says. “This way I can get very drunk and not feel bad about it.”

Logan’s arm returns to the back of Veronica’s chair. This time his hand sort of hangs over her shoulder and curls around towards her clavicle. It makes it impossible to ignore details about Logan’s hands — the surprising delicacy of his fingers, the length of them, the weird knot on one of his knuckles.

“I’ll do it,” Veronica says.

“Do what?” Logan asks.

“Be your fake girlfriend for the sham vow renewal. I can do it.”

She refuses to look at anyone at the table. Not Parker. Sure as hell not Wallace.

(Seriously. Does he know something? Was it that night they all played King’s Cup and the two of them stayed up talking until 3:00 AM? Did she say something she wasn’t supposed to?)

And absolutely not Logan. She scrapes the edges of the smushed pancake with the tines of her fork.

“Veronica.” Logan’s voice is soft, but she detects a hint of incredulity. Which, maybe she’s wrong and he isn’t her best-friend and he doesn’t know her very well, because it raises her hackles.

She drops her fork. “What? Why not?”

“Look, I love you. You know I love you.” Veronica ignores the little skitter of her pulse at Logan’s words, furrows her brow, and concentrates on being offended. “And you know me better than anyone.”

“But?” She prompts.

“But,” he says, “you don’t really—”

Before Logan can finish, she comes up with a dozen ways to complete the sentence. There is plenty she doesn’t have —the class, the patience, the height, the sweetness, the glamor, the—

“—look at me like you like me,” Logan finishes.

“Wait. What?” Veronica’s eyes dart from Logan to Wallace to Parker. Neither one of them appear surprised by Logan’s words. In fact, Parker is faintly nodding in agreement. “Of course I like you. You’re my favorite person.” She thinks about this. “When you’re not being a total asshole.”

“I know that. But, your face makes it look like you want to slap me most of the time.”

“Because I do.”

“It’s just not the most conducive to convincing my mother to not set me up with the daughter of whichever producer she is trying to impress.”

“I’ll change my face.”

“Change it?”

“I can look like I like you.”

“Really?”

“I’ve been in love before, you know.” Veronica’s hackles are now standing at full attention. “Are you doubting my acting skills?”

“I would never,” Logan says.

“Good. Because I could be the sweetest goddamned fake girlfriend you’ve ever had.” Veronica turns to Parker. “No offense.”

“None taken.”

“I’ll even use pet names. Schmoopsie. Snuggle muffin. Sweet cheeks. What’s your preference?”

“My preference is none of them.”

Still, despite his words, Logan seems to consider it. Veronica takes the time to nibble on one of the slices of bacon from Logan’s plate. If she isn’t mistaken, Parker and Wallace kept shooting each other, what they probably believe to be, covert glances. What are those glances supposed to mean? Does Parker know something too? Damned married couples with their telling each other things.

“My mom does love you,” Logan eventually says.

“See, I already have a leg up,” Veronica says. “And I can absolutely rock a floor length gown.”

“Can you?”

“I was on homecoming court senior year.”

“You were?” She’s not certain which of the voices speaking in unison sound more shocked, Logan’s or Parker’s, but regardless she is deeply offended. She’ll look classy and hot as hell and that will show them.

“Yeah,” Wallace says, “Keith still has the picture hanging up in his house. It’s hilarious.” Veronica glares at him. “Hilarious, because of how great you look. Obviously.”

“I don’t want to make you do this,” Logan says.

Veronica doesn’t have time to question why he would make Parker do this but for some reason wants to spare her.

“Hey.” She reaches up for the hand still draped over her shoulder and laces their fingers together. Logan looks down at her. His eyes are all soft and heavy lidded; like they sometimes get when he’s sleepy.

(She’s also noticed they can kind of look like that when she’s ranting about a coworker. Or, that one time she helped her dad install a fence and came over to Logan’s place after. Her hands were full of splinters and Logan was so careful and gentle, removing each one with a very expensive pair of tweezers.)

“This is going to suck. Isn’t it?” she asks.

He nods. “Yeah. I think it will.”

“Then let me be there for you.” He doesn’t say anything. “I’ll work on my face. Promise.”

That gets him to crack a smile. “If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.”

“Then great.”

“Great.”

“Did I just get replaced?” Parker asks.

Veronica shrugs. “I like nice shoes too, you know.”

Logan gives her hand a squeeze.

Oh. Look at that. She didn’t even notice they were still holding hands.

#vm fanfic #lv fanfic #veronica mars #logan echolls #logan x veronica #p: logan x veronica #otp: the one person #lavellenchanted #never stories

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blackswaneuroparedux · 4 years ago

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Anonymous asked: I really enjoyed your book review of Sebastian Junger’s Homecoming. Perhaps enjoyment isn’t the right word because it brought home some hard truths. Your book review really helped me understand my older brother better when I think back on how he came home from the war in Afghanistan after serving with the Paras and had medals pinned up the yin yang. It was hard on everyone in the family, especially for him and his wife and young kids. He has found it hard going. Thanks for sharing your own thoughts as a combat veteran from that war. Even if you’re a toff you don’t come across as a typical Oxbridge poncey Rupert! As you’re a classicist and historian how did ancient soldiers deal with PTSD? Did the Greeks and Roman soldiers even suffer from it like our fighting boys and girls do? Is PTSD just a modern thing?

Part 1 of 2 (see following post)

Because this is subject very close to my heart as a combat veteran I thought very long and hard about the issues you raised. I decided to answer this question in two posts.

This is Part 1 and Part 2 is the next post.

My apologies for the length but this is subject that deserves full careful consideration.

Thank you for your lovely words and I especially find its heart warming if they touched you. I appreciate you for sharing something of the experience your ex-Para brother went through in coming home from war. I have every respect for the Parachute regiment as one of the world’s premier fighting force.

Working alongside them on missions out in Afghanistan I could see their reputation as the ‘brain shit’ of the British Army was well deserved. They’re most uncouth, sweary, and smelliest group of yobbos I’ve ever had the awful misfortune to meet. I’m kidding. The mutual respect and the ribbing went hand in hand. I doff my smurf hat to the cherry berries as ‘propah soldiers’ as they liked to say especially when they cast a glance over at the other elite regiments like HCav and the guards regiments.

Don’t worry I’ve been called a lot worse! But I am grateful you don’t lump me with the other ‘poncey’ officers. Not sure what a female Rupert is called. The fact that I was never accused of being one by any of those I served with is perhaps something I take some measure of pride. There are not as many real toff officers these days compared to the past but there are a fair few Ruperts who are clueless in leading men under their charge. I knew one or two and frankly I’m embarrassed for them and the men under their charge.

I don’t know when the term PTSD was first used in any official way. My older sister who is a doctor - specialising in neurology and all round brain box and is currently working on the front lines in the NHS wards fighting Covid alongside all our amazing NHS nurses and doctors - took time out one evening to have a discussion with me about these issues. I also talked to one or two other friends in the psychiatric field too. In consensus they agree it was around 1980 when the term PTSD came into usage. Specifically it was the third edition of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM-lll) published by the American Psychiatric Association in 1980 partly because as a result of the ongoing treatment of veterans from the Vietnam War. In the modern mind, PTSD is more associated with the legacy of the Vietnam War disaster.

The importance of whether PTSD affected the ancient Greeks and Romans lies in the larger historical question of to what extent we can apply modern experience to unlock or interpret the past. In the period since PTSD was officially recognised, scholars and psychologists have noted its symptoms in descriptions of the veterans of past conflicts. It has become increasingly common in books and novels as well as articles to assume the direct relevance of present-day psychology to the reactions of those who experienced violent events in the historical past. In popular culture, especially television and film dramas, claims for the historical pedigree of PTSD are now often provided as background to the modern story, without attribution. Indeed we just take it as a given that soldier-warriors in the past suffered the same and in the same way as their modern day counterparts. We are used to the West to map the classical world upon the present but whether we can so easily map the modern world back upon the Greeks and Romans is a doubtful proposition when it comes to discussing PTSD.

Simply put, there is no definitive evidence for the existence of PTSD in the ancient world existed, and relies instead upon the assumption that either the Greeks or Romans, because they were exposed to combat so often, must have suffered psychological trauma.

There are two schools of thought regarding the possibility of PTSD featuring in the Greco-Roman world (and indeed the wider ancient world stretching back into pre-history, myth and legend) – universalism and relativism. Put simply, the universalists argue that we all carry the same ‘wetware’ in our heads, since the human brain probably hasn’t developed in evolutionary terms in the eye blink that is the two thousand years or so since the Greco-Roman Classical era. If we’re subject to PTSD now, they posit, then the Greeks and the Romans must have been equally vulnerable. The relativists, on the other hand, argue that the circumstances under which the individual has received their life conditioning – the experiences which programme the highly individual software running that identical ‘wetware’, if you will – is of critical importance to an individual’s capacity to absorb the undoubted horrors of any battlefield, ancient or modern.

Whichever school one falls down on the side of is that what seems to happen in any serious discussion of the issue of PTSD in the ancient world is to either infer it indirectly from culture (primarily, literature and poetry) or infer it from a comparative historical understanding of ancient warfare. Because the direct evidence is so scant we can only ever infer or deduce but can never be certain. So we can read into it whenever we wish.

In Greek antiquity we have of course The Illiad and the Odyssey as one of the most cited examples when we look at the character traits of both Achilles and Odysseus. From Greek tragedy those who think PTSD can be inferred often point to Sophocles’s Ajax and Euripide’s Heracles. Or they look to Aeschylus and The Oresteia. I personally think this is an over stretch. Greek writers do; the return from war was a revisited theme in tragedy and is the subject of the Odyssey and the Cyclic Nostoi.

The Greeks didn’t leave us much to ponder further. But, with rare exceptions, the works from Graeco-Roman antiquity do not discuss the mental state of those who had fought. There is silence about the interior world of the fighting man at war’s end. So we are led to ponder the question why the silence?

This silence also echoes into the Roman period of literature and history too. Indeed when we turn to the Roman world, descriptions of veterans are rare in the writings that survive from the Roman world and occur most often in fiction.

In the first poem of Ovid’s Heroides, the poet writes about a returned soldier tracing a map upon a table (Ov. Her. 1.31–5):

...upon the tabletop that has been set someone shows the fierce battles, and paints all Troy with a slender line of pure wine: ‘Here the Simois flowed; this is the Sigeian territory, here stood the lofty palace of old Priam, there the tent of Achilles...’

This scene provides an intimate glimpse of what it must have been like when a veteran returned home and told stories of his campaigns: the memories of battle brought to the meal, the crimson trail of the wine offering a rough outline of the places and battlefields he had experienced. The military characters in poems and plays show a world in which soldiers are ubiquitous, if somewhat annoying to the civilians. Plautus, for instance, in his Miles Gloriosus, portrays an officer boasting about his made-up conquests – the model for the braggart in A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum – and Juvenal complains about a centurion who stomps on his sandalled foot in the bustling Roman street.

Despite this silence, compelling works have been written that interweave vivid modern accounts of combat and its aftermath with quotes from ancient prose and poetry. At their best, these comparisons can illuminate both worlds, but at other times the concerns of the present-day author are imposed on the ancient material. But the question remains are such approaches truthful and valid in understanding PTSD in the ancient world?

So if arts and literature don’t really tell us much what about comparative examples drawn from military history itself?

Here again we are in left disappointed.

According to the Greek historian, Herodotus, in 480 B.C., at the Battle of Thermopylae, where King Leonidas and 300 Spartans took on Xerxes I and 100,000-150,000 Persian troops, two of the Spartan soldiers, Aristodemos and another named Eurytos, reported that they were suffering from an “acute inflammation of the eyes,”...Labeled tresantes, meaning “trembler,”. It is that Aristodemos later hung himself in shame. Another Spartan commander was forced to dismiss several of his troops in the Battle of Thermopylae Pass in 480 B.C, “They had no heart for the fight and were unwilling to take their share of the danger.”

Herodotus again in writing about the battle of Marathon in 490 B.C., cites an Athenian warrior who went permanently blind when the soldier standing next to him was killed, although the blinded soldier “was wounded in no part of his body.” Interestingly enough, blindness, deafness, and paralysis, among other conditions, are common forms of “conversion reactions” experienced and well-documented among soldiers today

Outside the fictional world, Roman military history tell us very little.

Appian of Alexandria (c. 95? – c. AD 165) described a legion veteran called Cestius Macedonicus who, when his town was under threat of capture by (the Emperor-to-be) Octavian, set fire to his house and burned himself within it. Plutarch’s Life of Marius speaks of Caius Marius’ behaviour who, when he found himself under severe stress towards the end of his life, suffering from night terrors, harassing dreams, excessive drinking and flashbacks to previous battles. These examples are just a few instances which seem to demonstrate that PTSD, or culturally similar phenomena, may be as old as warfare itself. But it’s worth stressing it is not definitive, just conjecture.

Of course of accounts of wars and battles were copiously written but not the hard bloody experience of the soldier. Indeed the Roman military man is described almost exclusively as a commander or in battle. Men such as Caesar who experienced war and wrote about it do not to tell us about homecoming.

It seems one of main challenges when we try to see military history through the lens of our definition of PTSD is to first understand the comparative nature of military history and what it is we are comparing ie mistaking apples for oranges.

The origin of military history was tied to the idea that if one understood ancient battle, one might fight and, more importantly, one might lead and strategise more effectively. In essence, much of the training of officers – even in the military handbooks of the Greeks and Romans – was an attempt to keep new commanders from making the same mistakes as the commanders of old. Military history is intended to be a pragmatic enterprise; in pursuit of this pragmatic goal, it has long been the norm to use comparative materials to understand the nature of ancient battle.

The 19th Century French military theorist Ardant du Picq argued for the continuity of human behaviour and assumed that the reactions of men under the threat of lethal force would be identical over the centuries: “Man does not enter battle to fight, but for victory. He does everything that he can to avoid the first and obtain the second....Now, man has a horror of death. In the bravest, a great sense of duty, which they alone are capable of understanding and living up to, is paramount. But the mass always cowers at sight of the phantom, death. Discipline is for the purpose of dominating that horror by a still greater horror, that of punishment or disgrace. But there always comes an instant when natural horror gets an upper hand over discipline, and the fighter flees”

These words offer insight to those of us who have never faced the terror of battle but at the same time assume the universality of how combat is experienced, despite changes in psychological expectations and weaponry, to name but two variables.

Another incentive for scholars and researchers is to turn to comparative material has been the growing awareness of the artificiality of how we describe war. A mere phrase such as ‘flank attack’ does not capture the bloody, grinding human struggle. Roman authors – especially those who had not fought – often wrote generic descriptions of battle. Literary battle can distort and simplify even as it tells, but if the main things are right – who won, who lost, and who the good guys are – the important ‘facts’ are covered. Even if one intends to speak the truth about battle, the assumptions and the normative language used to describe violence will affect the telling. We may note that the battle accounts in poetry become increasingly grisly during the course of the Roman Empire (perhaps owing to the growing popularity of gladiatorial games),while, in Caesar’s Gallic War, the Latin word cruor (blood) never appears and sanguis (another Latin word for blood) only appears in quoted appeals (Caes. B. Gall. 7.20, in the mouth of Vercingetorix, and 7.50, where the centurion M. Petronius urges his men to retreat). The realities of the battlefield are described in anodyne shorthand. In much the same way that the news rarely prints or televises graphic images, Caesar does not use gore, and perhaps for the same reason – to give a sense of reportorial objectivity.

Another element in the interpretive scrum is a given author’s goal in writing an account in the first place: Caesar, for example, was writing about himself, and he may have been producing something akin to a political campaign ad. Caesar makes Caesar look great and there is reason to believe that, if he was not precisely cooking the books, he did give them a little rinse to make him look more pristine. Given the many factors that complicate our ability to ‘unpack’ battle narratives, Philip Sabin has argued that the ambiguity and unreliability of the ancient sources must be supplemented by looking at the “form of the overall characteristics of Roman infantry in mortal combat”. Again the modern is used to illuminate that which is obscured by written accounts and the “the enduring psychological strains” are merely unconsciously assumed.

These legitimate uses of comparative materials have led to a sort of creep: because military historians have used observations of how men react to combat stress during battle to indicate continuity of behaviour through time, there appears to be a consequent expectation that men will also react identically after battle. This creep became a lusty stride with modern books written about the ancient world and PTSD.

After I finished my tour in Afghanistan I read many books recommended to me by family and friends as well as comrades. One of these books is well known in military circles - at least amongst the thinking officer class - as an iconic work of marrying the ancient world and the modern experience of war. I read it and I was touched deeply by this brilliant therapeutic book. It was only months later I began to re-think whether it was a true account of PTSD in the ancient world.

This insightful book is called Achilles in Vietnam by Jonathan Shay. Shay is psychiatrist in Boston, USA. He began reading The Iliad with Vietnam veterans whom he was treating. Achilles in Vietnam, is a deeply humane work and is very much concerned with promoting policies that he hoped would help diminish the frequency of post-traumatic stress. His goal was not to explain ancient poetry but to use it therapeutically by linking his patients’ pain to that of the Iliad’s great hero. His book offers a conduit between the reader and the experiences of the men that Shay counsels. In the introduction to this work he makes a nod to Homerists while also asserting the primacy of his own reading:

“I shall present the Iliad as the tragedy of Achilles. I will not glorify Vietnam combat veterans by linking them to a prestigious ‘classic’ nor attempt to justify study of the Iliad by making it sexy, exciting, modern or ‘relevant’. I respect the work of classical scholars and could not have done my work without them. Homer’s poem does not mean whatever I want it to mean. However, having honored the boundaries of meaning that scholars have pointed out, I can confidently tell you that my reading of the Iliad as an account of men in war is not a ‘meditation’ that is only tenuously rooted in the text. “

After outlining the major plot points around which he will organise his argument, he notes, “ ‘This is the story of Achilles in the Iliad, not some metaphorical translation of it”.

The trouble was and continues to be is that many in the historical and medical fields began to rush to unfounded conclusions that Shay, on the issue of PTSD in the ancient world, had demonstrated that the psychological realities of western warfare were universal and enduring. More books on similar comparative themes soon emerged and began to enshrine the truth that PTSD was indeed prevalent throughout the ancient world and one could draw comparative lessons from it.

Perhaps one of the most influential books after Shay was by Lawrence Tritle. Tritle, a veteran himself, wrote From Melos to My Lai. It’s a fascinating book to read and there are parts that certainly resonate with my own experiences and those of others I have known. In the book Tritle drew a direct parallel between the experiences of the ancient Greeks and those of modern veterans. For instance, Xenophon, in his military autobiography, presents a brief eulogy for one of his fallen commanders, Clearchus. Xenophon writes that Clearchus was ‘polemikos kai philopolemos eschatos’ (Xen. An. 2.6) – ‘warlike and a lover of war to the highest degree’.

Tritle comments:

“The question that arises is why men like Clearchus and his counterparts in Vietnam and the Western Front became so entranced with violence. The answer is to be found in the natural ‘high’ that violence induces in those exposed to it, and in the PTSD that follows this exposure. Such a modern interpretation in Clearchus’ case might seem forced, but there seems little reason to doubt that Xenophon in fact provides us with the first known historical case of PTSD in the western literary tradition.”

Arguably in the West and especially our current modern Western culture is predicated at baulking at the notion of being ‘war lovers” as immoral. But such an interpretation speaks more of our modern Christianised ambivalence towards war; to the Spartans and Athenians the term would not have had a negative connotation. ‘Philopolemos’ is, in fact, a compliment, and the list of Clearchus’ military exploits functions as a eulogy. There are points where his analysis does not adequately address the divergences between ancient and modern experiences.

For all the talk of our Western culture being rooted in Ancient Greece and Rome we are not shaped by the same ethics. Our modern ethics and our moral code is Christian. There is no such thing as a secular humanist or atheist both owe a debt to Christianity for the way they have come to be; in many respects it’s more accurate to describe such people as Christianised Humanists or Christian Atheists even if they reject the theological tenets of the religious faith because they use Christian morality as the foundation to construct their own. Many forget just how brutal these ancient societies were in every day life to the point there would be little one could find recognisable within our own modern lives.

Now we come to third point I wish to make in determining where the Greeks or Romans actually experienced PTSD. This is to do with the little understood nature of PTSD itself. As much as we know about PTSD there is still much more we don’t know. Indeed one of the most problematic and complicated issues is the continued disagreement around the diagnosis and specific triggers of the disorder which remain little understood. We have to admit there are competing theories about what causes PTSD but, in terms of experiences that make it manifest, there are essentially three possible triggers: witnessing horrific events and/or being in mortal danger and/or the act of killing – especially close kills where the reality of one’s responsibility cannot be doubted. The last of these was strongly argued in another scholarly book by D. Grossman, On Killing, the Psychological Cost of Learning to Kill in War and Society (1995).

Roman soldiers had the potential to experience all of these things. The majority of Roman combat was close combat and permitted no doubt as to the killer. The comparatively short length of the gladius encouraged aggressive fighting. Caesar recounts how his men, facing a shield wall carried by the taller Gauls, leaped up on top of the shields, grabbed the upper edges with one hand, and stabbed downwards into the faces of their opponents (Caes. B. Gall. 1.52). As for mortal danger, Stefan Chrissanthos in his informative book, Warfare in the Ancient World: From the Rise of Uruk to the Fall of Rome, 3500BC-476AD, puts it this way: “For Roman soldiers, though the weapons were more primitive, the terrors and risks of combat were just as real. They had to face javelins, stones, spears, arrows, swords, cavalry charges, and maybe worst of all, the threat of being trampled by war elephants.”

Such terrors are regularly attested. During his campaign in North Africa, Caesar, noting his men’s fear, procured a number of elephants to familiarise his troops with how best to kill the beasts (Caes. B. Afr.72). It should also be noted that it was not unusual for the reserve line to be made up of veterans because they were better able to watch the combat without losing their nerve. Held in reserve, they had to watch stoically as their comrades were injured and killed, and contemplate the awful fact that they might suffer the same fate. This was not a role for the faint of heart.

However, while the Romans certainly had the raw ingredients for combat trauma, the danger for a Roman legionary was much more localised. Mortars could not be lobbed into the Green Zone, suicide bombers did not walk into the market, and garbage piled on the street did not hide powerful explosives. The danger for a Roman soldier was largely circumscribed by his moments on the field of battle, and even here, if he was with the victorious side, the casualties were likely to be light: at Gergovia, a disaster by Caesar’s standards, he lost nearly seven hundred men (Caes. B. Gall. 7.51). In his victory over Pompey the Great at Pharsalus, his casualties numbered only two hundred (Caes. B. Civ. 3.99).

So we are left with the disturbing question: were the stressors really the same?

This is the part where I also defer to my eldest sister as a doctor and surgeon specialising in neurology and just so much smarter than myself.

My eldest sister holds the view in talking to her own American medical peers that despite similar experiences in Afghanistan and Iraq, British soldiers on average report better mental health than US soldiers.

My sister pointed out to research study done by Kings College London way back around 2015 or so that analysed 34 studies produced over a 15-year period (up to 2015) and found that overall there has been no increase in mental health issues among British personnel - with the exception of high rates of alcohol abuse among soldiers. The study was in part inspired the “significant mental health morbidity” among U.S. soldiers and reports that factors such as age and the quality of mental health programs contribute to the difference between the two nation’s servicemen and women.

She pointed out that these same studies showed that post-traumatic stress disorder afflicts roughly 2 to 5% of non-combat U.K. soldiers returning from deployment, while 7% of combat troops report PTSD. According to a General Health Questionnaire, an estimated 16 to 20% of U.K. soldiers have reported symptoms of common mental disorders, similar to the rates of the general U.K. population. In comparison, studies around the same time in 2014 showed U.S. soldiers experience PTSD at rates of 21 to 29%. The U.S. Department of Veteran Affairs estimated PTSD afflicted 11% of veterans returning from Afghanistan and 20% returning from Iraq. Major depression was reported by 14% of major soldiers according to another study commissioned by RAND corporation; roughly 7% of the general U.S. population reports similar symptoms.

It’s always tough comparing rates between countries and is not a reflection of the quality of the fighting soldier. But one finding that consistently and stubbornly refuses to go away is that over the past 20 years reported mental health problems tend to be higher among service personnel and veterans of the USA compared with the UK, Canada, Germany and Denmark.

However my sister strongly cautioned against making hasty judgements. And there could be many variable factors at play. One explanation is that American soldiers are more likely than their British counterparts to be from the reserve forces. Empirical studies showed reservists from both America and British troops were more likely to experience mental illness post-deployment. It was also worth pointing out that American soldiers also tended to be younger - being younger and inexperienced as well as untested on the battlefield, service personnel would naturally run the risk of greater and be more vulnerable to mental illness.

In contrast, the elite forces of the British army, such as your brother’s Parachute Regiment or the Royal Marines, were found to be the least affected by mental illness. It was found that in spite of elite forces experiencing some of the toughest fighting conditions, they tended to enjoy better mental health than non-elite troops. The more elite a unit is or more professional then you find that troops tend to enjoy a very deep bonds of camaraderie. As such the social cohesion of these fighting forces provides a psychological protective buffer. Not for all, but for many.

More intriguing are new avenues of discovery that might go a long way to actually understanding one of the root causes of PTSD. According to my sister, recent research carried out in the US and Europe and published in such prestigious medical journals as the New England Journal of Medicine (US) and the Lancet (UK), seems to establish a causal link between concussive injury and PTSD.

One recent study looked at US soldiers that concerned itself with the effects of concussive injuries upon troops after their return from active duty during the war in Iraq.

Of the majority of soldiers who suffered no combat injuries of any sort, 9.1 per cent exhibited symptoms consistent with PTSD. This allows a baseline for susceptibility of roughly 10% of the population. A slightly higher number (16.2%) of those who were injured in some way, but suffered no concussion, also experienced symptoms. As soon as concussive injuries were involved, however, the rates of PTSD climbed dramatically.

Although only 4.9% of the troops suffered concussions that resulted in complete loss of consciousness, 43.9% of these soldiers noted on their questionnaires that they were experiencing a range of PTSD symptoms. Of the 10.3% of the unit who suffered concussion resulting in confusion but retained consciousness, more than a quarter (27.3%) suffered symptoms. This suggests a high correlation between head trauma and the occurrence of subsequent psychological problems. The authors of the study note that ‘concern has been emerging about the possible long term effect of mild traumatic brain injury or concussion...as a result of deployment related head injuries, particularly those resulting from proximity to blast explosions’

Although these results are preliminary, if confirmed they have profound implications for anyone trying to understand the nature of warfare in the ancient world, especially the Western world.

So why does it matter?

In Roman warfare, wounds were most often inflicted by edged weapons. Romans did of course experience head trauma, but the incidence of concussive injuries would have been limited both by the types of weapons they faced and by the use of helmets. Indeed the efficacy and importance of headgear for example can be deduced from the death of the Epirrote general Pyrrhus from a roof tile during the sack of Argos. It is likely that the Romans designed their helmets with an eye to blunting the force of the blows they most often encountered. Connolly has argued that helmet design in the Republican period suggests a crouching fighting stance (see P. Connolly, ‘The Roman Fighting Technique Deduced from Armour and Weaponry’, Roman Frontier Studies (1989). However my own view is that the change in helmet design may signal instead a shift in the role of troops from performing assaults on towns and fortifications when the empire was expanding (and the blows would more often rain from above) to the defence and guarding of the frontiers.

While the evidence is clear that concussion is not the only risk factor for PTSD, it is so strongly correlated that it suggests that the incidence of PTSD may have risen sharply with the arrival of modern warfare and the technology of gunpowder, shells, and plastic explosives. Indeed, accounts of shell shock from the First World War are common, and it was in the wake of that war that those observing veterans suspected that neurological damage was being caused by exploding shells.

For soldiers of the Second World War and down to our modern day, an artillery barrage is like an invention of hell.

As one American put it in his memoirs of fighting the Japanese at Peleiu and Okinawa, “I developed a passionate hatred for shells. To be killed by a bullet seemed so clean and surgical but shells would not only tear and rip the body, they tortured one’s mind almost beyond the brink of sanity. After each shell I was wrung out, limp and exhausted. During prolonged shelling, I often had to restrain myself and fight back a wild inexorable urge to scream, to sob, and to cry. As Peleliu dragged on, I feared that if I ever lost control of myself under shell fire my mind would be shattered. To be under heavy shell fire was to me by far the most terrifying of combat experiences. Each time it left me feeling more forlorn and helpless, more fatalistic, and with less confidence that I could escape the dreadful law of averages that inexorably reduced our numbers. Fear is many-faceted and has many subtle nuances, but the terror and desperation endured under heavy shelling are by far the most unbearable” (see E.B. Sledge, With the Old Breed at Peleiu and Okinanwa, 2007).

The psychological effect of shelling seems to result from the combined effect of awaiting injury while at the same time having no power to combat it.

There is another aspect that I alluded to above which is the psychological and societal conditioning of the Roman soldier. In other words a Roman male’s social and cultural expectations of his place in the world. Feelings of helplessness and fatalism were probably a less alien experience for most Romans – even those in the upper classes. In general, the Romans inhabited a world that was significantly more brutal and uncertain than our own.

This another way of saying that the Roman and 21st century combat are very different in a variety of ways that subject the modern soldier to a good deal more stress than the legionary was ever likely to suffer. And the Roman’s societal preparation – his life before the battle – was far more robust than that we enjoy today.

Take infant mortality. In the modern developed world, our infant mortality rates are about ten per thousand. In Rome, it is estimated that this number was three hundred per thousand. Three-tenths of infants would die within the first year, and an additional fifth would not make it to the age of ten - 50% of children would not survive childhood. Anecdotal evidence supports these statistics: Cornelia, the mother of the Gracchi, gave birth to twelve children between 163 bc and 152 bc; all twelve survived their father’s death in 152 bc, but only three survived to adulthood. Marcus Aurelius and his wife, Faustina, had at least twelve children but only the future emperor Commodus survived.  

Then look at how that child grows up. The typical Roman child would be raised in a society that readily accepted ultra-violent arena entertainment, mob justice, frequent and bloody warfare as a fact of life. This was reinforced by religious and societal encouragement to see war as natural and beneficial, open butchering of food animals, a total lack of support structures for the poor and less able.

Compared to the legionary our modern soldier has been protected from such realities to a greater degree than at any other point in history, and will thus be far less well prepared for the horror of a warfare that contains far more stress factors than for a man who might fight a handful of battles in his military career, with long periods of relative calm in between, state of war notwithstanding. Modern special and elite forces training often emphasises the brutalisation and ‘rebuilding’ of the recruit in readiness for this step into darkness, but it seems likely that no such conditioning would have been needed two thousand years ago.

I would argue that we experience war very differently from the way the Romans did. Our modern identity is defined far more by our Western Christian heritage than our Western Classical roots. They are in fact world apart when it comes to ethics and morality. Consider the fact that when we talk of war and killing today we often do so through conflict between our civilian moral codes – which offer the strict injunction not to do violence to other human beings – and wartime, when men are commanded to violate such prohibitions. It is a terrible thing to try to navigate ‘Thou shalt not kill’ and the necessity of taking a life in combat.

It is sometimes the case that the qualities that make the best soldier do not make the best civilian, a point amply attested in Greek poetry by heroes such as Heracles and Odysseus.

The Romans, for their part, celebrated heroes such as Cincinnatus, who could command effectively and then leave behind the power he wielded to return to his humble plough. It is important, however, when evaluating combat and its effects in the ancient world, that we do not read our ambivalence about violence onto the Romans. They inhabited an empire whose prosperity was quite openly tied to conquest.

As M. Zimmerman writes in his academic article, “Violence in Late Antiquity Reconsidered’ (2007), “The pain of the other, seen on the distorted faces of public and private monuments, or heard in the screams of criminals in the amphitheatre, reassured Romans of their own place in the world. Violence was a pervasive presence in the public space; indeed, it was an important basis for its existence, pertaining as it did not only to victories over external enemies but also to the internal order of the state.”

Violence then was both the means and the expression of Roman power. The Roman soldier was its instrument. The Roman warrior then would have brought a different perspective to lethal violence, and would have had a far more restricted moral circle to his modern counterpart – his friends and family, clan, patron and clients, as opposed to millions of fellow citizens via the internet and social media.

Part II follows next post

#question #ask #PTSD #war #roman #greek #classical #legionary #spartan #mental health #depression #trauma #warfare #british army #mental illness #homecoming #soldiers #combat veterans #veterans

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thinkingisadangerouspastime · 3 years ago

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Happy FFWF! What's a relationship dynamic you're interested in writing for and why? A relationship dynamic being like, the brotherly relationship Aang has with Sokka, the potential of a pre-dating flustered Sambucky, Zuko and Iroh being father and son etc.

THANK YOU FOR SENDING SUCH A GREAT QUESTION!! i have already gushed to @ambivalentmarvel about this and now all y'all have to listen too because peaches has given me the opportunity to ramble <3

two wlw rarepair answers, both from the mcu (sorry y'all lmao):

1) romantic sarah wilson and may parker, pining & fluff/humor

first of all. FIRST OF ALL. two widowed, hardworking women who have struggled in life, have raised sons at least partially on their own, and also know the difficulties of superhero life (sarah with sam and may with peter)?? i am Obsessed with the potential dynamic. OBSESSED. all the flirting, omg, so much soft teasing. may dancing all cornily like she does in homecoming and sarah finding it the sweetest thing ever (and also showing her how to dance for real, god bless). sarah helping may with cooking (the INTIMACY of standing close to your crush in the kitchen, okay) and may learning how to cook certain recipes to impress sarah (and probably burning the first few tries). dates on the wilson boat, please and thank you. may getting to really see the stars while in delacroix because lbr, queens has issues with light pollution that delacroix doesn't, and also both of them thinking about how beautiful the other is in the moonlight. may helping sarah navigate new york!! obviously nola dates, too, which we already know i love with sambucky. speaking of sambucky, i was talking with ambi earlier and i think it would be SO FUNNY if in an endgame sarahmay and sambucky fic you have sam flirting with may and sarah flirting with bucky just to annoy each other (note: bucky and may would either be aware and totally okay with it and/or it's very harmless flirting that's not misleading and stuff. if that makes sense lol). i just think these ladies would be so sweet together!!

also, fun bonus: the family dynamic that comes with it! peter would be a hit with aj and cass and would ofc adore them in return. sam is perpetually annoyed by peter but also (begrudgingly) cares for the kid, too.

2) romantic sarah wilson and pepper potts, yearning & hurt/comfort

the a n g s t potential gets me here. once again, you have two widowed, hardworking women who have struggled in life, have raised children at least partially on their own, and know the difficulties of superhero life (sarah with sam and pepper with tony), but here there are some Important Differences. namely, the class/status/whatever you wanna call it difference. that's just a fact of canon, and i think that's what makes this potential pairing so Painful (in a good way!). because in most scenarios, i just don't think their relationship would work out in the long term (although y'all know me, i can OBVIOUSLY also think of happy endings tyvm) because their lives strongly clash in that sense. maybe they meet at some hero-related event sam brings sarah to, and tbh i like the idea of there being some immediate attraction between them (romantic, sexual, whatever floats your boat) and going from there. again, the FLIRTING and TEASING, i love it. i feel like they would have a lot of fun with each other and possibly even fall in love, and then of course you can decide if you want to go a) angst route, where even though their lives feel more complete with the other in it, there are things they can't sacrifice and thus have to break it off or b) HAPPY ENDING, DAMMIT, which is always a valid option.

anyways, as i said yesterday (?), im back on my wlw rarepair bullshit. no one in the mcu fandom is safe! thank you and good night :)

#look what you've done peaches. i've talked too much #sarah wilson #may parker #pepper potts #sarahmay #peppersarah #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #tfatws #spider-man #iron man #amy answers #ffwf #itsmoonpeaches

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st-just · 4 years ago

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Some writing from a game

Because I’m like..60% happy with it and I feel like it should have a potential audience of, like, at least a dozen people.

(Also, if you look very closely you might be able to see the influence of the last couple things I read)

The palace of the Melquart was as poorly defended as she had been promised – the nephilim garrison were either dead or damned, depending on the rumour you believed, and either way far away in the old capital. The local troops were mostly gone as well, sent to suppress a rebellion among the hill tribes – by the time they realized the reports and requests for aid were forgeries, it would be far too late. Even the guards which remains wouldn’t prove much use, their evening meal having been liberally spiced with sedatives to leave them slow-witted and sluggish. Everything was, in short, exactly how Itireae ir’Naeh had been promised it would been, carefully arranged to ensure the once-princesses homecoming would be as smooth and frictionless as possible. Not that she looked much like a princess anymore, of course – months of exile in the badlands had taken their toll, even before the injections of quicksilver and adamant had left her with monochrome eyes and sickly blue veins pressing against her skin. Still, she would gladly make every sacrifice and compromise over again, if it brought her here. After all, what good was a child who wouldn’t do what was necessary to avenge their father? With her new sight, the iron frame of the palace’s upper windows shone in the pre-dawn light, and it was a simple matter of will pull herself towards them – by now the pulsing, burning pain from her veins was almost a comfort, as she gracefully flew through the night to alight on the windowsill. It hung open in the warm fall air, and it was barely any effort to pull herself inside. She moved fast. Even if she couldn’t see the golden treasures piled high in the Melquart’s bedroom, she knew her way their by heart. She passed five guards on her way, and four four didn’t break her stride – a handful of iron needles pulled from one of the pounces hanging off her belt and pushed with more force then an a longbow towards each made sure they never got up. The last was someone important – a royal bodyguard or captain, sleeping on a bed in the antechamber to the Malequart’s apartments. He she recognized – he had just as happy to have a place of honour at her fathers side, before the giants called down fire from the sky and massacred his entire host. And so she paused and drew her glass daggers, and took the time to make sure he recognized her before she let him die. The Melquart was a Lumor, god-blooded, close to three yards tall, with flowing, braided crimson hair and a matching beard which grew fiery in truth when he was enraged – as he was now, charging through the door of his apartments in nothing but a robe, sacred and deadly bronze axe held in both hands, to find his bodyguard bleeding out before him. Which nicely distracted him as Itireae sent the first barrage of iron needles and blades flying towards him from her perch on the ceiling. His roar as the blades dug into his back and spilled his sacred blood was so loud it was almost painful to hear. But then, she wasn’t the intended audience – and his divine grandfather seemed to understand perfectly. The room filled with a wrathful and ruddy light, and Itireae had to leap to the floor to avoid the blast of divine fire the lumor threw from his hands, letting out a gasp of pain at her awkward landing on the stone floor. The holy runes etched on the Melquart’s axe glowed with an angry red light as he approached her, nothing but pure, deadly rage in his words. “I don’t know what you are, but if you start begging now I’ll just cut you down. Keep fighting, and you’re going to suffer. Burning slow so all the other humans know the penalty for striking the blood of the Sun.” Whatever reaction he expected, Itireae’s unsteady laughter wasn’t it. Her hands trembled as she spoke, grabbing a thankfully unbroken vial off her belt. “Me? I’m no-one, not after tonight. Just one more debt you monsters never bothered to settle.” She poured the vial down her throat, and tried to ignore her body screaming in protest as she started burning its contents before they were metabolized. A thin trail of black, acrid smoke leaked from her mouth, as her veins began to glow an unearthly blue. And the Melquart, axe raised for a killing blow, staggered and gasped in pain. Her fingers were bloody, gripping the seams between stones on the floor to keep from being slammed into his chest – but it worked. His fire went out as the light faded from his eyes, the blades buried in his back pulled through his heart and lungs until they pierced the skin of his chest as well. She made sure, of course – used her glass daggers to cut his throat and put out his eyes, and open every major vein and artery. And then, satisfied, she set to work cleaning up after herself. It was close to noon when she finally limped to their meeting place, lightly scorched from divine flame and throat too raw to speak from rushed alchemy. Still, her patron was waiting for her, wearing the face of the well-fed caravan driver she had travelled here with – though that disguise was beginning to crack, every hair already a pristine white and eyes faintly glowing, color starting to fade from their outfit. Turning to her with a slight smile and a nod, they said “Given the fire at the palace, I trust you have settled your personal affairs?” At her nod she gestured to the horses “Then we should be going. You have a higher purpose now, and the journey will give you time to consider a suitable new name.” They made good time on the trip south, as behind them the last vestige of Phanosine rule in the far east collapsed into succession struggle and anarchy. ----------------------------------------------- Tymon Sol managed to survive in the forest on his own for nearly two weeks. As soon as the strange, massive ships had been sighted and the chief and captains ordered their men to assemble, he’d heard the whispers of ruin and disaster on the wind. By the time the strange, green-coated soldiers had arrived and demanded unconditional surrender, her had already donned his mother’s mask and cloak, and taken everything he could carry. By the time the first cannon fired, he was so far away he could barely hear them. He had found an ancient tree, and made a camp beneath its canopy, hiding it from man and beast, rain and wind, anything the flew or crawled or bit or stung. Since then he had almost never taken off the cloak or mask – hiding him from anything but the spirits, and letting him see their guidance to the food and water he needed. All of which was to say, he had finally begun to feel safe. And so he was not at all prepared when something was waiting for him. It was dressed like an officer of the soldiers who had invaded his village, though its uniform was decorated with gold brocade and some sort of extra decoration. And otherwise totally devoid of color – snow white hair, pale skin, and clothing that remained pristinely and perfectly white even as it stood in the mud and leaned against his tree. Its eyes glowed faintly with a cold light, and when he looked at it he saw all the spirits who had protected his camp had shied away from touching it. It, meanwhile, looked down at a pocketwatch in its hand with apparent fascination. Either unable to perceive Tymon beneath his cloak or unconcerned with his presence as he stared and froze in panic. After a long, terrifying minute the watch let out a chime and it spoke in a soft, pleasant voice. “You are quite difficult to find, ghost-child. Before your spirits gaze I swear not to harm you, but I hope you will not force me through this effort again.” Trying to remain calm, he circled around it, trying to see if there were any other soldiers. Eventually, satisfied to find no footprints or hidden men, he responded, speaking from the mouth of a bird perched above her. “What do you want, then? You’re one of them, aren’t you? The soldiers who destroyed my home?” It sounded genuinely sorrowful as it replied. “That should not have happened. My peer was here as a mercenary, a role which does not agree with them. They were needlessly harsh, in the interests of haste, and the marines followed their example as well as their commands.” “Then, what, you’re here to say you’re sorry? Offer to build me a new house? I swear I won’t accept an-” “Please listen before you speak rashly child. I am not here to offer empty words or simple blood money. Might you here my offer, before you reject it? If you do, then I will accept your answer, should you desire, leave you be.” “...alright, fine. Talk.” “Your family is fascinating. Five generations of power and worth carefully gathered, every action judged, the petty gods of nature whispering in your ear, whatever life you wished to have forgotten under the duty you inherit. It’s a great burden, for someone so young. And it will not grow any easier – the island’s new princes are brutes, liars and cheats. You could resist them, and see your family suffer, or serve them, and forsake every fragment of purpose within you.” “My family? Who do you mean? Have you done anything to them?” It smiled, slightly. “Yes. One hundred thirty-eight potential heirs, although beyond the first dozen they are wholly unprepared and would despoil your inheritance quite quickly. And absolutely nothing, beyond identifying them. I would like to help them, offer them new lives with warm homes, food and medicine, and the assurance that they will never have to worry about being hunted down. But for that, you will have to come with me first. You will do good on a grander scale, and in return none of them will ever want for safety or comfort. Would you not at least consider the deal?” It paused then, waiting for a response. Tymon didn’t have one. After a silent eternity, it closed the pocket watch and gave a slight shrug. “I will return at this time tomorrow. I hope you will be here.” It walked out of the tree’s canopy and stood in the sunlight, took a deep breath and looked directly at the sun. And then it was gone. Tymon spent the next day and night performing every augury who could think of – it had never been a talent of his, truthfully. But the answers were all resoundingly clear. When the soldier in white returned the next day, he was waiting for it. -------------------------------------------------------- Three months latter, and the people who had once been Itireae and Tymon were ready. The ritual was not exactly difficult – it did not take a great deal of power, and could theoretically be performed anywhere. But it was exceedingly intricate and precise. Hira stood before the two kneeling inductees, both dressed in the dull grey robe and bright red fez of a Janissary without official rank. The room they stood in had, minutes before, been almost claustrophobic. But as the seven layers of exactingly drawn circles on the floor began to glow and turn in time with some grand cosmic clockwork, the walls and ceiling faded away. They were outside, and the night sky was bright and full of stars – though the constellations were foreign to them, and the light cold and alien. “Do you forsake inheritance and legacy, kith and kin, family and tribe? Do you forswear all covenants you have made, and revile all those who would demand your loyalty by love or affection?” The two answered at once “I do.” “Do you pledge yourselves to the service of Principle, to the creation of a rational and compassionate world, and the interests of the Esheri Republic, selflessly and without expectation of or right to comfort, safety or power?” “I do.” “Do you accept your role as the agents of history, and that you will be called to use and expend yourselves as necessity requires, without regard for you own selfish wants or particular affections, and will die and be forgotten with no memorial but the world you will help create?” Again they replied “I do”. As they did, the alien starlight seemed to solidly around them, pouring down their throats as they spoke, marking them indelibly. Hira smiled widely, opening her arms in welcome as she spoke “Then rise, Avra and Erem, and join us in engineering paradise.”

#writing #total war #this is theoretically a writing blog

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josiie · 3 years ago

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HELLO!!!!! i’m maggie and i am so excited to start writing in this group!!!! my character is the absolute love of my life, josie mirren and i’ve included some fun background information under the cut so give that a look if you want and feel free to message me or to give this post a like if you’d want to plot!!

𝐅𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐒.

FULL NAME: Josephine Elise Mirren NICKNAMES: Josie, Jo AGE: 23 FACECLAIM: Florence Pugh DATE OF BIRTH: November 10th, 1996 ZODIAC: Scorpio Sun, Leo Moon, Taurus Rising GENDER: Cisgender Female SEXUALITY: Bisexual MBTI: ENFP

𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃.

Josie grew up in California but went to Makai during the summers with her family for her whole life and really loved it!

Her family is pretty big and she has several siblings and is the second oldest child.

Her older sister, Sadie, was always the golden child of the family and was as close to perfect as someone can get. She somehow managed to be the valedictorian of her graduating class, captain of soccer team, student body president and won homecoming queen in her senior year. She was gifted in basically every possible way. Everyone loved Sadie and because the high school that they attended was fairly small, Josie was always known as “Sadie’s younger sister” rather than her own person.

Because of the association of her sister, it was hard to find her own sense of self. Throughout high school, Josie tended to drift between various friend groups as well as different extracurriculars and never really found anything that stuck.

As she grew up, there was always pressure to live up to standards that her sister had set. Even though she worked hard, she was never as though she was able to do anything quite as well as her Sadie.

Her sister ended up going to Yale and then to law school so the bar was set pretty much impossibly high in that regard.

After high school, Josie went to UC Berkeley (go Bears!) and majored in political science. She planned on going to law school as well, not really because it was what she wanted but because she felt that it was expected of her.

She should be in her senior year currently but during the summer between her sophomore and junior year she realized that she didn’t care about or enjoy what she was doing at all. Since then, she’s been taking time off since then to try and figure out what she wants to do with her life.

This all happened when she was on a summer trip to Makai with her family and things worked out for her because she was able to find another family on the island who was looking for a nanny and got the job and has yet to move back home.

Basically she’s just really straight up trying to find out who she is and to create an identity for herself that isn’t an extension of her sister or shaped the expectations of her parents for the first time in her life.

She is so soft, pls love her

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒.

I’d really love to do basically anything but here are a couple connections that I’d like to fill off the top of my head. If you’d be interested in any of them, just give this post a like and I’ll send you a message! <3

FAMILY Sibling(s) - SO in my head I sort of see the Beaufort family as having at least a couple more kids other than just Josie and Sadie. I obviously sort of have an idea of who Sadie is and what she would be like but I would love to have some plots with some of the other siblings! I know this wouldn’t rly work for pre-established characters that have already been figured out BUT if any of y’all are ever interested in doing something of that nature in the future….. let me know!! Cousins / Non-Immediate Family Members - Again, could apply to the above but also if any of y’all want to figure out a family relationship that’s something other than siblings for one of your muses, I’d be into it!

PLATONIC Childhood Friends – I’d love to write a relationship with another person who either grew up going to Makai or grew up on the island and has been friends with Josie as they grew up.

Roommate(s) – Rent is expensive SO if any of y’all want to figure out a little living situation, that could be kind of cute

NEGATIVE Exes?? Like I said, I’m basically down for whatever so if there’s something that you’re dying to do, feel free to tell me all about it!

OKAY that’s about it!! super excited to write with y’all and get to know your muses! <3

#this took me forever and a day to post bc i've been on vacation so sorry y'all #but YEAH #give this a like if you wanna plot and i'll shoot you a message! <3 #-ˏˋ ☼ — intro.

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rootsmachine · 4 years ago

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lost somewhere, somehow along the way

(aka yeah i did write walker fic, cancel me) cordell/hoyt, pre-canon, 1619 words [ao3]

Cordell Walker and Duke Culpepper have exactly one thing in common: Hoyt Rawlins.

It’s dangerous, and ill-advised, and just plain stupid. It would take one person poking around too much into Hoyt’s past for them to find article after article from your high school newspaper with your face, your name, your arm slung over Hoyt’s shoulder after a homecoming game.

But Clint needs a wheelman, and he brought it up all casual, but you know it’s a test. Bring someone onto the team, have the robbery go off without a hitch, and you’re in. You stopped asking permission before making decisions months ago, so you don’t let anyone know until the night before, weeks after you first floated Hoyt’s name. The text has barely sent when Liam calls you, and you block his number, turn your burner off instead.

You’ve always trusted Hoyt with your life. It’s more than you can say about any of the morons James could have provided.

Twyla’s still asleep when you leave the next morning, and you stick a note to the bathroom mirror for her. She’s nothing like Emily, which is the only way you can manage to do what you’re doing. Lying next to her in bed, everything that makes you yourself fades back into the smallest corner of your mind, and you’re just Duke. This, you make a mental note to yourself, is something you should gloss over in your psych eval after this is all over.

It’s almost an hour’s drive to the address Hoyt gave you to pick him up at. It gives you enough time to relax Duke just a bit, practice what you’re going to say to Hoyt once he’s in your truck. Part of you hopes that he didn’t bother to get your cover down, so you have something concrete to talk about for the drive back. Otherwise, he might be tempted to joke about the summer after your senior year, like he always does.

Hoyt’s jokes don’t usually even faze you, but today has to go perfectly. As soon as you get back to Twyla’s apartment, Duke has to be absolutely solid, absolutely trustworthy, and absolutely embedded in her life. After all, Duke’s never slept with the wheelman he volunteered for the job. That was Cordell, and today, Cordell has got to be as good as dead.

Of course, the address Hoyt gave you was to a bar. He’s sitting alone in a booth, drinking a beer at 9:30am.

“Beau, I thought you’d never make it,” he says when you slide into the seat across from him.

“It’s Duke,” you answer, and you let Duke’s accent come across a little heavier. “Duke Culpepper.”

He laughs, flagging down the sole waitress, who looks none too pleased to be serving Hoyt more booze. “Another beer for me, and whatever your cheapest whiskey is for Duke here. Or does he have another drink of choice?”

“That’s fine,” and a voice that’s probably whatever’s left of your self-preservation instinct reminds you that you have to drive back to Twyla’s, that it’s not even 10am. You ignore it. You’ve been doing that a lot lately. Hoyt lets you finish your drink in silence, and doesn’t say anything when you motion to the waitress for a second one. Last time you saw him was at Emily’s funeral, and you’re almost positive you’ll kill him if he brings it up. You know he won’t though -- he knows you better than that.

“So, Duke,” and the name falls easily from his mouth. He’s a good liar, you know this, and Liam can go fuck himself with whatever objections he would have had to this. “I know all about you, but what about me? Who am I playing here?”

“You’re Hoyt,” you answer shortly. “You’re not playing anyone.”

“Hoyt and Duke, though,” he starts, raising his eyebrows at you. You slam the empty glass on the table so hard the waitress jumps a little, glancing over at you and Hoyt like she wants you to get the fuck out.

“Are friends. I worked a job with you back in Arizona, you’re in San Antonio now looking for some work. That’s it.” Your phone buzzes, and you know it’s Twyla without even looking.

“Show time?” Hoyt asks, already pulling out his wallet.

“Show time,” and you try to give the waitress an apologetic Cordell smile on the way out. From the look on her face, it falls more than flat.

The job goes smoothly, more smoothly than you had even allowed yourself to hope for. Clint won’t tell you how much he got from the vaults, but from the way he nods at you as Hoyt tears away from the scene, you know you’re in.

You meet Twyla at another bar, and she throws her arms around you, kissing you hard. She tastes like bubblegum, you process distantly, and vodka.

“Too bad Crystal’s gonna be back from her hearing next week,” she says, glancing over at Hoyt, who’s watching you more intently than you like. “Otherwise, we might just have more work for you.”

“Ah,” he says, his smile big and fake, “I’m just glad to help out an old friend,” and he smacks you on the back. “Next round’s on me, yeah?”

By the time Clint comes inside, still talking to Crystal on the phone, you’ve lost count of the number of shots you’ve done, and Twyla is practically sitting in your lap. Everything is pleasantly fuzzy, and you realized probably four drinks ago that two of the three people you’ve ever slept with are sitting at this table. Sober, this realization would make you want to drink, but the tequila Twyla keeps buying makes it almost funny.

Clint leaves early, casually dropping that the babysitter had to go home before it got too late, which makes you remember with a sickening twist what exactly will happen to his and Crystal’s kid if you do your job right. Duke doesn’t have kids though, so you just squeeze Twyla’s hip and make some halfhearted joke about letting the old folks head home. The room feels too small, too warm, and it’s easy for you to blame it on the alcohol.

The bar’s bathroom is dirty, and smells like old cigarettes, but it’s quiet and empty, and no one’s there to watch when you fill up the grimy sink and hold yourself under the water until your lungs are screaming.

When you come up, wet and gasping, Duke’s face fits seamlessly over your own again, the cracks smoothed back over. Someone makes a noise by the door, and you spin around, hand already going to the gun tucked in your waistband.

“Calm down, cowboy,” and it’s just Hoyt, leaning against the doorframe, watching you with that same intent look. “Your girl sent me back, wanted to make sure you weren’t puking your guts up like a high schooler.”

“A man can’t piss without the third degree?” you snap, and Hoyt holds his hands up in mock surrender.

“Don’t shoot the messenger. Twyla says you’re a lightweight,” and yeah, that is part of this cover. Supposed to keep you from drinking too much and losing control of the situation.

In another lifetime, you would have dragged Hoyt into one of the empty stalls, and done whatever you wanted to him. With him. It’s how this started, drunk in a bar that overlooked your fake IDs, fresh off Emily breaking up with you post-graduation, and your best friend the only one who understood.

But: you’re not him anymore, so you carefully dry off your hands and let the bathroom door slam shut behind you.

Twyla offers to let Hoyt sleep on her couch, but he shrugs it off. Logically, you know the less time Duke spends with him the better, but there’s some selfish part of you that doesn’t want to give up the familiarity just yet.

You walk him to the bus station, and don’t let him tell you where he’s going next. You know you’re already in a fuck ton of trouble with James for the way everything’s gone down, and you need plausible deniability when Hoyt continues down the path you know he’s on. The bus station is empty, which is the only reason you let yourself sit on the hard, plastic bench next to him.

“Duke,” he says and his voice is soft, in a way you’re used to him using to talk to your mom, and everything feels wrong. “Call me if you need a hand again?”

You nod, clap him on the shoulder. Twyla’s probably already wondering where you are, and you stand to leave. Hoyt’s not done though, and he grabs your wrist as you start to leave.

“Don’t lose yourself in this, Cordy,” and you’ll let the name slide, just this once. He lets go almost as quickly as he grabbed you, and you’re left disoriented, wondering if it even happened at all.

The walk back to Twyla’s is cold, or maybe you’re still drunk, or maybe high off the adrenaline of the job. Whatever it is, the walk is cold and fast and you pretend you’re too drunk to have sex with her when you finally crawl into bed.

You drape your arm across her waist instead, tuck her head under your chin, and make yourself push Cordell far, far away.

Three weeks later, Clint will ask if Hoyt’s available to do another job, and you’ll lie, claiming he’s been caught violating parole in Oklahoma, and you can see if any of your other contacts are available. You’ll call James for the first time in almost a month to check in, and you won’t feel anything at all.

#as someone actively running a supernatural blog in the year 2021 im not about to be ashamed of things i like NOW #walker #cordell walker #anyways this show is fun im enjoying myself and here this is if anyone else is Also watching this show #cordell walker is absolutely having a Terrible time and he's making Terrible decisions and i support him in it <3 #fic*

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chingonaclawsarchive · 4 years ago

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* Note: Since LOGAN takes place in a dystopian world set in the 20th Century Fox world of their ‘XMEN’ in 2029 -- I’ve had to tweak Laura’s canon timeline to fit in with the MCU. These are my compiled ideas/notes for where Laura would/might fit in, according to the MCU timeline. This can also be amended/altered depending upon who I am writing with & whatever stories we come up with on the sides. I will update/list those verses within this list as well. XO. - Betty.

2012. AVENGERS. ✗ verse: ( mcu 001. avengers. ) i am not my enemy.

2002, Alkali-Transigen aka ‘Essex Corp’ ) conducts it’s second round of the Weapon-X program utilizing children ‘perfected’ in a lab/facility. Laura Howlett ( known as X23 amid the program ) was ‘born’ into the program, the daughter of an unknown Latina woman ( who is more than likely murdered by the company shortly after Laura’s birth ) & James Howlett aka The Wolverine. 2012, a 7 year-old ‘killing dream’ begins her hardcore training under the Transigen umbrella, having grown up within their cage and knowing nothing but life within ‘The Facility’. During the events of ‘The Avengers’, Transigen ( more than likely a subsidiary or sister-company to HYDRA ) attempts to gather knowledge/the power of the alien forces that attack Earth. It is quite possible during this attack, the Xmen join the Avengers. - Transigen utilizes newer technology to harness a killing serum that triggers and strengthens the children’s mutant abilities. Through the years they continue to medicate and test the formula out on the children, including Laura; to which they discover if they choose a specific target, she will stop at nothing until said target is vanquished.

2015. AGE OF ULTRON. ✗ verse: ( mcu 002. ultron. ) i can do anything.

2013, 8-year-old Laura, along with her ‘brothers and sisters’ attempt to escape from the underground jail in Mexico ( where she was ‘born’ ) when given word/hope of a safe haven full of mutant-kind. The children are provided stories with the help of comic books smuggled into the facility. Some of which include stories of The Avengers, while others house a storyline shadowing the truth about the XMEN. Upon their first attempt of escape, the children are unsuccessful, and Essex Corp demands that they relocate to a ‘more secure’ unit in New York City. In 2015, the attack of ULTRON commences, more or less rocking the hard walls of the New York facility to rubble. For the most part, with the help of HYDRA, Transigen is able to gather up their little ‘test subjects’, some having successfully gotten away, sadly Laura not being among them. 2016, an 11-year-old Laura with the help of the nurses, including Gabby, leads the pack to escape once more. It’s here Laura encounters her father ( Wolverine/James LOGAN Howlett ), Xavier & Caliban by psionic-ally following Charles’ guidance. During this timeline she goes on the wild chase, running from Transigen and relying on what remains of Logan’s strength. The climax ends with Xavier’s passing and Logan’s sacrifice, and the children successfully fleeing for the Canadian border to ‘Eden’ aka the safe haven which turns out to be a new school for the gifted, headlined by a group of vigilante mutants ( aka, the plotline of Mangold’s LOGAN. ) It should also be noted that during this time period, the X-men are dwindling/dying out, and going into hiding due to many people either wanting to lock them up out of fear or provide them ID badges and what not ( similar to the plot of the ‘Civil War’ in the comics. )

2017. CIVIL WAR. ✗ verse: ( mcu 003. civil war. ) my choice mine.

At 12, Laura quietly slips from the safe haven ( headmistress at this time being Emma Frost ) , feeling as though she’s really more of a danger than anything else, specifically due to the ‘death’ serum. Laura cannot control herself when injected with it, especially if she’s provided a ‘target’. To think she could end up killing one of her own terrifies her, not to mention the more she keeps running the less likely Transigen is to discover her. During the time of the Avengers’ ‘Civil War’ ( between Tony & Steve ), Laura is only a child but spotted through the streets of New York. A time or two, Tony witnesses the feral child having pick-pocketing or slyly stealing a thing or two of necessity. Unable to confine the child or discover her whereabouts, he becomes aware of the ‘mutant strain’ in DNA, now knowing there is far more to this life than other worlds, planets, Norse gods and experimental projects gone wrong like Banner -- Hydra’s been hiding the secret unit to which not only have they began to suppress the X-gene that creates the ‘mutants’ but that they’ve been testing the effects of their serums and juices and what have you on children more-or-less created in a lab with the specific function of utilizing them as some ultimate mutant army. It is a terrible and harsh reality and one he does not take to lightly. Contrary to the comics’ canon ( & the Xmen’s Civil War ) when Tony discovers she is a mutant child born and raised the way she was, he almost feels an obligation to protect her from others who felt mutants ought to be branded or ID’d and what not. ( A bit contradictory to the Xmen comics, I know, but it makes sense when you think of Steve/Capt America in the comics and how against Laura he was in the beginning, I feel he’d be a little apprehensive in the MCU as well. This could change depending upon whom I’m writing with. ) On the search for a place to help her ‘lay low’, Tony keeps her at the compound, until Pepper insists she just come on home with her. ( Again, this can be adapted depending upon the individual story. )

2018. HOMECOMING. ✗ verse: ( mcu 004. homecoming. ) are you sure i deserve salvation?

At age 13, since Pepper thinks it best that the pre-teenage girl get used to a ‘normal’ life, Laura begins attending public school, where she continues to attempt to ‘lay low’. Of course she does her very best to fit in, though there are many ‘human’ things she’s unaware of such as personal space and certain topics of speech. She basically follows the lead of people she feels she can trust like Peter Parker. Technically since Laura also ages much slower than most everyone, she will be a teenager for a longer period in her life. It is within these confines that she learns more about humanity, her compassion for the human race quite evident and her curiosity ever the more present. She spends a lot of time making up for lost time in her childhood, things she’s never discovered, places she’s never been -- a life she never knew she could have. 2019/2023. ENDGAME. ✗ verse: ( mcu 005. endgame. ) i’m f*cking wolverine.

During INFINITY WAR ( obviously just prior to this timeline ) Laura of course fights along side the team sustaining little to no injury even though she could’ve severed a limb or two, due to her mutation, she recovers rather quickly. Upon the realization that she could lose her family of mutants with Thanos’ plan, she scurries to get back to the school, begging many of the others to fight along side the Avengers. She succeeds in convincing several of the XMEN, including but not limited to Emma Frost, to take part in the battle... but it is only to their demise as her healing is too rapid for his ‘curse’ and rather than fluttering into ash, she witnesses all those she holds dear dissipate having to see, once again, the utter destruction of those she holds dear. It tears her apart from the inside. In 2023, Laura is just about to turn 17. -- Upon Tony’s return from space (2019), and the realization that Pepper hadn’t been taken away, Laura barricades herself within the hope she can have a somewhat normal family. She stays with Pepper and Tony, far away from the compound. She takes up her roll as a sister-figure to Morgan, something she absolutely takes seriously. She’d give it all up for this little girl -- hell, for this family. Tony stands in as an unlikely father-figure, but even moreso, Pepper as her mother. ( Again, these choices can be adapted/tweaked depending upon the storyline/plot we have -- maybe Laura grew up at the compound, or with someone else or with Aunt May... the possibilities/ what-ifs are endless... She could’ve also gone off on her feral way, etc etc. )

When the final battle hits, and those who were taken away appear within the portals, a sudden relief washes over her. She has much more to fight for, and she gives it her all. But it is at the loss of Tony where she feels her world crumble once more, wondering if she should go off on her own and call it good, because it seems no matter where she attempts to land, there is far more loss to be had. She contemplates whether or not Logan had it correct when he was always insistent they stay far away from people, isolate and keep to themselves. Of course that was a much different time in the world and Transigen/Hydra has/have more things to worry about than hunting her down lately -- still, it’s a threat. With Peter Parker’s ( and possibly others ) insistence, she remains close by. 2023/24. FAR FROM HOME. ✗ verse: ( mcu 006. far from home. ) el que con lobos anda a aullar se enseña.

Basically, Laura ( now, tech, post-snap almost 18 ) is hanging out with SHIELD, there to aid Peter where needed, more or less helping to keep an eye on him, along with Happy doing her best to stay out of trouble.

#ooc.#✗ soy yo. ╱ lil messican girl is ooooouuuttt.#( mcu timeline. )#✗ verse: ( mcu ) como se cura una herida.#✗ verse: ( mcu 001. avengers. ) i am not my enemy.#✗ verse: ( mcu 002. ultron. ) i can do anything.#✗ verse: ( mcu 003. civil war. ) my choice mine.#✗ verse: ( mcu 004. homecoming. ) are you sure i deserve salvation?#✗ verse: ( mcu 005. endgame. ) i’m f*cking wolverine.#✗ verse: ( mcu 006. far from home. ) el que con lobos anda a aullar se enseña.#long post #long post for ts #* i cannot express enough how laura is a MINOR in most if not ALL of these verses !!!!! k thank bye. xx #✗ ¿merezco la salvación? ╱ headcanon.

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becksfm · 5 years ago

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hey CASEY “BECK” BECKHAM , welcome to dillon university . has anyone ever told you you’re GAVIN LEATHERWOOD’s twin ? no ? well okay , i heard you are TWENTY - TWO & a JUNIOR at the university . we hope BIOCHEMISTRY isn’t kicking your ass too much , especially since you’re a STUDENT PHYSICAL TRAINER . see you at the next game, BECK & character’s cismale + he/him .

it’s me & i’m here for round fuckin’ two , friends . this time i bring you resident GOLDEN BOY . . . a whole 6′1 of soft boy energy . . . floppy overgrown curls . . . king of talking - your - way - out - of - everything . . . retired hockey player . . . a man of Many Talents , of which the most astounding is his ability to look like he’s got it all together when , in fact , he does not ! under the cut , you’ll find a lil more about him . . . & if you wanna plot hmu @ 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙠𝙚𝙨 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙣#9956 on discord or pop into my ims here !!

𝑩 𝑨 𝑪 𝑲 𝑮 𝑹 𝑶 𝑼 𝑵 𝑫 .

dillon , texas born & raised . on the outskirts of town is a ranch that is enough to house the beckham family: mom, dad, and all eight beckham children . beck is the second oldest , with one older sister , four younger sisters , and two younger brothers . . . not necessarily in that order .

mother , sophia mattheson - beckham is a lawyer based in austin working with the ACLU , and father , michael beckham has a small private practice in dillon working as a pediatrician . they weren’t home often , but when they were , they spent as much time with the kiddos as possible . it’s just . . . they were so rarely home that it really didn’t matter.

with the beckham name, though, comes the pressure to be SOMETHING GREAT , and that’s something that’s been a part of beck’s life since . . . he can remember . little league & kindergarten grades were always taken a little too seriously , and it didn’t help that his older sister was a shining example of perfection .

growing up it was hard not to like him. he was quiet for the most part , but goofy when he wasn’t . there was a little extra charm about him that just gave him an all around magnetic pull . kids wanted to be his friend and he wanted to be theirs . he fit in , but around home , he was the odd man out . beck was always a little more interested in sports rather than math or music rather than reading . it wasn’t to say he wasn’t smart , it just kind of –– bored him?? where his family was v

there was give and take with beck–– the golden boy of dillon but the black sheep of the family . he could play hockey if he kept his grades up. he could take guitar if he was also on student government and model u.n.. his parents would applaud him on his grades but never cared to hear him play; they’d show up for debates but rarely ever saw a hockey game. it was touch and go, his relationship with them, and it still is.

DESPITE IT ALL though, you wouldn’t catch him complaining. he bore the crown of homecoming king his senior year and never went to a dance without a date. teachers loved him, so did his coaches. he found a best friend in one cameron sloane –– ( because of course he did ) –– when the sloanes moved to dillon , and they were an unstoppable kind’a duo on and off the ice.

when it came time to pick a college, he really . . . had his pick of the lot. coulda gone anywhere, but there were roughly six reasons , all with the same last name , that kept him close to home. his parents even agreed that if he went in as pre-med, they would pay for the whole thing . . . and even make time to watch him play hockey.

things were good for a long while, until they weren’t. you can usually see the stars on the outskirts of dillon, but one night, his sophomore year, you couldn’t. storm clouds covered ‘em up, and he tried his damndest to get cameron to stick around a celebratory party until it passed, but sloanes are stubborn and there was no changing his mind.

cam passing away was like losing a brother, and he spent countless hours pacing in a hospital waiting room . . . hoping for good news and never getting it. beck had never known loss like that, and it knocked him into a bit of a tailspin . he quit hockey and didn’t register for school the next year . he spent a lot of time at a family residence in austin and even more time drinking . for the most part . . . he kind of DISAPPEARED , losing himself in the process for a good nine months.

they say it takes a village to raise a kid, and it took a village to drag this one out of a spiral. his parents. his siblings. his friends. and eventually . . . dillon’s football coaching staff. a loud knock on the door from coach buchanan and a swift kick in the ass from coach sloane, a man who knew the kid almost as well as he’d known his own son. come work for us, they told him . . . and it was a way to get him back on track under a watchful eye that. wasn’t quite as critical as his parents

so that’s where we are now . . . back at dillon, a year behind, and working with both the football and cheerleading team as a physical trainer, playing a heavy hand in making sure both teams are the best conditioned in the state of texas. his grades are looking up, and he’s still on the fast track for med school, much to his –– and his parents’s –– surprise.

the beckhams don’t talk about his little stint of a spiral. no one in dillon does . . . unless in tones of hushed whispers alongside judgmental looks. beck doesn’t mind it too much ,though . . . even takes it as a challenge

𝑷 𝑬 𝑹 𝑺 𝑶 𝑵 𝑨 𝑳 𝑰 𝑻 𝒀 . ( i’m getting tired so this gon be ugly )

you want inspo?? i’ll give ya inspo!! richard campbell gansey the third ( dick 3 babiiiie ) is my main inspo for beck. you’ll also find a lil bit of jim halpert, a lil bit of rob maclanahan from miracle ( even tho he w as a real person too shhh ), and *insert big eyed emoji here* grizz from the society

ever since he can remember, there’s been pressure on this kid to be something great . . . so he feels like if he has the capability to do something, he has to do it. . . there’s no choice in the matter. a lot of this stems. from his parents, but he’s also really just . . . overly critical of himself sometimes

boy is a fucking PARADOX okay bc sometimes . . . . with the way he talks. . . . he accidentally puts his damn foot in his mouth . he’s smart so occasionally comes off as condescending , but he’s . . . incredible in conversation with people he needs to impress because he’s hella charming

that said... this quote is REALLY important and REALLY summative of beck: “Gansey had always felt as if there were two of him: the Gansey who was in control, able to handle any situation, able to talk to anyone, and then, the other, more fragile Gansey, strung out and unsure, embarrassingly earnest, driven by naive longing.” –– let’s dive into that!! when he feels like he’s got a sense of control of the things around him, when he’s in his element or in his comfort zone, when he’s feeling confident , the boy is a force. he can talk you and anyone else out of any situation, and he has. he can make friends with anyone put in front of him, and he has. when beck is ON . . . he is on . . . but it’s a bit surface level because when he’s not wearing the crown of GOLDEN BOY and he’s . . . vulnerable . . . or unsure . . . or stressed . . . he tends to put that foot of his in his mouth and spit. out whatever it is he’s thinking. he’s honest to a fault in this sense, and he’s hopeful beyond compare.

an introvert. . . . can CHARM u but doesn’t want to because honestly that is so draining and he’d much rather be at home. the popular type but only has a few friends that are really really close to him

loyal to a fault . . . will give you 392847 chances that you don’t deserve .. fool me once shame on you ! fool me twice shame on me! fool me three time what the fuck bro now ur just taking advantage of me

very . .. calm and even tempered. he’s a mediating type and like . . would rather find a conflict resolution than sWING u feel me

he’s cute. .. . and. people love him but . . . despite it all, he really doesn’t let that go to his head?? the boy was raised to believe you had to earn things and he’s just. idk . . .. humble king

eloquent as fuck ( lol good luck @ me writing that shit )

quick witted and very sharp

probably a lawful good type ngl :\

Does Not Do Well.With Change. when his older sister left dillon to go to notre dame??? boy damn near blew a gasket how dARE SHE go that far away!!!

v close with his sibs . .. . activate Dad Mode. he loves all of them equally and definitely does not at all favor the 10 y/o baby brother of the family or his sister closest in age, who is also a student at dillon. doesn’t favor them ONE BIT

u want a vibe for the beckhams??? “ the beckhams were courtiers and kings . when there was no castle to invite them, they built one” ( we stan ONE weird author lady named maggie)

insomnia!! the boy nEVER SLEEPS1! always thinking. always planning what’s next. gotta go gotta go gotta go.

kind of .. . a hopeless romantic :\ dated the same girl for most of high school but when she fucked off to ole miss she broke up with him in a text. so that .. . . . .. went well for him ..... still a dumb bitch tho and would love to hold ur hand

wire rimmed glasses, wool sweaters, light colored hoodies, distressed denim, cuffed pants, :\ chelsea boots :\

phobia of bees. there’s literally no reason for this other than my own, personal, geeked out pleasure

prank king

Smart Jock Type

plays guitar to relieve stress and you bet baby’s got some pipes here u go

literally nothing like nicholas scratch DO NOT call him daddy

tall and doesn’t know what to do with all the extra limb like . . . . . the fuck

will push you to your personal best in any conditioning circumstance

okay I THINK THAT’S ALL . . .. i’m a big fan of basic plots that kinda ebb and flow with chemistry BUT!! gimme the basics man . . . a roommate . . . a past hookup or two . . . some spicy friendships or . . . fRENEMIES even u know the drill

ok that’s all i hope u love him bc i am v nervous about playing A Man buT IT IS WHAT IT IS U KNOW

#if this doesn't scream chaotic idk what does #friday:intro

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dc41896 · 5 years ago

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Homecoming

Hey guys! So I know my next upload was supposed to be the second part to Decisions (which is still coming!), but I wanted to upload this really quick since it was recently homecoming for one of the colleges in my hometown and I had the idea to make it an imagine. Also, this imagine doesn’t have Florian as the main, and instead has someone new that I would like to start writing for! I’m still gonna write for Florian though so don’t worry lol. Ok that’s pretty much it and hope you guys like it!

Pairing: Lewis Tan x Black Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 4,965 (sorry if it’s long)

Walking through the airport, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself, as the excitement building in your body could no longer be contained. Although you weren’t outside yet, just knowing you were back in your hometown made you giddy, along with the fact that you would soon see all of your family and friends.

It was homecoming for your college alma mater, which meant that the whole city would be celebrating since it was pretty much the biggest annual event. You were also excited for your boyfriend, Lewis, to finally meet all the important people in your life. In all honesty, you were a bit nervous too since you wanted everyone to love him as much as you did, but you weren’t concerned about it though.

From the occasional phone, and Facetime, call you guys would have with your parents, they seemed to like him and get along well with each other. Given being in the same room for an extended amount of time is very different from talking on the phone with someone, you still felt it in your heart that you didn’t have to worry.

Driving to the hotel, you nod along to Freaky Friday playing on the radio and wiggle in your seat dancing, which made Lewis softly laugh. “What? Are you judging my dancing?,” you ask with a laugh, taking turns looking at him and the road. “No I just think it’s cute how excited you are,” he answers leaning over to kiss you on the cheek.

“I can’t help it! It’s homecoming and there’s so much coming up and plus you being here for it and meeting everyone. I promise you’re gonna have so much fun while you’re here and if you don’t I owe you a free trip of your choice,” you offer parking in front of the hotel. “Well anywhere within reason.”

“I’ll take your offer, but as long as I’m with you I know I’ll have fun,” he replies leaning over to kiss you once more before getting out of the car to go check in.

__________

“AUNTIE Y/N IS FINALLY HERE!! OHH AND SHE BROUGHT HER MAN WITH HER!!,” your 10-year-old niece, Kimia, yells from the front porch as she runs to hug you halfway. “Tell the whole state then Mia!,” you laugh as you bend down to hug her back. “Where is everyone else? Inside?”

“Yep, they said it was too hot out here so they stayed inside,” she answers before looking up at Lewis with hands on her hips, “And you must be Mr. Lewis Tan.”

“That I am, and who might I have the pleasure of speaking to?,” he asks with a smile squatting down to be somewhat at eye level with her.

“I’m Kimia, Auntie Y/N’s favorite and adorable niece. Pleasure to make your acquaintance” she answers holding her hand out for him to shake and causing both you and Lewis to look at her in a mix of shock and amazement. “The pleasure is all mine ma’am,” Lewis softly laughs shaking her hand.

“Now that we’ve formally met, what are your intentions with my aunt?,” Kimia asks, arms now across her chest. “Ok! Why don’t we go inside yeah? Also remind me to have a talk with your dad,” you laugh leading both of them inside the house before any other questions could be asked.

“AYEE!!! There they are!!,” your brother AJ shouts from the kitchen, walking up to hug you then Lewis. “How was your flight?”

“It was good, and you’ve got Mia taking over for you and dad’s interrogations now?,” you laugh playfully hitting his arm. “Hey it’s not my fault she’s protective of her aunt, which is how it’s supposed to be,” he answers winking at Kimia and making her quietly giggle.

“About time yall got here! I thought I was gonna have to send a search party for you,” your mom, Eleanor, greets walking in from the living room with your dad, Ace, by her side. Smiling wider than ever, you lightly jog to their spot to hug both your parents. It amazed you how the warmth of their hug still had the power to comfort you just as it did when you were a little girl.

“Lewis you come here too, there’s plenty of hugs to go around!,” Eleanor smiles holding out one of her arms so he can join the group hug, to which he happily obliges. The rest of the evening was spent talking with your family and filling them in on everything happening with you in LA, as well as eating some of your favorite foods your mom decided to make due to your arrival.

Of course both your brother and dad had to question Lewis a bit more to “get a feel for him” as they said before leading him outside to sit on the porch, leaving you in the living room with your mom and niece. “So what do you think of Lewis mom?,” you nervously ask breaking the momentary silence in the room. “I already told you when you asked me that a while back on the phone, he’s nice,” she smiles as she flips through the channels to see what’s on.

“I know, but that was you guys meeting him over the phone. Now that you’ve met him in person does your first impression still stand?,” you ask sitting up straight and fidgeting with your fingers. Placing the remote down Eleanor sits up, now seated slightly on the edge of her recliner to place her hand on top of yours.

“Sweetie as long as you’re happy with him, and want to be with him, that’s what’s important and it really doesn’t matter what me or your dad think. Since you asked though, I see that he’s caring, respectful, and treats you well which, makes me happy and is all I want out of a boyfriend for you,” she finishes with a gentle squeeze of your hand causing you to smile back at her.

Although your mom was right that all that mattered was how you felt about him, you still wanted to make sure the family dynamics would be ok in the event that he would be there in the future. Not that you and Lewis planned on getting married anytime soon, but still it was something important for you to know. “Yea I like him too auntie and he’s cute,” your niece adds from her pillow seat on the floor.

“Thanks Mia, and let me find out you’re trying to steal my man,” you laugh as you softly throw a small pillow at her, making her stick her tongue out at you with a laugh. After talking for a while more, you and Lewis decided it was time to head back to the hotel since you guys would have a busy day tomorrow.

First would be brunch with two of your best friends from college, next pre-gaming at another friend’s house before going to the football game that evening, and finally finishing at your parents house for the annual cookout, which would include your other family members as well.

Arriving back at the hotel, you showered and completed your nighttime routine before climbing into the warm king sized bed and curling up in the sheets, while Lewis took his turn in the bathroom. Watching an episode of the Golden Girls, you hear your phone chime showing texts from Sydney, one of your best friends you were meeting tomorrow.

Sydney: Please tell me you made it ok, or could still make it at all? If you say you had to cancel so help me I’ll call your boss and cuss him out myself!

Y/N: Lol girl relax! Me and Lewis are here. We’re still on for brunch tomorrow right? And everything after?

Sydney: Ok good and of course! I can’t wait to meet Mr. Tan ;) lol and neither can Jay

Y/N: Lol that wink scares me, lets not discuss anything embarrassing about me tomorrow please xD. And let Jay know that my dad and AJ already gave him all possible degrees so no further need for interrogating lol

Sydney: Oh boy, poor baby probably felt like he was in a courtroom with all those questions lmao, but ok girl I gotta go put thing 1 and 2 to bed. See you tomorrow!!

Y/N: Don’t call my godbabies that lol and ok see you tomorrow!

“Golden Girls again?,” Lewis jokes as he finishes drying his hair and slides into bed next to you. “Don’t act like you don’t like them, I’ve caught you watching them without me multiple times,” you laugh snuggling up to him and lying your head on his chest as you breathe in his spring water scented body wash.

“AJ told me how when you guys were little, you would steal the remote from him and turn the channel so you could watch this show, which is why he can’t stand it,” he laughs lightly dragging his fingertips up and down your arm. “Ok but did he tell you how he ripped the heads off not one, but TWO of my Barbie dolls?,” you ask sitting up to see him throw his head back in laughter.

“Yea your dad said that after. We talked a lot about our childhoods while we were outside as well as other things,” he winks, which definitely tells you that things you’d rather be left unmentioned were discussed. “I can only imagine how that talk went then,” you laugh lying your head back down on his chest. “Also sorry about the interrogation that I’m sure also happened.”

“You don’t have to apologize, they’re just being protective, which I totally understand. If we have a daughter I already know I’ll be the same with her,” he softly chuckles. “Did he just say what I think he said?!,” you think to yourself sitting up once again to meet his brown eyes, a slightly confused expression on your face.

You guys had discussed how you wanted to have families one day, but hadn’t yet discussed if either one of you saw the other in that family as well. It’s not that you didn’t want him in it, because Lord knows you felt that he could be the one at the 6-month mark of your relationship, but you didn’t know if he felt the same. And you dared not bring it up in fear of jinxing anything, so you just left it alone.

“Wait, if we have a daughter?,” you ask to make sure you heard him correctly, his eyes closing as he pinched the bridge of his nose at the realization of what he just said.

“Ugh I didn’t mean to say that out loud. Not that I don’t mean it though!,” he quickly corrects propping himself up on his elbows noticing how your expression slightly fell at his confession. “I didn’t want to say it because I didn’t want to scare you off thinking I was trying to rush things, which I’m not. I mean if it happens it happens, but it’s not like I want kids now and I’m sure you feel the same.”

“No yeah, I still want to wait a good while before having kids,” you softly laugh, “It just caught me off guard since we’ve never really talked about us having kids together or even if we wanted each other in our futures.”

“Yea which is another reason why I thought bringing it up would make you feel uncomfortable,” he adds with a sigh now sitting fully upright against the headboard. “Well now that it’s all out, yes I’m in love with you Y/N and definitely want you in my future. And like I said if we have a daughter, I will be just as protective of her as your family is of you,” he smiles as a blush rises to his cheeks.

“I’m in love with you too Lewis and have definitely seen you in my future for a while now,” you respond taking his hand in yours and bringing it to your lips to kiss. “And I’m glad to hear that you’d be protective over our daughter and I will be equally protective of her.”

“Just kiss me already,” you both heard Blanche seductively say from the TV to one of her many suitors making both you and Lewis laugh from the timing. “Alright Blanche you don’t have to tell me twice,” he responds bringing his hand up to cradle the side of your head as he leans in until his lips met yours. “Oh so you know the character names now?,” you ask with a smirk interrupting your intimate moment.

“Hush you,” he softly laughs kissing you again as he gently pulls you down with him.

__________

With J. Cole’s Middle Child playing in the background, you finished putting on the last of your makeup, choosing to go for a lighter look than the usual full face you would wear to brunch or a party considering how hot it would be today. Looking over yourself in the mirror, you sway a bit to the song and rap along, happy with your final look.

“Syd I’d just like to say for the record that if we’re late, it’s not my fault it’s missy’s over here with her performance,” Lewis jokes walking in recording you with his phone. Turning towards him, you continue rapping and dancing along, causing him to laugh.

“Alright I’m done. Also let’s not act like you weren’t the one who made us late to the Wu Assassins premiere because ‘Babe this outfit doesn’t look right, I need help’,” you mock making him playfully roll his eyes before pulling you into him to kiss the top of your head. “You’re never gonna let me live that down are you?,” he asks as you grab your purse ready to leave.

“Nope, probably not,” you giggle as you reach up to quickly peck his lips causing him to chuckle. After making sure you both had everything you needed, you left to join Sydney and Jay for brunch, which you already knew would be wild.

Knowing the restaurant would be busy from how many people would be in town to celebrate, Jay made the reservation ahead of time to ensure that you all would have a table saved. And from seeing how full the place was when you guys arrived, you made sure to thank past Jay for looking after you guys.

Meeting up with your friends was always a good time filled with laughs and stories, both old and new. Upon seeing each other, hugs and squeals from your excitement seemed to be the only thing that you guys could do, leading to apologies to those around who were now looking at you guys with amused, and some annoyed, expressions.

After introductions were done, it was if your friends had known Lewis for longer than a couple minutes from how the conversation immediately took off and everyone seemed to be enjoying their time. Of course they had to include their favorite stories of you, which were the ones you’d rather him not know about.

A couple of hours later, you all had finished your meals and it was time to pregame at your other friend, Troy’s, house. While you guys were all still in college, he started throwing pregame parties in his apartment, but after too many complaints, he had to stop for some time. Luckily now he was in his own place and had neighbors who were at a good enough distance that they wouldn’t be disrupted by all the noise, so the tradition could continue.

Walking into the two-story residence, you all were met with music blasting and chatter everywhere from people being scattered about. Trying to find Troy to let him know you guys had made it, you and Lewis followed close behind your friends. In typical Troy fashion, he was in the game room playing beer pong and surrounded by a few guys you didn’t know.

“Let me guess, you’re losing?,” Sydney announced causing him to turn around and immediately engulf her in one of his famous bear hugs. “Now you know I don’t lose in beer pong. If you’d like to be reminded though, you’re more than welcome to play next,” he replied with a smirk as he turned and threw the small, white ball and made it into the last cup.

“Alright set em up then! I got my DD so I’m good,” she smiled referring to her husband, Terrance, who had met up with you guys at the party so you guys could ride to the game together. “Remember we got a game to go to in the sun and heat, you better not get sick,” Jay quipped as he hugged Troy next.

“Yes I remember dad,” Sydney replied with a small laugh causing Jay to hold up his hands in surrender. “I’m just saying, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Yoo! Isn’t that the dude from Deadpool?!,” Troy asked completely overlooking you and dapping your boyfriend. “What are you doing here man?”

“He’s here with me, also hey I’m doing great thanks for asking,” you answer crossing your arms and feigning as if your mad. “My bad Y/N I got distracted,” he laughs giving you a hug.

“I’m just playing, after all this time I’m used to it happening,” you reply turning to wink at Lewis, making him softly chuckle in response. “How’ve you been though? Also this house is amazing!”

“Thank you and I’ve been good! Just trying to make it out here,” he answers leaning back on the table. “So you guys just in town for the game or you staying longer?”

“We’re here for a week actually, so we’re here for a while,” you answer. “Ok good! You already know we gotta hang while you’re here. That is if you guys are free and it won’t cause too much of an uproar,” he responds looking from you to Lewis.

“Nah we can hang, I don’t really get stopped here like I would in LA so I’m taking full advantage of it,” Lewis chuckles. “Oh I guess it’d be messed up if we asked for you to teach us some moves then,” one of the guys you didn’t know confessed rubbing the back of his neck shyly.

“Nah it’s cool! Babe I’ll be out back ok,” he cheerily responded kissing your cheek before leading the group of men to the backyard. Seeing them through the window, it immediately brought a smile to your face and you felt your heart burst. They reminded you of a group of kids each trying out moves and closely watching Lewis to make sure they were performing them correctly.

While they were outside, you and your friends continued your conversations inside. Sydney and Troy played a total of three rounds of beer pong since Sydney insisted on playing until she won a round, going against the words of you, Jay, and Terrance, which were to stop after Troy won the first two rounds. “You guys seem to forget that I have a high tolerance,” is all she said before focusing back on the game and her goal of defeating Troy.

Soon after, it was time to go find Lewis so you guys could leave for the game and make sure you could get to your seats without too much of a problem. Looking outside, you didn’t see him or any of the guys he was with earlier so you figured he was somewhere inside. Walking down the hall you could hear his laughs along with the other men coming from the kitchen.

The small smile on your face slightly fell as you see an unknown woman trying to slyly squeeze next to Lewis with two drinks in her hand. “Uh uh! She better not be trying to do what I think she is,” Sydney announced beside you, starting to walk over to her before you held your hand out to stop her.

“I got this Syd, you guys go ahead and get in the car,” you instructed before swaying over to the group of men as if you were innocently dancing to Crew Love beginning to play overhead, until you were in front of Lewis. Not caring if you bumped into her, or about the nasty look she was probably giving you, you swayed your hips even more making him smile and bend down so you could hear him.

“What are you doing?” he whispered with a small laugh, wrapping his arms around you. “I’m coming to get you so we can leave,” you smile back before pecking his lips. Trying to make it as if she was just minding her business, you could hear the woman humming along to the song as she sipped her drink.

“You must be really thirsty to have 2 drinks,” you inquire with a fake smile as you crossed in front of her, to which she quickly smiled back before leaving to another area in the house. “Petty Labelle strikes again!,” you heard Sydney yell from the door while clapping before being gently pulled to the car by Terrance shaking his head.

__________

“So you’re telling me between four people, none of yall have Advil, Aleve, Tylenol, or nothing?!,” Sydney fusses with her shades on as she rubs her temples. Although she was only a bit tipsy, being in the direct sun paired with her lack of water caused her to have a headache towards the beginning of the game. Plus the walk to the stadium in the sun didn’t help.

Squeezing between the hundreds of people there, you eventually made your way to your seats, but after a quarter of feeling like sardines in a can, you guys decided to go to the top corner of the stadium since it wasn’t as packed. “Nope sorry Syd. I have water though, maybe that will make it go away,” you suggest handing her your half empty bottle.

“I tried to get you to buy some Gatorade, but someone said no because ‘they don’t have the flavor I like’,” Terrance teased causing Sydney to smack his arm. “If you really loved me you would go try to find the flavor I like,” she responded folding her arms like an angry toddler about to throw a fit.

“I’m not walking around this whole stadium and giving myself a heat stroke just for a Gatorade! What I can do is walk downstairs and get you some water to help with your head though,” he answered finishing in a baby like voice before kissing her forehead and walking down the steps. “I can’t stand him sometimes,” she responds shaking her head once he was far enough away and making Jay, Lewis, and yourself burst out laughing.

“Whatever you know he was telling the truth, which is why you couldn’t even say that without laughing,” Jay retorts nudging her knee with his and making her laugh more. “Yea yea whatever, enough about me though. Look at the cute couple enjoying their first college game!,” she awes before snapping a candid picture of you and Lewis seeing that both of you were too wrapped up in the game and each other to notice.

Sat between your legs on the bleacher below you, he held your hands slightly out in front of him as you both danced in your seats to LUV by Tory Lanez echoing through the stadium. “So you really thought I was gonna take a drink from 2 drinks?,” he asks draping your arms over his shoulders and chest as you laid your head on top of his.

“No I knew you wouldn’t, but I still had to show her that you were taken,” you answer leaning down to kiss his cheek before returning back to your original position. “You are so petty,” Lewis responds with a laugh slightly shaking his head.

“Not always, but you still love me though,” you smile booping his nose. “Ew get a room!,” Terrance teased returning with Sydney’s water. Reaching out at the same time, you and Lewis smacked his leg as he passed by causing him to let out a dramatic yelp as he sat down.

“Stop being dramatic that didn’t hurt,” you retorted laughing along with everyone else.

The score was now tied with only one minute left in the game and possession being held by the opposing team, the Jaguars. Currently on the Vipers’, the home team, 20-yard line, things weren’t looking the best in terms of the odds of your team winning. Under pressure from the defense, the quarterback launched the ball in the air in hopes it would be caught, which it was but not by the intended person.

With the crowd standing and cheering as loud as they could, a defensive player from the Vipers ran down the field after completing a swift interception, which would surely be the topic of conversation for the next week. Reaching the endzone, the Vipers were now up by six, and the successful extra point attempt now made it seven leaving only 20 seconds left.

Not having ample time left to try to take the lead, the Jags let the clock run out and thus declaring the Vipers the winners. Yelling your school’s chant with your friends, as well as the rest of the audience; excitement beaming on all your faces, you notice Lewis recording the crowd around him and then stop on you guys. As if all thinking the same thing, you all flash your team’s emblem, whether pointing to or holding up your shirts by the shoulders, making him lightly chuckle before turning the phone on himself to cheer himself.

Walking back to the car tucked in his side, the energy from the win still radiated between those surrounding, as people continued chanting and cheering to their respective vehicles. Smiling seeing all those around, a sense of pride for your hometown filled your heart, as well as a bit of sadness at the fact that you couldn’t come visit more often.

That made you appreciate the times with your friends, family, and even among strangers like in this current moment more, and you would be sure to hold the memories in a special place in your heart.

__________

Back in your hotel room, you collapsed on the bed with a tired but satisfied sigh. You and Lewis had finally returned from your parents’ house, where you guys ate and he met more of your family members. Although he had already been interrogated by your dad and brother, that didn’t stop your aunts and uncles from asking questions of their own.

Again though, he answered any and every question that was asked, understanding how your family was just looking out for you. From his answers, they knew he was the real thing and seemed to welcome him into the family, talking with him as if he had been coming around for years.

Your younger cousins even had him playing video games upstairs, which you had to pry him away from when it was time to leave since he was so into it. Kicking off his shoes, Lewis gently plopped down on top of you, making you let out a small cough. “Babe I’ve been in the sun all day and probably stink,” you groan before laughing.

“I don’t care, I want to cuddle,” he responds like a little kid before kissing your neck. “You were right, I’m having a lot of fun here with all of your family and friends. Also I need your cousins to teach me their ways, they’re crazy good at Call of Duty!”

“They just have a lot of practice time in from playing all the time,” you softly laugh playing with his hand resting next to your head. “And I’m glad you’re having fun! This has honestly been the best homecoming I’ve had and I want to thank you for coming with me.”

“You’re welcome babe but you don’t have to thank me, you know I’ve wanted to meet your family in person for a while now. Plus wherever you go I go, well if I can,” he smiles lifting his head to kiss your lips. “Aw you’re so sweet love, and speaking of going, I need you to get up so I can get ready for bed.”

“Wow you know what? I’m really tired and think I’ll go to bed now,” Lewis replies with a yawn, acting as if he didn’t hear what you just said. “Ha ha very funny, now can you please get up I want to shower,” you state trying to wiggle your way out. Soon you hear dramatic snores, making you roll your eyes with a giggle.

“Ok then guess I’ll just pee in the bed then,” you announce earning a groan from Lewis as he rolls over to let you up. “True wouldn’t want you to have another hotdog festival incident,” he smirks sitting up on his elbows as you let out a gasp crossing your arms in front of your chest.

“1. I was 7 and 2. Who told you?!,” you ask only to be met with more snores as he fell back on the bed to pretend that he was asleep again. “You know what? That’s ok because I know about the 6thgrade dance.”

“Hold up how do you know about that?! Have you been talking to my brother?,” he asks quickly sitting up in shock. “What? I can’t hear you over the water running sorry,” you respond quickly running into the bathroom and cutting on the shower before Lewis could catch you.

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#lewis tan #lewisxreader #lewisxblackreader #lewisxWOC

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whereismywarden · 5 years ago

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OC Masterlist

@kiraia pointed out (rightfully so) that I made quite a few vague posts about my OCs, but that I’ve never properly introduced them. It’s true, mostly because I tend to wait until they are well developed to properly do anything with them, which doesn’t happen all that often. So consider this a formal introduction to my current OCs :)

(Under a cut because there are quite a bunch of them. I hope it works on mobile, because otherwise yikes! I’m very sorry.)

Sad Mages Worldstate

It’s probably the one I talk about the most. It’s the most developed worldstate, with the most developed OCs and I’ve written a lot of fics about them.

The Warden: Ana Surana [Tag | Complete bio | Fanfictions]

pairings: Ana x Daylen Amell (friends with benefits), Ana x Alistair (DAO romance), Ana x Carver (current pairing, now married) + I occasionally throw Isabela into the mix because reasons.

Born in the Gallows and taken to an orphanage in Highever until her magic manifested.

Grew up close to Anders, Jowan, Amell and (to a lesser extent) Finn.

Had a baby that she was forced to give to the Chantry.

Main DAO choices include: romancing Alistair, getting her heart broken after making him king, stupidly refusing to do Morrigan’s ritual and watching him sacrifice his life for her.

Later she starts dating Carver (whom she actually met at Ostagar where they had a brief fling before the Battle).

Takes part in the Mage Underground and helps Anders build his bomb.

Starts hearing the Calling shortly before DAI.

Is Hawke’s contact during HLtA.

The Champion: Alwyn Hawke [Tag | Complete bio | Fanfictions]

pairings: Alwyn x Anders (DA2 romance, on and off), Alwyn x Cullen (one time), Alwyn x Rylen (post DAI, considering making them endgame, not sure yet).

Purple Hawke.

Carver becomes a warden.

Supports the mages.

Develops a close friendship with Ana.

Breaks up with Anders after the Chantry explosion, wishing he’d trusted him enough to share his plan with him. They do get back together later on.

Is the first one to learn about Ana hearing the Calling.

Stays behind in the Fade during HLtA, but eventually finds a way out.

He was found by Inquisition scouts in the Western Approach, suffering from amnesia.

Later falls in love with Rylen.

(Note that I still need to update that last part into his bio.)

The Inquisitor: Violette Surana [Tag | Complete bio | Fanfictions]

pairings: Violette x Orsino (once twice), Violette x Samson (current partner).

Ana’s mum.

Orlesian who grew up in Ferelden during the occupation.

Was taken to the Gallows at age 13.

Was a close friend of Malcolm Hawke.

Had her baby (Ana) taken by the Chantry. Later escaped.

Hates the Chantry.

Attends the Conclave in the hopes that Ana might be there.

Starts sleeping with Samson after his capture because he basically said fuck the Chantry to her face and it turned her on.

Hardened Leliana becomes Divine.

Other OC: Neriah Amell-Hawke

Is Ana’s daughter. She got her out of the orphanage after the Blight (thanks, Leliana).

Her father is Daylen Amell. Carver adopted her when he married her mama.

Is 18 as of Trespasser.

Second Chances Worldstate

This one started off as an AU for a fic starring Ana and Alistair which is why these two worldstates are so similar. The point of divergence is that Jowan went to Amell for help instead of Ana for some reason.

The Warden: Daylen Amell [Tag | Fanfictions]

pairings: Day x Ana (friends with benefits), Day x Morrigan (DAO romance and while I did consider for a while not having him follow her through the eluvian, I changed my mind. There’s too much growth potential.)

His father was Maurevar Carver, because I say so.

Main DAO choices include: Sparing Loghain, Alistair becoming a drunk, not doing Morrigan’s ritual because he can just throw Loghain at the Archdemon (which he did).

Helps Ana get their daughter out of the Kirkwall orphanage. Bails on them right afterwards.

Does follow Morrigan through the eluvian and actually ends up being a decent dad to Kieran.

Does not become Ferelden’s Warden-Commander.

The Champion: Alwyn Hawke (yes, again)

Like I said, this was originally an AU, so it made sense to keep the same Hawke. There are quite a few differences, however.

pairings: none.

Does not bring Anders to the Deep Roads. Carver dies.

Suffers from severe depression afterwards.

Goes from purple to full blue after Leandra’s death.

Stays behind in the Fade. Probably won’t make it out in this worldstate.

The Inquisitor: Asaara Adaar [Tag | Fanfictions]

pairings: Asaara x Cullen (starts before DAI, now married).

Meets Cullen shortly before the Chantry explosion. They fall in love.

Not going into too much details because it will be part of Second Chances’ main story.

Other OCs: Ana Surana and Neriah [Main fic | Other fics]

Again, can’t go into too much detail because spoilers.

pairings: Ana x Carver (before the Deep Roads expedition anyway), Ana x Alistair.

Day brings Ana to Kirkwall shortly after the Blight to meet their daughter. She ends up staying after they get Neriah out of the orphanage.

Single mom. Works as a waitress.

They find drunk Alistair in their garbage. Ana wants to help him get better.

Other OC: Issala Adaar [Tag]

pairings: Issala x Varric (post-DAI).

Is Asaara’s overexcited little sister.

Likes to tinker with explosives.

Built a handheld cannon. It’s clunky, not very accurate and is prone to misfire. In other words, it still needs a lot of work.

Varric thinks she’s adorable so he made her his personal bodyguard.

Angry Dalish Worldstate

The Warden: Shaelyn Mahariel [Tag | Fanfictions]

pairings: Lyn x Tamlen (Origin), Lyn x Bethany, (considering Lyn x Alistair between DA2 and DAI but even that might be too cruel.)

Doesn’t want to be a warden.

DAO choices include: Alistair remaining with the wardens because he doesn’t want to be king.

No in-game romance, she was too heartbroken after losing Tamlen.

Eventually starts dating Bethany.

Travels to the Free Marches after the death of her clan to kill the man responsible.

Almost dies in the resulting fight against Hawke (thank the Creators Anders was there).

Goes home and confesses to Bethany that she almost killed her brother and that she would have done it had he not been so badass. They break up.

The two of them reconcile post-DAI, after Hawke and Merrill’s wedding.

The Champion: Kris Hawke [Tag]

pairings: Kris x Merrill (now married).

Blue Hawke.

Sadly couldn’t save Merrill’s clan.

Didn’t want to hurt Lyn that badly during their fight, he was just defending himself. Deeply regrets it afterwards.

The Inquisitor: no one specific yet, but likely a Lavellan romancing Solas.

Alistair stays behind in the Fade.

Elves in Luuuuv Worldstate

The Warden: Kallian Tabris [Tag | Fanfictions]

pairings: Tabs x Alistair (DAO romance)

Probably the most canon-compliant OC.

Main DAO choices include: making Alistair king with Anora as queen and becoming his mistress.

Madly in love.

Will have a happy ending.

No Hawke or Inquisitor yet.

Homecoming Worldstate

The Warden: Elaine Cousland [Tag]

pairings: Elle x Nathaniel (pre-DAO, now ex-husband), Elle x Leliana (DAO romance), Elle x Sebastian (current).

Was BFF with Anora during their childhood.

Actually met Sebastian before he was sent to the Chantry. The two of them had similar lifestyles back then, so when Elle visited Starkhaven with her father, the two of them developed a rivalry of sorts in their romantic pursuits (think Merteuil and Valmont, but a lot more light-hearted). They do spend one night together after learning that he is going to be sent to the Chantry.

Eventually fell in love and married Nate. They kept their relationship a secret, however. They divorced after the Blight.

Main DAO choices include: romancing Leliana, making Alistair king with Anora as queen, sparing Loghain and performing the ritual.

Her relationship with Leliana didn’t survive the distance.

Leaves the Wardens after the Chantry explosion and basically goes on the run from everyone because she feels responsible for what happened.

Helps Sebastian reclaim his throne. They fall in love. (I’m currently writing a fic about this, actually)

Still unsure about her DAI fate. Either she replaces Hawke in HLtA and stays behind in the Fade, or she becomes Inquisitor.

The Champion: Violetta Hawke [Tag | Fanfictions]

pairings: Letta x Isabela (DA2 romance).

Yes, she was totally named after Violette.

Is Kris’ sister.

Carver becomes a Templar.

Spared Anders.

Sails into the sunset with Isabela.

DAI fate will depend on what I decide to do with Elle.

The Inquisitor: no one yet.

Loghain survives HLtA.

I am considering having Neriah (yes, again) be the Herald with someone else as Inquisitor since she’s only a kid. In this worldstate, she grew up in Kirkwall’s orphanage before being taken to the Gallows. She escapes the massacre and Carver eventually takes her under his wing.

I'm planning to have two additional worldstates (I want one per warden origin). One called "Happy Dwarves" with a male Brosca romancing Zevran and one called "Dead Heroes" with a male Aeducan romancing Leliana (and probably Alwyn again, idk). I also have a couple of Cadashes that I want to put somewhere, a woman romancing Josie and a man romancing Divine Cassandra. Idk yet if they'll be Inquisitors or if I'll just add them to one of the existing worldstates. Odds are one will be Inquisitor while the other just tags along.

I probably missed a few things here and there, but that’s basically the gist of it. Thanks to anyone who actually stuck to the end, lmao.

#dragon age #oc masterpost #ana surana #alwyn hawke #violette surana #neriah amell-hawke #daylen amell #asaara adaar #issala adaar #shaelyn mahariel #kris hawke #kallian tabris #elaine cousland #violetta hawke #long post

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