#i know we say this a lot about arthur but goddamn he really is pathetic | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

salacious-mlm-snowbird · 4 years ago

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Rage and Spite

Kieran Duffy x Male!Reader

Rating: SFW, tags: murdèr, torturé and fluff, word count: 2036

A/N: this was requested by @agaycowboi and btw I’m so sorry it took this long, I was being trained by my manager at my new job plus I was behind in school so apologies for that!! Otherwise enjoy :)

You were furious, seething with fuckin’ rage, tonight you wanted to treat Kieran to a couple of drinks in Rhodes as a present for being accepted into the gang. You two are in the saloon drinking and having a fun time when you went to the bar to get more drinks, but when you turned around you saw a sight you thought you’d never have the displeasure of seeing in a lifetime.

Kieran Duffy had his scrawny arms wrapped around the waist of a fuckin’ harlot who works in the saloon as a public ledger, he was kissing her in a way he’s only ever kissed you, so much passion was hidden behind the drunk blush across his cheeks. You dropped the bottle of whiskey to the floor and stomped over to him before grabbing the woman by the hair, pulling her off of Kieran, “What the hell?!” she shouted as you shoved her to the floor. “W-Wait, Y/n! I didn’t mean it!” Kieran squeaks as you grab him by the collar of his blue shirt, you reared your fist back and launched it at his cheek, pain exploded in the side of Kieran’s face as he fell to the ground.

You huff and walk out of the saloon with a growl, Kieran tried calling after you but you didn’t listen as you climbed onto your horse before you raced out of Rhodes with no destination in mind, how could he do that to you? You were his goddamn lover! You felt tears threaten to spill but you only frowned and wiped them away before they could fall. It felt like a couple hours before you pulled off the road and trotted through the grass for a moment before pulling on the reigns to make your horse come to a halt.

“Good job, darlin’, I know I pushed you a little too hard. Sorry about that.” You said to your horse, patting the side of the neck of your mount as an apology and appreciation, pulling out a carrot you lean over and present it to the large animal, s/he takes it with a snort and gobbled up the carrot with a soft chuff of happiness. You dismount your darling horse with a sigh before grabbing your bedroll, placing it a couple feet from the big horse, you then begin to gather loose dry brush along with some twigs and sticks from the surrounding woody area.

Satisfied with the amount you had gathered, you go back towards your makeshift camp and start to try and set up a small fire; it took you a couple of tries but you got it on the fourth attempt of lighting the damn thing and keeping it lit. You didn’t even realize that it had been hours since you ran away from Rhodes, here you sat in front of a small fire while you hugged your knees, soft whimpers escape your lips as tears fell down your face. Everyone treated Kieran like absolute shit, in the beginning, even you but that soon changed when you saw that he was innocent and that he didn’t know a damn thing about Colm and his boys.

Kieran warmed up to you quickly and he soon became attached to you, leaving you poems and pressed flowers on your bedroll every couple of nights. Unfortunately, you had to hide the presents from everyone, so you kept them in your leather journal for safekeeping and such, since Kieran began to gift you things of that nature you felt you had to give him something in return the only way you knew how.

You started by leaving pretty bird feathers in the strap on his hat, then you started gifting him bigger things like raccoon skulls and muskrat skins before giving him a bearskin at some point. The items you had scavenged and hunted were a lot harder to hide but the only thing the others did was look at you two weirdly, given your ruthless reputation in the gang they left you guys alone for the most part.

You were so busy sifting through pleasant memories, you never heard the footsteps sneaking up on you, eyes widening in shock when a hand clamped over your mouth and the smooth barrel of a gun pressing against your temple. You reluctantly complied with the hands of the men who had captured you as they roughly tied your hands behind your back, you growled softly when the sight of agent Ross and agent Milton came into your view.

“Surprised to see you without your rut mate, Mr. L/n. A man of your caliber should be more aware of his surroundings seeing as we just found you on our way to your camp. We thought maybe it would be better and more effective to capture a high ranking member like yourself and use you as our informant instead of massacring your whole gang. If you’re willing to participate, if not, we’ll just have to kill you and your friends anyway.” Agent Milton said with a smirk, you growl against the firm hand that held your mouth.

Agent Milton laughs before using the butt of his revolver to knock you out, you fell limp against Agent Ross but only for a moment as they let you fall onto your face so that they could tie your ankles together as well. Agent Ross holstered his gun and slung you over his shoulder before settling you on his horse’s rump, the group of Pinkertons mounted up and left your horse alone as they rode away, your mount not really knowing what to do so s/he just began trotting towards home.

When you woke up, you were tied to a chair with your shirt and guns missing, a litany of scratches and bruises cascades all across your back, arms, chest, and stomach. No doubt even more was below the belt, luckily no Pinkerton decided to have a look for themselves. You were slumped over in the chair, mumbling incoherently to yourself, blood and spit dripped from your mouth after numerous fists previously landed harshly on your face as a way to try and pry information from you.

“Just cooperate with us, Y/n. you’ll then be set free, well, under certain conditions.” Agent Milton said as his hand glides over various tools of torture, “Fuck… you.” You manage to growl as you lift your head to glare daggers into the back of his head, he smirked to himself before he grabbed a knife and turned toward you. Milton wordlessly steps forward and slashed at your chest with the knife, blood spilled freely from the wide laceration, your vocal cords bled a little as you screamed in pain while Milton continued to carve into your chest until the word, ‘R A T’ was legible.

“You’re a pathetic little rat, Y/n, thinking that you’ll make it outta here alive. That you’ll ever see your whore again-.” Milton went on and on about you but as soon as he mentioned Kieran your mind fractured in two, the leather straps that held down your arms and legs snapped in half as you forced your limps upwards with a broken yell. Milton tried reaching for his gun but was stopped as you grabbed a bloody throwing knife and shoved it into the side of his neck, blood spurting out of the man’s jugular, a series of growls and grunts escaped your bloodied mouth as you repeatedly stabbed Milton in the face and neck.

You saw red as you grabbed his gun and shot your way out of what looks to be Van Horn, you found your guns stashed in a run-down building and grabbed them before continuing to shoot and kill your way through the countless bounty hunters and Pinkertons. After you determine the coast is clear enough, you grab a dead Pinkerton’s horse and make your way back to Clemens Point, many thoughts were filling your mind as if anything Milton said was true but what if it was?

You shook your head and continued to head through Lemoyne, using your spurs to make the Tennessee Walker pick up speed, racing through the swamps before coming across the torn down cobblestone building, you slow down the speed of your current mount and trot down the small pathway. “Holy shit! It’s Y/n! Dutch, he’s back!” Lenny shouted as he jogged over to you from his spot on guard duty, you began leaning forward in exhaustion and ultimately fell off of the horse to the dirt.

“Jesus! Son, what the hell happened to you?!”

You growled softly as you tried to get up with the help of Dutch and Miss Grimshaw, they questioned you about what happened and you answered as many as you could as they walked you over to your tent to lay you down, Miss Grimshaw quickly walked over to the medical caravan to grab some supplies before returning to your side. She started to patch you up while saying reassuring things to you. You half-listened as you were really out of it by the time she got the bleeding to stop, you fell asleep shortly after Miss Grimshaw dressed your various wounds, Swanson even gave you some morphine to help with the pain.

Kieran returned to camp after he had sobered up enough to ride back, he felt embarrassed and terrified that he had lost you because of some stupid bullshit at the saloon. As soon as he walked past the tree line he saw the various camp members by your tent, ‘Something’s wrong…’ he thought to himself, he rushed over to your tent but was stopped by Arthur walking out of your tent, “Hold it, O’Driscoll, you can’t see him right now. Y/n was kidnapped by Pinkertons and was tortured for most of the night, he ain’t doin’ too well. You can see him in the morning. Plus, you need to sober up some, I can smell you from here.” The blonde man said while lighting a cigarette, Kieran’s eyes welled up with tears immediately following the news of what happened to you.

Arthur looked down at Kieran with a somber look before stepping aside and motioning for him to go inside your tent, he does so quickly but stops mid-stride when he saw the state you were in. Tears spilled down the sides of his face, his lip quivered as he couldn’t stop the tears from flowing now, “Y-Y/n, I’m-m so sorry, I sh-should’ve been w-with you! Oh god, please let him recover from this… fuck, I’m s-so ‘hic’ sorry.” Kieran said as he knelt beside you, gently resting his forehead on your bare shoulder.

“It’s okay, Kieran, I’ll be fine. I’m sorry too, I shouldn’t have left the saloon like I did. Forgive me?” You mumble, he gasped when you spoke, listening intently to your words. “N-No, I should be the one apologizing, I was the one who kissed her. I-I’m so fuckin’ sorry, Y/n, it’ll never happen again. I promise.” Kieran said as he grasped your uninjured hand, softly rubbing your knuckles with his thumbs, “Good, can I have a drink of water?” You say as you look over at the small bucket of water and a metal tin cup that sat next to it on a crate.

Kieran grabbed the cup and dunked it into the water to get a good amount of cool water, you try to sit up a little so you could drink, leaning back on your elbows you wait for him to bring the cup to you. Kieran presents the cup to your lips and you drink like you never have had water before, “S-Slow down, you’re gonna choke.” The brunette man said as he rubbed his hand on your shoulder. You gasp softly when you stopped gulping down the water, with a deep sigh you lay back down, the thick layer of gauze on your chest peeled a little, showing the edges of a large laceration to Kieran.

“I’ll be ok, doll, don’t worry about me too much.” You said with a pained grin, he smiles softly before carefully leaning over to kiss your lips, “I love you, Y/n.”

“I love you too, doll.”

#red dead redemption 2 #rdr 2 #kieran duffy x reader #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 kieran #murder tw #torture tw #death tw #fluff #blood tw

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rheyninwrites · 5 years ago

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In From the Storm Part 9

When you arrived home Friday night, expecting to take Arthur out again, you opened the door to the smell of cooking food. In the kitchen, Arthur was hunched over the stove, humming happily to himself. You smiled. It was a picture of domestic bliss.

“What’s going on in here?” You asked, making him look up with a start.

“Hey! Just thought I’d make some dinner for tonight, so you don’t have to spend no more of your money on me.” You rolled your eyes, ready to reassure him again, but he stopped you. “I know you say you don’t mind, but the truth is, I feel like a damn fool, sitting around here doing so little. I feel like no matter what I’ll never be able to repay you for all you done for me, so I thought I’d do this, at least. Now sit down and eat, before it gets cold.”

After a few minutes of eating, you finally told him what was on your mind.

“You know, I wish you wouldn’t worry so much about doing enough to repay me. Honestly, just having you around for company is enough for me.”

“Well, I ain’t much company.”

“Sure you are. We get along, we like a lot of the same things. You make me laugh. You’re a good friend.”

“Friends, huh?” You couldn’t help but notice the slight scowl as he said that, and you rushed to reassure him that you meant it.

“Yeah. I haven’t had a lot of friends. Not real friends. Mostly my friends have all been people who I just happened to see often, but didn’t really have a lot in common with, or who used me for whatever they could, but never gave anything back. I . . .” You swallowed hard. “I guess I’ve had a pretty lonely life. Kinda pathetic, I guess.”

He looked at you sadly. “I don’t think you’re pathetic.”

You tried to shovel in a few more mouthfuls of food, to get your thoughts off of the way he was staring at you, but somehow you’d managed to scare away your appetite. After a minute, instead of forcing yourself to eat anyway, you headed to put it away, sorry you wouldn’t get to eat it fresh. He got up from the table, following you.

“I’m sorry, Arthur. It’s delicious, I just- I can’t eat it right now.”

You turned to him, half expecting him to be angry, but instead, he was still looking at you with those deep, sad eyes. You tried to hold back, be strong and not let it get to you, but seeing him look at you that way was too much. Tears stung in your eyes and were soon trailing down your cheeks.

When you tried to turn away so he wouldn’t see, he grabbed your shoulders, turning you back around and wrapping his arms around you. Soon you were sobbing into his chest while he stroked your back, resting his chin on your head. Unable to help yourself, you put your arms around his waist and soaked up the comfort he gave like your life depended on it.

When your sobs had settled down some, you leaned back, wiping your eyes.

“You know, it wouldn’t be so bad if it was just a few friends, but . . ,” you inhaled deeply, sterling yourself for the confession you were about to make, “it’s everything. Everyone. I haven’t had a single relationship with anyone that wasn’t all about the other person’s needs. If I dared want anything, I was in the wrong. No matter how much I gave, it was never enough. I was never good enough.”

A dry chuckle from Arthur. “I guess I know what you mean there.” He stroked your hair while you leaned in against his chest, enjoying his warmth. “ But I think anybody that doesn’t get how amazing you are is a goddamn idiot.”

You laugh, completely devoid of humor. “ You realize that would be literally every person I’ve ever met, right?” You lean back to look in his eyes. “I’m serious. All I’ve ever heard my whole damn life is how awful I am. How I’m horrible, ugly, and never good enough at anything to be useful. Hell, my goddamn parents told me that. So, thanks for trying, but I doubt the whole world is wrong.”

“If that’s what the whole world says, then maybe it is wrong. Cause I don’t think that at all. You’re wonderful. You’re gentle, and kind, and,”he pauses for a moment to tuck some hair behind your ear, “you’re so goddamn beautiful.”

Panic rose in his chest as he realized what he’d said, but he knew it was too late to take it back. His eyes chased out yours, trying to see how big of a mistake he’d just made, and if he would be able to fix it, but he couldn’t read anything in your sad smile, or the way you thanked him and turned away.

Though you’d moved to face away from him, he let his hands linger around your waist, not quite able to face letting you go just yet. You tried to thank him again, to tell him he was being an incredible friend in putting up with you through this, but something about the look in his eyes when you faced him again stopped you. Your thoughts turned back to what he’d just said.

He’d called you beautiful, ‘so goddamn beautiful’. But that didn’t mean anything, right? Why would it? This was a man who, despite the dismal view he seemed to have of himself, could have his choice if women here, in your world. Once he understood that, he’d never even think about you again, even as a friend.

It had to happen eventually. You pulled him over to the sofa, taking out your laptop. Soon, you had website after website up, each one filled with people talking about how attractive he was, and how much they wished he was real. You showed him, watching the confusion filter across his face.

“You see what you mean to people? How many people think you’re absolutely incredible, and would give anything to be with you?”

He shook his head. “I ain’t nothing special. Why would anyone want me?”

“Because you ARE special, Arthur, no matter what you think of yourself. As soon as I can figure out some way to get you legal, in the system, and able to cope on your own, you can have anybody you want, Arthur. Anyone.”

He reached over, carefully closing the laptop. “I don’t want just anybody. I only want one person, more than I’ve ever wanted anything before. But I know I can’t have ‘em, cause there’s no way someone like them could want someone like me. Except as a friend?” His hand slid over the top of yours as he looked in your eyes.

“Arthur- you don’t want me. I know you don’t. Give it time. I’m disgusting, unloveable. I’m probably the least desirable person on the planet.” Tears spilled from your eyes. It hurt to say it to him, but you knew it was true. There’s no way he could be happy with you, not when he could do so much better.

He moved his hand. “If you ain’t interested, you can just say so. It won’t be the first time I made a goddamn fool of myself.”

“Dammit, it’s not that! I do want you. You’re fucking amazing, Arthur, and if I thought you could be happy with me . . . .” You look down into your lap. “I’m broken. I think I always will be.”

He shifted positions, kneeling in the floor in front of you to look in your eyes. “I’m broke too. But you make me feel like I ain’t. If you’d let me, I’ll try my best to do the same for you.”

The two of you sat there, stomachs in knots, for what felt like ages. Finally, you spoke in a quiet voice. “You sure? Really sure?”

He put his forehead against yours, wrapping a hand against the back of your neck. “First time I saw your face, that night I showed up? I knew I had to be dead, because I figured nothing that beautiful could exist in the world. You looked like an angel to me. Still do.”

#rdr2 #rdr2 fandom #red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #reddeadredemption #rdr #rdr 2 #arthur morgan #arthurmorgan #rdr arthur #arthur morgan/reader #arthur morgan fic #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan fanfic #modern arthur morgan #in from the storm

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downbeatofsix · 6 years ago

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if it’s you

Lucas smoothes the crease between Eliott’s eyebrows. “You don’t have to be sorry, baby.”

“You’re taking care of me and I’m gross and cranky and fucking depressed, Lucas,” Eliott rasps. “I kind of have to be sorry.”

For a minute, they’re both quiet. Then Lucas scoots closer and presses their foreheads together. “Okay, so you’re cranky and depressed and a little gross.” Eliott huffs the ghost of a laugh, and Lucas continues, “But of course I’m going to take care of you. I take care of you, you take care of me. That’s what we do.”

sick fic (five-times-plus-one but make it lazy), cross-posted to ao3 here

Lucas notices it on a Sunday.

It’s afternoon but he is only just getting up. There’s a dull throb in his head (which, considering the amount of Arthur’s beer he and Yann had drank last night, isn’t too bad) and his whole body hurts. That’s also normal, and something of a triumph – proof he drank hard and danced hard and laughed hard with his friends.

Swallowing, Lucas registers that his throat feels rough. That isn’t normal.

But he showers anyway (“Finally!” Mika hollers from the kitchen, “He emerges!”) and dresses in his softest clothes. He always feels better after a shower but the scrape in his throat doesn’t go away, and the ache in his head only gets worse.

It’s fine. Just a rough morning after a good night.

So he lazes around all day, chipping away at some homework and mostly messaging friends. He’s so distracted by the gang’s group chat that he doesn’t realize until Mika goes to bed that it’s late, and he hasn’t been hungry all day, and his skull feels like one big bruise someone’s been trampolining on.

It’s fine. He crawls into bed and closes his eyes against how the whole world won’t stop spinning. It’ll be better in the morning.

***

It isn’t better in the morning.

But it’s fine. Blearily, Lucas wills his eyes to focus on his phone screen. He really can’t miss school: they’ll call his father, and then his father will be angry, and his father can’t be angry at him because then he might not give Lucas rent money and Lucas really, really needs rent money. So he’ll go to school.

So he goes to school.

He can’t focus the entire day, and when he tries to talk the words stick in his throat. He can’t get warm, either, and eventually Yann notices and wraps his own scarf around Lucas’s throat. (God, Yann. Lucas almost misses being in love with him. It’s little things like this, little kindnesses, that would have made his heart flutter hopefully, but after the mess of last year, he’s never been able to feel the same. And he could never ask for a better friend.)

When Lucas gets home, he collapses into bed and sleeps until his alarm goes off the next morning.

It’ll be fine tomorrow.

***

Eliott notices on a Tuesday afternoon.

He’s passing through the mathematics hall (the hall where Lucas’s locker is) and he can’t help it – he looks for him. It’s a habit now anyway. It puts a smile on his face, usually, because Lucas is almost always laughing with his friends, or elbowing the tall curly-haired one in the ribs, or gesturing wildly. (In fact, Eliott can hear them now.) Or sometimes, on Eliott’s very favorite days, Lucas’s friends haven’t arrived down the hall yet, and Lucas is deep in thought, pensive, a little withdrawn and a lot more approachable, because Eliott recognizes that aloneness. (Eliott used to worry he was projecting, but now, after watching him a bit, he knows that Lucas’s face isn’t just pretty; it’s remarkably open.)

Today, though. Today Lucas’s friends are all gathered around him, as boisterous as ever; the one with glasses and the handsome black one teasing the curly-haired one mercilessly. But Lucas looks like he’s going to fall over.

He’s bundled to the point where it’s almost funny. His jaw is buried in a light blue scarf but his face above that is flushed noticeably flushed. His hands, when he tries to open his locker, are shaking.

“Let me,” Eliott hears one of his friends offer as he passes.

“Thanks,” Lucas says, voice so raw and tired that Eliott winces. “Just leave the lock open, it’s fine.”

Poor boy. Poor poor boy. It’s so soft and kind of gross, but Eliott wants to bundle him up in fleece and take him home. Eliott wants to tiptoe through his own apartment because Lucas is sleeping in his bed, because Lucas needs the sleep, until his fever breaks.

He’s only ever taken care of Lucille like that.

In their second year, she had gotten pneumonia in both lungs and it had scared the shit out of him. He was over at her parents’ place constantly, getting her tea, stroking her hair. Listening to her wheezing breath, he realized he had never felt so tender towards another person. Sympathy for her flowed through him like blood.

Six months ago, Eliott hadn’t wanted sympathy. He didn’t want to take his meds, he just wanted it all to be over.

Unfortunately, a suicide attempt isn’t something a person can just cough out.

Watching Lucille’s tenderness turn into tired pity turn into the detached responsibility of a caretaker hadn’t really been heartbreaking. It was just hard, and cold, and exhausting, and he was already so goddamn tired.

If Lucille got sick again, if she needed him again (which she doesn’t right now, he knows), he would still pick her tissues up off the floor and change the sheets. And maybe that tenderness would still pool high in his throat. But it would mostly be guilt, and some sick satisfaction at keeping the blinds shut.

This thing he feels for Lucas – that spark, that recognition – is exciting. The jolt in his chest that Eliott gets when he sees him or his friends or just blue eyes is something to look forward to. He doesn’t really know Lucas, as badly as he wants to, as hard as he’s tried to from such a distance. There’s safety in that. And Eliott had missed the butterflies that come with a crush, with peeking around corners for somebody, with thinking up meet-cutes where their eyes would meet and Lucas would feel it, too. That instant knowing-ness. All that potential is really a daydream, and Eliott knows it.

So this urge he feels to kiss the top of Lucas’s forehead and rub the goosebumps off his arms is surprising. Tenderness hasn’t factored into this until now. When Eliott realizes that’s what he’s feeling, he almost trips up the stairs.

But he can’t stop thinking about it.

He’s been listening to what Lucille tries not to say for so long that he’s started to doubt his own feelings. The pull he feels towards Lucas – just a simple crush. What he feels when he’s manic is stupid, impulsive, ridiculous. The depression is weak, embarrassing, dramatic.

But maybe there’s more to this than he thinks there is.

***

Lucas had thought the day could only go up from how he had woken up on Wednesday morning – late, not shivery now but gross and clammy on top of sore inside and out. He had ran to the bus stop and spent the whole ride wheezing softly, pathetically. When he had finally gotten to school, the halls were entirely empty, and now, now, as he rests his forehead against his locker door, he realizes that someone has been rooting around in his locker. All of his textbooks have been neatly stacked (a huge improvement from the haphazard system of shoving them around that he has perfected), and the half-eaten protein bar that had been floating around has been removed.

And whoever it was has left him something. The only thing that’s sketchy is that they had opened his locker in the first place, and Lucas is so out of it that he probably wouldn’t have realized if the to-go cup and Influenzium packets weren’t right on top of his (now perfectly arranged) textbooks.

When he does see it, though, it makes him smile. The only person he knows that is that kind is Yann, and he’s so lucky to have him.

He reaches for the cup and curls his cold hands around it – it’s still hot, and steaming, and what’s inside smells like lavender and chamomile… Which makes Lucas pause with the cup halfway to his mouth.

Yann and his mother both hate lavender anything to the point that they don’t allow it in the house.

Arthur had texted the group chat last night that he was sick, too, and taking the day off. And there’s just no way Basile would have been so thoughtful.

Loud as he and his friends are, as dramatic as last year had been – no one really notices Lucas. (Which isn’t a bad thing.) There are very few people that would notice how he’s feeling, sick as he is, and do something so simple and kind about it.

Maybe – Lucas’s chest twinges guiltily – Emma?

Lucas shuts his locker door, hinging it shut so it doesn’t actually lock, and sets off for class before he gets later than he already is.

That has to be it. No one else knows what number his locker is, or interacts with him enough to notice he’s sick in the first place.

Fuck. Well – they’re still kind of friends. Enough so that it doesn’t make this weird. And it wouldn’t be weird if he just accepted it and didn’t say anything about it, right?

It’s a little weird.

But Lucas has already started sipping at the tea, which is still just a little hot and feels perfect on his throat. So perfect, it makes him sigh in relief. And somewhere so deep inside of him he can ignore it, he’s been lit up with the knowledge that someone noticed; that someone cared.

And as he slips into class, he doesn’t notice a boy leaning across the corridor in the corner, smiling softly to himself before he turns to his own business.

***

It becomes, for the rest of the week, a little routine. Each morning, no matter how early Lucas gets to school, there’s tea waiting for him in his locker. He gets steadily better, until by Friday his throat is barely sore at all, and he locks his locker.

By the next week, Lucas has almost forgotten that anything out of the ordinary had happened at all, even if the smell of lavender makes him smile without realizing it. And that's all there is to it for a long time.

***

Two months later, Lucas is shivering in his sleepshirt as he minces through Eliott’s apartment, quiet as possible because Eliott is asleep, because Eliott needs the sleep.

It’s fairly early in the morning – the world is still gray and soft outside the windows, and Lucas feels the same. He’s glad to be here with Eliott, no matter how many times Eliott tells him he should go. (No matter how many times Eliott melts into his touch, or takes deep shuddering breaths with him, or sighs softly in his sleep.)

Lucas won’t go.

But besides that, he’s not sure what he should do. He knows what Lucille told him – be there, be calm – but it sounds easier over the phone than in practice. He doesn’t want to make Eliott feel like a baby. He just wants to make it easier, if he can. At least remind him that it’s all right if he feels alone, but he isn’t. Because Lucas is going to stay.

So he starts rooting around in the cupboards, not looking for anything in particular. Maybe a little something for Eliott to eat, if he feels up to it. Or –

Lucas bumps something off the shelf, and a box tumbles out of the pantry at his feet. With a soft curse, he stoops to pick it up. It isn’t anything breakable, thank God; just a mostly-empty box of lavender chamomile tea.

Lavender chamomile tea?

Lucas pauses and opens the box, holds it up to his nose, and breathes deep. Memories of a distant headache, and soft comfort, and the yellow of his locker surface gently. Memories of Eliott, smiling up at him that first morning, whispering, "I saw you on the first day of school...You were all I saw, actually."

Lucas’s throat tightens even as warmth spreads through his whole body. Quietly, he makes Eliott tea, pours it into a mug perfect for cradling, and tiptoes back into the bedroom.

Eliott is just barely starting to wake up, with his breathing changing and brow starting to furrow. Lucas sets the tea down on the nightstand and climbs back into bed, pulling Eliott’s naked back close to his chest.

“Good morning,” Lucas murmurs into the crook of Eliott’s neck.

“Good morning,” Eliott whispers, and his voice is rough and quiet.

Lucas wants to ask, How are you feeling?, but bites his tongue. Instead, he kisses Eliott’s shoulder soft enough to not be a kiss at all, and Eliott turns in bed to face him.

“Hey,” Lucas says quietly. Eliott’s face is completely blank, eyes puffy, hair greasy and more of a mess than usual. He isn’t beautiful like this, but he doesn’t have to be. And Lucas loves him. These are undeniable facts. “I made you tea. Want any?”

Eliott twists his mouth to the side. “Not really. I’m sorry.”

Lucas smoothes the crease between Eliott’s eyebrows. “You don’t have to be sorry, baby.”

“You’re taking care of me and I’m gross and cranky and fucking depressed, Lucas,” Eliott rasps with some venom. “I kind of have to be sorry.”

Eliott closes his eyes. “When have I ever taken care of you?”

Lucas smiles. “Well, there was this one time a few months ago when I was really sick, and I thought no one noticed. And then one morning, someone did.”

“Oh, really?” Lucas notices that Eliott has stilled. He runs a hand down Eliott’s back.

“Eliott,” he starts, and has to stop. Quieter, more serious – “You’re so kind, and so giving. Always. And to me. You took care of me before I even knew your name. That’s how good you are. So, so good.”

Carefully, Lucas draws away to better look Eliott in the eyes. Seeing how Eliott’s have started to spill over silently, Lucas cups his face in his hands.

Eliott whispers, “What if I hadn’t noticed you were sick?”

“In some alternate universe, maybe you didn’t,” Lucas says. “But if I didn’t die of a fever and sore throat” – here Eliott smirks a little, against his will – “I still love you in that one. Just like I love you in this one. And that’s why I’m here. Because I want to and I love you. And I can tell you that by taking care of you, and staying with you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know. Just like you didn’t have to take care of me all the times that you have.”

They look at each other, remembering: Eliott leading Lucas onto the bus, pulling Lucas into a side-alley, walking him home, tugging him forward. Giving him strength when he can. Giving him love when he can, without need for recognition or recompense, because he can.

Because that’s what they do.

“But what if – ” Eliott starts, and Lucas interrupts, gently wiping under his eyes.

“I have an idea.”

“Dangerous,” Eliott whispers, and Lucas beams at him.

“You’d know, huh? But listen. Here’s my idea: only look as far into the future as you need to. I want to be with you, and you want to be with me. And that’s what matters right now – that we’re together, right now.”

“What if I can only look into the next minute?” Eliott asks, bare. Lucas’s heart breaks with tenderness for another countless time.

“Then we’ll take it minute by minute.”

“Minute by minute,” Eliott echoes, and closes his eyes. Takes a breath. Gives the ghost of a smile. "Okay. For the next minute - I request a kiss good morning. And then another minute to breathe. And then," he continues, opening his eyes, catching the first real light of morning over Lucas's face, "maybe some tea. We'll see. You were so nice to make it for me, after all."

He brings his hands to finally pull Lucas into him, touch him back for the first time this morning, and Lucas feels something settle. Eliott tilts his head up, and Lucas smiles, quick and bright, and goes, more than willing.

Notes: title is from here, main blog is here, thanks for reading xoxoxo

#skam france #lucas lallemant #eliott demaury #elu

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hysterialevi · 6 years ago

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When the Devil Cries pt. 11

Author’s note: A bit shorter than the other chapters, but I hope you enjoy it anyways :)

From Arthur’s POV

MIDNIGHT

OUTSIDE SAINT DENIS

“Hurry!” Hosea urged, pointing ahead. “This way! We’ll loose ‘em in the trees!”

Snapping my horse’s reins, I rode behind Eddie and Dutch to make sure there were no more assassins followin’ us as we bolted through the marshlands, never looking back.

Even now, we could still hear gunshots thundering in the distance along with police whistles blaring loudly, and we had no idea if any of them had tailed us out of the city.

Christ, I thought to myself. What a goddamned mess.

Not only did that gala go up in flames faster than a match thrown in moonshine, we also made a new, unknown enemy tonight...and killed about a third of ‘em, from what it looked like.

Who the hell were those people? I wondered. Why did Atticus want Eddie dead so much?

He weren’t no outlaw like his daddy was. And judging by how little Eddie knew about Rose’s gang, I doubted he was even involved with their criminal activity in the first place.

Eddie was nothin’ but an innocent soul who got caught in the middle of this crossfire all because of another man’s actions...and he nearly paid for it with his life today.

I was just glad that I had been there for him. If I hadn’t-- well...I didn’t even wanna think about that.

Slowing down to a halt, the four of us stopped next to a nearby swamp as our horses’ hooves dragged through the soupy mud, giving us a chance to catch our breaths. It seemed like we had finally lost the assassins, and for the first time in a while, the air around us was actually quiet.

We had escaped.

For now.

“...Goddammit, Arthur!” Dutch cursed as he climbed down his horse, checking around to make sure we were truly alone. “What happened to ‘our guns stay holstered?”

I got off my own mount, gesturing to Eddie who had drifted away from the group slightly, lowering my voice so he couldn’t hear us.

“They was gonna kill him, Dutch!” I whispered through gritted teeth.

The older man shrugged.

“So?”

I fell silent at that, completely taken aback by the response.

I mean, I knew Dutch wasn’t as close with Eddie as I was -- and the boy didn’t even know his real identity -- but I still expected him to show at least some sympathy.

Hell, it was because of Dutch’s sympathy that he took me in as a kid. Without him, I woulda lived the rest of my limited time in this world as some street orphan, and I would’ve never been where I was now.

What happened to Dutch?

Picking up on my surprise, the man lowered his head in an apologetic manner and softened his tone somewhat, glancing over at Eddie who was now sitting on a fallen tree log, unsure of what to do with himself.

“Listen,” Dutch said sternly. “I know he’s your friend, Arthur, but we can’t afford to make sacrifices like this.”

I wasn’t convinced. “So you woulda just let him die?”

Dutch held up a finger, his expression sharpened with annoyance. “...Now it ain’t like that, Arthur. And you know it. But we’re a gang. We have priorities. And that boy ain’t one of them!”

Hosea jumped in before things could get more heated, offering some pragmatism.

“To be fair,” he added, still sitting on his horse, “a shootout most-likely would’ve commenced anyway. I mean -- good God, did you see how many assassins were in that gala? ...And I thought we was well hidden. Though, I’m happy to announce not everything went wrong. Despite all that bloodshed, we still made off with a decent chunk of money. Perhaps not as much as we were anticipating, but enough that I’d call tonight a success.”

Dutch crossed his arms. “I suppose there’s that, at least.”

I sighed out of fatigue, looking around the gloomy marsh. “Well...what happens now?”

Hosea offered some suggestions. “I assume your friend lives in Saint Denis?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Not too far from the place we just burned down, actually.”

“Well, he can’t go back home now. Not for a while, anyway. His house will be the first place those assassins check. He’ll have to stay somewhere else. Does he have any family he could contact?”

“No.” I replied.

“Well, we can’t bring him back to camp,” Dutch reminded. “We can’t risk those assassins finding out where we are.”

I thought about it for a moment, my head perking up once an idea struck me.

“...I’ll stay with him.” I said.

Both Dutch and Hosea looked at me in confusion.

“We’ll camp out in the wilderness for a while,” I explained. “Move around a bit until things calm down in Saint Denis. It ain’t the safest option, but it’s all we got.”

Dutch shook his head. “We don’t have time for this, Arthur. We need to focus on hitting that bank.”

“We ain’t hittin’ that bank anytime soon, Dutch,” I countered. “The law will be swarmin’ all over the city after what happened tonight.”

“...He’s right,” Hosea agreed. “And besides, it’ll give us more time to plan. After all, this bank is a lot more fortified than the one in Valentine. We need to make sure we’re absolutely ready before robbing it. In the meantime, Arthur can keep an eye on Mister Ryan. Make sure he doesn’t get ambushed again.”

Dutch considered the point for a minute, his dark eyes never leaving mine as the gears turned in his head.

I could tell the man wasn’t happy with me for getting involved in a war that weren’t even ours to fight, and honestly, I understood exactly where he was comin’ from.

The gang had enough problems trying to avoid the Pinkertons and O’Driscolls. Not to mention Leviticus Cornwall was tearin’ this country apart just to find us...and now, ‘cause of me, we also had to worry about whoever the hell these assassins were. And more importantly -- who sent them.

I mean, someone had to be at the head of those maniacs. The stunt they pulled at the gala wasn’t something you just came up with overnight, and considering how organized their attack was, it was pretty clear that they had some type of leader. My only question was who.

Thatcher obviously didn’t send them. And Atticus was too far away to contact them so quickly. That meant there had to be a third shadow lurkin’ around somewhere...and I doubted they’d give up here. Great. As if we needed more people hunting us down.

Letting out an exhausted breath, Dutch finally gave in and remounted his horse, slowly beginning to make his way out of the marsh.

“Very well,” he said. “I suppose we don’t have much choice. I’m headin’ back to camp. Hosea, you should do the same. Though, it’ll be best if we ride separately. As for you Arthur...” Dutch paused, his gaze traveling to Eddie, “...just keep the boy safe. Otherwise, all o’ this will have been for nothing.”

I gave him a firm nod, bidding both of them farewell.

“I intend to.”

“Then let’s get moving. We’ll avoid Saint Denis for a few days. Keep a low profile while the city’s on high alert. In the meantime, you get that boy far away from here...and be careful. If those assassins were willing to attack him like that in the city...imagine what they’ll do in the wilds. For now though, just stay safe.”

“Good luck, Arthur,” Hosea said. “Hopefully, when you and the boy return, you’ll both be in one piece.”

I waved goodbye. “That’s the plan.”

Breaking into a sprint, both Dutch and Hosea galloped to safety, the two of them disappearing into Lemoyne’s swamplands before diverting their paths. It was still somewhat early in the night, and so far, I hadn’t noticed any stray lawmen or assassins skulking about...so they should’ve been able to get back home just fine before the sun came up.

I couldn’t lie...part of me felt like an absolute idiot and a burden for bringing this sorta trouble to the gang.

My job was to help Dutch and Hosea keep our people alive. To make sure we was safe, and we was fed. And yet, within the past week, everything I’d managed to do had been the complete opposite.

Not only was I freely giving my money away to a theater that had nothin’ to do with us, I was also wasting my time falling in love with some boy who was better off without me anyway -- when I could’ve been focusing on earning more cash for the camp. All because of my own, selfish desires.

I dragged a hand down my face, thinking back to the shootout.

Was I doin’ the right thing? I questioned. Or was I simply fanning the flames, drawing even more danger to us?

All I wanted was to protect Eddie from harm. And yet, whenever I was around the boy...trouble only always seemed to follow me.

First, there was Thatcher’s death. Then, there was the theater robbery...and now, we barely escaped with our lives from a goddamned firefight in the middle of a gala. I was hurtin’ this boy more than I was helping him.

And it was all due to the fact that, deep down, some part of me absolutely refused to accept the pathetic outlaw I really was. Almost like...I was tryin’ to be some sorta hero, even though I knew damn well I was just as rotten as the people I killed. And that was the sad truth of it.

But...regardless of whatever regrets I had, or how much I wished we could rewind time, we had come too far to turn back now.

Eddie’s life was in danger, and it was pretty clear to me that these assassins had no intentions on givin’ up anytime soon. If there was any chance that we were gonna get outta this shit-storm alive, we was gonna have to take it together.

All the way till the end.

Bringing myself back to reality, I paused for a moment and thought about what to say before hesitantly wandering over to Eddie, careful not to distress him further.

Obviously, this weren’t the first time I’d been in a shootout -- and I highly doubted it’d be the last -- but I was used to this kinda life. Fights like this sometimes occurred to me on a daily basis.

Eddie, on the other hand...I didn’t imagine he had ever been in something quite like this. And it worried me to think about the damage it was probably doin’ to him. After all, that type of fear stuck with people, and in my experience, it was rarely ever forgotten.

I slowly walked up to the boy, admittedly unsure of how to proceed.

“Hey, Eddie.” I said, taking a seat next to him. The musician let out a shaky breath, his eyes stuck on the muddy ground underneath us.

“...Bloody hell, Arthur...” he whispered, his voice quivering with fear. “...What just happened?”

I sighed, resting my elbows on my knees. “I wish I knew. How you holdin’ up?”

Eddie brought his gaze to me, clearly panicking on the inside even if he didn’t show it.

“I’m...I’m in shock. I’ve never seen so many bodies in one place. And poor Miss Powell. I know I wasn’t exactly fond of the woman, but she didn’t deserve that...” the boy gestured to his suit. “And look at me. Drenched head-to-toe in blood, and it isn’t even mine.”

I hung my head low in guilt, silently cursing those goddamned assassins for everything they put Eddie through tonight.

“Jesus...” I murmured. “I’m sorry you had to see all that, Eddie.”

The pianist combed a sluggish hand through his hair, completely drained of all energy.

“I should’ve known Thatcher wasn’t alone,” he scolded himself. “I should’ve known other men followed with him...but like the naive idiot I am, I endangered all the people at that gala because I couldn’t see the danger I was truly in. Including you. Everyone who got hurt tonight was hurt because of me. I’m such a fool.”

I stared at the disheartened man, honestly a little shocked at how critical he was being of himself. I mean, I knew he’d just been through Hell, but I had never seen him quite so dismayed. Even after we killed Thatcher, the boy held himself together pretty well, and got right back on his feet.

Now though, Eddie just seemed devoid of all hope entirely, and...it hurt to see him like this.

I mindlessly observed the dark, droopy trees around us, doing my best to calm the boy down.

“...While that may be true,” I conceded, “you can’t afford to think like that. Trust me. That kinda mindset will only eat you from the inside out, and it certainly won’t do you no favors. It ain’t gonna be easy, but you need to be strong right now, Eddie. ‘Cause lemme tell you something...”

I turned towards the boy and firmly held his hand in a supportive manner, looking him directly in the eyes.

“Those assassins might’ve caught us off-guard tonight, but the next time they come...we’ll be ready. We’re gonna let them know that they ain’t the ones doin’ the hunting no more, and we’re not gonna go down without a fight.”

I tightened my grip slightly, never looking away from Eddie as I lowered my voice.

“...They’re in our land now.”

Taking in everything I just said, Eddie held my hand back and took a deep breath, appearing a little less shaken up than before. The spark that I had become so familiar with slowly returned to his eyes, and with every passing second, he seemed to relax a bit.

Despite his faith in me however, it was evident that the boy was still hesitant about the whole situation, and he briefly glanced up at the night sky...almost as if he were searchin’ for answers.

Eddie slouched in discouragement, his hand still latching onto mine.

“But...I can’t fight, Arthur. Not like you, anyways. How on Earth am I supposed to combat this?”

“You’ll learn,” I replied confidently. “I’ll teach you.”

The pianist’s head perked up at that and he quirked a brow out of curiosity, silently asking what I meant.

“I already told Mister Kilgore and O’Malley that I’d stay with you,” I explained. “We’ll camp out in the wilds for a few days -- wait for things to cool off in Saint Denis before bringing you back home.”

Eddie frowned, though not in disapproval. “Arthur...you don’t have to--”

“--I know I don’t have to do it,” I interrupted, thinking twice about what I just said. “Actually...no. I do. I’m the one got you in this mess, after all. Them assassins woulda never come for you if I hadn’t killed Middleton. So...it’s only right I get you outta this. And besides, I can’t just leave you now. Much as I hate to admit it, we’re in this nightmare together. And ain’t nothing you can do that’s gonna make me walk away.”

Looking at me with a sense of gratitude, Eddie found himself at a loss for words as the trees gently swayed around us, filling the profound silence of the night with a soft rustling.

There was a certain fondness in Eddie’s deep gaze. One that I’d never seen from anyone else. It was a mixture of admiration and tenderness -- something I rarely ever got from other people -- and the longer his eyes lingered on me, the more he seemed to get lost in his own, somber thoughts.

Before I even had a chance to say anything else though, the boy had cupped both sides of my face and pulled me into a loving kiss, planting his lips against mine as my heart came to a halt.

I froze on the spot, completely paralyzed by bewilderment.

What...the hell just happened?

One minute, I was shooting at an army of assassins and escaping from a burning mansion, and the next, I was sittin’ in the middle of an eerie swamp, finally kissing the man I had foolishly dreamed of for so long right after evading death.

The part that really threw me off though, weren’t the kiss itself. It was the motive behind it.

Unlike my past experiences, there was no lust involved here. No hunger. No craving. It was simply a gesture of affection, and it was Eddie’s subtle way of sayin’ he needed me.

I...didn’t know if that were true. In fact, I was probably about the last thing he needed, but the poor kid had deluded himself into believing I was a good man worth stayin’ loyal to.

Despite how wrong it felt though, I also couldn’t deny that I had been wanting this for quite a while now. Eddie was definitely one of the best men I’d met in years, and the fact that, out of all people, he had fallen in love with me...well, I guessed my luck hadn’t run out just yet.

My only fear...was thinkin’ about when it would.

Breaking the kiss, Eddie pulled back slightly and bashfully glanced away, speaking just above a whisper as he recomposed himself.

“...Thank you, Arthur. I genuinely don’t know where I’d be if I hadn’t met you.”

I let out a light chuckle. “You’d be dead.”

Eddie returned the laugh, beaming warmly at me. “That I would.”

Rising from the log, I helped Eddie up and whistled for my horse, guiding the boy to his own before mounting up and preparing to leave. As much as I wished we could’ve stayed here longer, it weren’t gonna be long before either the law or more of those assassins showed up, and I didn’t wanna get caught in another shootout.

Climbing onto the brute horse, Eddie took a seat and patted Bullet’s neck, earning a friendly neigh from the animal.

“So,” he said, “have you got a plan in mind? You know this land better than I do.”

I gestured outside the swamp, weighing our options.

“Well, the further we are from Saint Denis, the better. I’m thinkin’ we can head to a town called Valentine in New Hanover. It’s pretty far from here, and there’s lots of space to hide in.”

I glanced at Eddie’s bloodstained suit, pausing my train of thought.

“...Though, maybe it’s best if we both get cleaned up first. It’ll be easier to go unnoticed when we ain’t drenched in blood.”

Eddie looked around. “Where would we clean up? It’s not as if we can just pay for a bath in Saint Denis. Besides, these are the only clothes I have at the moment.”

I snapped my horses reins, leading Eddie out of the marsh as we trotted side-by-side.

“Follow me,” I instructed. “We’ll find a river, or a lake, or somethin’ to wash up in. At least for now. There’s a town just west of here called Rhodes. You can take a proper bath at the saloon once we get there. As for clothes...I think I’ve got some spare shirts in my saddlebag. They might be a bit big for you, but we can always buy some more later on.”

Eddie nodded and picked up his pace, riding alongside me as the morning sun just began to peek over the horizon. “Sounds good.”

I grinned at him. “Then let’s the get the hell outta here.”

#red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #arthur morgan #eddie ryan #oc #fanfic #story

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moczothe1st · 6 years ago

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Let’s Play Fire Emblem IV: Genealogy of the Holy War, Part 16: The World’s Last Hope, Maybe, Sorta

Part 15

Welcome back to Fire Emblem IV, as we begin the second generation in earnest. Unlike in real life, this new generation may actually succeed in making the world a better place, though in fairness that’s partially because the last one left it in such a state there’s nowhere to go but up.

When we signed off, we had just met a pair of idiots and I allowed you to choose between them, because I’m a great guy like that. You picked Johan, unanimously, for reasons varying from his superior speed growths, to his greater range of movement, to just hating Johalvier’s stupid face. All valid reasons! So I’ll be picking him up ASAP, to prevent him from accidentally getting his dumb ass killed. But first, as our turn begins, we have a new arrival to the battlefield…

And she’s blue, so I like her already.

(A green-haired pegasus knight whose mount is named after Erin’s sister. I wonder who her mom is.)

(Arthur is a little less obvious since weird white hair is pretty common in this game, as Julia reminded us last week, but he’s Taillte and Lewyn’s son.)

Arthur: Er, right. Sorry about that. Say, Fee, I don’t have too far to go. If you want, I can just walk from here.

Fee: Where are you off to, anyway?

Arthur: Oh, just Alster.

Fee: A-Alster?! Geez, you’re dumber than I thought! Alster’s waaaay south of here. There’s an entire sea in the way, for crying out loud! I dunno what you’re thinking, but you haven’t a hope in heck of walking the rest of the way there!

Arthur: Eh, it’s fine. I’m hardly in a hurry.

Fee: So, er, why do you need to go to Alster?

Arthur: Oh, see, I’ve got a sister I haven’t seen in years who might be there.

(… And yet, not in a hurry.)

Arthur: She and my mom were taken away when I was just a kid. I was sort of left alone in some far corner of Silesse or another. I just heard a rumor, but at this point even a rumor’s enough if it means I might find her.

Fee: Huh, really? You know, I know just what that’s like. My big brother’s been missing for ages.

Arthur: Did you get separated from him as well?

Fee: Oh, no, nothing that bad. We’ve always lived together in Silesse, but awhile back he ran off to try and find our dad.

Arthur: Your father, huh?

Fee: Yeah, he’s been missing for years. Mom spent the rest of her life waiting for him to come back, but he never did…

Arthur: What happened to her?

(Was the use of ‘the rest of her life’ too subtle for you, Captain Tact?)

Fee: She… she’s dead. Illness…

Arthur: Oh… sorry about that. I shouldn’t have brought it up…

Fee: It’s okay! I mean, you’ve already brought up lots of things that you shouldn’t have.

(I think Fee and I will get along just fine.)

Fee: … Heh, kidding. You’re actually not that bad.

Arthur: Heh heh, thanks. And thanks for giving me a chance and letting me come along with you.

Fee: No problem! So was the sister thing real? Is that actually why you’re travelling?

Arthur: Yeah, it’s real. But what about you? What’s your deal?

Fee: Actually, I kinda want to join that Isaachian rebel army.

(And I want more flying units, so we’re both in a good place. Welcome to the team, Fee! Don’t stand too close to Larcei if you don’t want to get coated in the blood of her victims.)

Fee: When I was little, mom told me stories about the paladin Sigurd and his brave allies, and those have always meant a lot to me. Lately I’ve been hearing about how Sigurd’s son is somewhere in Isaach, raising a revolution. And it all just sort of clicked, y’know? I knew that’s where I need to be, s oI just ran right out of home to try and find him.

Arthur: Wow… that’s pretty great of you. Y’know, I think I’ll help you out here for a while. It’s the least I can do for you putting up with me.

Fee: Okay! Partners it is, then. Good luck out there… partner!

Arthur: Heh! Upbeat as ever, aren’t you?

And with that, we round out our team for the second generation’s first chapter, except for Johan, who isn’t recruited yet and also doesn’t count. Let’s take a look at what we got.

First, Julia, the mysterious priestess whose identity could be anyone. She might be a random person from anywhere in the entire world. There’s no way to tell who she is. It’s a total, unabashed, impossible mystery to sol-

Oh, she has Major Naga and Minor Vala Holy Blood, so she’s Deirdre and Arvis’s kid. Yeah, honestly, it’s kind of like the developers forgot you can just look at the stat screens to find out a general idea of these character’s parents. They really try to play up Julia’s identity as a mystery, but there’s literally only one person she could be. Notice, however, that she doesn’t have Loptyr blood. Now there’s a mystery for ya…

In terms of her utility as a character, meanwhile, Julia is excellent. Blows her mom out of the water, thanks to inheriting Adept and Pursuit from her shitty father and having a generally better base stats and superior growths; in particular, thanks to her two Holy Bloods adding to her already naturally huge Magic growth from Deirdre, she actually comes to a magic growth of 100%. She will always get a magic point when leveling up, so by the end of the game she will be a goddamn magic cannon. Her weak points will be her Defense and Speed, the former of which is partially offset by the fact she actually has a remarkably high HP growth as well.

However, none of this matters right now because she starts off without any weapons. Don’t worry, that will change soon enough. Oh, and while we’re here…

Lana: You know, Lord Seliph’s actually really been worrying about you.

(PLATONICALLY! He has been PLATONICALLY worrying about his HALF-SISTER.)

Lana: If there’s anything I can do to help you, just let me know and I’ll get right on it.

Julia: Mm. Thank you…

Lana: Oh, and I’ve got a little something for you.

Julia: This is… a Mend staff?

Lana: You can use these, right?

Julia: For me? Thank you, Lana. With this… I know I can help everyone.

Lana: You’re welcome, Julia. Let’s give this our all, together!

D’aaaaaaaaaw. Shame this game was released like twenty years before it was socially acceptable to admit lesbians existed, because I ship Lana/Julia now. And not just because I want to make absolutely sure the latter cannot ever accidentally marry her brother.

Next up, Fee.

Like her mom before her, Fee is just generally solid. Her base stats mark her as a speedster, but her defense, resistance, and strength are all set at 8 when she’s only level 2, so she isn’t fragile or weak by any means; if she follows in Erin’s footsteps and gets lucky on the Defense growths, only archers will ever really be a threat to her. My hope is that by giving her Azel as a dad means she’ll also get a solid Magic growth (+30% from his Minor Vala Blood!) and will become sort of a flying artillery piece wielding all our magic swords to rain death on the enemy from above. This is kind of experimental, I admit. But on the plus side, even if that doesn’t work out, just ‘a second Erin’ is still plenty fine by me. Erin was cool beans.

And finally, Arthur.

Hehehehehe…

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA…

HAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA…

*deep breath*

Arthur is invincible. He has Forseti and he’s invincible. I mean his growths and all that shit are great too, he’s essentially Lewyn 2.0 with all the latest upgrade software, but really, that’s the summary. He’s got Forseti, and for the purposes of this map he is invincible. It’s going to be two more chapters before we fight anything that can lay a finger on him while he’s wielding that monster.

This isn’t the only reason I married Lewyn and Taillte. But it certainly is a big one.

Now then. Like a moron, I accidentally moved Lana and Julia too far forward to have them chat with each other. They’re in the range of Johan’s army. So I have the rest of the team form a perimeter while Larcei and Seliph run their butts off to join in. Arthur starts moving toward the castle to remove the current owner, and Fee moves to the village nearest her starting point to take a swing at the bandit there…

Did you just get hit on a 21% chance? And I was just talking up how good you are! *sigh* End turn. Johan’s army takes their swing at us…

…. That was pathetic! Only Ulster dodged any of that, and not nearly enough for my tastes considering he almost died anyway. What happened, kids?! You were rocking last week! Sigh. Okay. Okay. Let’s try and salvage this…

…. Yes, that’s a good start.

FEE! WHAT THE SHIT, LADY?!

Oh, that doesn’t count, Arthur. You’re holding a universal cheat code.

Now, I have the remaining characters form a line that will force Johan’s axe men to take a long, weird path to get to anyone who can’t fight back. With luck this means nobody will get attacked more than once. Honestly, at this point, I’m mostly afraid Johan will hit someone who can really fight back and get his dumb ass killed; that would be embarrassing to get a reset over someone who technically isn’t even my ally. Larcei is in his range, though… hopefully he will talk to her, rather than try to axe her. End turn…

Oh, and Johalvier’s douches have been moving toward us too, because I can’t have nice things .

Oifey can’t actually one-shot these guys normally. He procced Critical on this one because he’s a killstealing old bastard.

…. Why have you people decided to stop dodging…?

This may… go badly.

… And of course we’re in a situation where I need Oifey to both dodge (it’s only a 30% chance to hit but he hasn’t been performing lately) and not hit back too hard. Fucking grand.

OIFEY YOU MAGNIFICENT BASTARD, I LOVE YOU.

Now. NOW. First, Julia heals Oifey and I send him a space up to let Larcei run in.

(No, he’s just an idiot.)

Johan: Larcei… oh Larcei! Your words are as the sweetest birdsong! Your eyes are as the most brilliant stars! Oh, without you at my side, what purpose is there in life? What joy could possibly be?

Larcei: Stop it! How revolting! This is a battlefield! Are you out of your mind?!

Johan: I can deny my heart no longer, Larcei. Believe me when I say I’ve tried! Alas, love is a maddening beast at times…. What else can I do but be at your side? Men, we are joining the liberation army! From this day on, we are men of honor! Fight on in the name of justice, love, and Larcei!

Well. At least he’s enthusiastic.

At this, Johan joins the army and his units all become neutral, friendly to us and hostile to Johalvier’s army. They’re also all heavily wounded, so they’re mostly just going to die, but at least they’ll take some fire off us for one turn.

(… Did he, though?)

Johalvier: Bet he’s gone and sided with her army ,too. That weak-willed fool…

(Okay, that he definitely did.)

Johalvier: Hmph… fine by me! Men, attack! Johan’s unit is now the enemy!

And seeing this declaration of war by his brother and rival, Johan runs away to Lana for healing so he doesn’t get totally destroyed.

End turn!

(I’m actually going for the other one, thanks.)

*sniff* Oh, milord Seliph, you are truly on the path to surpass your father. Seriously. I don’t think he got a level that good in his entire half of the game, and it’s like your third so far in just your first map. I’ve never seen Seliph get off to a start this strong, and if he keeps it up he’ll be a walking nuclear war when he promotes.

I’m a little nervous now. What if he’s building me up so he can let me down later? I’ve been hurt before.

Dannan: Schmidt! Get out there! Take back my castles, now!

Schmidt: Yes, sir! You can depend on me!

(“No way I’m just a one-chapter flunky boss! No way, not ol’ Schmidty! Schmidt, that’s the name of a Big Bad right there! I bet I’m really Super-Loptyr in disguise!”)

Anyhow, when Johan joined his castle became neutral to us, and Schmidt is gonna go take it. That’s actually a very good thing, so I’m going to let him do that while we finish off Johalvier’s goons.

… Or they finish us off. 4% chance to hit and he popped ya one right in the jaw, Larcei? Seriously? You’re lucky I have two healers now.

And of course, what’s life without a little bit of killing your brother?

That’s the end of the interesting; Arthur is still walking toward a village, and Fee takes a distance shot at a bandit with her Bolt Sword but doesn’t kill him. End turn.

I should be happy that Johan dodged on an 87% chance to be hit, but frankly I’m just more angry at the others now.

Awesome. With that, there’s only one member of the Sophara army left. First, I have Fee and Arthur clear out the villages they’re near;

And Fee liberates hers.

Neat. Now it’s just a matter of wiping out the last of Johalvier’s soldiers:

And the army begins to move south. There’s one more village to clear out, and we have to be ready to take back Isaach after Schmidt takes it.

Again: We want this to happen. There are two castles, and we want Isaach. You want Isaach to fall so you can take it back, or you want to recruit Johalvier so it’s hostile from the start. You do not want to take Sophara. DO NOT.

I’m not joking.

This is super important.

Pick it up, you losers.

The team just spends another turn moving south, while Arthur liberates a village.

Isn’t This the Same Guy From the Last Village: Well, those imperial sods won’t stand a chance at all! Every last one of them will be run right out of our great land!

Sure thing. End turn!

*sigh* They all have hand axes, so this is actually going to take them awhile. It’s okay, that gives us time to set up a defensive line. Lester, meanwhile, clears and liberates a village.

Best Girl: I bet we’d all have a much better time with him on the throne if that were true, huh? Here, take this here skill ring. Go on, do your best! We’re all behind you!

Sweet. Bows are one of the more inaccurate weapons in the game, so more skill for Lester is quite welcome. Plus, Fee gets close enough to chat with Seliph finally.

Fee: Call me Fee! I’m from Silesse.

Seliph: Silesse, you say? Are you a pegasus knight, then?

(She’s literally riding a pegasus and holding a sword, man.)

Fee: Er, not just yet. I’m kinda still in training. My mom was one, though! Actually, in the big war years ago, she helped Lord Sigurd out in his army.

Seliph: Is that so? She has my utmost gratitude on my father’s behalf. Now, what brings you here, Fee?

Fee: See, what happened was I was looking for my brother, who ran away ages ago. But then I heard about you, sir, and how you’re taking on the Empire! And I just knew I had to be here too. Can I join your army, sir? Please?

Seliph: Certainly! Thank you. What of your brother, though?

Fee: It’s silly, sir, but I have this feeling we’ll run into him somewhere down the line.

(“Foreshadowing, sir.”)

Not much to show other than that. Arthur starts slooooowly moving toward the rest of the team, and Julia gains her first level from healing.

…. Remember when I said Deirdre wasn’t very good and then she got a bunch of great levels to spite me? I’m kind of scared Julia’s decided to do the opposite as some teenage rebellion against her mom’s legacy.

To the south, the Schmidtmeister finally takes Isaach, and his army starts moving north toward us, which suits me just fine. I ain’t in no rush, yo. In fact, I’ll just wait a few turns in my fine defensive formation while Arthur runs toward us. Come at us when you’re ready, losers.

Four turns later, the first of them arrives, alone, and misses.

Fear the wrath of the Schmidtritter.

Now, these guys totally suck with one exception. Schmidt himself is fairly badass, and there’s a reason for that:

BITCH HAS LEX’S BRAVE AXE! Remember when I said the items from people who didn’t pass them on to kids will show up later? Well, it’s later. I think we can all agree this cannot stand, out of honor to Lex and also I want that axe back. But, of course, that means killing him with an axe dude. And we only have one of those. So for Johan to not disappoint us, I think we need to soften him up first. Lester?

(Well, looks like somebody thinks he’s hot Schmidt.)

Hm. Okay performance, and an average level. At least it was better than his first level. But seriously, man, your dad was beating you out by this point. That’s sad. And I’m not entirely sure Schmidt will die to a single hit from Johan, so I send in another helper to soften him up further.

Not bad! Defense is definitely great for her, and her Luck is pretty abysmal too, so combined I’m not displeased with this showing. Johan?

…. Oh hey, Johan missed on an 80% chance to hit, and died to the counterattack.

If I hadn’t promised to do a no-death run I would leave his corpse rotting in the sunny plains of Isaach. Reset.

Luckily this was the start of our turn, so I can screw around the RNG a little by moving people in different orders. This even has the benefit of changing the levels we gain:

And hey, not terrible. Fee’s is actually unambiguously better, and Lester’s is about equal. And I also, because I’m not a total moron, remember to park Dermott near the front lines where his Charisma skill can amp up Johan’s accuracy. Okay, big guy, care to give it another go?

Much better. The Brave Axe alone turns him from the worst unit in the army to the like, second or third worst. And now, with the enemy exposed and bereft of their leader, His Lordship takes the front lines.

… Okay, I mean, not very dramatic, woulda been cooler if you’d slain your enemy, but you didn’t get hit. I’ll take it. End turn!

Fortunately, Hand Axes are not super accurate. And in this chokepoint, most of them can’t even reach us. A few errant swings later, we are up to bat again.

You know, it’s kind of telling that they’re all getting levels I would have been perfectly happy to see in their parents, and yet I’m still somehow disappointed. We’ve barely started this generation and I’m already spoiled.

End turn. I suppose. The enemy… erm…

Well, they all go after Oifey, and they cannot hit him. Note their chance to hit. It’s zero. So… I’m not sure what’s up there. Let’s… let’s just finish this up.

See? You can do it if you try, Lester! Now, the map is basically over. I basically just hang out awhile, letting Arthur finally catch up for his own talk with Seliph.

Arthur: The name’s Arthur. I came here from Silesse.

Seliph: Wait, so you are that Arthur fellow? I’ve heard of how you have been aiding us so far. Thank you so much!

(“I heard you defeated two enemies and then spent the rest of the map slowly walking. My deepest gratitude!”)

Arthur: Eh, it was no big deal.

Seliph: You are capable of wielding magic, yes? That’s truly impressive. I’m almost envious!

Arthur: My mother was a talented war-mage…but I’ve still got a lot to learn, myself.

Seliph: We all do, do we not? So long as we all fight together, though, perhaps we still truly can change our world. After all, that’s what brought us here today.

Arthur: Yeah… you’re right. My power’s at your disposal, sir. I’ll give my all to aid the cause. I’m glad we could finally meet, Lord Seliph.

And then have Seliph finally run up and re-take Isaach.

Info Master: Indeed, and ecstatic to see you to boot! Thanks to you, Lord Seliphk we know that at long last, Isaach shall have its freedom!

Seliph: Thank you, sir, but the effort isn’t mine along. I could never have come so far without the support of the common man.

(If you call them ‘the common man’, you may be a bit of a classist. Maybe try to work on that, Selly.)

Seliph: You’ve all supported me from the beginning. I likely wouldn’t be here if not for you!

Info Master: Fate is a funny thing, isn’t it, sir? Just twenty years ago, our late king had the utmost trust in your grandfather’s wisdom. Then your father came to protect Prince Shanan, and now the prince has guided you to adulthood. Perhaps fate has bound Isaach and Chalphy as one…

Seliph: Isaach is the only home I’ve ever known, and Prince Shanan is like a brother to me. I pray our friendship lasts the rest of our lives.

Info Master: Lord Seliph, you are the rightful heir to House Belhalla and the throne of Grannvale. Not a soul alive in Isaach, nor in the rest of the world, can doubt this. We beg of you! Raise the banner of justice high, march on Belhalla, and reclaim your true throne!

(“Well, sort of. I don’t think you actually have the right magic blood. But it’s not like you’re going to run into any waifs who should be doing the job instead!”)

Now. You may be wondering why I was so adamant we take Isaach when there was another castle off to the west we could have been going after. And the answer is: Julia can now have a conversation with Seliph. Let’s see that.

Seliph: Actually, I have something for you. I found this in Isaach castle.

Julia: What is…?

Seliph: It’s a light magic tome called Nosferatu. You can wield these, yes?

Julia: Yes… I’m able to use light magic.

Seliph: Excellent! Hopefully you’ll now have an easier time protecting yourself in combat.

Julia: Thank you, Lord Seliph… thank you so much…

And with that, Julia gets a weapon! The only one she will ever need, even! See (and of course the game doesn’t tell you this), which castle you take alters what weapon she gets. If you take Johalvier’s castle, Sophara, you get her Deirdre’s old Aura tome. You might remember Aura as being very powerful, but also very heavy and largely useless. As for Nosferatu, it isn’t as strong, but it’s considerably lighter and with Julia’s excellent magic and (unlike Deirdre) access to Pursuit for double attacking, she’ll still be doing enough damage to take out most anything she fights.

Oh, and any damage it does to an enemy, she absorbs to heal herself.

That’s right: the mysterious waif just became a tank.

Now, all that’s left to do is kill Dannan. And he, like Chagall before him, forgot to bring a ranged weapon to the party. So I take a little time, liberate a village, and wait to feed him to the suddenly unstoppable Julia. Village?

Grim Gritty Girl: Thanks to you lot, Isaach’s free from the Empire at last, but the rest of the world’s still in a very dark place… all across Jugdral, they’re waiting for you to rise up and defeat the Empire! Please, I’m begging you… you’ve gotta make it to Grannvale soon!

Neat. Lana gains a level, too!

Well, not up to her mom’s exacting standards, but she’s already gotten more magic than Ethlyn ever did. I’ll allow it. And now, time for Julia’s first murder and the end of the map.

(Bitch, she’s your princess. The game hasn’t said it yet, but we know she is. Show some respect.)

And in one round of combat, she almost completely destroys him (she did proc Adept, so she hit him three times instead of two), and gains a big-person level. So far, so good. One more turn should do it!

Welcome to the team, Julia. You’re not really one of us until you’ve killed a sentient being. (I know that Lana hasn’t killed anyone on screen, but we all know what she gets up to at night.) Seliph drops in on Rivough Castle, and we’re all set.

(You can go home, Lewyn. We have your book, and that’s all we need from you.)

Lewyn: Yeah… I only just got back now. Look, Seliph, are you aware that right now, the world’s at a critical turning point?

Seliph: Hm? No… I’m afraid not.

(Teenagers don’t follow the news, Lewyn.)

Lewyn: It’s been fifteen years since Arvis conquered Jugdral and united it as the Grannvale Empire. Honestly, for awhile at first it wasn’t all that bad. In the empire’s dawn, Emperor Arvis sought to bind his nation using only the strictures of law. It was strict and constraining, but we got a few good years of peace out of it. But obviously he changed his mind. A few years back, as if by magic, the Empire turned into that oppressive force we all know and love today. Even worse… the ancient heretics of the Loptyr Order have arisen from the shadows once more and raised influence across the land. Their murderous rituals have returned with them, and all across Jugdral they abduct children to sacrifice in droves to resurrect their fell god. All attempts to resist are crushed and met with brutal executions or enslavement. It couldn’t be more plain that they seek to return Jugdral to the days of that ancient abomination, the Loptyr Empire.

Seliph: This cannot be happening! I’ve heard rumors saying the same, but… never did I think they could be more than mere rumor…

Lewyn: By the look of it, Isaach hasn’t had it quite as bad as most. Dannan’s two sons, at least, refused to follow through on the child hunts. And of course there’s been people trying to rebel against the Empire left, right, and center, but they were all scattered and disorganized. Before you, none have ever posed a proper threat. They were all swiftly crushed before they could so much as blink. Jugdral needs a savior. It needs a man to unite behind. And I’m sure that man is you, Seliph. You’re the only one who stands a chance.

Seliph: Hold on a moment! Are you sure of this? A savior would require power that I sorely lack…

Lewyn: Chalk it up to duty, Seliph. You’re the eldest child of Empress Deirdre. That makes you the elder brother to Crown Prince Julius.

(“And the fact that the prince is named Julius should not suggest in any way that Julia is connected to the royal family. Er, you haven’t checked her stat screens, right?”)

Lewyn: You’re the one true heir to Saint Heim. Your destiny is to unite the power of the Crusaders of this era and free the world from evil’s grip.

Seliph: But I...

Lewyn: Trust me, you really do have what it takes. Your true power and potential sleeps within you. That is, the sacred blood of the Crusader Baldur. Once you get your holy blade, Tyrfing, not even the heavens will be able to stand in your way!

Seliph: But I-

Lewyn: Sorry, Seliph, but that’s how the gods will it.

(I hate to take Lewyn’s side on this, Seliph, but if you really didn’t want to free the world, you shouldn’t have let him talk over you so much.)

Lewyn: You’re Sigurd’s son. The son of a man who fate led to a brutal end. The fulfillment of his dying wishes and his final quest falls to you.

(Pretty sure his final wish was to just not be burned to death.)

Lewyn: You can’t afford to doubt yourself now. You understand, Seliph?

Seliph: Y-yes… yes. I do. If this is fate and the will of the gods, then so be it. I will do my duty.

Lewyn: There actually isn’t a single absolute fate, nor is there just one person it all hinges upon.

(THEN WHY’D YOU GO ON ABOUT IT FOR TWENTY MINUTES JUST NOW?!)

Lewyn: As obtuse as that sounds, trust me, one day it’ll make sense.

(LIAR.)

Lewyn: Sigurd left behind so much to help you on your quest.

(“Though not the really good sword.”)

Lewyn: Most importantly, the many friendships he forged in his life. Me, for instance.

(GO AWAY.)

Lewyn: Brave youths from all over are already lining up to join your cause, all guided by Sigurd’s kindness.

Seliph: My father won the love and trust of so many people, from all walks of life. I can only pray that in time I’ll prove worthy of his legacy.

Lewyn: You’ll be fine. Anyway, to business. Our immediate goal is to reach Leonster. The son of Quan, your father’s closest friend, raised his own rebellion only to suffer severe losses. He’s in pretty urgent need of backup. I know you’ve had no time to rest, but we need to get going as soon as possible.

(Wait, weren’t you just there? You… you didn’t help? You ran down, explicitly didn’t help, and then ran back here to make me do it for you? Dick.)

Lewyn: For now, at least, we can leave Isaach in the care of its citizens. Odds are we’ll run into Prince Shanan on our way.

(Wait, I thought Shanan was off in the middle of the Yied Desert…… fuck it’s going to be a sand map, isn’t it. We’re going to a sand map.)

Seliph: Understood!

And that’s that. First map done, and now we’re off to Leonster to meet Quan’s son Leif (you may recall him being mentioned by name a few times back when he was an infant. He’s beefed up somewhat since then, thankfully) for what is definitely going to feel like an eternity.

See you next week in… *sigh* in the Yied Desert. Again.

Resets: Up to an even 20. Johan’s intro to our army has not been the best.

Part 17

#Let's play fire emblem #let's play fire emblem four #Genealogy of the Holy War #Fire Emblem: Genealogy of the Holy War #lp #my writing #let's play #FE4 #Seliph is rocking out

16 notes · View notes

janiedean · 7 years ago

Note

But why do you hate Cersei that much? Is it because you are hardcore JamiexBrienne shipper? (Classic)

… this question was fairly fine until the classic, which denotes a certain passive-aggressiveness typical of the usual cersei stan so excuse me if instead of getting a nice answer I might have toned down a bit you’re getting all the ugly truth - next time consider not implying that I’d hate a character just because it’s in the way of my ship, thank you, since I tend to actually multiship and I don’t hate jeynew for being technically an obstacle to my main ship and so on. but okay. you wanna know? let’s go in order,

spoilers: this is gonna be ugly, I am not going to hold back any venom and so if you like cersei you’re welcome to not read this. I warned you.

one: classic. my dear anon, I’ll tell you a secret: 80% of the jb fandom actually likes cerse. I’m in the minority. most people I know who ship jb either also ship jc or like cersei as a villain/as the horrid person she is because they enjoy a well-written villain. i don’t, but most *hardcore jb shippers* actually LIKE cersei. if then you take ‘she’s horrible but I love her character’ as people hating her then it’s your goddamned problem.

two: I actually loathed her abusive, controlling, manipulative and murdering ass way before brienne even showed up in the book let alone reading asos.

NO, REALLY.

three: I find cersei a technically very well-built and written character. no, really.

four: too bad that if there’s one thing I hate in fiction is incompetent villains, and if there’s three kinds of people I hate irl it’s a) people who think they’re so much better than the others, b) people who use person X who loves them as an emotional punching bag/their own servant without realizing what’s wrong with it, c) people who don’t accept responsibilities of their actions. rings a bell?

ah, right.

five: I find cersei’s povs utterly, terribly and fucking boring. okay, she’s insane, okay, she’s completely out of this world, okay, she’s great in her being completely insane and wanting to rule, okay, she’s a great villain, I found it amusing for one chapter and then I fell asleep. I can’t care less to be in the head of a narcissist asshole who thinks the world is an extension of herself and digs her own grave while blaming everyone else for her shortcomings and not even getting it when she’s directly confronted with it.

six: cersei is a fucking disgusting human being. and before y’all go like BUT ROBERT, I’m just gonna say that I am in no way, shape or form required to be interested in someone who threw a 12 year old into a well because said person dared say she had a crush on her brother when she also was twelve herself. like. okay, maybe for some people she’s interesting, to me that’s child psychiatrist material.

seven: I have also absolutely no fucking interest in an abusive fuck who spent her entire life actively or not actively trying to prevent jaime from actually having an identity separated from hers or who sexually molested her other brother while he was in the crib and justifies it with WELL HE’S A MONSTER. no, fuck you.

eight: an abusive fuck who also thinks she’s her father and couldn’t do politics if they hit her in the face. I mean, I actually like roose as a character and I don’t hate him even if he actively put a knife inside my actual favorite character’s heart because a) he’s not an incompetent fuck, b) he knows when you should not do horrid stuff because it’s not politically convenient, c) just wanted to rule his damned land and isn’t going out of his way to mess shit up jUST BECAUSE HE HAS THE POWER. cersei is just that, all along, and I can’t give a fuck about it.

nine: I have absolutely zero sympathy for 99% of her plights - at most I can give her that marrying robert was miserable, but OMG I AM A WOMAN IT PREVENTS ME FROM BEING MY FATHER SO NOW I WILL HAVE TO BE HORRID TO EVERYONE ELSE WHILE EXCUSING MYSELF ALL ALONG is not my cup of tea.

ten: OMG SHE’S A WONDERFUL MOTHER!!!! yeah a wonderful mother who sends tommen to whip someone when he’s not tough enough, totally great. and fandom even buys that. blergh.

eleven: I can’t stand her treatment of jaime and tyrion but jaime especially and I find it absolutely revolting and excuse me but I might find it such especially since if you look at it she basically dragged him into doing sexual stuff when they were younger than eight and from then on she did everything to make sure he wouldn’t have a life apart from her when she was ready to drop him if rhaegar accepted to marry her? like, why the fuck am I obliged to like this kind of person if it’s not my kind of character? ah, and it’s not about the incest because if that was the problem I wouldn’t be here shipping thor and loki and the other three sibling incests I occasionally shipped throughout my life, I just hated it since book one. am I allowed?

twelve: I’m gonna tell you a secret now (not so much but whatever). I read books 1-5 in a month marathoning and I didn’t exactly have time to form opinions until after I was done, and I started shipping jb during asos but I mean it sailed at the end and I was mild shipping, not hardcore. you know when was the moment where I thought, re cersei, omg fuck you I hope you die in a fire we’re Done I’m never giving you second chances I don’t care you can choke didn’t even have anything to do with jaime, it was when they were discussing the red wedding post-thing and someone said that catelyn went insane when she watched robb die in front of him and she started laughing about it. and excuse me anyone who finds the red wedding funny ESPECIALLY someone who professes that they’re a wonderful mother who loves her children is completely banned from my list of people who deserve me giving them a second chance to get back in my ‘I like you’ list. okay? my favorite character is robb, cat is in my top ten and I actually love cat to bits even if I don’t agree with her on half of what she says/we are fundamentally different in a lot of fundamental aspects, except that cat’s not an asshole and I can like her because she has things I like about her other than being very well-written, cersei’s just well-written but for the rest she’s the sum of everything I hate in a) fictional villains, b) people irl.

thirteen: also, the fandom tends to justify basically everything this asshole does with the excuse that she’s a woman so SHE’S AN EMPOWERED PROTO-FEMINIST when no she’s fucking not and cersei stans regularly show up bashing on my jb shipping that I try to keep actively away from them for example not tagging anything I say about cersei because I know they don’t wanna read it, while the brienne tag is riddled with crap like OMG YOU SAY SHE HAS TO BE CISHET JUST BECAUSE YOU SHIP HER WITH JAIME BOOO, or gems like ‘omg jb fans are all ugly women who want to bang jaime and project on brienne how pathetic muahahaha cersei had it so much worse’ plus coming on anon at regular intervals to send shit to people in the jb tag (I even have a tagged/jb-wank tag for it, TRY IT), so her fans definitely made sure that I went to general dislike to full-on hatred and that’s not even counting d&d trying to make cersei more sympathetic. blergh. as if there’s the need.

fourteen: I also don’t need to like someone who has no problem condemning people to death, ordering TWENTY children dead without losing a moment of sleep on it (I mean theon did the same with two and has nightmares about it, jon swapped two didn’t even kill them and he has nightmares about it, this asshole hasn’t even thought about it once), ordering people tortured or unethically experimented on and ordering rape on other women (in the show at least) all along while thinking she’s the best thing that ever happened to this planet. I have a few limits and people who only think about themselves and see other people in terms of HOW USEFUL THEY ARE TO ME are one of them, thanks.

fifteen: and for that matter, my favorite fictional villain ever is randall flagg ie a dude who killed an entire planet once or almost and who’s an unrepentant asshole and unapologetically evil, except that he actually doesn’t think he’s this great person because of it. he’s just evil incarnated, but what the hell. I like competent villains who don’t try to tell themselves they aren’t villains and who don’t frame their actions as anything but horrid shit. I’m fine if they enjoy it and I’m fine if they have a skewed set of morals according to which they see it as perfectly acceptable, but cersei doesn’t have a skewed set of morals, cersei’s just fucking out of it and has the worst narcissistic disorder in recent literary history. and she’s an incompetent fuck who thinks she’s better than everyone else who abuses everyfuckingone she runs into, and I just said jaime and tyrion but if I got into sansa, lancel, tommen, myrcella and just about everyone she interacts with I’d end up the day after tomorrow.

sixteen: my dislike was thoroughly cemented by how much I didn’t enjoy her pov chapters in affc/adwd but that was way before I hardcore shipped jb because at that point the only things I HARDCORE shipped were jon/sam and sandor/sansa, I wasn’t even shipping t/rhobb at that point. and my hardcore j/b shipping happened by the end of affc/by the time I was finished, and even then it took me one year to actually get into that side of fandom for real. so, no, actually the fact that I ship j/b has absolutely nothing to do with my dislike of cersei ie a character I disliked in got, hated in acok, was disgusted by all of the damned time in asos and throroughly detested in affc for reasons that guess what had everything to do with her and nothing to do with me shipping jaime with someone else.

because really, as long as he got away from that abusive fuck that’s his sister, he could have done it with arthur dayne, catelyn, the blackfish, fucking jon connington, oberyn or tv!bronn for what I care. I absolutely hate her also because I want jaime far away from her, but as long as he is, the fact that brienne is there and she’s his canon love interest (deal - with - it) is just a good convenient thing. otherwise I still would want him a planet away from that asshole that’s his sister. clear? shipping jb has nothing to do with that. fuck’s sake, the two most popular jon ships are jon/sansa and jon/dany and I ship him with EVERYONE BUT THOSE TWO and robb, and guess what I don’t hate sansa or robb (they’re both in my top ten/fifteen) and I don’t care about dany either way. I’m not so fucking not objective that I loathe a character so much just because they’re canonically in the middle of my ship, I’d be an immature or it’d be an immature reason and I’m enough of an adult to actually admit it. she happens to be in the middle of my ship more or less, but believe me I don’t hate elia or lyanna for being in the middle of r/jonc, sure as fuck I don’t hate cersei because she’s in the middle of jb.

I hate cersei because all of us has limits when it comes to irl and fictional characters and she’s wildly beyond all of mine and guess what, that was clear since the moment I read book one, after which jaime was my second-fave overall and she was at the damned bottom of the list. ah, except that if you dare liking jaime but not her you’re suddenly a Bad Feminist because liking the man out of the two of them but not her means you’re somehow having internalized misogyny. when instead it could be that jaime’s actually not an asshole and she is, but since, oh, wait, this fandom villanizes jaime a lot because in order to justify the crap cersei does they have to go along with that fucking THEY’RE THE SAME PERSON spiel which the narrative had denied from page five of the first tyrion pov chapter or so, I also have to get told that if I like the lannister guys (who are grey and fucked up but not inherently bad people and ah wait, both abuse victims since the damned cradle while she’s not) but not her I’m a Bad Feminist TM and excuse me but that attitude should have died years ago and it also helped making sure I would never budge when it came to c.

seventeen: the fact that the more time passes the less I can’t stand her means I can’t stand her in the show either. wow, too bad. I also couldn’t stand the th/ramsay scenes and watched them muted. but did I go ask t/hramsay ppl how they found them watchable? no. because I mind my own fucking business. and I wasn’t gonna even say it until people basically had to tear it out of me keeping on telling me I should like cersei/lena’s portrayal better than kit/jon because she’s a better actress than he is. most likely, but I don’t wanna punch jon in the face. and I wanna punch cersei in the face. for all the above reasons.

that have nothing to do with jb and all to do with the fact that cersei is an abusive/manipulative/incompetent fuck. okay?

there. that’s why I hate cersei. satisfied?

ps: and that’s why I don’t talk about cersei outside of jb meta, because I know that 50% of this is most probably my flawed subjective opinion and that she irks me also because of personal reasons that don’t have to be rational (there’s a reason why I hate incompetent idiots irl and why I hate people who think your life revolves around theirs irl btw) and that people will like her for a lot of the reasons why I dislike her. it’s fair. and that’s why I usually don’t share.

but if you really had to ask, that’s your damned answer.

classic, my ass. 80% of jb fans around actually don’t agree with me on 80% of what I wrote. some of us just don’t fucking like cersei. deal. with. it.

thanks for coming to my fucking ted talk.

#1 #2 #3 #4 #5 #anti-cersei lannister #anti-cersei #swearing cw #i guess i cussed a lot in this one #va bene va bene va bene in verità #abuse cw #rape cw #torture cw #child murder cw #WOW WHAT AN UPSTANDING CITIZEN #Anonymous #ask post #long post for ts

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actualbird · 8 years ago

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Hmmmmn do u have any all-time fave fics u could ref? I trust u

OH MAN!!! u didnt specify any fandom so im assuming you mean my all time faves from WHEREVER and OH BOY!!!

i actually have fic rec page on my blog which spans over a whole bunch of fandoms and has cool legends like humor and angst and stuff (im still working on it tho omg) along with my catchall fic tag where i shove all the fics i reblog. but you asked for my ALL TIME FAVES so here are some off the top of my head (im limiting myself to one per fandom or else id be here FOREVER).

(note: pls check the tags of fics before you read them)

Designations Congruent with Things by cleanwhiteroom (alt link) [Pacific Rim]

He begins at it already pried apart

OHHHHHH MY GOD. OH MY GOD. oh my GOD. okay i lose my shit over Designations Congruent with Things on a yearly basis because it is, by far, one of the most stunning pieces of fiction ive read. full stop. not only is it a feat of fanfiction (it’s GODDAMN LONG. it’s been taken off of ao3, so i cant check the wc, but damn i remember it was long), but as a story, it’s just. god, i dont even know what to say. ive already talked about this fic in a previous ask, so im just going to reiterate all my love again, just phrased slightly differently.

DCwT is an epic piece of Newt/Hermann Pacific Rim fanfiction. it follows Hermann and Newt after the events of the movie and delve painfully into each and every consequence their actions cause. it’s quite possibly the hardest thing ive ever read, for many reasons; the emotions are so vivid and they hurt; the science is so well researched it took me an hour to get through a paragraph because i my brain was still trying to catch up; Run On Sentences For Miles; it’s really, really goddamn long. i remember it got some flack for being over complicated, but in my opinion, the things that make this fic difficult are exactly what make it incredible. it’s overly cerebral in a way two messed up genius scientists would absolutely be. this fic is. i dont have words for it. i have only read the whole thing in its entirety ONCE and i have tried to reread it but goddamn is it difficult. this fic is definitely not for everybody, but it’s a piece of art that gained a bit of a cult following back when it was updating. (theres a fictional band in the fic that inspired ppl to make the band and the music real. RIGHT???) anyway this fic is basically the cornerstone which i worship when it comes to fanfiction as a genre of literature. jesus christ. jesus christ.

World Ain’t Ready by idiopathicsmile [Les Miserables]

Enjolras presses his lips together. He already looks pained, and Grantaire hasn’t even opened his mouth yet. That’s got to be a record, even for them.

“I need a favor,” he says at last.

“With what?” says Grantaire. “Ooh, are you forming a cult? Can I join? I’d be awesome at cults, I just know it.” He ticks off his qualifications on his fingers. “I love chanting, I look great in robes—”

(High school AU. Grantaire the disaffected stoner is pulled into a cause bigger than himself. Or: in which there are pretend boyfriends for great justice.)

if youve ever been in the les mis fandom i know you know this fic. i know youve already read this fic. i know that your dog has probably already read this fic. i know that this fic has been recced to hell and back, and currently resides as the most kudo-sed work in the les mis tag on AO3. but im reccing it anyways because it’s just THAT GOOD. this fic got me INTO THE FANDOM. pacing. plot. characterization. teen angst. HUMOR. this fic is perfect. literally no other words. it’s just perfect. i read this in my last few months of senior year high school, and never before have i ever read a fic that actually, truly, felt like it was about teenagers. the narrative and the voice. the dialog. god. if this were a book, id buy it. and that’s saying something because im always BROKE. but id buy this fic. several times. who am i kidding. you dont need to know this bc youve read this fic before. if you havent, please. do yourself a favor. oh my god. oh my god. (and when youre done, read all of idiopathicsmile’s other fics too god theyre all SO GOOD)

catch me if you can by isawet [Teen Wolf]

What do you think of my solution to the Kobayashi Maru?

hands down one of my favorite teen wolf fic. a vague summary gives way to a fic with incredible characterization. fucking beautiful writing style. non-chronological story telling done wonderfully. and gosh, that ending. hilarious in tiny bits that make it all the more better. just, honestly. this fic needs so much more love. it’s my go-to fic whenever i want to understand just how one can utilize suspense and tension in writing. what the hell. what the

Segments [series] by d_aia [Kingsman: The Secret Service]

“Are you sure that’s how you want to tell him?” Merlin asked once again.

“He will need space to deal with situation. It’s how he copes,” Arthur explained and a bit pretentiously at that, if one were to ask Merlin. “I’m giving him a place and a reason to run.”

Merlin chose to shut up.

all fics in this series? my favorite. it’s intelligent, brutal, beautiful. it’s been a while since ive read these, but theres a reason these fics still haunt me. god. god.

Graduate Vulcan for Fun and Profit by lazulisong [Star Trek: AOS]

It really does take a village to raise a Jim.

The members of the Kelvin’s crew watch over Jim as much as he lets them.

I LOVE THIS FIC SOOOOOOO MUCH. it’s a really delicate, heartfelt piece that isnt afraid to be an asshole sometimes, which is basically jim kirk in a nutshell. not only does it go through an incredible reflective relationship with some rando vulcan who decided to take him under his wing, but it does so in a realistic way that doesnt over dramatize aspects, but still ends up very vivid. also, THERES VULCAN LINGUISTICS. linguistics + fanfiction = 10000000% Best Shit EVER.

fathers and sons by M_Leigh [X-Men: DoFP]

“I have an – interest – in Peter Maximoff,” Erik said, somewhat grudgingly, glaring. “A – familial – interest –”

Everybody stared at him.

“In that – mutantkind is one – large – family –” Erik said valiantly, if pathetically.

“Oh, shit,” Alex said. “No way. No way.”

ghghgfjhdh the first xmen fic i ever read and by far, the most fukcgin hilarious. jesus CHRIST. theres just something subtly incredible about how the author uses phrasing to make every sentence as goddamn funny as they are. im really in love with the comma placement in this fic. every comma is exactly where it needs to be. every em dash is where it belongs. IM NOT MAKING SENSE, but i would send this fic to people as a prime example of narrative humor uplifted via phrasing and punctuation. just read this fic. it’s got Hank POV, Charles being a “strange lecherous Englishman”, Peter being a Teen, and everybody drags Erik’s fashion choices.

Repeat After Me by queenieofaces [Yuri On Ice]

Victor learns language through mimicry, hears phrases and repeats them back until the inflection becomes second nature. Yuuri seems to communicate best through euphemism, through metaphor, through talking around the subject rather than approaching it head on, and so Victor tries his best to mimic him, to take his words and echo them back.

(Vignettes in language learning and communication, spanning the whole series.)

SO!! FUCKING!!! GOOD!!!!!!!! i think ive mentioned how much i LOVE LANGUAGE and this fic tackles the language barrier in a beautiful, earnest way. as a bilingual, this fic was just so so so good. victor is just bounding with love in this fic and the writing just feels so..,,,,warm.,,,,,

OKAY i know you only asked for fic recs and not….all these rambles but. i just have a lot of love for fanfiction. fanfiction is so great. we are so lucky. we are so lucky. dont 4get to leave kudos and comments on fics you like! happy reading anon!!!

#ANG DAMI KONG SINABI HALA #asks #anon #long post #i love fanfiction so much

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