#in the end his membership in the red army does him no good | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hawkbucks · 5 years ago

Text

Bucky and Steve’s entire friendship starts when Bucky spots Steve reading a Captain America comic on the playground, promptly sits down next to him, and goes: “You like Captain America? He’s cool, but I think Winter Soldier is better.” Steve, of course, is offended that this kid has the audacity to imply someone is better than his beloved Captain, so they argue about the finer points of the Captain and the Soldier, discussing their actions at such depth that you’d forget they’re just a couple of 3rd graders with scraped knees and wild hair. At the end, they agree to come to the conclusion that the Captain and the Soldier are equally as cool. Whenever they’re able–a.k.a when Bucky saves up enough of his allowance to afford a few issues for him and Steve (because, as much as Steve protests against Bucky buying him things, Bucky knows he wants that Falcon issue)–they head down to the comic store around the corner from their school run by a kindly man named Abraham. Abraham slips them snacks sometimes: bags of chips, candy bars, etc. If they prove they’re doing good at school, they also get free books. Tables and chairs are scattered around the store, usually reserved for the game nights that the store hosts, but Abraham allows them to do their schoolwork on those tables. They try to draw out their visits as long as they can, because they just love exploring the store, and Abraham is such a good guy, you know? One day, when Steve is over at Bucky’s house and they’re watching cartoons, Steve gets an idea. He turns to Bucky and proclaims that they should open up a store together. It’ll be the best store ever! Bucky sagely nods before he runs off to grab a notebook and pencils to plan it. Their store looks as follows: 3 stories at the minimum, and there’ll be a slide leading from each floor to the one below. They’ll have cool statues to put on display, a gigantic collection to sale, and a pyrotechnics display at the cash register at Bucky’s suggestion. And they’ll make a lot of money. It’ll be the best store ever.

Unfortunately, said best store ever ends up being pushed to the back burner once they realize that opening and managing a business isn’t as easy as it sounds, especially for a couple of kids. “We’ll just do it later, when we’re grown ups,” Steve says, and Bucky agrees. They grow older. Steve turns from the shortest kid on the playground to the guy that people have to crane their necks up to talk to (Bucky teases him and says that he’s become the real life Captain America. Steve retorts that that makes Bucky the Winter Soldier), and Bucky grows his hair out, looking more and more like a hipster everyday (which he vehemently denies. “Where’s your manbun?” “I will smack you.”). Interests come and go, but they still find themselves stepping into Abraham’s shop. Abraham’s older now, grayer, but he still slides them Snickers every once in a while. Bucky ends up enlisting in the army to help pay for his tuition while Steve goes to art school to get a degree in illustration. An incident with an IED later, and Bucky comes home with an honorable discharge and an empty left sleeve. Steve visits him as often as he can, usually filling in the gaps when Bucky’s own family isn’t over. Sometimes Natasha (a girl they befriended in middle school after she came dressed as Black Widow for Halloween) and Sam (a boy they got to know during freshman year of high school when he complimented Bucky on his prime taste in superheroes because of the Falcon button pinned to his backpack) drop in, with Natasha keeping him company by watching trashy reality TV with him and Sam listening to him vent and offering a shoulder if he ever needs one. Hell, Abraham sends him a card through Steve when he heard about what happened. (He ends up getting all of them gift baskets as thanks for being there. Sam tries to decline his at first, but the lure of raspberry tarts was too strong.) One day, Steve comes over with Indian takeout and turns on some good ol’ History Channel. “Speaking of history,” Steve says in between bites of naan, “do you remember that store we wanted to open when we were younger?” Hit with that blast from the past, Bucky nods. He doesn’t have the notebook that they used when they first came up with the idea, but he stills remembers the basics of what they put down. Like the pyrotechnics display that he wanted. Steve asks if he’s still open to the idea, and Bucky replies, around a mouthful of rogan josh, that he is. It’s… been a while since he’s gotten out of his apartment to do something other than shop for groceries, pop into the Chinese restaurant right next to the building, or visit the doctor for those couple of appointments about him possibly getting a prosthetic, courtesy of some company that’s looking to do test runs of their new line. A whole bunch of Googling and Binging and Yahoo Answers-ing and they think they might have a slight idea of how to start a business. Slight is the operative word here. Like with many things, they end up going to Abraham for help. Abraham is a godsend, answering all of their questions and offering to point his customer base their way once he closes up shop for good (Steve may or may not have gotten a bit misty-eyed hearing about Abraham’s inevitable retirement). Fast forward, and their shop is open. Steve drew up the logo (gotta put that degree to use somehow), while Bucky was the one who came up with the interior design (and no pyrotechnics displays). Natasha and Sam are hired, with both of them helping to run their social media presence. They get a decent amount of people at their grand opening despite their location being slightly out of the way, and apparently those people liked their experience because they end up getting a handful of regulars, most notably some guy named Clint that Natasha claims to know, a pair of Norwegian brothers named Thor and Loki that Sam swears are actual gods, a timid PhD student named Bruce, and a woman named Carol and her girlfriend, Maria who are the biggest Captain Marvel fangirls that they’ve ever met. Their popularity grows–especially after Abraham closes–and they soon find themselves making a healthy bit of profit. Healthy enough that they’re able to decorate their shop more (Natasha insists that they place a life-sized statute of Black Widow near the front doors) and they tack-on other things, like shirts and posters and snacks to sell. Bucky gets his prosthetic somewhere around the first month that they’ve been open. It’s a wickedly shiny silver, and Steve suggested that he place a red star sticker on his wrist (because his shoulder isn’t visible 99.9% of the time) to represent Bucky’s favorite hero, and Bucky actually does that. Sometimes people ask to touch it. He lets them. Sometimes people ask what happened. He deflects them. At some point, a guy walks in with ruffled hair and glasses and Bucky nearly chokes on the soda that he’s drinking. Sure, they’ve had their fair share of cute customers, but that guy’s cute, and he’s gonna end up making a fool of himself. It’s not like he can ask Steve to talk instead because Steve just went out on his damn lunch break. He tries not to stare at the guy as he peruses the shelves and rifles through the boxes of back issues they have set out in the middle of the floor. He tries really, really hard, taking his phone out and scrolling through whatever social media website and liking the replies to their posts. Every once in a while, he glances at the door, half-expecting Steve to walk in at any time.

Then the guy (now dubbed Cutie in Bucky’s mind) comes up and he smiles at Bucky in greeting and Bucky would probably sob if that wouldn’t make him come off as a complete weirdo. Cutie hauls up a veritable stack and places it on the counter. Despair courses through Bucky’s veins when he sees the Captain America comic on top, because he could do so much better. “Mmm, I’m just getting those because my friend likes Captain America,” Cutie says and oh, shit, did he say that out loud? “I’m partial to Iron Man myself.” “Iron Man’s cool an’ all,” Bucky replies, somehow managing to keep himself from running out the front door and never looking back, “but he’s not my favorite.” Cutie’s eyes flick down to the red star sticker on his wrist. “Let me guess: Winter Soldier?” Bucky clicks his tongue. “Yup.” Cutie laughs, and it’s a really nice sound that Bucky wouldn’t mind hearing again. When he’s finished ringing Cutie up, he mentions the membership that they have going and how members have a pull list and would he like to sign up? Mentally, he crosses his fingers that Cutie says yes because it would be a shame if he only got to see him once in his life. A damn, damn shame.

So, he should be thankful that Cutie says yes and he finds out that Cutie’s name is actually Tony and Tony just moved from Malibu and it was his friend James–whom he calls Rhodey–that recommended this place to him. (He goes through a list of James in his head, and figures that it most likely is James Rhodes, who also happens to be a member. He should send him a gift basket.)

Tony ends up leaving around the same time Steve comes back from his lunch break, and Steve must have this sort of sixth sense because he sends Bucky a knowing, amused look.

Tony drops by every 2nd and 4th Wednesday, and it’s always at 12:40 PM, give or take a few minutes. His pull list isn’t particularly long–or at least, it isn’t something that he needs to drop in twice a month for, but Bucky’s not going to complain, not when he’s able to see the way Tony’s eyes sparkle when the topic crosses over to a story arc that he’s passionate about or the way the tip of his tongue pokes out between his lips when he becomes engrossed in what he’s reading. They swap stories, with Bucky finding out that Tony used to be in the robotics club when he was in high school and how his father used to tell him that comics were all “bullshit,” so that threw him off of them for a bit. He always asks Bucky if he recommends something before he leaves, if he saw that episode of Game of Thrones, or if he’s simply feeling okay.

Tony’s visits last longer and longer and longer, until it’s basically just him and Bucky talking for hours on end, their topics ranging from comic cons to what they had for dinner last night. (Steve laments how he’s always the one stuck helping customers because he doesn’t have the heart to interrupt him and Tony when they look so concentrated on each other. He begs Bucky to just ask Tony out already because he can’t take it anymore.)

Bucky ends up asking Tony out on accident. Y’see, Tony was excitedly talking about the movie adaption of Iron Man that’s supposed to be coming out soon, and Bucky blurted out that he wouldn’t mind taking Tony out to see it, just the two of ‘em and some popcorn.

Tony says that he’d love to, and Bucky wonders if he should thank Steve for going out to lunch those few months ago.

#pull list au

31 notes · View notes

sepublic · 4 years ago

Text

Xian Characters, Features, and Landmarks (Pt. 1)

Roodaka- Roodaka is the ruthless CEO of Vortixx Industries, having secured a practically permanent position there from a young age after she scaled The Mountain. A cutthroat business-dealer, she helps direct the company’s actions, oversees stocks, and surveys the occasional experiment or investment, providing a personal hand of involvement every now and then. She has done business with just about every major power in all of Xia, and is among the Powers That Be. With an eye for potential, she has led Vortixx Industries to the top of Xia’s arms-manufacturers, and is not just content with her current success either. Roodaka is an opportunist, and will and has back-stabbed others and crushed enemies for the total domination of Vortixx Industries.

She is cold-hearted and ruthless, and believes whole-heartedly in the idea that might makes right. Roodaka has been conditioned both by experience and by others that only the most powerful have the authority to lead; If one cannot prove their merit and mettle, then they are a liability and must be cast out, not to be trusted by neither peers or even themselves. Regularly Roodaka does puzzles and tests her intelligence, reflecting on and questioning her own progress. And despite being a noble, Roodaka despises most other aristocrats like herself, seeing them as pompous, lazy fools who have become atrophied from resting on their laurels. A sharpened wit is the key to victory for Roodaka, and she sees challenges as the ideal whetstone for her mind.

She has no intent of letting herself become weak and arrogant, and seeks to do more with her life and purpose than just a live a pointless, meaningless life of hedonism. For Roodaka, she wants something more; More than what the other rich fools on Xia typically have to offer. She has no intention of living and dying like any other fool, and for that she sees little difference between most of Xia’s upper-crust and its lower-class. Control is all Roodaka cares about, and she prizes the ability to strike fear in one’s minions in order to keep them in line.

Roodaka herself is not necessarily a fighter, and is thus often flanked by a trio of Exo-Toa Lerahk, machines she helped oversee the design and construction of. But even without her bodyguards, Roodaka is not entirely defenseless- She has access to a Rhotuka Gauntlet that allows her to spawn a wheel of energy, one that drastically mutates whatever target it comes into contact with. Roodaka possesses a cruel sense of humor, and has used her Mutation Rhotuka to dispatch enemies of hers, often leaving them to suffer their cursed forms as ruined outcasts of society. Roodaka herself is highly intelligent, able to read and understand others well, and is a master-manipulator and complex schemer.

Sidorak- Known as the ‘Visorak King’ in some sectors of Nynrah, Sidorak was once an esteemed, celebrated war general with a wide collection of medals on his chest to honor him. However, his boldness eventually got him in trouble with one of the Powers That Be; And incensed, the powerful individual had Sidorak exiled to Nynrah as a death-sentence. Stripped of his title, rank, and badges, most would have despaired and left themselves to die in Sidorak’s place- But Sidorak himself continued forging on, making a new path for himself in Nynrah.

He eventually came into contact with a pack of Visorak Spiders, and recognizing that the creatures wanted to be free from their Nynrah Ghost masters to hunt as they pleased, Sidorak offered them freedom. He defeated the Visorak Spiders before letting them know that underneath his command, they could have total freedom and impunity to hunt and kill as they pleased; And having been won over by his strength, the spiders obliged to Sidorak’s offer. Ever since, Sidorak has slowly begun to amass a Visorak Horde of spiders under his command, and has become an enemy of the Nynrah Ghosts for providing their creations an outlet with which to go rogue.

Now, Sidorak frequently roams Nynrah with his packs of Visorak spiders, leading them on hunts for prey. A bold, charismatic commander, he has won the loyalty and respect of his soldiers, and is now adorned with a ‘medal’ made up of webs, gunk, and other unsavory materials that he treasures as a personal token of comradery. Sidorak is a true commander, personally leading his armies into battle and fighting alongside them. He desires to help his Visorak spread and hunt as they please, and this has put him at odds with multiple Vorox Clans.

Sidorak is a skilled combatant and a brilliant strategist. He wears a breathing apparatus over his lower-face, covering his nose and mouth in order to protect himself from airborne pathogens and other contaminants. On his left arm, he wields the Herding Blade; A powerful artifact that can cast a brilliant crimson light that will summon and herald Sidorak’s armies to himself. As for Sidorak’s right arm, it is cut off at the elbow; Instead, it has a mechanical implant. Hovering slightly beyond this implant is a mechanical tri-claw that can shoot energy-beams from its palm, or Rhotuka that instill loyalty and obedience within targets. Sidorak can launch this cybernetic arm of his forward, latching it onto surfaces before using it as a grapple to pull himself forward with the electro-magnetic connection it has with his implant.

Turaga Dume- Once a lowly errand-boy in the Artidax District, he has since risen to power as a totalitarian dictator controlling most of the region. Dume is strict and harsh, believing in the evils of free will, and desires total control as a means of peace; He has command over the Vahki to enforce his will and the laws that he passes. Local powers frequently ally with Dume, letting him use his Vahki as a replacement for traditional law enforcement, allowing Dume a wide reach over Xia. He is the island’s head of security, and is responsible for cracking down on dissidents and punishing them, as well as brainwashing and encouraging the Xian population to become mindless, obedient workers for all of eternity.

Dume has a stern, tall face, and angular shoulders, constantly walking with his back hunched forward and his arms folded behind him. He wears a clean, dark-red uniform, with a coat, hat, and black boots to match. Dume believes in total discipline over himself, and can be found frequently strutting the halls of a Vahki Hive, allowing zero reprieve in the face of his duties. He oversees all actions and data from his Vahki and frequently collaborates with Xian powers on suppressing riots, unions, and other forms of rebellion.

The Shadowed One- An ancient warlord and the leader/co-founder of the Dark Hunters. The Shadowed One has no known origin nor name; His earliest appearances were as far back as the War of Six Kingdoms, at least. Back then, he led a cruel mercenary organization known as the Dark Hunters alongside his lieutenant and co-founder Ancient. Centuries of success on various missions and assassinations have earned him Xia’s most powerful crime organization. The Shadowed One operates from within the Odina Fortress, having a hand in brutal murders, thefts, and other various crimes as he seeks to consolidate power for himself.

Prideful to a fault, he is a twisted and charismatic individual with a cruel sense of humor. In his quest for power, The Shadowed One has employed researchers and invested others in the creation of unique and dangerous assets for his Dark Hunters. Recently, he has attempted to gather the six fragments of Makuta’s Mask of Life, all of which are inexplicably on Xia, hoping to recreate the world-ending artifact. What exactly he has planned for it is unknown, but knowing him, it certainly can’t be any good.

The Shadowed One can conjure powerful eye-beams that disintegrate and deconstruct anything they touch on the molecular, even atomic, level, granting the warlord the ultimate offense. He wields a staff capable of summoning and creating crystalline formations that he can control and carry through the air as if by telekinesis, and The Shadowed One has used many gems to slaughter enemies or subdue them. In addition to this, he can conjure a Rhotuka; One that temporarily inflicts devastating madness of any sort onto victims. The Shadowed One is a skilled, experienced combatant, and with his skills combined with his powerful abilities, he is an unstoppable opponent.

He possesses one additional, terrifying ability as well; Those foolish enough to challenge The Shadowed One in his own throne room will sometimes find themselves unable to move from their positions upon confronting him, as if their own feet were attached to the floor. By the time his rebels realize this, it is too late- The Shadowed One will unleash his eye-beams, vaporizing them all as they cannot move out of the way. Whatever the nature of this invincible ability, it is the final seal on the apparent unstoppable power of the mercenary-king.

Spiriah- A brilliant and disgracted scientist, Spiriah was once a member of the Nynrah Ghosts. However, his own incompetence and poor handling of the Nynrah Incident, in addition to being somewhat negligent in containing the leak of VISORAK, led to his reputation being tarnished. Even so, he retained membership amongst the Nynrah Ghosts, until a botched experiment involving the Skakdi Clan of Zakaz resulted in them becoming far more dangerous, temperamental, and difficult to control than intended.

With the Skakdi incident as the final straw, Spiriah was exiled and disgraced from the Nynrah Ghosts. Cast out and bitter, Spiriah quickly found work from The Shadowed One, who was eager to employ his skills. Spiriah happily performed experiments with the intent of furthering the Dark Hunters’ power, proving his intelligence and hidden potential. With Spiriah clearly a viable researcher, The Shadowed One eventually entrusted him with Makuta’s notes, gathered from the Mask Hoarder’s abanoned lab by Dweller. With additional resources straight from Okoto, Spiriah set to work dissecting and discerning the very nature of Life energy itself, eventually implementing his findings into various experiments, many of which became Dark Hunters themselves.

Having turned his life around after his past failures, Spiriah went on to help lead experiments on the Kanohi Dragon alongside Vortixx Industries. However, he disappeared after going on an expedition to Nynrah, hoping to gather resources and intel; Attempts to locate him (or his body) have failed, and the Dark Hunter Tracker has been unable to find anything sufficient enough with which to track down Spiriah. Presumably, he has been killed by the Vorox- Or perhaps by the Nynrah Ghosts, who did not want their academic knowledge to be shared amongst the Dark Hunters, regretting their exile of Spiriah?

The Shadowed One himself in unsure… Regardless, Spiriah was an innovative individual who could’ve unlocked many more forbidden secrets of Life had he not disappeared- Perhaps, with the proper resources, he could’ve even gone on to rival Makuta himself! Not that it mattered, because Makuta, too, has perished…

Trydahk- The leader of the Nynrah Ghosts and its ‘high priest’, Trydahk is considered the most brilliant and esteemed member of the group. His intelligence and work has helped spawn and pioneer multiple Xian inventions, including the lethal VISORAK, or the Zamor Launcher. The space-warping Trydahk Pods are named after the Nynrah Ghost himself, and he desires to unlock the secrets of reality at any cost; No matter how many innocent lives must be sacrificed, or how much destruction he must cause. To him, understanding everything is the only thing that matters, and Knowledge is his peace of mind.

Intriguingly, Trydahk has been around since the very inception of the Nynrah Ghosts, several decades ago. And yet, he does not seem to be any older than he currently is, despite his age back then meaning he should be dead by now. Who knows what experiments he performed on himself to allow this?

Nektann- A brutal Skakdi warlord, Nektann was named after the powerful Xian war-machines that plagued Zakaz alongside other machinations of destruction. An unstoppable brute, Nektann quickly rose to power amongst the Skakdi, challenging other warlords and defeating them in combat. Now, he has practically reunited the Skakdi clans back into one, promising his brethren glory and conquest upon the rest of Zakaz.

Tall and thuggish, Nektann is nevertheless cunning enough to have earned control over the Skakdi. He wields an ornate Crescent Scythe in combat, and is a loud and boisterous individual who will happily partake in carnage. Unsurprisingly, Nektann is seen as ‘undignified’ by other Xians, but he doesn’t let this get to him. He knows the Skakdi are looked down upon as modified ‘freaks’, but he figures that will change when he marches upon Zakaz and becomes one of the Powers That Be.

Nektann frequently rides to combat, leading his armies on mobile war-machines and vehicles. He himself rides a large one equipped with a massive grinder-wheel on the front. Additionally, he has a pet Muaka adorned in spiked armor. He got the beast after buying it off of the Dark Hunters, who themselves got it from Umarak on a whim. Nektann is proud of his exotic pet and likes to boast of its foreign, mysterious origins, but some Xians doubt the validity of his claims- They believe the Muaka is just another manufactured bioweapon, an assertion that greatly angers him.

#bionicle #bionicle rae #xia #roodaka #sidorak #dume #the shadowed one #spiriah #tridax #nektann #trydahk #nynrah ghosts #vortixx #visorak #skakdi

11 notes · View notes

redstarwriting · 5 years ago

Text

She Wins.

Thor x Reader

Request: “Can you make a thor x reader where the reader is an actress and she takes him as her date to the awards and he presents her award to her on stage”

Word Count: 2,199

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: Swearing, Cute Thor

A/N: This one was really fun to write considering I’m going to school to literally be an actress. Just the thought of being at an award show like this one day is honestly kind of a dream to me, so writing about it was a pretty fun experience. I hope you enjoy this one!

───────────────────────────────────

You look in the mirror of your room, assessing your outfit. You were in full glam tonight, as it was the Oscars, and you were up for best actress in a leading role. This was a really big deal to you, considering the Academy voted on who they thought should get each award, and you were close friends with some of the people who were deciding whether or not you get the award. While some may say it’s rigged due to the fact that you know some people who will assist in selecting, they’re all professionals who can recognize talent. Even though you know them personally, they won’t just give you the award unless they believe you’ve earned it. That makes it even more nerve-wracking. When it comes to the Golden Globes, it’s just critics, and you’ve learned to not ignore, but not completely listen to critics. All critics have different opinions, and quite frankly many of them are still sexist, so no matter what you do, some people will always find you to be bad. Especially since you speak out against anything and everything when it comes to women being underestimated and overlooked. Some men are just too fragile with their masculinity. Honestly, there was only one man whose opinion mattered to you, and he basically worshipped the ground you walked on. Thor.

Ironically, while you were thinking about Thor, he walked into the room, and stopped dead in his tracks. “I have never seen true beauty until this very moment on this very day,” he announces, causing you to blush. “You say that every time you see me, Thunder Boy,” you say, turning to face him as he makes his way over to you. “That is because every time I see you, I am reminded of what true beauty is. No matter how you believe you look, I see the most gorgeous being in the universe, and most definitely the most gorgeous Midgardian to ever exist.” He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into a kiss. You smile into it, pulling away to look at him. “Well you don’t look too bad yourself, you know.” He was wearing a fitted black suit, and even though he looks very attractive in his Asgardian gear, Thor in a suit? Hot. “Thank you, my love. But my appearance pales in comparison to you, as always.”

Thor always knew what to say to make you feel more confident. Not even just with looks, but with everything. If you were doubting your acting abilities, he’d tell you immediately to, “never doubt the natural abilities you have, as you have proven time and time again that you are gifted when it comes to portraying another.” No matter how you feel, Thor can always just improve it. And he did just that in this very second. You reached up and brushed a strand of his long hair behind his ear. “Why is it that even when my hair is restrained some pieces still tend to get out?”

“Hair is uncontrollable, Thor. It does what it wants,” you say, grabbing his hand. “Now, shall we go to the red carpet?”

“Indeed.” You lead him down to the limo you’ll be arriving at the awards show in. Happy is your driver, and he smiles at you, opening the door. “Thanks, Happy. I appreciate you volunteering to drive us tonight,” you tell him, giving him a quick embrace. “Of course, (Y/N). I’d drive you two to Walmart in a limo if you needed me to.” You laugh at his response, getting into your ride as Thor follows you in. Obviously you would bring your boyfriend as your plus one, and you know a lot of your work friends were excited to finally meet him. You two would no doubt be plastered on every tabloid and your pictures would be all over social media tomorrow, which meant you’ll see the typical Thor fangirl posts complaining about you. However, you didn’t care. Tonight was special for you, and you wanted to share it with someone even more special. Thor grabs your hand, kissing it before setting it back down while still holding it. “Will all of your friends from work like me?”

“They’re going to love you, don’t worry. The only people you should be worried about are all the photographers and interviewers who are going to try to shove their microphones in your face and get you to talk all the time. That shit is annoying.”

He chuckles at you, wrapping his arm around you in the process. “I cannot imagine it is as annoying as fighting off an entire army,” he says, and you grin. “Yeah, it probably isn’t but I wish I could fight them off sometimes. Honestly, who cares what you and I do? Can you believe that someone asked me if we joined the Mile High Club once?” “Ridiculous. You and I have joined no clubs.”

“Well, no we actually did join that one and honestly a whole new Mile Higher Club.”

“We have joined a club?”

You start to laugh at his cluelessness, before whispering in his ear what the Mile High Club was. His eyes get big for a moment before he lets out a loud laugh. “Oh we have joined that club! I did not know it was a club, is there a membership we are a part of now?”

“No, Thor, it’s just a ‘club’ people ‘join.’ It’s not a real organization,” you inform, and he nods. “You Midgardians are a strange species.”

“Yeah says the guy who can literally control lightning,” you say, and he shrugs. “I would not call that strange. It is just one of my many talents,” he smiles at you and you roll your eyes. “Get your ego in check there, babe,” you say, patting his cheek as he chuckles.

The ride seems to go fast, considering any time you get to be with Thor is ridiculously fun. When you two pull up to the venue, you smile at him. “Be ready for lots of flashing lights and lots of noise,” you tell him and he smiles. “I can handle some flashing lights and noises,” he assures you and you wink at him. The door opens, and you make your way out of the limo, thanking Happy for bringing you and Thor again. Thor gets out moments after you, immediately grabbing your hand. You smile at him, and you two make your way over to where the pictures are being taken. You pass by fans, reporters, and some paps. You smile and wave to people who support you, Thor giving them an appreciative smile for supporting the love of his life. A member of your team walks beside you, and she’s already eyeing the outlets and reporters she wants you to talk to. You know the photos come first, so you walk straight over there, waiting your turn as someone is already getting the photos snapped of them. Your team works to make sure you look picture perfect, and you grin at Thor. He grins back, and when the actor in front of you is done with his photoshoot, you and Thor are up.

You immediately hit your staple pose, Thor having his arm around your waist. The flashes are more intense than they’ve ever been, and you have Thor to thank for that. Not only are they getting a picture of one of the most talented actresses in the world, they’re also getting pictures of one of the strongest beings in the universe. Thor stands to the side at one point, presenting you to the cameras. You smile at him before going full celebrity mode, and then it’s time for you to leave the photo portion, and head over to the video interviews. You’re guided by your team, landing interviews with E! and a few other outlets. When you begin talking to the E! Reporter, her eyes immediately get big at the sight of a literal God standing in front of her. “And look who we have here! Not only (Y/N), but Thor as well! What a power couple,” she says, and you laugh. “He has all the power here, I’m just his girlfriend.”

“My very talented and very amazing girlfriend. Do not let her humility fool you, she is equally as powerful as I, just in different ways.”

After getting shoved along to the paper and web interviews after that, you get to go inside of the event. You’re led to your seats, which are front row, and you both sit down. Your good friend is sitting right next to you, and you finally get to introduce her to Thor. Many of your coworkers approach you, actually, each one excited to meet your other-worldly boyfriend and talk to you about the awards you are up for along with them. After introducing him to multiple people, he looks at you with his eyebrows raised. “You were not lying when you said there would be a lot of noise,” he says, and you laugh. “Well, hey, at least it’s good noise. And not people getting shot or stabbed on a battlefield.”

“That is quite an honest statement.”

The awards start, and since Neil Patrick Harris is hosting again, it’s quite a wild ride. Jokes are being told left and right, and you can best believe he commented on you and Thor. You laugh at his jokes, occasionally hiding your face as Thor laughs and wraps his arm around you. The award you were up for wasn’t being presented until almost the end of the show, so you and Thor just sat and watched as your friends and colleagues got to accept their awards. “I am excited for your award,” Thor whispers to you, and you roll your eyes, punching him on the shoulder. “We don’t even know if it’s my award yet, Thor,” you inform him and he just grins. “You win every award in my eyes.” You immediately blush, hitting him on the shoulder again and causing him to laugh. After a few more awards are announced, Thor clears his throat, looking at you. “I am going to go use the restroom, I will return momentarily,” he tells you, placing a quick kiss on your cheek before you can even think about stopping him. He speed walks backstage, and you bite your lip. Your award is going to be announced soon, and you were nervous he wouldn’t make it back in time.

Your nerves were confirmed when you realized your award was about to be announced. Before you could even begin freaking out, though, a tall blonde walked out onstage to announce the award. “Thor?!” you ask, mainly to yourself, but the cameras got your confused expression as he walked up to the microphone center stage. “Acting is an art form like none other, having the skill to become a completely different person with a completely different life story from yours is a remarkable talent, and the women who are eligible for this award prove this. The women up for best actress in a leading role are…” Thor beings announcing the names, your name being last. He looks over in your direction with an endearing smile before announcing your nomination. “(Y/N) (L/N), Brooklyn Burning,” he says, and you smile as the applause sounds around you. He waits for the applause to die down completely before saying, “The Oscar is awarded to.”

He opens the envelope in his hands, reading it and immediately smiling from ear to ear. “The woman I love infinitely, (Y/N) (L/N)!” You cover your mouth, tears immediately beginning to well up in your eyes. Your friend pulls you into a hug, and you making your way to the stage. “You didn’t tell me you were presenting!” you say, wiping away a tear that managed to leak out of your eye. Thor smiles at you, “I’m sorry, my love. I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“Yeah, well I’m pretty damn surprised!” Thor laughs at your reaction, before pulling you in for a kiss while handing you your Oscar. This move caused the cheering to well up again, and you can’t help but smile. After giving your acceptance speech where you thank every person on the face of the planet who you care about, you head backstage. You immediately hug Thor, as he lifts you up off the ground. “I told you you would win, my love,” he says to you and you just smile, shaking your head. “I still cannot believe it. And I can’t believe my boyfriend gave the award to me!” you exclaim, holding the award in your hands and smiling like a madman. Thor pulls you in for a kiss yet again, and this time, your buddy Ellen snaps a picture of it. Needless to say, there’s a picture all over the internet of you holding an award in one hand while your other hand is cupping Thor’s cheek. “Stop trying, she wins.” was the caption Ellen used, and honestly, she’s right. Even if you didn’t win that award, you still had the best boyfriend you could ever have. The Oscar was just a bonus.

#thor x reader #thor odinson x reader #avengers x reader #thor imagine #thor odinson imagine #avengers imagine #thor #thor odinson #avengers

123 notes · View notes

starkandstormborn · 5 years ago

Text

ohemdiving back into the fanfic life after gendrya left us for dead (rip us).

chapters all in the canon-verse trying to make sense of things but also their ending is gendry on that damn boat so don’t even with me (!)

most will be in arya’s pov but might dabble into gendry b’s too depending but she’s so complex and we need to get in that girl’s head to make sense of the nonsensical bs that was the s8 finale eps * sigh *

ill upload on a03 and fanfiction once my membership’s been approved coz this gal hasn’t been on these sites in an ice ageeee

but here’s a sneak of what’s to come. this is for you, my fellow gendrya lovers <3

the world is yours and mine chapter I - set after the long night battle, gendry’s proposal, etc.

In her eyes, she has one purpose. Kill the queen on the Iron Throne who watches and hears and knows. Kill the queen who understands the power of the living against the dead. Kill the queen who fears Daenerys Targaryen who marches astride a powerful army who will fight for her, who will kill for her, who will die for her.

Two powerful women, one evil, one good, perhaps. But both dangerous. To the living and the yet to live.

Knock, aim, loose.

She shuts out the pandemonium, the chaos of the celebrations coming from outside the walls where the Dothraki are situated and extending towards the Great Hall where she knew her family is. She took food from the kitchens earlier, sneaking warm, fresh-baked bread and a bowl of hot stew she dipped it in. She ate on the fortifications overlooking the pyres where the smell of the burning bodies still lingered.

She would’ve joined in on the celebrations at the Great Hall but truthfully, she was still very, very tired. They stitched up the scar on her forehead well enough, but a bruise still formed that snaked around her eyes and down the right-side of her face. It hurt to move her face at times and the thought of having to repeat her thanks to every congratulations made her head hurt.

She ate quick enough and stayed long enough in the cold for her insides to burn in that familiar, throbbing way that she had almost forgotten about as she faced literal death and willed herself against it a mere day ago. Not today. Not today.

Now death calls again. The only death she will demand of the red god. And if she perishes with her, then so be it. There’ll be no coming home.

She faces the target and sees her father. Knock. She remembers his kind eyes shining in amusement and pride at her. Aim. She looks at the target and pictures the face that took him from her. Cersei. Loose.

And barely misses Gendry.

“Don’t shoot,” he says with his hands raised as he makes his way towards her. She smiles at him fondly as she picks up another arrow to knock.

“It’s night time, it’s freezing, and everyone’s celebrating,” he says, taking his place beside her. “You should be celebrating with them.”

She aims and lets loose, her eyes fixed on her target.

“I am celebrating.”

“I am too.”

She picks up another arrow and readies herself to knock before he speaks again.

“I’m not Gendry Rivers anymore,” he says, “I’m Gendry Baratheon, Lord of Storm’s End. By order of the queen.”

She looks at him then, genuine surprise written on her face.

“Congratulations,” she says, and means it. He takes her by surprise and kisses her and parting before she could register what just occurred.

“I don’t know how to be a lord of anything, I hardly know how to use a fork!” he says, his hand gripping her arms and his eyes fixed on hers.

“All I know is that you’re beautiful and I love you and none of it would be worth anything if you’re not with me.”

She beams up at him, slightly perturbed at the emotions he’s awakening inside her; this silly boy that she’s been in love with and would have followed to the ends of the earth if he had asked. She looks at him, a little dazed by his confession, as he continued.

“So be with me,” he says, and her heart stops a little at the intent she reads in his eyes. He takes one knee and looks up at her, hopeful. “Be my wife. Be the lady of Storm’s End.”

For a moment, she thinks of her father and how he would’ve loved Gendry Baratheon. She remembers his words to Sansa, her then idiot of a sister who proclaimed her vocal infatuation to Joffrey Lannister. Her father had said that he would arrange for Sansa to wed someone brave, and strong, and gentle. Someone who was kind and worthy of a daughter of the north.

It amuses Arya to think that her father had met Gendry before. It amuses her even more to think of what her father would’ve said if he found out that his Arya had fallen in love with Gendry Baratheon. With all of his bravery, and strength, and gentleness, and kindness. She wonders what her father would’ve said of a union between them now that he’s legitimised as Robert Baratheon’s son. She knows her father wouldn’t have wanted anyone less in character.

She imagines how their union would’ve been celebrated throughout the realm. A true Stark of the North and a legitimised Baratheon of Storm’s End. A rekindled hope for a realm that bled and died for a failed love between Robert Baratheon and Lyanna Stark.

She pictures Gendry with Jon, with Robb, with Bran and even with Rickon. She imagines that he’d get along well with her father and mother. She imagines her mother being quite amused by his naivety, but he’ll win her over through honour and respect.

He’d learn to be more than just a smith. She could teach him to read, to write, to fight with a sword and have Maester Luwin teach him history and languages and the legends of First Men and the Targaryens since Aegon the Conqueror – her favourite stories.

She imagines sharing a life together, going off on adventures and travelling across the realm, visiting every part of the Seven Kingdoms and perhaps even beyond that. To Essos and all the lands beyond Braavos, to the Bay of Dragons and further towards Asshai and the Shadow Lands. They could even go and see what’s west of Westeros, if they wanted. Just the two of them, exploring, travelling, just living.

But that was for a different life. A life that’s passed now that her father, mother, Robb and Rickon aren’t here anymore. When Bran isn’t the three-eyed raven and her sister isn’t the Lady of Winterfell and Jon isn’t serving a Targaryen queen bent to rule over the Seven Kingdoms.

Perhaps, she thinks quite sadly, it’s a life for a different Arya too. The Arya that she knew before. The Arya that he knew before too. The Arya who was meant to live. This Arya, the Arya that she is now isn’t meant to think this way let alone to actually live it. She can’t second guess now. She can’t allow her feelings of sentiment overturn her purpose. She has to kill the queen or she will die trying.

And Gendry…

He’s still on one knee looking up at her with his hopeful eyes, waiting eagerly for her answer. An answer that she wishes she could grant him. An answer that a deep part of her is begging her to tell him.

But she knows that she can’t. She’s not a lady. She’s never been and never will be. She will die come the next war in Kings Landing and she will not bring him along with her. The red god will not have him. He deserves a family, even if it won’t be her.

She puts her bow away before leaning down and meeting him where he is on one knee. She takes his face in her hands and lets him know exactly how much he means to her as she takes his lips with her own. He holds on to her arms as she moves to stand up, their lips never parting. She holds his face, gently, lovingly, and he takes her lips this time and she savours it, savours him. She opens his eyes a second after he does, and she steels herself to let him go.

“You’ll be a wonderful lord,” she says, “and any lady will be lucky to have you.”

She doesn’t let herself feel the moment she sees his hopeful expression crumple into a mix of pain and confusion. She goes on. She needs to go on.

“But I’m not a lady,” she says, the final weapon in her arsenal. She needs him to understand that and she needs him to be angry at her. The only way for him to let her go is if she breaks his heart. At least then, he will not be anchored to her and It’ll hurt less when she leaves. Really leaves.

“I never have been,” she continues, looking up at him. “That’s not me.”

She immediately turns away to grab her bow, trying for that semblance of indifference. She wills him to understand as she picks up an arrow and knocks. She wills him to move on, to walk away, as she aims. She can feel him behind her, she can feel his pain, his confusion, his shock, and she wills him to forgive her…and to let her go.

Loose.

#gendrya #gendrya and arya #gendrya fanfic #gendrya fanfiction #this is for you and me who were robbed of an ending they deserve #arya x gendry #gendry baratheon #arya stark #gendry waters #gendry rivers #got

36 notes · View notes

loretranscripts · 5 years ago

Text

Lore Episode 30: Deep and Twisted Roots (Transcript) - 21st March 2016

tw: blood

Disclaimer: This transcript is entirely non-profit and fan-made. All credit for this content goes to Aaron Mahnke, creator of Lore podcast. It is by a fan, for fans, and meant to make the content of the podcast more accessible to all. Also, there may be mistakes, despite rigorous re-reading on my part. Feel free to point them out, but please be nice!

In the early 1990s, two boys were playing on a gravel hill near an old, abandoned mine outside of Griswold, Connecticut. Kids do the oddest things to stave off boredom, so playing on a hill covered in small rocks doesn’t really surprise me, and my guess is they were having a blast – that is, until one of them dislodged two larger rocks. But when the rocks tumbled free and rolled down the hill, both boys noticed something odd about them. They were nearly identical in shape, and that shape was eerily familiar. They headed down the hill one last time to take a closer look, and that’s when they realised what they’d found: skulls. At first, the local police were brought in to investigate the possibility of an unknown serial killer. That many bodies all in one place was never a good sign, but it became obvious very quickly that the real experts they needed were, in fact, archaeologists – and they were right. In the end, 29 graves were discovered in what turned out to be the remnants of a forgotten cemetery. Time and the elements had slowly eroded away the graveyard, and the contents had been swallowed by the gravel. Many skeletons were still in their caskets, though, and it was inside one of them, marked with brass tacks to form the initials of the occupant, that something unusual was discovered. Long ago, it seems, someone had opened this casket shortly after burial and had then made changes to the body. Specifically, they’d removed both femurs, the bones of the thigh, and placed them across the chest. Then, moving some of the ribs and the breast bone out of the way, they placed the skull above them. It was a real-life skull and crossbones, and its presence hinted at something darker. The skeleton, you see, wasn’t just the remains of an ordinary early settler of the area. This man was different, and the people who buried him knew it. According to them, he had been a vampire. I’m Aaron Mahnke, and this is Lore.

While it might be a surprise to some people, graves like the one in Griswold are actually quite common. Today, we live in the Bram Stoker era of vampires, so our expectations and imagery are highly influenced by his novel and the world it evokes – Victorian gentlemen in dark cloaks, mysterious castles, sharp fangs protruding over blood red lips. But the white face and red lips started life as nothing more than stage make-up, an artefact from a 1924 theatrical production of the novel called Count Dracula. Another feature we associate with Dracula, his high-collar, also started there. With wires attached to the points of the collar, the actor playing Dracula could turn his back on the audience and drop through a trap door, leaving an empty cape behind to fall on the floor moments later. The true myth of the vampire, though, is far older than Stoker. It’s an ancient tree with deep and twisted roots. As hard as it is for popular culture to fathom, the legend of the vampire and the people who hunt it actually predate Dracula by centuries. Just a little further into the past than Bram Stoker, in the cradle of what would one day become the United States, the people of New England were identifying vampire activity in their own towns and villages and then assembling teams of people to deal with what they perceived as a threat. It turns out that Griswold was one of those communities. According to the archaeologists who studied the 29 graves, a vast majority of them were contemporary to the vampire’s burial, and most of those showed signs of an illness. Tuberculosis is the most likely guess, which goes a long way toward explaining why the people did what they did. The folklore was clear – the first to die from an illness was usually the cause of the outbreak that followed. Patient 0 might be in the grave, sure, but they were still at work, slowly draining the lives of the others.

Because of this belief, bodies all across the north-east were routinely exhumed and destroyed in one way or another. In many ways, it was as if the old superstitions were clawing their way out of the depths of the past to haunt the living. The details of another case from Stafford, Connecticut in the late 1870s illustrate the ritual perfectly. After a family there lost five of their six daughters to illness, the first to have passed away was dug up and examined. This is what was recorded about the event: “Exhumation has revealed a heart and lungs,” they wrote, “still fresh and living, encased in rotten and slimy integuments, and in which, after burning these portions of the defunct, a living relative, else doomed and hastening to the grave, has suddenly and miraculously recovered”. This sort of macabre community event happened frequently in places like Connecticut, Vermont, New York, New Hampshire and even Ontario, Canada, and long-time listeners of Lore will of course remember the subject of the very first episode, and how the family of Mercy Brown in Rhode Island exhumed her body after others died, doing a very similar thing. Mercy Brown wasn’t the first American vampire, though. As far as we can tell, that honour goes to the wife of Isaac Burton of Manchester, Vermont, all the way back in 1793, and for as chilling and dark the exhumation of Mercy Brown might have been, the Burton incident puts that story to shame.

Captain Isaac Burton married Rachel Harris in 1789, but their marriage was brief. Within months of the wedding, Rachel took sick with Tuberculosis, what was then called “consumption” because of the way the disease seemed to waste the person away, as if they were being consumed by something unseen. Rachel soon died, leaving her husband a young widower, but that didn’t last long. Burton married again in April of 1791, this time to a woman named Hulda Powell. But again, within just two years of their marriage, Burton’s bride became ill. Friends and neighbours started to whisper and as people are prone to do, they began to try and draw conclusions. Unanswered questions bother us, so we tend to look for reasons, and the people of Manchester thought they knew why Hulda was sick. Although Isaac’s wife, Rachel, had been dead for nearly three years, the people of Manchester suggested that she was the cause. Clearly, from her new home in the graveyard, she was draining the life from her husband’s new bride. With Burton’s permission, the town prepared to exhume her and end the curse. The town blacksmith brought a portable forge to the gravesite and nearly 1000 people gathered there to watch the grim ceremony unfold. Rachel’s liver, heart and lungs were all removed from her corpse and then reduced to ashes. Sadly, though, Hulda Burton never recovered, and she died a few months later. This ancient ritual, as far as the people of Manchester, Vermont were concerned, had somehow failed them. They did what they had been taught to do, as unpleasant as it must have been, and yet it hadn’t worked – which was odd, because that hadn’t always been the case.

A lot of what we think we know about the roots of the vampire legend is thanks to Dracula, the novel by Bram Stoker. Most of us know the basics – Stoker built a mythology around a historical figure from the fifth century named Vlad III. Vlad was from the kingdom of Wallachia, now part of modern-day Romania. Vlad had two titles: Vlad Tepes, which meant “The Impaler”, referred to his brutal military tactics in defence of his country; the other, Vlad Dracul, or “The Dragon”, referred to his membership in the Order of the Dragon, a military order founded to protect Christian Europe from the armies of the invading Ottoman Empire. But Bram Stoker never travelled to Romania. The castle that he describes as the home of Dracula, a real-life fortress known as Bran Castle, was just an image he found in a book that he felt captured the mood he was aiming for. Bran Castle, as far as historians can tell, has no connection to Vlad III whatsoever. The notion of a vampire, or at least of an undead creature that feeds on the living, does have roots in the area, though. Stoker was close, but he missed the mark by a little more than 300 miles. The real roots of the legend, according to most historians, can be found in modern-day Serbia. Serbia of today sits at the south-western corner of Romania, just south of Hungary. Between 1718 and 1739, the country passed briefly from the hands of the Ottoman Empire to the control of the Austrians. Because of its place between these two empires, the land was devastated by war and destruction and people were frequently moved around in service to the military, and as is often the case, when people cross borders, so do ideas.

Petar Blagojevich was a Serbian peasant in the village of Kisiljevo in the early 1700s. Not much is known about his life, but we do know that he was married and had at least one son, and in 1725, through causes unknown, Petar died at the age of 62. In most stories, that’s the end, but not here. You probably knew that, though, didn’t you? In the eight days that followed Petar’s death, other people in the village began to pass away. Nine of them, in fact, and all of them made startling claims on their death beds, details that seemed impossible to prove but were somehow the same in each case. Each person was adamant that Petar Blagojevich, their recently deceased neighbour, had come to them in the night and attacked them. Petar’s widow even made the startling claim that her dead husband had actually walked into her home and asked for, of all things, his shoes. She believed so strongly in this visit that she moved to another village to avoid future visits. The rest of the people of Kisiljevo took notice. Something had to be done, and that would begin with digging up Petar’s corpse. Inside the coffin, they found Petar’s body to be remarkably preserved. Some noticed how the man’s nails and hair had grown. Others remarked on the condition of his skin, which was flush and bright, not pale. It wasn’t natural, they said, and something had to be done. They turned to a man named Frombald, a local representative of the Austrian government, and together with the help of a priest he examined the body for himself. In his written report, he confirmed the earlier findings and added his observation that fresh blood could be seen inside Petar’s mouth. Frombald describes how the people of the village were overcome with fear and outrage, and how they proceeded to drive a wooden stake through the corpse’s heart. Then, still afraid of what the creature might be able to do to them in the future, the people burnt the body. Frombald’s report details all of it, but he also makes the disclaimer that he wasn’t responsible for the villager’s actions. He said that it was fear that drove them to it, nothing more. Petar’s story was powerful, and it created a panic that quickly spread throughout the region. It was the first event of its kind in history to be recorded in official government documents, but that report was still missing an official cause. Without it, the stories might have died where they started. But then, just a year later, something happened, and the legend had never been the same.

Arnold Paole was a former soldier, one of the many men transplanted by the Austrian government in an effort to defend and police their newly acquired territory. No one is sure where he was born, but his final years were spent in a Serbian village along the great Morava river, near Paraćin. In his post-war life, Arnold became a farmer, and he frequently told stories from days gone by. In one such story, Arnold claimed that he had been attacked by a vampire years before while living in Kosovo. He survived, but the injury continued to plague him until he finally took action. He said that he cured himself by eating soil from the grave of the suspected vampire, and then, after digging up the vampire’s body, he collected some of its blood and smeared it on himself. And that was it – according to Arnold and the folklore that drove him to it, he was cured. When he died in a farming accident in 1726, though, people began to wonder, because within a month of his death at least four other people in town complained that Arnold had visited them in the night and attacked them. When those people died, the villagers began to whisper in fear. They remembered Arnold’s stories – stories of being attacked by a vampire, of taking on the disease himself, stories of his own attempt to cure himself. But what if it hadn’t worked? Out of suspicion and doubt, they decided to exhume his body and examine it. Here, for what was most likely the first time in recorded history, the story of the vampire was taking on the form of a communicable disease, transmitted from person to person through biting. This might seem obvious to us now, but we’ve all grown up with the legend fully formed. To the people of this small, Serbian village, though, this was something new and horrific. What they found seemed like conclusive evidence, too: fresh skin, new nails, longer hair and beard. Arnold even had blood in his mouth. Putting ourselves in their context, it’s easy to see how they might have been chilled with fear – so they drove a stake through his heart. One witness claimed that, as the stake pierced the corpse’s chest, the body groaned and bled. Unsure of what else to do, they burned the body, and then they did the same to the four who had died after claiming Arnold attacked them. They covered all their bases, so to speak, and then walked away.

Five years later, though, another outbreak spread through the village. We know this because so many people died that the Austrian government sent a team of military physicians from Belgrade to investigate the situation. These men, led by two officials named Glaser and Flückinger, were special, though, because they were trained in communicable diseases, which was a good thing. By January 7th of 1731, just eight weeks after the beginning of the outbreak, 17 people had died. At first, Glaser had looked for signs of a contagious disease, but came up empty-handed. He noted signs of mild malnutrition, but there was nothing deadly that could be found. The clock was ticking, though. The villagers were living in such fear that they had been gathering together into large groups each night, taking turns keeping watch for the creatures they believed were responsible. They even threatened to pack up and move elsewhere. Something needed to be done, and quickly. Thankfully, there were suspects. The first was a young woman named Stana, a recent newcomer to the village who had died during childbirth early on in the outbreak. It seemed to have been a sickness that took her life, but there were other clues. Stana had confessed to smearing vampire blood on herself years before as protection, but that, the villagers claimed, had backfired, and most likely turned her into one instead. The other suspect was an older woman named Milica. She was also from another part of Serbia, and had arrived shortly after Arnold’s death. Like so many others, she had a history. Neighbours claimed that she was a good woman who never did anything intentionally wicked, but she had told them once of how she’d eaten meat from a sheep killed by a vampire, and that seemed like evidence enough to push the investigation to go deeper… literally.

With permission from Belgrade, Glaser and the villagers exhumed all of the recently deceased, opening their coffins for a full examination, and while logic and science should have prevailed in a situation like that, what they found only deepened their belief in the supernatural. Of the 17 bodies, only five appeared normal, in that they had begun to decay in a manner that should be expected. These were reburied and considered safe, but it was the other 12 that alarmed the villagers and the government men alike, because these bodies were still fresh. In the report filed in Belgrade in January of 1732, signed by all five of the government physicians who witnessed the exhumations, these 12 bodies were completely untouched by decay, organs still held fresh blood, their skin was healthy and firm, and new nails and hair had grown since burial. These are all normal occurrences as we understand decomposition today, but three centuries ago it was less about science and more about superstition. This didn’t seem normal to them, and so when the physician wrote their report, they used a term that, until that very moment, had never appeared in any historical account of such a case. They described the bodies as “vampiric”. In the face of unanswered questions, the only conclusion they could commit to was that each of the 12 bodies had been found in a “vampiric” condition. With that, the villagers did what their tradition demanded: they removed the heads from each corpse, gathered all the remains into a pile, and then burned the whole thing. The threat to the village was finally dead and gone, but it was too late. Something new had been born, something more powerful than a monster, something that lives centuries and spreads like fire: a legend.

[21:20]

Many aspects of folklore haven’t faired too well under the critical eye of science. Today, we have a much deeper understanding of how illness and disease really works, and while experts are still careful to explain that every corpse decomposes in a slightly unique way, we have a better grasp of the full picture now than any previous time in history. Answers, when we can find them, come as a relief. It’s safe to say that we don’t have to fear a vampiric infection when the people around us get sick today, but there were still people at the centre of these ancient stories, normal folk like you and me, who simply wanted to do what was right. We might do it differently today, but it’s hard to fault them for trying. Answers don’t kill every myth, though. Vampire stories, like their immortal subjects, have simply refused to die. In fact, they can still be found, if you know where to look for them. In the small, Romanian village of Marotinu de Sus, near the south-western corner that borders Bulgaria and Serbia, authorities were called in to investigate an illegal exhumation, but this wasn’t 1704 or even 1804. This happened just a decade ago. Petre Toma had been the clan leader there in the village, but after a lifetime of illness and hard drinking, his accidental death in the field almost came as a relief to his family and friends. That’s how they put it, at least. So, when he was buried in December of 2003, the community moved on. But individuals from Petre’s family began to get sick. First it was his niece, Mirela Marinescu. She complained that her uncle had attacked her in her dreams. Her husband made the same claim, and both offered their illness as proof. Even their infant child was not well. Thankfully, the elders of the village immediately knew why. In response to her story, six men gathered together one evening in early 2004. They entered the local graveyard close to midnight, and then travelled to the burial site of Petra Toma. Using hammers and chisels, they broke through the stone slab that covered the grave and then moved the pieces aside. They drank as they worked. Can you really blame them? They were opening the grave of a recently deceased member of their community, but I think it was more than that. In their minds, they were putting their lives in danger, because there, inside the grave and just uncovered, lay the stuff of nightmares – a vampire. What these men did next will sound strangely familiar, but to them it was simply the continuation of centuries of tradition. They cut open the body using a knife and a saw, they pried the ribs apart with a pitchfork, and then cut out the heart. According to one of the men who was there, when the heart was removed, they found it full of fresh blood. Proof, to them at least, that Petre had been feeding on the village. When they pulled it free, the witness said that the body audibly sighed, and then went limp. It’s hard to prove something that six incredibly superstitious men – men who had been drinking all night, mind you – claimed they witnessed in a dark cemetery, but to them it was pure, unaltered truth. They then used the pitchfork to carry the heart out of the cemetery and across the road to a field, where they set it on fire. Once it was burnt completely, they collected the ashes and funnelled them into a bottle of water. They offered this tonic to the sick family, who willingly drank it. It was, after all, what they had been taught to do, and amazingly, everyone recovered. No one died of whatever illness they were suffering from, and no one reported visits from Petre Toma after that. In their mind, the nightmare was over. These men had saved their lives. Maybe something evil and contagious has survived for centuries after all, spreading across borders and oceans. It’s certainly left a trail of horrific events in its wake, and its influenced countless tales and superstitions, all of which seem to point to a real-life cause. But far from being unique to Serbia or Romania, this thing is global. And as if that weren’t enough, this horrible, ageless monster is, and always had been, right inside each of us. Like a vampiric curse, we carry it in our blood, but its probably not what you’d expect. It’s fear.

[Closing statements]

#lore podcast #aaron mahnke #podcast transcripts #vampires #folklore #serbia #romania #connecticut #transcripts #30

7 notes · View notes

floggingink · 7 years ago

Text

Riverdale, “Chapter Seventeen: The Town That Dreaded Sundown”

SOME TENSE SHIT!!!!! SIT BACK!!!!!

Jughead should definitely know that a serial killer needs to have a body count of three to earn that sobriquet, so what Riverdale has is a sort of obstinate murderer

I LOVE his serial killer thought-mannequins

“Damn good coffee”: of course the Riverdale library has one light bulb per shelf and of course the librarian is dressed like that, with a big, big flower pin and half-moon readers

Jug should probably NOT say things like “Research, not for school,” unless he wants to be put on a list, like in Se7en (he has to raise flags verbally as it appears the library is offline)

Cheryl’s hair: there is very little Cheryl in this episode, but I take heart from the fact that her hair looks as bouncy and incredible as always, in the background

Alice rolling her eyes at Hal putting in a stronger lock seems to encapsulate much of Alice’s particular joie de vivre: She hoovers up every grisly bit of information, draws the most macabre conclusion possible, and spreads her vision to the masses for others to panic, but dares the danger itself to try and affect her, Alice Cooper

another slide transition wherein Alice and Jughead are more or less doing the same thing!

one of these days Jughead is going to cautiously open the door of his trailer and get absolutely pummeled

Archie made a little target out of printer paper with a Sharpie

I really like the long, serious, universe-appropriate fallout of the video. people are like, What the FUCK were you thinking? because it was a fucking insane thing to do!

Hermione is ON THE MONEY about Archie right now. Archie was a bumbling hero last episode, but at the end, VIA HIRAM, took it to “the streets” and is now “threatening violence,” because he has PTSTunnel Vision

Veronica’s hot pink miniskirt? seconded

Hiram beaming as he ticks off the “chaos and confusion” spreading around Riverdale, half of it brought about by his bequest, wishes he had a glass of port to swirl menacingly

the Coopers seem to have a centerpiece on their dining room table of a big bowl filled with napkins

Best costume bit: Betty’s cut-out paper snowflake shirt???

The Blossom spawn: REMEMBER THAT POLLY RAN AWAY AGAIN? it was like the fourth time she ran away

Mädchen Amick, MÄDCHEN AMICK: Alice’s HUGE DRAMATIC inhales as she cry-scolds Betty. “AND THEN YOU TRY AND MAKE ME THE MONSTER.” PUNCH THE TABLE

Hal’s extremely calm, blue American Eagle sweater

okay when Archie said he took the original video down on his own, I was slightly mollified, but you know, YOU KNOW HE WASN’T DONE OKAY

at Betty’s request that Jughead leave Southside, during lunch, to go to Riverdale, during lunch: “Betty, I have to try and at least maintain a semblance of being a student here.”

Sexy, aesthetic Southside: Sweet Pea’s computer is such a piece of shit, he is amazing

Toni has on some sort of incredible elastic headband from Claire’s

Gay?!: Fogarty wants to earn his “Serpent stripes,” which apparently means you need to...take something to the streets…

he and Moose would probably get along. they seem to be built from the same mold

Sweet Pea LOVES this idea and pounds the table!!! gerrymandered violence!!!! meanwhile Jughead is panicking because he is really bad at violence

Gay.: “I know this guy,” AKA I slept on his bedroom floor for a couple weeks

Jughead calls Archie “a milquetoast,” a word Archie would not understand

there is a BEAUTIFUL, eye-rolling Serpent along the wall behind Sweet Pea, with a nose ring, who does not care that Jughead does not like this

Sweet Pea’s sort of caustic bluster comes from someone who has probably never shot anybody. I think he is still trying to figure out Jughead, whom he just calls, proprietarily, “Jones”

Archie > Dawson: Archie strutting down the hallway, revelling inwardly at how badass his callout of the Black Hood was, crashing into a Veronica who does not give a shit, is almost perfect except that there isn’t literally a record-scratch sound effect

there is a girl in a pink sweater, by the way, who gives Archie what would be my expression, which is like, Don’t you, like, play the guitar?

Fifth period is AP English: Archie read Lord of the Flies but missed the part where it’s not about human nature in general but rather the nature of spoiled boys

Veronica is slightly stunned that Archie does not have a plan more intricate than basically what he outlined in the video. basically that Hermione was right

I don’t think Betty/Jughead and Veronica/Archie interact this episode, which means we do not get to read the screen of Archie’s phone receiving Jughead’s text: “nice video, YOU DOLT. ARE YOU HAVING SOME SORT OF PSYCHOTIC BREAK.” five minutes later: “is this because I stopped sleeping on your bedroom floor? tell me the truth.”

someone transcribed the audio of Archie’s video into Principal Weatherbee’s olive Moleskin dayplanner

if Episode 1-5 Archie saw what Episode 17 Archie has done to his music and football career, he would have a coronary

Kevin has “reupped” his membership to a hookup site for blue-state people in red-state states

OOH the soundtrack when Betty talks about getting the Black Hood letter was SORT OF opening-credits Se7en, but like, by way of the Riverdale theme

Betty makes a classic horror movie decision (good or bad TBD by the outcome) of deciding not to tell anyone about The Test

Kevin makes a valid point that Betty is not unionized FBI Special Agent Will Graham, or even trainee Clarice Starling

50 Shades of Betty: Betty’s eyeliner manipulates Alice’s dramaternal instincts

Alice assumed the Black Hood is “terrified” of her so he uses the second-best Alice, which is Betty

in another Zodiac move, Alice publishes the cipher in case an old retired couple takes a crack at it and solves it over breakfast (this is a great movie)

Reggie’s world is collapsing around his ears: “PLEASE, BRO. SIGN THE LETTER.”

Archie is taking Alice’s spin seriously that the killer must be a Southsider, like he took Hiram’s word to form…….I’m exhausted

this episode’s Archie is the same Archie as “The Outsiders” when he outs Jughead’s father as a Serpent, which was awful, except the awfulness this episode entertains me

Dilton just wants to watch the world burn, which at this point Archie should recognize since he says things like “The hunter becomes the hunted” and “And then there was one”

Summer + Blair = Veronica: Veronica quietly confronts her father, Slytherin to Slytherin, about Archie’s simpleness being both a pro and con

is it weird for her to have to sit facing a portrait of herself? (probably not)

the CW website dims when you pause it, so I can’t read Jughead’s notes, but he’s taking notes longhand, which is probably, like, calming

I want to say he’s put up a few of his movie posters! Jughead has a bedroom!!!!!

Toni prefers Jake Gyllenhaal’s Zodiac book from the movie (this is a great season of Riverdale for David Fincher)

Jughead is kind of adorable in this scene. he has never had a friend, EVER, who has not given him a weird look when he drops a reference to H. H. Holmes’ murder hotel or Dahmer’s sex zombies or whatever (Archie does not know who they are). his big blue-eyed gaze up at Toni is because he finally found someone else who listens to The Last Podcast on the Left

though Albert Fish stuck pins up his dick, so there’s a time and a place for all quips

“True crime is my crack” is an understatement

“True crime is my JJ” would work

the lock screen on Betty’s phone is like a pink Versailles print because Betty is a French Rococo princess

in a twist I never saw coming, Jughead chooses the “__ - __” version of a dash instead of an em dash

Veronica supports Archie’s dangerous side-project because right now it’s just Archie and his “comely crew” picking up Ethel on the side of the road. she does not know of the plan to go TO THE SOUTHSIDE, LIKE A MORON, for a confrontation no one else wants

I’d like to know what secret fund Archie is dipping into to buy Ms. Grundy $300 cello bows and $500 tactical Army gear

Jughead 1) brought his beanie with him to the door and 2) doesn’t bother putting it on when it’s Betty, because he is a special young man

Betty wants to see Jughead EVERY DAY

Jughead becomes the second television character in history to admit to having morning breath, after Sookie St. James

Fwoopy hair is the best hair: Jughead’s freshly slept-on mop of hair, Jughead’s bedhead, reinforcing the lesson that seeing him without his hat on is a privilege reserved for the few, the proud

Jughead eats: Jughead’s breakfast of coffee and cereal feels right, true

consider that Jughead could have lied and not told Betty that he’s been doing research on the side—and it’s not even on the side! it’s on his own time, at his school—with his ONE OTHER FRIEND, leaving her to “discover” this fact later when Toni “lets it slip,” what we might call the Gossip Girl route. instead Jughead’s like, I’ve been doing X with Z, by the way

Betty very cannily proposes a group project to steer this train barrelling down a hill and makes sure to haul in Kevin, an ally

Jughead’s resistance to fully embracing Kevin continues

“Are you saying I’m not rocking the scoop-neck look?”

Veronica was rich: Veronica’s late-night planning is impressive, as was someone’s ability to come up with a wholly original logo for a downtown office space converted into a restaurant only open for brunch and happy hour for her

Cheryl’s a chaos angel from hell: Cheryl agreed to help distribute the T-shirts, I can only assume because she knows she is spreading Hiram’s chaos and confusion

WHAT’S UP, TONI?

Kevin knows where his platonic bread is buttered: “ICONIC AND BEYOND REPROACH”

Kevin looks SO MUCH like his father in this scene!

Betty TAKES DOWN her ponytail, in an incredible soft-power move!

God bless jingle-jangle: Toni is right that people need to stop TOTALLY ERRONEOUSLY forcing themselves to assume everything bad is from the southside and Betty is right that Toni is TOTALLY ERRONEOUSLY forcing herself to assume Betty is Betty’s mother! it’s not Toni’s fault that she didn’t get that Blue & Gold issue with Betty’s huge “FP JONES PURE AS FRESHLY FALLEN SNOW” headline. however I do wish Toni’s defenses of the southside, that mostly it’s patriarchs like Clifford Blossom who are involved in drugs and that Archie’s Red Circle IS A GANG, were not so couched in obnoxious SJW verbiage

Every triangle has three corners, every triangle has three sides: also I agree with other very eloquent, thoughtful people that what Toni probably wants is for Jughead to just be a fucking Serpent already and that Betty, to the Serpents, is an almost out-of-nowhere anchor to the preppy, ancien régime northside who needs to go so Jughead’s transformation will be complete

CAN PEOPLE STOP TELLING JUGHEAD’S GANG SECRETS FOR HIM? CAN JUGHEAD LET PEOPLE KNOW THINGS HE WANTS TO TELL THEM ON HIS OWN TIME? CAN JUGHEAD HAVE ONE SINGLE THING TO HIMSELF?

Archie going to the southside, completely unbidden, is GLORIOUSLY HORRIBLE, OH GOD

if Jughead knew Archie was strolling around graffitiing vintage barn doors on his side of town just to intimidate the locals with a giant defacing threat of baby police state violence, Jughead would actually, literally kill him

some sorta sweet green muscle car parked there though!

I’m writing a scene where it’s gay.: as it is, Sweet Pea would be honored to do Jughead’s dirty work for him, except that Archie is PACKING HEAT

These students are legally children: Sweet Pea’s feelings look hurt that Archie escalated this so insanely and Archie’s hand is shaking because he wants to be a big scary guy but really he is an infant

Allison Anders’ camera pans so lovingly up Betty and Jughead’s semi-entwined bodies as a sort of cool-down exhale, like Everything is fine

Jughead confirmed big spoon

“Exhaustion. It’s not easy being us.”

Cheryl’s sheaths: Don’t miss Cheryl’s low V-neck in science class!!!

she’s partnered with Kevin, so...to be a fly on the side of that table…

Archie can TRY TO PRETEND like he’s still writing songs!

VERONICA’S READING GLASSES ARE BACK

HERMIONE IS GREAT AGAIN

“Let me tell you something about loyalty. AND I KNOW WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT.”

YOU KNOW I LOVE THE HUGE THEMATIC THUNDERSTORM

YOU KNOW JUGHEAD HAULED HIMSELF TO THE COOPERS’ AFTER HE READ THAT LETTER

Jughead CANNOT BELIEVE he was not immediately included in the intimate circle of two who knew HIS GIRLFRIEND got a PERSONAL LETTER from his PET SERIAL KILLER

oh my god, oh my god, someday I will be a good enough writer (@nimmieamee) to sit down and with cool confidence articulate all the ways that Jughead’s scene with Archie in the second episode, when he grabs Archie by the lapels and shakes him, with his words, begging him to TELL SOMEBODY, is Jughead’s defining, most fantastic, saddest, righteous moment, from a kid who screams at the sky that he doesn’t care about anything yet cares EXTREMELY about EVERYTHING. it gladdens me...it is my JJ...that Jughead does the same here, to someone else he loves, who is sitting on explosive information that is putting, you know, lots of people in danger, just because the information is too close or too scary. you know, Jughead can be on whatever side of the town he wants. but Jughead is a fucking moral compass. Jughead is like the Zodiac killer’s target symbol, except that his target IS JUSTICE

“I’ve been gone for two days.”

Jughead doubts it: at this point I honestly can’t tell if I think Archie would absolutely know that Betty isn’t to blame for anything or if he’d be like….But is it possible…

goddamn fucking Jughead like when Betty was like, AM I CRAZY, Jughead is like, GET IT TOGETHER

it was too much when he sat next to her and rubbed her shoulder. his signature move. can you believe this. it even calmed Archie once. Veronica, you’re next. sit down on a couch built for two and let your eyes start to fill. I need a Jughead right now because of all the emotion I’m feeling about Jughead

HE EVEN TRIGGERS ANOTHER BLUE & GOLD BRAINWAVE I’M HAVING A HEART ATTACK

Veronica makes an instinctively uncomfortable face reaching into the tank, but the tank water is clean, for the record. I want to stand up for these bathrooms because they are so much immeasurably fancier than my high school bathrooms

Archie’s blackout speech to Veronica in his living room is the apex of his insanity, so it’s all going to be okay, but Veronica has to do all the work to get him there

“No, you just asked me to fetch your loaded gun.”

a Reggie will always defuse tension

Penelope’s looking good at the town hall! you can only barely tell her face is fucked up

“In the Book of Reg, that makes you a top-tier loyal badass.” basically what Serpent Daddy told Jughead about his father

GET IT? BECAUSE THE RED CIRCLE IS BASICALLY A GANG? they’re both gangs. case dismissed

Sweet Pea just gets cuter and cuter

SWEET PEA AND REGGIE, TOGETHER AT LAST?!

“You have crap timing, bro.”

Veronica calls them all “troglodytes,” which I think isn’t giving troglodytes enough credit

everyone promptly concedes to Veronica, who is far and away the most natural leader amongst them

Jughead and Betty break into the library to stop an actual killer and Veronica breaks into the school to get Archie’s gun, so you tell me who’s a better boyfriend (they are both excellent girlfriends)

okay maybe they go to the library, which is just open late, and calmly check out a Nancy Drew book, but once again Betty&Jughead’s plot is like THE SKY IS FALLING, meanwhile Archie is like, THIS PROBLEM I CREATED IS GETTING OUT OF HAND!

The 2001 Josie and the Pussycats movie was a masterpiece: Mayor McCoy is about done with Alice

What damn high school in America: I don’t think Alice means that the Southside kids should integrate into Riverdale High so much as they should just end up on the streets like the hoodlums they are

THIS “PIT OF VIOLENCE WAITING TO ERUPT” IS A RED BUTTON LABELED DO NOT PRESS THAT ARCHIE ANDREWS CAN’T LOOK AWAY FROM

Certified pedigree: “Alice, you’re the one holding the cleaver.” WHERE IS YOUR SON FREDERICK

Fred saying “Meanwhile there’s a guy out there with a gun and a hood” overtop Archie, a guy with a gun and a hood, “bringing out the worst in this town”

Archie’s haymaker is really good, though

Sixth period is Intro to Film: the pullback along the line of Serpents and Bulldogs crashing into each other is straight out of Captain America: Civil War because it cannot be improved upon

does Hiram WANT Riverdale to get divided into two different towns so that he can buy one of the towns?

I’ve seen Brick like thirty times: Veronica, in a cape, fires a gun into the air to stop the gang fight, because out of everyone there she is actually impressive

Dilton Doiley is a canonically great dancer: Does Dilton—stab himself? is Dilton ACTUALLY a psychopath?

Betty and Jughead with their post-investigation wet hair is classic

I am breathlessly waiting, BREATHLESSLY, for Alice’s hammer to come down on Jughead

Veronica uses the word “fraught,” which Archie will write down for later

The female gaze: Archie’s torso and Veronica’s thighs

the warm summer rain of perspective starting to mist in on Archie’s garden of trauma

Betty answers her the call from “Unknown,” because I suppose she’s never answered one and it’s turns out it’s from the car dealership in the state you don’t even live in anymore trying to tell you that the warranty on your Corolla is about to expire soon when you know very fucking well it expired like ten years ago and they just want YOUR MONEY

Please protect Betty: BETTY PLEASE BE CAREFUL!!!!!

NEXT WEEK: Cheryl waves at me

#riverdale #i say #commentary #tropes

85 notes · View notes

vehlika-pelican · 7 years ago

Text

WARNING FOR LONG POST!

I really want Tucker to be friends with Thel'Vadam and Rtas'Vadum.

But I think it’d be really fun if Thel saw the Project Freelancer Faux-Spartan armor as a hereditary thing. My headcannon is that Sangheili design their armor after their clan or family and blue team unwittingly followed this tradition when making Junior’s armor with Tucker (and Doc’s) paint/scrap so as far as the Arbiter knows Tucker is the immediate family of a spartan or a spartan-in-training and has continued the family-armor-aesthetic with his own sangheili son.

Anyway, Thel knows that Spartans are rare and few in number so Tucker must be part of this prized warrior pedigree if he’s wearing the unmistakably Spartan armor, right? But who’s kin could he be? Those that Thel knows are either old or part of the newer generations, but in the Sangheili tradition armor color is important to denote bloodlines with more respected family members in darker, richer colors and younger ones in lighter, brighter colors. Tucker is bright as fuck blue-ish green! And he’s in solid color, no accents or anything so maybe Tucker’s only interested in claiming relation to his green family. Who is the only Spartan who wears dark green armor without accents? Who is old enough to possibly be an uncle if not his father?

Master Chief. John-117. SIERRA MIST OF DEATH HIMSELF. And Thel has stated in canon that Chief is his friend and ally. So when Tucker shows up on Sangheilios to be an ambassador and learn about his son’s people Thel just speculates that this Little Spartan (Tucker’s 5'10" in my headcannon which is short for a Spartan as Chief is canonically 6'7"-6'8" out of armor) is related to his friend in some way and should be treated well. But he mentions it in passing to Rtas'Vadum and maybe some others and it turns out the Sangheili are lousy gossips! If it isn’t classified it’s fair game.

And then Tucker’s being avoided/catered to because Old Ones help them if the Demon finds out his kin has been mistreated while visiting their planet. Peace with the humans is a fragile thing!

Tucker didn’t even want to be an ambassador! He just wanted to learn the language and culture for his son because he’s trying to be a good dad. The rumor took off though, and now the Demon’s kin is here- Little Demon and Little Demon the Second Coming of Lavernius! And then the warriors all want Junior to like their clans so when he’s older he petitions for membership because who DOESN’T want the infamous Demon’s bloodline to merge with theirs?! So Junior gets an army of friends his age as the adults push their offspring into potentially beneficial bonds but its okay because the kids are actually nice and Junior’s cool and his dad’s sword is cool and he knows the Arbiter and Rtas and the Swords of Sangheilios and he’s got the best stories about silly warrior humans.

When the UNSC gets word, oh hey we can totally use this to better interspecies relations! Wham bam thank you Ambassador Tucker. Which only adds to the problem as he has Rank and Title so if he is the Demon’s kin well now he’s coming into his own! The human Master Chief and the Arbiter are friends so of course the Demon would entrust his family with securing the peace.

Thel learns the truth from Tucker who is tired of this wishy-washy too-in-my-face and then not-helping-me-at-all behavior the sangheili keep switching between due to respect and fear for a man who Tucker doesn’t know and isn’t even related to. But it’s gotten out of hand so they need Tucker to just go with it.

As an apology, Thel helps him learn the language and how to use his key-sword while teaching him the history about the ancient Sangheili. Rtas shows up one day while they’re training and no Arbiter the bet way to kill a Brute in tight quarters is like THIS- and soon enough the Swords of Sangeilios, warriors hand-picked by the Arbiter, are putting Tucker through his paces. BAMF!Competent!Tucker is best Tucker.

Then they learn that the Covenant is investigating a temple in the desert supposedly built by the ancients which means Tucker’s sword can probably access it so then send him and a mixed squad of humans and sangheili. They die getting Tucker into the Temple to protect it and he manages to call the nearest Red base where Donut is so he joins him and later goes looking for help and we all know the rest.

On the Hand of Merope Tucker calls Rtas to catch him up but also inform the sangheili embassy of his impending arrival but holy shit the ship crashed. Later on Chorus, Rtas personally comes looking for Tucker only to find out his mentee/annoying friend has been stabbed and betrayed but uncovered a conspiracy and who else but the Demon’s kin would be put through such a trial (maybe he knows the truth but still likes to tease Tucker about it) and come out alive. Tucker regains consciousness enough to ask for the Sword’s help in liberating Chorus and of course the sangheili leap at the opportunity.The beam that’s been pulling down ships doesn’t target sangheili-built ships so Rtas and his men bypass it repeatedly in order to bring in troops and weapons and food. Damn this’ll look good for interspecies relations! and they’ll reclaim ancient sangheili ruins as well so win-win. Rtas struggles to speak english due to his severed mandibles so Tucker’s practically glued to his side translating sangheili like a pro. But then the warriors see that Tucker’s got a bunch of adolescent humans wearing his color on their armor so the Little Demon has been protecting the clan younglings and thats why he not yet returned! And of course this means that Tucker’s team must all be related to the Demon too, and more sangheili come and eventually there’s so many that individual members of Tucker’s ��family” have eight foot tall alien guards following them around (mostly protecting them from Jensen’s driving). If Palomo thought Tucker was cool before you need a new word for the kind of admiration he feels for the captain now.

Carolina doesn’t like the Elites and certainly doesn’t trust them but haha, the only adult human female in Tucker’s colors must be his mate or kin and they say that she has nothing to worry about they’ll protect her hatchlings with their lives and they mean it to appease her but it just makes her angry and she chases Tucker down because she thinks he’s spreading rumors about them being together. He’s not because he likes his blood to stay inside of his body and has to spend a whole week explaining sangheili armor color family relations. She doesn’t end up hating it all that much because being mistaken for Tucker’s family/wife means that the sangheili obey her commands second only to Rtas, like Tucker. She does hate being called ‘brood-mother’ and the constant updates on the state of her and Tucker’s “hatchlings”- and does she approve of Palomo’s intended female from the red clans?- but the sangheili presence means that the army is running like a proper military outfit so she tolerates it. (she does like that the closest english translation of “brood-mother” is “Matriarch” so the english speaking aliens call her Matriarch Carolina). Epsilon fears she will go mad with power. The sangheili think Tucker has good instincts choosing the strongest, smartest, deadliest female for his mate and by the Old Ones she must be fertile for Tucker’s brood is plentiful and strong. And if the younglings are weak it is only because Matriarch Carolina is so strong her offspring can afford to be weak. What a luxury. And if they try to sell her up to Kimball because they can smell the mutual interest and think she’s just nervous and needs the help- which she doesnt but okay- then they are more than happy in securing the Demon clan another powerful female.

With the sangheili there in force, the army finds the second key-sword which is supposed to go to Wash because he has knife/blade experience but Palomo grabs it on accident and oh it must be a sign that the best of Tucker’s brood is a holder of the key! Rtas laughs in Tucker’s face. But this gets some of them to try and wing-man Palomo to Jensen because he’s Meant for Greatness and aaaahhhhhh its adorable. Eight foot saurian aliens delivering flowers (and fresh-meat) to Red Team Patriarch Colonel Sarge (its difficult to tell the different red shades apart and Simmons isn’t exactly authoritive) for Jensen, and listening to Palomo’s bad poetry and giving advice like you should emphasize her strong legs and uniquely dappled skin and her metal fangs! (she’s faster than him, freckles, and braces respectively). They especially like her metal fangs- maybe their hatchlings will get them!

The army chases Charon forces off planet and we get the epic sword fight between Tucker and Felix that we deserved, and the Swords of Sangheilios put the fear of god in Locus for daring challenge Matriarch Carolina. When Hargrove arrives the Swords and RedsandBlues fight his Mantis mechs and storm the Staff of Charon and Tucker doesn’t need a fancy suit in order to be awesome. They arrest him and finally lay ALL of Project Freelancer’s loose ends to rest.

Tucker takes Blue Team and Palomo to sangheilios and reunites with Junior and Junior tells him about teaching his friends how to play basketball and is it true you’re a hero dad? and its great.

BAMF!Competent!GoodDad!Tucker for the all the money.

uuhh cant you tell this got away from me? i love tuckington but i think i would make this gen.

#rvb #lavernius tucker #vehl's headcannons #thel'vadam #rtas'vadum #halo

188 notes · View notes

thebibliomancer · 7 years ago

Text

Essential Avengers: Avengers #141: The Phantom Empire!

November, 1975

VERSUS THE SQUADRON SINISTER! THESE GUYS AGAIN! ‘Nuff said.

Or not ‘nuff said because this is a pretty okay cover. Its a pretty aggressively average example of two teams lined contentiously.

Although, it may have been a trend-setter in that regard because apparently this particular cover gets homaged and parodied a lot.

I mean, sure, some of the lining up is awkward. Iron Man is standing in a really bad punching pose. Golden Arrow is sorta crouched in the back between several legs. And Beast is jumping down from the void.

And tiny, grumpy Vision is glaring at his larger counterpart.

Last time: Wasp and Yellowjacket managed to get themselves hurt in separate ways. Wasp was cured through the healing power of actual medicine. Yellowjacket by having a robot swim inside his heart.

Also, a mysterious woman has been trying to contact the Beast by camping out on the Avengers Mansion stoop.

This time: Payoff to that particular plot hook.

But we start with Beast bouncing along the middle of a road, in flagrant disregard for traffic laws.

Oh, hi George Perez!

Anyway, Beast is just so thrilled that his new pals Wasp and Yellowjacket are getting better. So thrilled that he almost doesn’t notice some green jumpsuited weirdos sneaking up on him.

But he do notice and he do dodge and throw out some witticisms and knocks some heads. But one of the weirdos gets a lucky shot on him and a bunch of those green jumpsuits jump him.

Luckily, Beast is saved by Captain America, dynamically entering the fray with his silliest maneuver.

With Beast and Captain America back to back, the tide of battle turns and the green suits flee.

So that was a weird thing that happened for no apparent reason.

Nah. Seldom do jumpsuited people attack superheroes on the first page of things for no reason.

Cap has been tailing the sergeant of that crew. Back when Cap was Nomad, he saved Roxxon president Hugh Jones from Warlord Krang and the Serpent Squad. Then later, Jones dropped a hot tip in Cap and Falcon’s lap when they were trying to find the Red Skull. And then at the Skull’s hideout, some strange troops burst in and massacred his men.

Long story short, Cap is mighty suspicious of Roxxon right now. He was snooping around Roxxon when he saw the dude he was tracking grab some pals and go prowling for Beast.

But why? What’s the connection between Beast and Roxxon?

Beast confusedly states that he and Cap aren’t even contemporary Avengers, which baffles Cap because Cap hasn’t been keeping up with the news and missed new membership news.

Meanwhile, mysterious woman is still mysterious and still hanging around Avengers Mansion waiting for Beast. But Jarvis mentions that the Avengers are at Mercy General Hospital. So off mysterious woman goes, to the hospital!

So, meanwhile at the hospital: Wasp and Yellowjacket are still on the mend. Lying in hospital beds. Wasp has gotten a lot of flowers, which she is thrilled about.

Yellowjacket has also received a bouquet, which has threatened his fragile masculinity.

It was actually Vision who ordered the flowers, for Scarlet Witch. Since her honeymoon and also witchy upgrade, she’s just really into having flowers around.

Around now, Cap and Beast burst in to report cool superhero nonsense is going on. He’s going to need to borrow the Avengers to fight a private army.

So Vision, Thor, and Scarlet Witch join Beast and Cap and head out of the room. Thor privately exulting that maybe Cap is finally rejoining the team.

Cap, also possessing of fragile masculinity, advises Yellowjacket to ditch the bouquet of roses.

After they leave, Wasp expresses how glad she is that the two of them helped found the Avengers. And Yellowjacket just passes her the bouquet of flowers, lest anyone else insinuate things.

Which is when mysterious woman shows up. Which you may recognize as literally right after the Avengers left. She just missed them. Mysterious woman immediately turns around and heads back to the mansion.

Wasp vaguely recollects knowing her from somewhere... and Yellowjacket confirms that mysterious woman was present at the wedding of Reed and Sue Richards, back in Fantastic Four Annual #3. So, hey, that narrows it down if you want to investigate which character appeared in Amazing Adventures and also at the wedding. But I’d advise not putting down this review to go look up the answer. I’ll just tell you in a bit.

Meanwhile, on the streets home, because the Avengers like to walk now and again, they spot a Quinjet flying overhead. Which means Iron Man and Moondragon have returned, possibly with Hawkeye (except nope).

When the Avengers return to the mansion, Jarvis tries to advise them about the mysterious woman but the Case of the Missing Hawkeye is more pressing and the Avengers just brush right past the butler.

Iron Man expresses surprise that Vision and Scarlet Witch have returned from their honeymoon so soon, which apparently has become a sore point at this point.

Iron Man: “Well, hi, lovebirds! I didn’t expect to see you back so soon! That was a short honeymoon!”

Scarlet Witch: “We know, Iron Man.”

But pleasentries aside, Iron Man and Moondragon fill the other Avengers in re: the missing Hawkeye and the obvious and transparent trap that has been set up to lure them to their doom via the Doom time machine.

Except its not Doom luring them to their doom. It’s obviously Kang the Conqueror.

Even computer-brain Vision is getting tired of how monotonous Kang’s frequent attacks have gotten at this point. Which says something.

Anyway, Moondragon proposes that she and Thor be the ones to seek Kang. For reasons of them both being gods.

Whatever. This works out fine for Cap’s needs anyway. He has his own situation so they’ll have to split the team anyway and that’s as good a division as any. He’s only investigating the private army of a giant powerful and possibly evil oil company. As long as he has numerical backup, he should be fine.

And then mysterious woman bursts in, shoving right past Jarvis, and announces that Beast is hers at last!

And hey! Mystery of the mystery woman solved! It’s Patsy Baxter, nee Walker, and also Patsy Walker again these days!

You may recognize her from her eponymous comics, her role in Amazing Adventures, this series of Avengers issues, Netflix Jessica Jones, certain eras of the Defenders, and a more different and cool eponymous comic about her and all her cool friends doing cool stuff.

Patsy Walker rocks and I’ll brook no disagreement on these true facts.

Anyway, Beast takes Patsy into the next room so they can talk in private and also so she can yell at him in private.

Moondragon figures that this is probably going to take time and they already know what they’re doing and judging by the look on Thor’s face, he wants no part of this drama. So they’re off.

And yeah. It does take time. The apparently contentious and loud conversation goes on for ten minutes before Beast leads Patsy back into whatever vague room the other Avengers have been awkwardly waiting.

See, Patsy has a BIG announcement to make.

BEAST IS REALLY HANK MCCOY!

... This comes as a surprise to exactly zero people. Not even Scarlet Witch and Vision who weren’t even on the team when he joined and revealed his identity. Or possibly they just don’t care and/or don’t even know who Hank McCoy is.

Either way, blackmail attempt failed. Because, yes, Patsy was trying to blackmail Beast with knowledge of his secret identity.

And somewhere, Peter Parker just woke up in a cold sweat.

Still though, Beast did promise her a thing. And even though she has zero leverage, he decides its the done thing to bring her along on an Avengers mission as an observer!

Obviously!

Cap has an objection though. Bringing a woman into danger to observe superhero stuff might be dangerous.

Beast says nah, Patsy has grit.

ALSO, POINT OF ORDER, DID YOU OR DID YOU NOT DRAG A TEENAGER NAMED RICK JONES INTO DANGER WITH YOU? HOW IS YOUR GLASS HOUSE, CAP? HOW IS ITTTTTTTTTTTTT?

Cap reluctantly concedes the point.

Meanwhile, away from this specific brand of hypocrisy, Thor and Moondragon on a random rooftop.

Thor requests Moondragon stop mentioning how much of a god he is. Moondragon asks if he disliked being called a god in front of mortals. This will be a plot point, kinda.

Oh. And then Moondragon rings up Immortus with psychic powers, like a time-a-phone. Apparently its that easy.

I’m never really sure how Moondragon stacks up next to the mutant psychics. Jean Grey was never trained by trees but she turns into a sun-devouring firebird. Moondragon turns into a dragon, of the moon. But only the once.

Anyway. Immortus agrees to transport Thor and Moondragon through time so that they may avoid mechanical time machines, which Kang might be watching. Although, if he’s spying on the present so maybe he saw Thor and Moondragon sitting on the roof yelling at nothing.

I can’t be sure because when Immortus does lead them to where Kang is, Kang just declares that they’ve definitely fallen into his trap. The guy is so self-confident that he’d say that even if he was completely surprised by them.

The usual Kangfrontation things happen. Thor throws his hammer. Immortus yells at Kang for never learning himself a thing and causing shit in three out of four Giant Avengers issues.

But Kang will never learn himself a thing. He swears it. He also swears he’s going to destroy the Avengers for keeping the Celestial Madonna out of his hands. And then he blasts at Thor.

And Thor just absorbs the energy and blasts it back at Kang, who falls backwards in time. Into a time. Time is weird.

Thor swears that this time will be the end of Kang for realsies this time! Even though Immortus is kinda cool and killing Kang will kill Immortus and Immortus saved Iron Man’s life when Kang’s machinations killed him.

Meanwhile - whatever that means in the context of time traveling - the Avengers investigate Brand. Which has a sleek, modern looking brand. If you told me the Brand brand was for a 2000s company, I’d buy it.

Anyway.

The Avengers stop outside the Brand gates to chat. Iron Man tells Cap that Brand has always struck him as bad news. That and Cap’s smiling face are why he’s with him all the way!

“So am I!” chimes in Patsy Walker, just happy to be part of the moment.

Wanda does not chime in with moral support. Because she once again thought of her shortened honeymoon and Vision insisting that they return to check on the Avengers and how now they’re drawn into stuff. And she realizes that she does not really like these circumstances.

Inside, Roxxon President Hugh Jones and Colonel Buzz Baxter, chief of Roxxon security, are watching the Avengers just having their team bonding experience right outside the gate and laughing at Beast for thinking that security is still at 1973 levels instead of the far superior 1975 levels. What an idiot.

But Jones is surprised to see Buzz’s wife with the Avengers.

Colonel Buzz Baxter: “Good lord! It is! But whatever hare-brained scheme that twerp’s got cooking this time -- it won’t slow Colonel Buzz Baxter! Anyway, she’s my ex-wife!”

Okay so back to the Avengers, totally intruding on Brand Corporation’s grounds. Beast does a cool flip over the gate. But Vison has him beat, just slipping through the gate like some sort of vision. Plus, he opens the gate for the rest.

Beast finds it spooky. Vision is the hardest Avenger to figure out of all the ones he’s met. And being an X-Men and living the X-Men life, he knows from spooky.

But here’s also a spooky thing: no guards.

And then a portal or a teleport or something happens and out steps:

THE SQUADRON SUPREME!

Whizzer: “That’s ‘Supreme’ -- not ‘Sinister,’ Avengers! Just so you’ll know who creamed you!”

...

You lied to me, cover.

Why do I still open up my heart to be hurt by you??

Anyway, we have Lady Lark, the Whizzer, Dr. Spectrum, Golden Archer (can’t be Hawkeye now that Hawkeye is back to being Hawkeye), and Hyperion.

Aka: Black Canary, Flash, Green Lantern, Green Arrow, and Superman by way of serial number filing off.

Cap spends a kooky triangular panel recapping the situation with the Squadron Whatever. The Squadron Sinister was created by the Grandmaster for his game with Kang and technically those people exist on Earth-616 and the sinister Nighthawk (aka Not-Batman) would end up joining the Defenders.

The Squadron Supreme were the heroic equivalents, from a parallel dimension. The Avengers ended up having an adventure involving them when a dimensional mishap occurred after another encounter with Arkon of Polemachus.

Oh and Golden Arrow was a disguise Hawkeye used to shake Cap out of his post-Secret Empire funk and the Squadron Golden Arrow stole the name because Hawkeye stole his name and there’d be confusion if there were two Hawkeyes (Kate Bishop says ‘nonsense’) even if Hawkeye isn’t currently contemporary. Anyway, that’s why Golden Archer is Golden Archer. Coincidentally, it also gave him the same initials as Green Arrow.

Meanwhile, Whizzer whizzes around and kicks Iron Man’s ass, who just can’t keep up. A later Flash expy that Iron Man fought during the Long March Of Nihilism that was the lead-up to Secret Wars dismantled his armor in the middle of the fight. Iron Man is bad versus speedsters. Maybe he should install an oil slick.

Beast ends up fighting Hyperion. Which. Which dang. That’s a mismatch.

Dr. Spectrum fights the Vision. And just uselessly blasts through him.

And just like clockwork, Scarlet Witch gets the Designated Girl Fight and fights Lady Lark. But Scarlet Witch has fought Lady Lark before so knows to keep her off-balance and uses her magickery to explode the sand beneath Lady Lark and knock her off her feet.

But then Patsy Walker decides she Wants to Be Part of the Moment and jumps in to join the fight. And I guess starts pulling Lady Lark’s hair?

Scarlet Witch tells Patsy Walker to step off but talking time is not magicing time and also Patsy is in the way.

Lady Lark uses her Lark Sceam or Whatever and knocks out Patsy and Wanda Witch.

And then everything goes to hell in short order.

Vision gets distracted by <BAD THING> happening to Wanda, leaving him vulnerable to Dr. Spectrum’s blasting.

Whizzer finishes off Iron Man. This probably would have happened one way or another even without Patsy’s interference. Speedsters are a real bad match-up for Tony.

Speaking of mismatches, Hyperion just grabs Beast and slams him into a wall.

And although Captain America is doing okay against archer guy, Lady Lark is free to use her sonic attack and knock him out.

And that is that. It only took four pages for the Avengers to go down like chumps.

But going down like chumps against lawyer friendly expies of the Justice League just makes a victory later all the sweeter. Hopefully.

Anyway, the Squadron Supreme reports in to Jones and Baxter. Jones is still confused why Baxter’s ex-wife is hanging out with the Avengers. Baxter says he always sensed she had some weird connection or perhaps pact with the Beast. BUT HEY, THEY CAN GET ALL THE ANSWERS THEY WANT WHEN THEY PUT THE AVENGERS PLUS PATSY INTO AN ESCAPE-PROOF CELL!

And also: then no one will be able to stop Roxxon’s final march to victory. So its going to be pretty rad overall.

But in the mean time, Immortus, Moondragon, and Thor land in the Old West of 1871. You can tell from the cactus. And also because Immortus says so.

EXCEPT WRONG. It’s 1873, interjects an off-screen voice with wiggly text bubbles. Master of Time, my ass.

So, yeah. Old West stuff next time. Also some more stuff at Brand.

Dammit, why’d they have to split the party! You’re terrible, Kang!

7 notes · View notes

spotteruptactical · 7 years ago

Text

Being a veteran, I was facing an issue which seemed to be more common than not. With no longer being on active duty, dealing with “regular” jobs and schedules, it’s been hard to keep a steady workout routine and diet. When you’re not forced to stay in good shape for your work, it’s very easy to slip up and get complacent. Being consistent with eating healthy and hitting the gym everyday, while dealing with the stresses that civilian life brings, takes some serious discipline and hard work to keep a decent physique. Also, with getting older and not having your metabolism be how it use to be, it makes it even more important to stay on top of your game. I don’t know how some people do it once you add a wife and kids to the mix.

When it comes to training, I was looking for something that was going to make my workouts a little more enjoyable. I had been sticking to my typical weight lifting routine and things were getting extremely redundant. I found myself spending way too much time in the gym without getting much done, let alone the results I was looking for. When you have more of a variety to change things up a bit, you can have a little more fun.

Well, my prayers were answered and I was able to get the change I was looking for. I had the privilege of testing out the MASS Suit from Juke Performance. The MASS Suit is a training vest that is equipped with multiple resistance bands that connect to both your arms and legs, with attachments to your ankles, back of your knees, elbows and wrists. With each body movement, it’s designed to provide constant full body strength and conditioning. It’s also meant to minimize injury while maximizing the benefits to your body. It is perfect for athletes who are looking to step up their training and explosiveness, or for the average guy who’s looking to increase their performance.

Once you can get past looking a little goofy in the gym wearing this, you’re all set. The second you put it on, you immediately feel the tension from the bands and just standing still takes effort. With the resistance you get, it takes away the need to use heavy weights, so keeping it light works just fine. What’s great about this gear is that you don’t need a gym membership to use it. It’s great for bodyweight exercises that you can do at home or at a park, and it certainly doesn’t take long to build up a sweat and elevate the heart rate. For those who may be on the fence about joining a gym, or currently throw away hundreds of dollars a year on memberships they hardly use, you can grab one of these suits for the price of a yearly gym membership (on the low end). As for me, I took it out on the turf.

I quickly discovered that every exercise I did was much harder than they normally are. Depending on the movements, the MASS Suit will have more tension on different body parts, but overall provide a full body workout. Like I said before, I was using a lot less weight than I normally do, but the experience was more difficult. After only 30 minutes of sled pushes, tire flips, sledgehammer slams, kettle swings, clean and press, burpees and box jumps, I was completely smoked. My heart felt like it was going to pound right out of my chest. I knew it was going to be intense, but it was still more physically demanding than I expected.

Overall, I can’t wait to add this to my weekly routine. Again, being a man that likes variety in the gym, 3 days a week of wearing this will be just enough for me. I’m eager to see the type of results that will come from using the MASS Suit. A few things to note: there was a small amount of chaffing with the knee straps. I believe Juke Performance does have different attachments to choose from and as well as different bands you can buy to change the level of resistance. Secondly, with the constant tension, the shoulder straps from the vest started to hurt my joints a little bit, so I recommend taking a seat in between sets or completely kneel down to relieve the stress on your shoulders. I also have had many shoulder injuries throughout my time in the military, so that might not be an issue for everyone.

Suffice it to say, Juke Performance not only exceeded my expectations with this product, but introduced me to a completely new style of fitness. You can’t argue with a more intense workout, increased heart rate, increased fat burn, increased calorie burn all in less time. A huge thank you to Spotter Up Tactical for introducing me to the products Juke Performance has to offer and for helping me find that new outlet to reaching my fitness goals.

The suit comes in three versions:

Mass Suit Elite Series: Mobile resistance training suit with extra accessories in platinum color. $289.00

Mass Suit Apparatus includes:

2 Knee Straps

2 Over The Shoe Straps

2 Hand Grips

Additional items:

1 Mass Suit Sports Bag

2 Gold Arm Bands (Heavy Strength)

2 Silver Knee Bands (Medium Strength)

4 (2 Silver, 2 Gold) Leg Bands (Medium & Heavy Strength)

Mass Suit Pro Series: Mobile resistance training suit with extra accessories and O2 Trainer. In platinum color. Made for the Professionals. $349.00

Mass Suit Apparatus includes:

2 Elbow Sleeves

2 Knee Straps

2 All Purpose Booties

2 Over The Shoe Straps

2 Hand Grips

2 Wrist Straps

Additional items:

1 O2 Trainer

1 Mass Suit Sports Bag

2 Silver Elbow Bands (Medium Strength)

4 Gold Arm Bands (Heavy Strength)

2 Silver Knee Bands (Medium Strength)

4 (2 Silver 2 Red) Leg Bands (Medium & Heavy Strength)

Mass Suit Speed Series: Full speed training gear including the MASS Suit, speed ladder and agility cones plus more. $379.00

Mass Suit Apparatus includes:

2 Knee Straps

2 Over The Shoe Straps

2 Hand Grips

2 Wrist Straps

Additional items:

1 Mass Suit Sports Bag

4 Gold Arm Bands (Heavy Strength)

2 Silver Knee Bands (Medium Strength)

4 (2 Silver, 2 Gold) Leg Bands (Medium & Heavy Strength)

Speed Items Included:

Ladders and Ladder drills (21 Drills, FREE) 32 Feet

6 Cone Set and Cone drills (21 Drills, FREE) 7 inches tall

Material Disclosure

I received this product as a courtesy from the manufacturer via Spotter Up so I could test it and give my honest feedback. I am not bound by any written, verbal, or implied contract to give this product a good review. All opinions are my own and are based off my personal experience with the product.

*The views and opinions expressed on this website are solely those of the original authors and contributors. These views and opinions do not necessarily represent those of Spotter Up Magazine, the administrative staff, and/or any/all contributors to this site.

Perry Yee

As a U.S. Navy SEAL Operator, Perry Yee spent over four years participating in Close Quarters Defense and weapons training. After completing more than three years in leadership, training, and management of projects as an operator, his expertise in identifying problem areas and initiating corrective action developed and refined into shareable skills. His background in this field led him toward a goal of assisting the public in personal protection, tactics, and one-on-one firearms training. During his service, he was awarded the Navy/Marine Corp Commendation medal with a combat “V”, Army Commendation Medal with a combat “V” and the Combat Action ribbon for superior performance in combat missions in Afghanistan.

Perry is the CEO/Founder of Active Valor. Active Valor is a 501(c)(3) combat veteran run nonprofit organization dedicated to successfully engaging veterans in civilian life through creating programs that are specifically designed to combat the physical, mental, and emotional roadblocks that can occur after discharging from the military.

Brought to you by the dudes at Spotter Up

#gallery-0-4 { margin: auto; } #gallery-0-4 .gallery-item { float: left; margin-top: 10px; text-align: center; width: 33%; } #gallery-0-4 img { border: 2px solid #cfcfcf; } #gallery-0-4 .gallery-caption { margin-left: 0; } /* see gallery_shortcode() in wp-includes/media.php */

Mass Suit by Juke Performance Product Review Being a veteran, I was facing an issue which seemed to be more common than not. With no longer being on active duty, dealing with “regular” jobs and schedules, it’s been hard to keep a steady workout routine and diet.

#exercise #fitness #workout

1 note · View note

thejamesoldier · 8 years ago

Note

98 w/ Steve or Bucky I CAN FEEL THE ANGST ALREADY

I love me some fluffy angst haha enjoy love, and thanks for requesting!

Prompt #98: “Why can’t you just believe me?” - “Because you’ve lied about it before.”

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

{observe: a puppy that kicks his own damn self; i’m furious}

Rattling Those Perfect Teeth

Steve made an obnoxiously persistent point of reminding everyone and their mother that he did not, in fact, want a big deal to be made of his birthday. And since his birthday was on Fourth of July it was easy to hide behind the national holiday. But of course when Steve says white, Tony, by call of sass-master duty, must under all and any circumstances say black.

It took a long while for the Avengers to all forgive each other. A painful slow process of fixing hearts and stitching up souls. Everyone is fucked up, and when they all truly realized this they decided to be fucked up together rather than alone. Nothing is hunky-dory or anything, but they’re a family. And even though families are really good at fighting, they also know how to love each other despite all else.

What they had, what they were for each other was something to truly marvel at. You were jealous of them sometimes, of how they carefully and cautiously knit themselves back to each other one stitch at a time. The hold now stronger than ever.

But despite this new found kinship, Tony still has and frequently exercises his uncanny talent of pressing all of Steve’s buttons in a practiced and most effective order. You would have laughed more at their little banter battles if you weren’t Steve’s girlfriend and thus had to show some loyalty. Steve knew its who Tony is, to push and prod and poke, and that when push comes to flying through a space hole above Manhattan to blow up an alien army with a single nuc, Tony has his back.

So a week before the fourth Steve announces at dinner (yes they all have family dinner together at least once a week in the dining room at Avengers’ Tower), standing up formally from his seat at the head of the table, that he did not want a big birthday party, Tony sitting at the opposite end of the table got that look in his eye. Nat saw the ‘DANGER DANGER’ neon flashing sign in Stark’s eyes first, and silently rolled her eyes up to the heavens probably praying for strength while continuing to cut her steak. Bucky sitting at Steve’s right only watches Steve’s face knowing his friend is bracing to be fought on this, stuffing some mash potatoes in his mouth distractedly. Sam makes a weird affronted noise as he drops his silverware and they clatter against the china Pepper got in France. As you’re seated next to Sam, on Steve’s left, you quickly step on his foot under the table warning him to keep quiet. Sam feels your warning and only huffs out the air that was supposed to be a retort and pouts at his green beans.

There are a variety of other reactions from Pepper, Thor, Wanda, Bruce, Clint, and nothing of course from Vision (he still came even if he didn’t eat anything), but Tony remains threateningly – unnervingly – quiet. Steve is staring him down from across the long whoville table spread, daring him to say something in rebellion against his wish.

Tony only pours himself some more red wine with a dramatic flourish and eyes Steve right back over the lip of his glass as he lifts it to take a sip.

You sigh and skull back the rest of your drink knowing that look from Tony only meant trouble.

It’s July 4th and Steve wakes up a total crank pot.

No one is normally all sunshine and giggles in the morning (or if they are you steer very clear of them), but when you wake up before Steve and bring him some homemade pancakes for a little birthday breakfast in bed, something small to show him you love him, and he practically sneers in your face that he’s not hungry you’re a little taken aback.

Steve is never purposefully rude. I mean you know he’s almost like Bruce in the sense he’s always angry (you get it; you’ve been with him a long while and you love all parts of him), and that he expresses his anger if he deems it necessary, but he’s never been nasty. Even when he’s been beside himself furious Steve Rogers isn’t nasty. His fury is direct, clear, straightforward, not instigating, manipulative, or downright mean.

He had swung himself out of bed, shoulders hunched, lip curled in a foreign snarl, and shoved on some clothes before storming out of the bedroom in your shared apartment in Brooklyn. You were sitting shocked-still on the bed when you heard the front door slam. Your frozen in surprise still staring at the indent in the pillow where his head had been not moments before. It takes your body and mind a second to reboot, and when you do you feel an overwhelming tidal wave of concern.

You knew Steve wouldn’t ever try to hurt you on purpose, so you easily brush off his actions and focus on what could really be bothering him. If its got him this twisted then its really bad. As you think, you absentmindedly – sadly – pick up the breakfast tray you arranged all sweet and cute like (you even had that day’s paper folded on it), and carry it back into the quaint kitchen. You keep your own feelings out of this knowing Steve needs you even if that is the last thing he’ll outright ask for right now.

You eat his breakfast slowly, digesting more than just the food you’re eating, and make a decision to go to the gym you got a membership at, like, a year ago. You never really went, but you felt the need to work off some of this tension. (You can’t help but notice how much Steve has rubbed off on you, he always likes to work out his frustration, punching things when he’s mad.) After cleaning up the dishes Steve’s present wrapped perfect and pristine on the island catches your eye. You were going to give it to him after breakfast. Sighing you grab it and slump into the bedroom.

Trying to continue the momentum of energy you had to work out, you tuck the box carefully under the bed incase he comes home and you’re not here (and he’ll have a cow if you’re not there to talk him into accepting the gift), and throw on some work out clothes.

Grabbing the keys out of the bowl on the little table in the foyer, you head out the door and down to the complex garage. You notice in the spot next to your car, Steve’s bike is gone.

When you get home around 3pm (you treated yourself to lunch because working out has to be rewarded with food) and Steve still isn’t back yet you huff pulling in to the parking spot. You spend the next hour lounging around, showering, shaving (in case he wanted birthday sex, although that is looking less and less likely), exfoliating, plucking, really any and every grooming activity you could think of waiting for Steve to get home. He hadn’t texted you which meant he didn’t want you charging after him. No one from the Tower had contacted you which meant he wasn’t there. You choked down the instinct to worry knowing Steve’s a big boy and he can watch after himself – even if he’ll get an earful from you about it when he gets back.

After wasting away another fucking hour, you snap. That’s it. You are not going to let Steve grump around all day, birthday or not. This is ridiculous. After an educated guess, you figure to try the Tower after all. You call Friday (which is still a little weird but you’re getting used to it),

“Miss Y/l/n, how may I be of assistance?” The female Scottish AI greets warmly barely after the first ring.

“Hi Friday, uh is Steve there?” You grunt as you hop on one foot trying to get into a pair of worn jean shorts one-handed, a soft casual shirt and bra already on (thank Christ).

“Yes Miss Y/l/n, Captain Rogers is here. He was on the gym floor but is currently making his way to the roof. Mr. Stark is hosting a party on the terrace.”

“A party?” You start in alarm, Tony wouldn’t.

“Yes, a Fourth of July party.” Friday responds with that patient curl to her voice.

You squint your eyes at this and trap your phone between your ear and shoulder as you use both hands to do up the front of your shorts.

“So its not a birthday party?” Comes your suspicious confirm.

“Yes, it is.”

Your heart jolts.

“Who’s birthday party is it Friday?” Your voice rises an octave and you clutch the phone to your ear with your hands, abandoning the stubborn buttons of your shorts.

Tony wouldn’t.

“America’s.” The AI answers in what you could have sworn was a slightly sarcastic tone.

You let out the world’s loudest and most annoyed sigh of relief before grumbling a little under your voice about stupid AI systems. With exceedingly less patience you tell Friday you’re coming over and will be there at 6.

When you walk in through the grand glass doors, you can practically hear Steve’s mental screaming from the lobby as you rush past the receptionist who knows you personally now, as you dutifully follow the scent of turmoil.

“Hello Ms. Y/l/n, what floor can I take you?” Friday announces herself as the elevator doors close.

“The roof, or which ever floor Steve’s on.” You sigh a bit flustered from rushing here, readjusting your purse under your arm and checking your phone quickly for the time – 6:02pm.

“I’ve been instructed to inform you that Captain Rogers does not wish to see you at this time.”

“Friday,” You warn as your hands ball at your sides. Sometimes Steve can really be a stubborn, bull-headed, thick skulled –

“Would you like me to pass on your request to see him?” Friday offers as you start to boil over like an overcooked pot of spaghetti in the grounded elevator.

“Tell him if he doesn’t let me see him then there is no sex for a month.” Comes your low-voiced threat as you speak through clenched teeth and a tight jaw.

“One moment,” Friday pleasantly informs as silence reigns in the elevator another minute before the smooth Scottish AI voice returns, “Captain Rogers has granted you access to follow him up, I’ll take you to the roof now.”

With a victorious huff you cross your arms over your chest as the elevator rises soundlessly and near motionlessly. Steve’s a sucker for intimacy and physical familiarity, having been starved of it for as long as he can remember. It seems he isn’t completely lost to reason then. You wonder how Friday contacted him when he was apparently on the roof with a terrace full of people. You fucking hope it made him blush, you don’t even try to quell the self satisfied smugness knowing he wouldn’t dare give up touching you and feeling you and being with you physically (and more so emotionally) for even a week let alone an entire month.

You could play dirty if you needed to.

Knowing you two aren’t actually fighting, you understand why he is doing this, keeping you away. You know it has to do with something else. There is no reason for him to try and keep you away too long though, he always caves eventually but this time you’re gonna push him a little. Steve’s talked about how sometimes space is better for him than company, and you readily respected that. Steve learned though that if he wanted you there, all he had to do was ask. No reason needed.

It took him awhile to understand that he had you. Really had you. Even now he sometimes still needed to be reminded.

When you reach the roof floor with a ding, the well-oiled doors swing open in a woosh and you walk out onto the windy terrace. Stepping out you almost choke because when Friday said Fourth of July party you thought low-key barbecue, not a party in full fucking swing. A Stark party, then.

The red white and blue colored lights that hung low over the guests practically blinded you as you wove through the people and almost covered your ears at all the noise. People were chatting and laughing, the smell of barbecue polluting the air, and the push of bodies made you want to run all the way back to Brooklyn. You didn’t mind a good party, but you at least always prepared yourself before attending one this big and crowded. Eventually you found your Steve looking ready to explode, appropriately, like a firework as he loomed over Tony. Tony was standing cool and calm and collected, sipping on a festive looking cocktail, shades on, and souped up in Fourth of July colors.

They look like they have been arguing for awhile, shocker there, and you quickly pushed your way to their sides.

“I specifically asked not to have a big deal be made of my birthday.” Steve growled in a tone he usually reserved for Hydra agents he was about to murder. “And here I am, wanting to just come to enjoy a nice quiet afternoon in the gym, only to be informed that this is going on!” Steve waves his large hands generously wide at the commotion around them, all the voices and people drowning out the volume and menace in his voice.

Tony only blinks at him behind his shades (why was he still wearing them? It’s like 6:15pm?), catches the pink straw of his drink in the side of his mouth, before responding,

“Cap allow me to straighten the stripes in your flag, this is a Fourth of July party, this is America’s party, not yours.” Tony explained between loud obnoxious sips of his drink, “I remember you didn’t want a party but does that mean I can’t celebrate the birth of my country?”

For the first time today the anger rippling on Steve’s face drew back, hesitated, then completely swiped clean away, like an arm sweeping everything off a very crowded table. Guilt and slight embarrassment were the two main emotions that soon replaced it and shown clear through the pink blossoming quickly on his cheeks.

“Alright thanks Tony for clearing that up, well golly I’m starving Steve are you starving? Course you are you’re always starving! Let’s head over to the grill to grab some of those hot dogs Sam’s making!” You chirp when Steve remains standing silent before Tony, shrinking by the second. Snagging Steve’s tree-trunk thick forearm you promptly tug him away, happy when he lets you.

When you’re a few people deep in the crowd, far enough away from Tony, you hush at Steve knowing he can hear you with his enhanced ears, “You wanna tell me what’s really going on baby? Cause something has got your balls in a knot,”

“How delicate of you,” Steve snarks loud enough for you to hear in his usual sarcastic way, not nasty, that strangeness from this morning seems to be gone for now. You relax a little.

“Seriously, what’s up?” You respond not missing a beat as you scoot by Nat who squints her eyes questioningly. With a shake of your head you end the silent conversation between you, promising to tell her about it later, and continue to follow the smell of cooking meat.

“Can we go somewhere a little more private?” Steve is suddenly whispering right in your ear, having to bend down quite a ways to achieve this. You lick your lips when his mouth brushes the shell of your ear – reflexive habit.

“Yes, but first we’re getting those hot dogs. I wasn’t kidding that I was starving.” Comes your answer as you finally arrive at the grill, watching Sam boast of his skill to a very competitive looking Bucky.

When you both get your hot dogs, hot dog buns, and assorted dressings, you both sniff out a quiet corner on the outskirts of the terrace near the roof balcony railing. Together you decide wordlessly that this is where you’ll park and settle. With your hip cocked against the wall, you shake the hair out of your face and dive in to that hot dog teeth flashing. Steve usually finishes them in two bites but he picks at his wrappings now, staring down at it with that Steve Rogers Look of Inner Conflict. You chew your big bite, allowing him time to formulate whatever it is he’s trying to say. When he still hasn’t said anything (or even looked up from his now drooping hot dog) when you swallow the last bite of your meal, you clear your throat.

“Are you okay?” You ask the most basic question, hoping Steve will be honest with whatever version of his answer he chooses. You don’t mind him not telling you everything, there’s room for some personal secrets between you, just not lies. When Steve finally understood that about you, that you were giving him that privacy and not letting it effect your intimacy as a couple, he had said I love you for the first time.

Steve rolls his lips in and his eyebrows crease just a hair more (if that’s even possible) before he responds with the classic:

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

You stop dead from the cleaning escapade with your napkin, and lift your eyes up to him. Steve isn’t even watching you but he can feel the look you’re giving him and he honest to god flinches.

Good, You think, so he knows he just shat out of the wrong hole.

You don’t even respond to that, just sigh loudly and wait, wiping your mouth thoroughly of any stray sauce. Waiting Steve out has proved to be the most effective way to get him talking. He really can’t stand the silent interrogation tactic. Put him in a fight, get him yelling and punching and he’s all set, but the minute the silence sets in his minutes are numbered.

Steve lasts another five minutes under your silent as the grave gaze (a new personal best) before he breaks. He tries to wrangle his anger up like a replacement for his shield, you can almost physically see him gathering it to himself, arm muscles bunching, preparing for a fight even if the only weapons allowed are words.

“Why can’t you just believe me?” The blonde spitfire shoots at you, adjusting his tone to be hard and spiky. He’s looking to provoke you. He’s trying to start a fight. It’s a habit of his if he wants to avoid a serious topic.

Nice try soldier, you smart in your head as you dead ass stare him in the eye and retort with a cold dousing of:

“Because you’ve lied to me about it before.” You make sure to emphasize the word ‘lied’. Steve knows how much you detest being lied to, its one of the reasons you both make such a great couple. Steve hates being lied to almost as much as you do. It goes against all that he believes in really.

You see Steve’s anger waiver on his face as he was never really good at hiding his feelings (thank fuck) but just as you’re experienced with handling him, he knows how to handle you. And Steve Rogers never went down without a fight.

“You’re the one who said I could have emotional privacy,” He hisses over his forgotten hot dog that’s getting reduced to questionable mush as his fist closes around it, “I’m starting to think you didn’t mean it because all you seem to do is push and push and push, ask and ask and ask, poke and poke and poke.” Steve is leaning closer to you with each third repeated word and you’ve never felt in any actual physical danger from Steve, but you still step back, its instinct with someone so obviously physically superior. “You better remember that I allow you into my life, I allow you into my thoughts, you don’t own them. You don’t have automatic rights to them their mine! Mine!”

Steve had begun raising his voice and while you were glad to be getting something out of him, something real that with each word was being stripped of all its layers, you couldn’t deny that Steve’s words hurt. You knew he wasn’t really talking about you, that he was deflecting because he was too scared to say it naked and raw out in the open, even to you. This feeling that he doesn’t have rights to himself, that he doesn’t have privacy, doesn’t have a sense of self outside of Captain America, are all demons you know he fights. He tries to fight them alone, but you’re working on that.

Today, on his birthday, on the fourth, you know Steve’s a bit weaker (and you realize that some of the anger is at himself for being weak, because apparently Steve Rogers isn’t allowed to be weak, ever), and that they easily scratch to the surface and win the battle against his better judgment. After all, he is human despite the government’s opinion that he’s more a weapon than anything else.

You know people at the party have started to notice you both but are pretending not to out of courtesy. Tony definetly has picked up on it and is currently trying to distract everyone with some sort of announcement out of the corner of your eye. He knows, Stark knows…..Stark knew. You had to hand it to him, he really was a genius.

“And if you plan on continuing to be allowed to be apart of my life then I suggest you stop demanding to know everything that goes on in my head!” Steve’s voice rips your attention back sharply to him, a bit of emotional whip lash occurring as you were listening to Steve but also grateful for Tony turning everyone away from Steve. Your eyes never left his but now he seems to be so crystal clear, so diamond edge sharp, that you realize he’s closer than he was a minute ago.

He had continued to lean in and you had stopped leaning back. Your faces were inches apart now and the wrath of those neptune irises of his is directed solely on you. It feels like liquid iron is filling your veins and you get heavier and smaller under that unforgiving gaze. You know you don’t deserve it and that that fury is meant for the unmanifested demons Steve can’t physically punch to death, but you still feel a responsibility to burden it. It might be messed up, but you would rather Steve take it out on you than someone else who didn’t know him as well as you do. The only reason you weren’t mad is because you knew that none of this was meant for you.

And Steve is really fucked up and not by his volitions. He gets a pass, everyone needs a pass sometimes and this is definitely one of those times since Steve is usually so careful, so so fucking careful about how he expresses his true feelings. You’re about to say something, to reach out to touch him because Steve is a very tactile person (gathers strength, comfort, and reassurance from physical touch), when the sound of a fuze being lit sizzles distantly behind you before a soft whistling sound echos followed closely by a huge exploding boom.

You nearly jump out of your skin as fireworks are being set off in a rehearsed and timed fashion. This was Tony’s distraction.

Fizzle, whistle, BOOM!

Steve had frozen after the first firework went off, the side of his face being lit up with reds and blues against the backdrop of the Manhattan evening city scape. Your eyebrows furrow into worry as panic bubbles up in your gut, shards of glass digging into your lungs every time you try to breathe as you watch Steve descend into a full fledged panic attack.

The noise of the fireworks caught him off guard – triggered him.

Steve starts shaking, expression thrown into the disciplined terror of a soldier, before his knees buckle under his own weight and he collapses to the ground, head spinning, chest heaving like a rhino is sitting on it, as reality slips sharply from his grasp.

Fizzle, whistle, BOOM!

“Get down!” Steve shouts hoarsely as he reaches for you and tucks you tightly under the thick curl of his body as he presses his forehead to the floor, hands shaking as they knit behind his head to protect his neck, elbows boxing your upper body beneath him. “It’ll be over soon,” Steve whispers to the soldier under him, the body feels small and soft…a boy’s body…they sent a boy to fight Nazis with Captain America…he can’t let that boy die…that boy needs to live…Stevie’s dead…they killed Stevie…

‘Steve!’ A distant voice calls, one of his men probably, he hopes they’ve taken cover.

Steve shakes his head against the noise of explosions and huddles down on the boy beneath him harder.

‘Steve!’ That sounded like Bucky, he prays to Holy Jesus, Mary, and Joseph that Bucky is safe.

“GET DOWN!” Steve yells with all the force his throat can handle, forehead smashed against the concrete of the ground, hoping Bucky hears him over the noise and takes cover. He wants to look up and move to protect Bucky, but the boy is beneath him…he can’t abandon the boy….the boy can’t die….

‘Steve!’

Rogers here’s his name again but is not going to let his subconscious fool him, the bombs seemed to have stopped but it’s likely that his ear drums have blown. He won’t risk moving, he has to protect the boy…

‘Captain Rogers!’ The voice calls louder this time, sounding right by his ear. Steve doesn’t even flinch and holds steady like he himself is the bomb bunker.

The boy beneath him is squirming. Steve panics before quickly being comforted by the fact that the boy is not squirming out from under him but is in in fact worming closer, wrapping their arms around him actually, holding him closer to them.

Good, Steve thinks shakily, I need to protect the boy…can’t let them kill him too…

His mind is a jumble of his worst memories, some of them sharp and stabbing, others falsely lulling and poisonous. Steve can’t grab hold of anything and he’s falling falling falling in his own goddamn mind. Or its not his mind, Steve’s mind, but their mind, America’s mind, Captain America’s mind, the fucking world’s mind –

“Steve! My love, you’re crushing me!”

My love…

Sarah called him that.

Steven, my boy, my love…

“Ma?” Steve thinks he says it out loud, his ears feel like they have cotton in them and his lungs are clogged. “Ma is that you?”

Suddenly Steve’s over come with the most unbearable fear.

“Ma!” He yells, no longer aware of anything other than the boy he still readily clutches to his person as he sits up – he has to sit up, the bombs might not be done but his mother is here! “Ma you gotta go home! It ain’t safe here! Don’ care how you managed to get yourself to the front, but you can’t be here Ma! Get some where safe! They’ll kill ya too like they killed me! I’m sorry I let them kill your boy, your Steven, but please Ma, Ma please, please! RUN!”

Steve can’t see and he feels wetness on his cheeks and the boy – he has to protect the boy – now still as a corpse in his arms. He keeps shouting for his mother to run! Run Ma! Before they get ya! and holds the boy – Oh God he feels dead! – in his arms tighter and tighter and tighter and tighter. The boy can’t be dead, he can’t die, not him too…not him too!

‘Steve you’re killing her! Let her go!’

Bucky’s voice rattles loud and echoy in his ears as strong forceful hands start trying to pry Steve’s arms off of the boy –

“NO!” Steve feels himself roar, “NOT HIM TOO! NOT THE BOY, SPARE THE BOY!”

‘Steve this is the year 2017. You’re in Avengers’ Tower in Manhattan. It’s the Fourth of July. The war is over. My name is Bucky, pal, remember me? Yeah that’s it, look at me, come right back to me, there you go, you’re safe. You’re safe. Your Ma is safe, Sarah is safe.’

Steve slowly starts to blur back to reality as the fear and panic that grips him loosens its claws tick by tick as that voice continues talking, repeating those words, those sentences, over and over again. Pieces of his body blur into his conscious awareness slowly, like the static in the TVs. The first sense to regain itself is his hearing. The voice continues talking and Steve realizes he’s been hushing at him this whole time when earlier he could have sworn the voice was screaming at him. His vision turns into a Pollack painting of black spots, the world yawning into color through multiple circles before widening into a single picture. Touch and body awareness is the last thing that Steve shivers into reality with.

“There ya are pal, now just gimme Y/n, slowly now,” Bucky, that’s Bucky’s voice and Bucky’s face in front of him. Steve is shaking like he use to when he caught pneumonia before the war. He realizes there is a very still body in his arms – the boy.

“N-no!” Steve redoubles his efforts in holding the boy to his chest, pulling back from Bucky, “B-buck – buck, we gotta protect the boy, he’s only a boy, we can’t let them kill ‘em –,”

“Steve,” Bucky says, his eyes cutting through the last of Steve’s haze with a sharp tender slice. “That ain’t a boy, that’s Y/n. Look down, you’re crushin’ her,”

Steve doesn’t know what expression he’s making, his face feels numb, but he does look down and finds not a young boy but a girl – a woman, in fact. It takes Steve all of a second of not knowing who you are before he gasps and quakes ever more violently. Your eyes are closed to let your lashes rest sickeningly dainty against your skin, face leached of blood and emotion, body limp and feeling extraordinarily frail in his enhanced grip.

“Oh God,” Steve sobs, a horrid wet sound – he killed you, “Oh GOD!”

“Steve!” Bucky quickly interjects sensing the new wave of panic, “She’s alright pal you just squeezed her so tight she passed out,” He gently transfers your dead weight out of Steve’s violently shaking arms and cradles you to his chest, trying not to rush to check your pulse when he can hear your heart beat. “Her heart’s beatin’ strong Stevie, strong and true and just for you.” Bucky turns back to Steve, offering a weak smile, feeling shaky himself and thoroughly disturbed but keeping it together for Steve.

The terrace is clear. Party and strangers are gone. Only family are here now hovering worriedly in a tight half-circle a few yards away to give Steve space. They all know what a panic attack feels like, and this one was really bad. Steve went so far under, none of them have ever witnessed him get pulled out of his mind so violently like this before.

Tony is no where to be found.

Steve watches Bucky’s fingers against your pulse point in your neck like a life-line, dragging his eyes up to look at his second in command in a desperate way he’s only ever let show a total of three times in his entire life. Bucky recognizes that desperation, saw it in Steve’s eyes, heard it inSteve’s cry of his name as he fell down down down through the whirling snow.Bucky’s mood shifts into dangerous emotional territory so he softly motionsSteve over, shoving the frosted memories away.

“Here put your fingers right here, you’ll feel her pulse pumpin’good,” Barnes encourages shakily, trying to sound as reassuring as he can asSteve scoots closer to him. Steve leans over you in Bucky’s arms and slowlybring his fingers to replace Bucky’s at your neck. Thud-thud Bucky hears and Steve feels, “There it is, told ya punk,”

Steve still shakes but not as uncontrollably at the confirmation that you weren’t…dead. The fact that you easily could have been quickly steals what semblance of stability Steve had managed to bargain from his demons, and loses ground again fast.

“God I could have killed her–,”

“I’ll be hearin’ noneof that now,” Bucky interrupts sternly knowing Steve’s first instinct is tobeat himself into the grave. He knew the instinct well. “Y/n knew what she wassignin’ up for when she hitched her wagon to yours, and she’ll tell ya that thedamned second she regains consciousness, but until then I’ll be makin’ sure youdon’ think up anythin’ stupid.”

Hearing Bucky talk like they were back in 1934, just two kids roughing it before the war, makes Steve sob again. He presses the quivering heel of one hand into his forehead to steady himself, not daring to move the other one from the grace of your pulse point. Bucky doesn’t say anything, knowing what caused Steve’s sob this time. It wasn’t a panicked sob but a sad one, a mourning one, a nostalgic one. Bucky knows Steve’s panic attack took him back to that time; Barnes doesn’t envy the weight Steve is baring at this moment.

“Hey pal, ain’tnothin’ ever gonna be easy for us,” Bucky attempts to ease mostly for Steve buta little for himself as well, “But we gotta make it through. You got yourself asweet lass here and a family, we got ourselves a chance at another family. Weare the luckiest bastards on this planet for bein’ blessed with the chance atredemption and love –,”

“After gettin’ unjustfully punished like we was it’s the leastthis shit universe could do, it owes us.” Steve adds on vehemently, fallinginto his easy Brooklyn home tongue with Bucky as he regains his sense of selfand the constant stream of his usual anger breaks through the dam of hissorrow.

“Damn right!” Buckydeclares for the both of them.

“Damn right,” Steverepeats quietly, petting your face now with such tenderness and care saidaccused universe feels rightfully guilty.

When you wake your head feels a little dizzy but everything seems to be in order. Without opening your eyes you register you’re laying down in an unfamiliar bed and it smells like a hospital. The med-wing of the Tower then. The last coherent thought you had before the forced black, was the panic and horrified second-hand pain you felt for Steve. He had been calling for his mother…

You squish your eyes tighter and try to deny the tears slipping from the corners of your shut eyes and down your cheeks to drip into your ears.

How did you not see this coming? An attack that bad had to have displayed signs. Yes you knew something was bothering Steve, but you tried so hard to respect his privacy you were most of the time afraid to ask. You usually let Steve bring it up. And not asking what was wrong sooner resulted in him nearly losing his mind to fear and anguish. A thought flashes suddenly in your mind and your eyes flash open – Tony.

He had set off the fireworks to distract everyone from Steve and your argument. If you know anything about Stark, it’s that he will be trying to take the blame for all this. With a start you realize that’s what you’re trying to do too. Blame yourself for not helping Steve sooner. You swallow against an ash-dry throat, feeling suddenly thirsty, and are crushed with the need to see Steve. Your fingers itch to touch him, your eyes burn with hot tears to look at him, your arms shake to embrace him, and your soul weeps to connect with his. You should feel weary of returning to Steve’s embrace after he almost crushed you alive (turned out you had a broken rib or two, you could feel the ache even lying down and not moving, no biggie though) but you couldn’t even try to convince yourself to be anything but desperate for it.

Steve is your home. And even if that home is broken, it still keeps you safe and warm and loved. Quickly you search the obnoxiously bright room having to squint like a motherfucker to see anything against the light. You turn your head to find exactly who you’re looking for sitting in an extremely uncomfortable looking plastic chair even though there’s a nice cushioned one placed against the wall behind him.

What a martyr.

Your home is looking down at his too-big hands folded messily in his lap, golden lashes sweeping long and soft over his high cheekbones as he blinks slowly. You know he knows you’re awake, probably listened to your heart come out of its sleep rhythm before you even gained full consciousness. Biting your lip, you stare at him knowing it’ll take months to get Steve to even consider the idea of forgiving himself for hurting you.

“Steve,” Comes your sleep hoarse voice.

He doesn’t do anything but blink slowly again. His shoulders are hunched and his body sags in the small chair you’re actually impressed he’s fit himself into and that it hasn’t collapsed under all that supersoldier. His hair is disheveled like he’s been pushing his bangs up – a nervous habit, a worried habit, a frustrated habit, an angry habit. Bucky told you privately one time, that to him that’s when Steve seems most like his old self. Steve before Captain America always pushed his hair out his face and fidgeted like he had ants in his pants. And as you watch Steve sitting so still, you can’t help but notice that how he’s holding himself is out of place on his big body. He’s sitting how a smaller person would sit, how his former body would sit. You’ve seen him do that before, in the privacy of your apartment, in the rare vulnerable moments he allows himself. And it breaks your heart to see it now.

“Steve,” You try again, this time with much more emotion in your voice.

His name curls out into the space between you like a tendril of smoke, fragile but fragrant – asking. Steve still doesn’t look up but he readjusts himself slightly in the chair with a quiet sigh. His shoulders rest unevenly on the back of the chair, his torso curled and squished into the opposite of its usual formal erectness, his hips crooked against the seat, one thigh is higher than the other, his hands still mangled in the rocky terrain of his lap, and the long long line of strong legs tangle on the way to the floor.

You gingerly shift your arm across the bed, not lifting it so you don’t tweak your broken ribs, but slide along the fabric of the sheets reaching for him. You’re so focused on Steve’s downturned face you missed that there is an IV in the vein on the back of your hand. You didn’t particularly like needles (I mean who does) but you refrained from wincing in favor of sparing yourself some pain. Steve watches your hand work its way slowly towards him and when your fingers reach the halfway mark between your side and the edge of the bed, Steve breaks.

He lurches out of his seat and ducks to your side, delicately swooping your hand into both of his enormous ones. You feel him kneel, although it doesn’t deny him any lack of height with those long enhanced femurs of his. If he looked up he could catch your eye but he only cups your hand in his, cradling your appendage like it’ll explode if he holds to fiercely – or holds on at all really. You want to chide him for treating you like you’ll break, but you hold your tongue when you realize that you really could…break.

“Hey,” You whisper as your fingers climb the canyon of his cupped hands to grip his wrist, wanting to hold on to him even if he won’t hold on to you.

He did hold on to you, Your mind interjects quietly, and he broke you.

A flare of anger at yourself heats your gut, how dare you not be strong enough to take care of Steve.

“Steve please look at me.” Steve didn’t look at anything but your fragile fingers latched on his thick wrist.

“You’re so weak,” His voice startles you not because he was loud, actually quite the contrary, he sounded so defeated, “You’re so breakable. I warned you not to trust me, I warned you that I wasn’t strong enough to watch myself. I told you this would happen and you didn’t listen. Hopefully this puts some perspective on our relationship and gives you the reality check you didn’t want.”

He keeps his eyes down – ashamed – as a couple strands of his golden hair fall into his eyes (it had gotten a little long you offhandedly note, like how it was before he cut it short after waking up – how it was in 1944). You let his words have weight, let them settle in the air and be respected and considered, making sure Steve understood you really heard him. With matching graveness you respond in the only way you could ever want to,

“I love you Steven.”

And with those words you break Steve’s feeble angry front line of defense he always scrambles to put up; his face crumples. He oh so gently lowers his forehead to your hand still shakily clutching his wrists, careful not to disturb the IV. You feel him practically vibrating with the effort not to cry or make a single sound of anguish. Internally you sigh with frustration at not being able to reach with your other hand across your body to cup his face. Instead you hold on to his wrist with as much strength as you dare, not wanting to engage any muscles in your torso that could aggravate your ribs. Broken ribs were really a bitch but they were worth it if it meant you could love Steve Rogers.

“You could snap me in half and I’d still love you, broken body and all.” Comes your second attempt at a confession.

Steve’s body heaves at the imagery and this time he does sob out loud. You bite your tongue – what the fuck were you thinking?!

“Okay yeah b-bad example, but you – you know what I mean.” You pause momentarily watching this great man sagging over your hand and think maybe he doesn’t, “Well you better know what I mean Steve Rogers, because sometimes you can be so thick in the head I wanna shake you till all those perfect teeth Tony’s always going on about rattle.”

A weird suffocated watery noise emits from Steve’s throat and you grin knowing you got him to laugh, even if you feel wetness on the back of your hand. So you eagerly push on, simply dying with the need to see him smile and those dark seafloor eyes shin into bright cerulean.

“Yeah, and if you think that’s the only thing that’ll rattle you’ve got another thing coming! That brain of yours could use a healthy swirl or two in that pretty blonde head, maybe stir in some common sense. Because if you think for one fucking second that I don’t love you with every stupid weak breakable bone – every fucking non-enhanced cell – in my body, then we need to get you a head x-ray.”

Steve chokes on another wet laugh and his fingers twitch to hold your hand but force themselves to relax again. Progress. You press determinedly on, all fucks thrown to the wind.

“You’re my home Steve, you big dolt,” You start with a little less humor this time, the tenderness in your voice is so thick its almost a texture you could physically touch, “We’re end game. I mean for me at least, and I’ve never said that out loud before because I didn’t want to scare you off. I realize I risk doing that right now,” You gulp down air for lack of saliva but force yourself to continue despite you’re flaming cheeks and your doubts shouting over the sound of your own breath, “Seeing as I’m shackled to the bed with an IV and you could up and run and I wouldn’t be able to chase after you. Because I would, chase after you even if I couldn’t catch you. But I’ve tried to communicate this through my touch, how I hold you, when I tell you I love you, but apparently I have to be as subtle as Tony expressing his dislike for capers on his damn baked salmon in order to get it through your thick skull.”

You feel absolutely breathless like you’ve just run a mile even though you’re laying down and have barely been talking for more than ten minutes. Steve still refuses to look at you, say anything, or give any indication to what he could be feeling or thinking. It’s making you nervous as every worst possible reaction runs rampant across the stage of your brain. You feel like you need to say more, but your throat is tight and your brain shrugs dumbly as your tongue frantically requests more words to shove out. Your hand clutching Steve’s wrists starts to shake with its effort to hold on to him, God you feel so weak. The vulnerability you just exposed yourself to admittedly wasn’t helping either.

Maybe you should have saved this conversation for a time when you were well enough to actually run like you said half-jokingly half-actually dead serious. You’re literally about to save face and deny all of what you just said, blame it on the pain meds they probably put you on, but Steve finally responds.

“I’ve,” Steve’s voice cracks under the pressure of his emotion, he clears it a couple times before starting again, head raised off your hand but still faced down and hidden from your searching gaze, “I’ve never been loved this way before.”

A heart beat and a half goes by.

“You frickin’ idiot!” You shout after you digest Steve’s words, wincing when the force of your shout punches at your ribs.

Steve jumps like he was just electrocuted in the butt as his eyes wrench wide open, overflowing saucers of churning ocean, stormy currents making a mess of his irises as he finally locks gazes with you.

“What do you mean you’ve never been loved this way before?!” You chastise huffily as your eyes burn with fierce intent.

“I –,”

“Your Mother?!” You interrupt Steve, “Bucky?! Tony?! Natasha?! Basically the complete entirety of the Aveng –,”

“Y/n!” Steve yells over you as he carefully but quickly places the thick fingers of one hand over your lips to shush you.

You can only retaliate by glaring fiercely at him so you do so with gusto. This outburst hopefully convinces Steve that the blush on your cheeks has nothing to do with your recent confession and everything to do with Steve’s incompetence. Steve sighs and shakes his head fondly as he removes his fingers from your lips only to drag them up your jaw, into your hair line, big thumb tracing one of your brows. He’s looking at you like one would look at pictures of the galaxy, all wonder and awe and endless possibility. Nobody had ever looked at you like that before.

“No one has loved me like you have,” Steve starts when your face falls from its glare, “You love me. Romantically. I, I haven’t had this with anyone. I didn’t have enough time with…with Peggy to develop the connection to this level.” You watch his thick throat work as he swallows and his eyes stray shyly away from yours for a moment before snapping back, “I know people love me, I’m not completely oblivious, I just – I’m just not good at this whole declarations of love stuff.”

Your lips part when you realize he’s going to reciprocate your feelings. In fact your heart blasts off in your chest and gets stuck in your throat as you wait in petrifying suspense. Steve clears his throat again and softly brings his hand away from the side of your face to gently hold your hand still clutching his other wrist. He holds your hand now, really holds it, with both his hands.

“You might as well have been Shakespeare over there, while I’m wrackin’ my brain for ways to tell ya I love you too and that ya basically own my soul.” He offers with that familiar charming sheepish smile of his as he cocks his head to the side a little while his shoulders go up in a mini shrug.

“I’m pretty sure some famous poet said that, you’re doing great.” You whisper so sincerely the universe swoons. Steve swoons too as his cheeks turn an envious shade of pink and his eyes flutter under the intensity of the moment.

“I’m pretty sure no famous poet said that,” Steve counters in a hush of his own once he recovers as he draws closer and closer to you, his eyes gazing longingly down at your gently parted – inviting – lips.

“Maybe….not….exactly….that,” You breathe and eye his full lips as he leans over you since you can’t sit up, your noses brushing now, “Close….enough…thou–,”

And you’re kissing.

Steve’s hands have abandoned your hand in favor of cupping your face like it’s the last real treasure on this planet. He’s careful not to move you too much but his caution doesn’t steal from the unbridled passion of your kiss. It’s bold and subtle and powerful. It’s simple and complex and real. It’s naked and secret and yours. You both sigh through your noses because: home –

“Friday are you getting this?”

You both startle at Tony’s voice booming unapologetically as always in the room, clacking your teeth together a little as Steve jumps.

“No sir,” The female Scottish AI responds smoothly, “I don’t find it moral to record such a private moment.”

Steve lifts his head and slowly closes his eyes with a comical wave of expressions washing over his features. You can’t help but bite the grand smile growing on your lips as you watch Steve above you. Tony continues on, uncaring of the effect his presence has on people per usual.

“But I felt like I was just watching the tear-jerking finale of a romantic drama when the lovers break that last wall between them, and their souls become eternally bound to live on forever in ever-lasting love or something.” You giggle but cut yourself off because ribs, ow. Steve’s eyes flash open to check that you’re okay and then zip to rest with familial tolerance on Tony in the doorway, “I don’t think I’m capable of such emotion so I wanted to have it on file to remind myself that true love is real, Disney doesn’t hold a candle to this.”

“That’s nice sir.” Friday adds with a slight curl to her voice like an amused mother.

“Tony please –,” Steve starts but is promptly interrupted.

“I love you too Cap.” Tony quips, almost interrupting himself with a sharp sniff, before pivoting on his heel and strutting out of the room calling ‘Relationship goals as fuck!’ as the door swings closed behind him.

You’re both sitting on your bed back in your guys’ apartment. Steve has your gift sitting innocently on his lap where you placed it oh about a century ago. He’s just been staring down at it like it’ll explode in his face if he breathes. You know he doesn’t like gifts, but its not technically his birthday anymore, its the day after. Your ribs still hurt but you’re sitting up, waiting for Steve to do anything at this point. All you want is Steve to smile.

“Alright!” Steve grumbles and side eyes you practically staring holes into his ridiculously perfect profile, “I can hear ya thinkin’ all the way from here.”

“Well open the damn thing and I’ll stop trying to give you a telepathic migraine!” You try to scold around a smile as you gesture animatedly to the box in his lap. “It’s not even your birthday anymore so you have absolutely no excuses.”

Steve huffs, realizing he’s defeated, and turns to glare at you as his hands start tearing the paper like steel through butter. You giggle at his usual dramatics and bounce a little in your seat as he opens the cardboard box and looks down. Steve’s barely had a second to take in whats peaking out from under the tissue paper before you jump in,

“I had them custom made!” You burst as you clap your hands together and bring both sets of fingers to your mouth, nibbling on them as Steve delicately rifles through the paper and really gets a clear look at what rests at the bottom of the box.

Crisp dark tan suspenders lay folded neatly before him, shiny bronze buckles winking humbly in the dim light of the bedroom.

Steve’s face goes through a myriad of emotions you can’t keep up with as he reaches two fingers down and gently strokes the tailored fabric, almost like he was petting a wild animal. For a second you wonder if this only made Steve sad, brought back memories of a time lost to history books and old film reels. You had been so excited because you had done your research, went to Bucky for advice on what Steve used to like and everything.

“Do you…do you like them?” You wanted to wait for Steve to say something first, but you’ve been keeping this a secret for so long and you’re desperate to make him happy.

When he stays silent, just staring, face unreadable, your nervous blabbering habit kicks in full throttle.

“We can return them if you don’t like them, I asked Bucky about the style you liked and stuff and he helped, I asked Tony for your measurements because I wanted to get some that fit you just right, so you could wear them and be proud, but I, I know – I know that this was a bit of a risk because it’s such a tender spot for you and I –,”

You were promptly shut up by a fierce kiss that made angels blush and demons smirk.

“I am never going to deserve you.” Steve murmurs lovingly against the pillows of your lips as he shakes his head in disbelief, your foreheads touching and grinding a little at the movement.

And before you could retort because um no what the fresh hell is he talking about? Steve overwhelms you once more with the press of his lips. This time he numbs your brain so thoroughly with his touch that you forget your own goddamn name.

Yahtzee! Writing angst then fixing it with fluff is so satisfying tbh, lemme know what ya think :) THAT WAS MY FIRST TIME WRITING STEVE PLS TELL ME IF HE’S WELL CHARACTERIZED xxx

Don’t be afraid to submit something if you so desire! Drabble Prompts are here .

Masterlist (mobile)

Permanent Tag List: @evilmermaidsinc @buckyandsebsinbin @simplyme8308 @captain-chimichanga @mellifluous-melodramas @creideamhgradochas @notsoprettykitty @ryverpenrad @whintersoldiers @mini-muffin-mountain @the-one-and-only-vampcake @james-bionic-barnes @badassbaker @kenobi-and-barnes @fangasms101 @almondbuttercup @mar-gega @vacam79@nenyakj @angryschnauzer @rosegoldarmour@ladylizzieofdarbyshire @takemetoneverland91 @jenairedale @musichowler @seargantbcky @mllx-anazra @amrita31199 @jenna-luke @theassetseyeliner @thefuturewinemom @nuvoleincielo @redroomproperty @ho-ne-y @cornflax01 @feelmyroarrrr @paranoid-borderline-insane @thewinterswimmer @kapolisradomthoughts @cassandras-musings

#hi anon!#thanks for sending something in!! xxx #Nikki writes #Steve Rogers Drabble #Steve Rogers angst #Steve Rogers fluff #Steve Roger x reader #Steve Rogers x Y/n

178 notes · View notes

cishetuppermiddleclasswasp · 7 years ago

Text

World Building June #9: Religion & Cosmology

Welp, this is a bigg’un, which is why it’s under a cut! :D (written in collaboration w/ @aitu)

Church of the Hanged

The original major faith in Ortstreit believed that their royal line was descended directly from gods and were, thus, gods themselves. At a certain point, the people forgot their heavenly gods and began to believe that their kings and princes were the only gods worth worshipping. When the army of the Church of the One killed the last King and his son, this was taken as proof to many that they were never gods at all, and maybe the new religion was worth looking into.

The Church of the One, also known as the Church of the Hanged, is founded on one very simple tenant: there is only one god, known as the One, and anyone who claims otherwise are either deluded or lying. Each year, a hundred or so children and young adults come to the independent Holy City at the center of the four states to offer their lives to the Church. There, they might be trained to be priests, sent martyriums to become monks, taught to be scribes, or else enlisted into the Order of the Noose, a holy order of knights and soldiers dedicated to the defense of the Faith and all of Ortstreit. Before the great War of the Faiths ended, the Order of the Noose (whose members are often known as Hangmen while civilians are known as Ropers) had a lot more to do. Nowadays, they are most often sent to the uncertain borders between Yachssid/Altamesa and the Elven Empire to fight off the encroaching elvish threat. They are heavily monitored by local forces because, while the elves are obviously the biggest threat to the various nations on the continent, the War of the Faiths is only barely outside living memory.

There is a little controversy that springs up sometimes; while it is very common for people to beseech their patron martyrs for help in earthly matters, it sometimes comes a little too close to prayer for the comfort of most priests. The martyrs are meant to be intercessors, not gods in their own rights.

Blood Cult

In the northerly snow-covered badlands of Yachssid grows day by day a religion dedicated to their god of blood, Hemos. While they are not of any mind to dismiss other gods outright like the Church of the Hanged does, they do very much believe that Hemos is the one most worth worshiping. They see him as the god of blood, obviously, but attendant to that are other titles: the god of life (including birth and, ahem, menstruation), the god of love, the god of passion, the god of joy, the god of war, god of anything that can even be remotely connected to the very concept of “blood”. Consequently, the members of the Cult of Blood are more well-rounded and well-adjusted than one might think when the phrase “Cult of Blood” is uttered. The priests of their faith are the best medical professionals one can find, especially concerning bloodborne illnesses or problems involving the heart or circulatory systems. The holy texts of the Cult of Blood, the Sancto Sanguinis, is not available to outsiders, and even within the faith priests are the only ones to handle the sacred pages. As such, some skeptics have posited that the texts are in actuality advanced medical tomes, explaining the priests’ high level of medical expertise, though the priests themselves maintain that it is naught but the holy powers of Hemos flowing through their lowly earthly flesh.

Priests of the Cult of Blood are readily identifiable. Each one wears russet-colored plate armor under a surcoat of white with a crimson border around a red teardrop shape. The armor is often covered with large spikes, as deterrence. When asked why a priest would need to be armored, the response is something to the effect of, “to let none of our most holy bodily fluids escape from our imperfect, penetrable skin.”

As a religion centered around blood, they have very strong opinions regarding anything involving blood or bloodshed. Death by exsanguination is the worst way to die, in their view, as those who die of blood loss are cut off from Hemos’ holy fluids; thus, it is often used as a punishment for only the most dire of crimes. And while there has never been a verifiable report of a vampire, the superstitious belief in them is widespread throughout Yacchsid due to Blood Cult priests raising hell over the very concept, seeing evil bloodsuckers around every corner. Though on that note, deaths due to disease carried by parasites such as mosquitos, leeches, or ticks are often much lower in areas with high Blood Cult membership, as vampires aren’t the only bloodsuckers the priests despise.

Death Dyad:

In years gone by, there were probably many, many gods ruling over the Côte d’Rois. However, over time, all were forgotten but two: Lord Warren and Lady Mortimer, the mated god and goddess of death. While they remain primarily death gods, they have each absorbed some aspects of the wider forgotten pantheon as a matter of course. Lord Warren is a bipedal boar-man, like a minotaur in body makeup but with a human torso and arms. His body is battle-scarred and muscular, with one eye clouded over from an old injury. Lady Mortimer is a tall skeletal woman with the head of a vulture. She once had two wings and two arms, but her lover, Warren, tore off one of her wings and arms in a fight; in the same fight, she clawed his eye out. While her body is without flesh, there is some meat within her rib cage, everything else being bare bone. These two gods are paired in that each of them reigns over an afterlife dedicated to a different kind of death. Lord Warren is King of Violent Death. The people of the Côte d’Rois believe that, if one is murdered, a victim of manslaughter, or killed in battle, that person will go to Warren’s afterlife where they are free to fight without consequence or to feast without guilt, warm in eternal sunshine. Lady Mortimer, for her part, is Queen of Nonviolent Death. If a person dies of illness, of old age, in an accident, in childbirth, etc., then they go to Mortimer’s afterlife, where they are given eternal rest and relaxation in cool, comforting darkness.

Though recorded accounts are few and unverifiable, there is a belief among the faithful of the Côte d’Rois that if one dies before their time with an act or work of great import left undone or unfinished, that the god and goddess of death may see fit to grant the deceased a second, temporary lease on life as an undead revenant; this is called “The Last Dance”, because once the revenant has fulfilled their purpose for their undeath, they’ll return to death. Now, this gift is believed only to be granted in extraordinarily special circumstances, and Warren and Mortimer are said to require an agreement between them both that the cause is indeed noble enough to have earned it. While the gods were once deeply in love, it is theorized that the loss of their other godly compatriots, caused by a mortal loss of faith, pulled them apart. Now it is difficult for them to come to a decision together. This means that one ‘trial’ for a soul’s return to earth could, potentially, last years, decades, or, if one legend is to be believed, even centuries. Revenants are, as such, usually depicted as well-dressed skeletons or half-rotted horrors.

Orc Goddess Triad:

The basic tenants of the Threefold Temple are that the earth, sea, and sky are each controlled by and manifested by an orcish goddess with four arms. The earth goddess is eternally pregnant, warm, and maternal; her animal aspects are the cow and the bear. The sea goddess is raucous, playful, and unpredictable; her animal aspects are the dolphin and the shark. The sky goddess is the oldest and wisest of her sisters, but can be stormy and cruel at times; her animal aspects are the dove and the eagle. The Threefold Temple is named thus because each temple is led by three priests, each dedicated to a different goddess. These priests (or priestesses--the triad can come in any combination of genders) are bound together for life as siblings, and romantic/sexual relationships between members of the same triad is strictly forbidden. That being said, if a sea priest from Village A wants to marry a land priestess from Village B, that isn’t a problem. It’s only within an individual triad that these things are problematic. The priests’ main purpose is to intercede between their congregation and the goddesses; they pray to the sky for rain when it is dry; they pray to the earth for a good harvest; they pray to the sea for safe passage across her body.

There is a faction group of the Threefold Temple known as the Elementarians, who abhor the personification of the land, sea, and sky. They believe the faith should go back down to its base elements; rather than worshipping a goddess who CONTROLS the sea, they choose to worship the sea ITSELF, and so on. They are iconoclastic by nature and generally seen as poor sports and wet blankets. While virtue names such as Grace, Chastity, or Service are common enough to most Aetherrackian communities, Elementarian influence can be felt in the more… “unique” names, which often incorporate whole phrases. “Fear-The-Sky’s-Holy-Wrath Smith” is more likely to be from an Elementarian family, than “Charity Jones.”

As previously mentioned, the Threefold Temple (and the Elementarians, as a result) believes in reincarnation. The mainline Temple believes that the cycle of reincarnation can stop if one lives extremely morally; if one does enough good, their chosen patron goddess will select them after death to live forevermore in their respective resplendent queendom. The Elementarians, on the other hand, see an end to the cycle of reincarnation...through sin. If one is immoral, or sinful enough, they shall be plucked from the cycle of reincarnation by the land, sea, or sky and punished accordingly. The sea will make them into a grain of sand at the bottom of the deepest oceanic trench, the pressure of the ocean pressing down upon them. The sky will turn them the sinner into a single droplet of rain, trapped in the water cycle to be endlessly dropped, drunk, pissed out, and evaporated again. The earth will make the sinner into a rock to be trod upon forever. The Elementarians are a rather dour, judgemental folk as a result of this outlook.

Dwarves/Dark Elves

The dwarves say they have a thousand gods. This is inaccurate. They have a god for every kind of rock or mineral, spanning from precious diamond and gold to humble talc and flint. What these gods actually DO is anyone’s guess. Dwarves are a self-sufficient folk. They probably just like being able to say they have a thousand gods.

Elves:

The Elves of Enduria have a somewhat foggy sense of faith. If you asked an elf on the street what elves worship, they might answer, “Elves,” and you still wouldn't know where they stand, exactly. That is because some elves, usually rural or older, practice ancestor worship. This was once the status quo. If your crops wouldn’t sprout or your wife wasn’t becoming pregnant, you would you would pray to those who came before you for guidance, peace of mind, and luck, because they had gone through it all before and had usually survived just fine. Usually you would pray to your grandmother or grandfather, or else to a famous relative in your line. However, more ‘modern’ or city-dwelling don’t see the point in worshipping those who have died because, supposedly, there’s no good reason for elves to die at all. Instead, these elves worship elvishness itself--they see their very being as the utmost of grace, beauty, wisdom, longevity.

Altamesan pantheon that we haven’t covered

Boy. Those Altamesans. They got gods. They’re pretty mysterious, though. So mysterious even we the writers don’t know who/what they are.

General nature worship (fauns and satyrs + nymphs)

#worldbuilding june #world building june #the parkererin dnd project #dungeons & dragons

2 notes · View notes

iamcrimelord · 4 years ago

Text

Story Time/Open RP invite: GUESS WHOSE BACK BITCHES.....

It was quiet in the city. The land had known peace for some time and all was well in the world. The Fields were green with emerald waves of grass, the harvest was looking good, and the people were content. Daigo was here to change all of that. In a dark ally of the city, there was a burst of crimson light as a hell portal opened and a man that had once been feared by many stepped through it. He was tall, garbed in black armor and crimson silk. His hands were clasped firmly behind his back and he was grinning widely. He took a deep breath of the cool night air and closed his blood red eyes. It was refreshing to be back. He stepped out of the shadows of the ally way and looked around. It would appear that a festival was going on. In the center of the town square was a statue of the man who had crucified him over a year ago. Tarek...the paladin. Daigo scoffed and sneered at the statue. Of course these simpletons would build a statue to that man. Ever the gallant, ever the saint.....but deep down he embodied everything that Daigo had ever hated. Hypocrisy, deception, vanity, pride, and ego. Over a year ago he and his band of sycophants had captured him, and crucified him to a tree in the wilderness and watched him bleed to death. They then incinerated his body with the hopes that he would finally remain dead. The fools. If they had been paying attention they would have known that he was a master of cheating the reaper and this time he did not just cheat the reaper, but beat him to a pulp, robbed him blind, and then proceeded to spend the next year plundering Hell for weapons, artifacts, soldiers, war beasts, power, and wealth.

“I have returned Tarek. And this time.... no one is going to stop me from giving this world EXACTLY what it deserves. So hide away you coward. The Devil has come for his due.” Daigo stretched out his arms and became engulfed in hell fire as black metal slowly covered his body. Large black horns adorned his helmet and the rest of his form was covered in a black armor of adamantine strength. He then reached for the weapon he had invested greatly into. A large cross with a dragons face on the intersection. It was gold with black engravings of flame on it. It was large, roughly the length of a mans arm in height and half that in width. He walked forward, holding the cross in his hand. He approached the statue of the paladin. People were singing and dancing to both the light of the torches and the light of the moon. At the feet of the statue were flowers, incense, and other offerings. Daigo scoffed. They had deified him. Maybe not outright worship but close enough. Daigo looked up at the face of that man. He then gripped the cross hard and said softly, “And here I thought Idol Worship was forbidden.” He suddenly took a fighting stance with the cross as though holding a sword blade, and in an instant, crimson energy crackled around the top of the cross and suddenly a large blade of pure crimson energy appeared, the size of a full grown man with electricity crackling all around it. The people had but only an instance to see this dark knight and then in a burst of speed he swung the blade with the speed of a falling star and cleaved the statue into two right across its belly. For a moment nothing happened but then the statue slowly slid forward and crashed to the ground with a loud clang. The people began to scream and suddenly all the torches, candles, and other sources of fire erupted in loud bursts of fire with a pillar of flame erupting out of all of them. Daigo held aloft his now shining blade and turned. “HEAR ME NOW YOU BLIND AND DEAF SHEEP. I AM DAIGO GWYN BELFIR.....AND I AM THIS WORLD’S RECKONING, I AM HERE TO COLLECT MY POUND OF FLESH FROM YOU PARASITES AND PUT AN END TO YOU ALL. SO FLEE YOU DOGS, FLEE FOR YOUR LIVES!!!” the city erupted into panic and screams when suddenly all over the city Animated Golems with steel bones and earthen flesh began to march out of portals that began to open all over the city. The demonic golems had been gathered from the mass graves Daigo had left behind previously when he had still been the lord protector for the Circle. The bones were picked clean by flesh eating insects and then dipped into damascened phantom ore that had been forged in hell and hardened to make his soldiers invincible. But he had replaced their skulls with the skulls of large demonic rams still wrapped in flesh to grant them access to his now limitless pool of magic so they could cast magic pyromancies as needed. They were garbed in black suits of armor akin to his and began to sack the city.

Daigo turned and looked at the golden statue that had been cleaved in two. He snapped his fingers and five soldiers approached him. “Haul this back to Castle Nevermore. I have an idea on what to do with this gold statue.” The soldiers nodded and went about their work. Daigo then whistled loudly and his large black demon horse appeared. “It’s time we marched my old friend.” The Horse nodded its head, and the Demon Stallion Diablo lowered himself so Daigo could climb on. He then grabbed a black horn from the saddle and removing his helmet, he blew into it loudly and another large portal opened. This time it was not his manufactored soldiers but his officers. His generals, captains, lieutenants, commanders, admirals, and advisors. All were on their black dragon horse crossbreed mounts. On their side of the portal was the city of Kaer Belfir where he had made his capital.

“MY TRUSTED SOLDIERS!!” he bellowed out to them. “TODAY MARKS THE DAY OF OUR ASCENSION FROM THE BOWELS OF HATE AND INTO THE LIGHT OF DAY. ON THIS DAY, ALL OF US...THOSE WHO HAD BEEN WRONGED...THOSE OF US WHO WERE NEVER AVENGED....THOSE OF US WHO WERE ROBBED OF OUR PEACE AND HAPPINESS, SHALL AT LAST BE SMITTEN WITH THE FIRE AND FURY OF OUR RESOLVE. WE WILL NOT STOP, WE WILL NOT CEASE, BUT WILL LEAVE THIS WORLD BURNED AND CHARRED. AND WHEN IT IS DONE, AND WE HAVE PLUNDERED ALL THAT WE CAN, WHEN WE HAVE BECOME DRUNK ON THE BLOOD OF OUR ENEMIES, WHEN WE HAVE AT LAST OBTAINED THAT WHICH WE HAVE ALWAYS DESIRED.......WE WILL DESTROY THIS WORLD ONCE AND FOR ALL AND LET ITS REMAINS SERVE AS A REMINDER, THAT THE WAGES OF SIN IS DEATH.”

The captains all cheered in unison. They were many, ratmen, demons, corrupted angels, tieflings, orcs, goblins, vampires, ghouls, and so forth. They were an army of the hated, damned, and spurned. Every last one of them had sworn loyalty to him. And loyalty was something that he treasured greatly. It was the true coin of his realm and he would reward and punish according to it. “NOW....LET US BEGIN!!!”

And from the city, now engulfed in flames, with the screams of the people silenced, the army of Daigo Gwyn Belfir, Lord Emperor of the Scorched Crusaders rode forward followed by his legions. And as they left the city, rows upon rows of the streets and roads were lined with the impaled corpses of the army’s victims. Mostly city guard and the nobility. The poor and disenfranchised were taken into the army. Women, Children, youth’s, and any man that was spared were also taken into the army. They were now citizens of Daigo’s Crusade, as would be the survivors of the next city, and the one after that, and the one after that. He would plunder this world, scourge it for its crimes against him and those whom he had loved....and when the best and brightest were all take, he would leave the guilty who yet lived alone on the planet to die on its surface when he finally destroyed it with his ultimate weapon. But first, it was time to harvest. It was time, to march......

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

Message from the Author

Thank’s to you all who read all the way here! I hope you found this dark tale a fun read and I promise to do more in the future. As some of you may know I was once a member of the Collective @weareadventurers but some rather unfortunate things happened and well, my membership ended. But just because I am no longer part of the group does not mean I cant still enjoy writing in that setting and so to any who have come here for a good time, I welcome you with open arms, and I hope I can continue to delight and tantalize your mind with dark tales of conquest and glory. And if you ever want to RP, chat, share ideas or show off your own characters, I say lay it on me man, I love a good story and I love to hear about what people make and write. so as the old song goes... “LET THE GOOD TIMES ROLL!!”

#Daigo Gwyn Belfir #wearepyromancer #the collective #weareadventurers #the pyromancer returns #The Scorched Crusaders #Emperor Belfir #Dark Fantasy #Short Story #writing #fan fiction #story #rp #role play invite #open rp #Daigo #Daigo Belfir #Lord Belfir

0 notes

canasimagines · 4 years ago

Text

Popular (Bruce Banner imagine)

Summary: Reader was the most popular girl at her high school. Cheer captain, kind hearted and spirited, prom queen, top of her class right under the not as well known Bruce Banner. A decade later their paths cross again. Loosely based off 17 from The Heathers Musical. Once seeing her again without a ponytail and large bow and uniform Bruce almost couldn't recognize her. Her eyes were still kind towards him and not because his popularity, or lack there of, but for the beast within him now. Either way he didn't care. You looked as beautiful as ever to him. He recognized you on spot as Nick introduced you to the team to work with them on their next mission. "Um do you two know each other?" Natasha asked Bruce quietly as the two still watched each other shyly. "She's (F/N) (L/N)..Head cheerleader. Prom Queen. Hottest girl at school." Bruce described monotonously still watching as you sat at the table listening to the mission. "You're not in high school anymore, big boy." Nat smirked patting his shoulder, "But she's still pretty, I'll give her that." "No offense, Director. But what does she have to put on the table for us in this mission." Tony asked winking at the girl across from him at the table. Before Bruce could open his mouth to defend her honor she shrugged her jacket off and stood beside the table, "Well come at me then, Mr Cocky Stark. See for yourself." Tony rolled his eyes with a smirk, "Are you sure about this, babe?" Her nostrils flared as she heard the words 'babe' so she just hid it by a nod as Tony lunged at her. She jumped high above his head and flipped across the room with deer like agility and silence. Bruce smirked proudly. She still had it. "Wow, how?" Tony asked incredulously as he sat back down. "I was a flyer for Westerburg. Not to mention Texas Cowgirls, also not to mention trained 10 years in agility and gymnastics training. Not to toot my own horn buuuut," she made a tooting motion as the team joined her in chanting 'tooot'. Nick rolled his eyes, well eye, and left the team to get to know their new recruit. "Welcome to the team." Cap smiled shaking her hand. "Thank you captain, it's an honor, really. I think my grandma had a poster of you in her room literally her whole life." You laughed at him as he blushed, "I'm (F/N)." "Hi (F/N), I'm Clint." Hawkeye shook your hand with a grin, "So have you been given a name yet? Like ya know, Hawkeye or Black Widow? Something bad ass and cool??" "Not that I'm aware of." You chuckled with a shrug, "I don't want it to be cliche. Maybe by my second mission I can have my crap together." "Well you may not know what your name should be but how about 'mine'." Tony asked with a smirk kissing your knuckles. "I was thinking more something along the lines of Not A Chance." At that the team laughed as you grinned thumping his head. "I do not think that would be a Clever name but I suppose neither is Man of Iron so I'm not one to judge. I am Thor. God of -" "Thunder, yeah I read about you in college. I did a PowerPoint about your life for my Mythology class." You chuckled shaking his large hand in your small one. "Ooh did you discuss how devilishly handsome I am?" He asked flexing making you laugh, "Actually I still have the PowerPoint on a flash drive somewhere you can judge it for yourself." Natasha met you with crossed arms and a raised brow, "You were the kind of person I would've hated in high school. You know that?" You chuckled tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, "What kind of person exactly, am I?" "Popular, stuck up, thinks the world revolves around you? Ring a bell?" Nat asked. "First of all, popularity means nothing. Captain here is popular but still saved a whole freaking army. Second off, I came from a modest middle class family that consisted of just my mom and I and a cat. Third, I knew the world didn't revolve around me so I gave back to it as much as I could. Here is my card for my PETA membership volunteer card along with my certified Red Cross member and Military Nurse sheet. Anymore questions on my character?" You asked pulling out your papers and crossing your arms back at her. Her bitch face slowly slid into a smirk as she looked back to Bruce. "I like her." "Whoa. If she passed the Natasha test she must be pretty good." Tony said amazed. You tugged your papers back in your bag walking towards Bruce with a grin, "Well? No hug, Brainy Banner?" Bruce rolled his eyes at the nickname the jocks would throw at him as he stood up and hugged the girl in front of him. He gasped as the flashbacks came back. ((flashback~))

Bruce gasped at being thrown down his books around him scattered across the hall. "Ha haaaaa, Brainy Banner, have our science project done yet?" Jett asked leaning down to him plucking his glasses off his face. "Jett stop, it's done and you'll see it in Mr Woodard's class." Bruce pleaded standing up again reaching for his glasses which caused Jett to shove him against the locker. "Jett Rachel Thomas!" Jett groaned as a young (Y/N) in her uniform came stomping towards him. The hall went quiet besides a few giggles, "Um..." Bruce began, "you're middle name is Rachel?" "You little-" he drew his arm back to punch Bruce but was stopped by you wrapping your arms around his. "Jett. Punch him and your ass is not starting next week and I'll make it my personal job to see to it. Pick on someone your own damn size." You glared darkly. Jett just rolled his eyes dropping the glasses with a 'whatever' as he walked away. "You really didn't have to do that, (F/N)..." Bruce said quietly shoving his books in his bag as you helped. You tugged his glasses back on his face with a cute grin. "I know but how else will I make people think I'm a good person." You said sarcastically making him chuckle and blush, "Tell me if he messes with you again. Or anyone for that matter. The football coach and the cheer coach are married so we have connections to make sure the goons don't play a game." "Thanks (F/N)." "No problem, Bruce." ((End of Flashback))

"Do you two know each other?" Steve asked as Bruce still ogled at you. "We went to high school together actually. It was great. He played a mean trumpet in the marching band." You teased ruffling his curls. He groaned knowing Tony would use it against him later. "She stopped many-a-football players from breaking my glasses." He blushed. "And he stopped many-a-preps from grabbing my ass." You smiled blushing along with him. "It was no way to treat a lady." He said shaking his head remembering.

--Later that night-- "Oh they're in love. This was a match made in heaven. I mean think about it, the marching geek, the prom queen. It's straight out of a Cult Classic." Clint gushed to Natasha who sat on her bed unamused. "And how do we get them to figure that out. You know how he feels about himself now." Nat said irritated. "Yeah well by the sounds of it she's always been able to protect him from others, maybe she can protect him from himself. God that sounded cheesy." He groaned rubbing his face. "Very Cheddar. Maybe a bit of Swiss. Okay here's the plan, get them in a room together, lock the door, see what happens?"

"How come no one else is here at this emergency meeting?" Bruce asked yawning "They're coming, you're just the first one I woke." Natasha said sitting with him at the Conference table. "Oh look here they come." Clint shoved your half awake form in the room before grabbing Nat and running having Jarvis lock the doors. "Hey! What the hell is this about?" Bruce yelled banging on the door. Their voices came over the intercom briefly, "Okay so we ship you guys and have a theory so we're testing it. Just act natural. Be you. And Action." Clint smirked eating the popcorn as the duo watched from another room. You crossed your arms over your robe self consciously, "Are they always like this?" "Unfortunately." Bruce sighed sitting down shrugging, "Might as well make yourself at home." You shrugged sitting across from him. There were minutes of comfortable silence before Bruce smiled speaking up, "You know what this reminds me of?" "What?" You asked smiling back at him. "Senior year. Yearbook Committee." He smirked leaning against his palm, "That was the only class you would actually wear your much needed glasses in. They were cute but-" "I didn't think so." You chimed in smiling with him, "So one day after a comment someone made I broke them in there and threw them away." "And the next day?" He asked with a knowing smirk. "They were back on my desk good as new with a note from anonym-Bruce!" You finally pieced it with a gasp. "I loved those things on you and they didn't look cheap." Bruce said picking at the table, "I had a huge crush on you back then too so that didn't help." "You had a crush on me?" You asked holding a hand on your heart. "Yeah me and every other guy in school. You were just so likable. Lovable even that I thought it was just a natural feeling. I thought they went away from my head when the other guy moved in but seeing you again proved me wrong." Bruce chuckled without humor "I thought I was stupid compared to you. I thought you felt the same but to be honest when the squad would go get snacks during halftime....you were the reason I stayed to watch the halftime show.." You smiled shyly looking at your lap. "Really?" He asked shocked, "It's a god awful shame. We would've been amazing together. If the stupid social classes hadn't been so strict back then." "It's horrible. That the guy I loved and who loved me back, we didn't have the guts to admit it until more than a decade later." You said laughing dryly before looking up, "That doesn't mean we still can't be amazing together." Bruce stood walking towards you but sighed walking back to the window, "We can't (F/N). Not anymore. I can't risk it now that I have someone else in me. Someone with so much rage. I can't risk hurting the one person who fought to keep me safe." "You can't stop something that's meant to happen from happening though either. Not even the big guy can do that." You said walking behind him wrapping your arms around his waist. He held your arms in his sighing with his head down. "I refuse to hurt you." "Then don't." "It's not that simple." "We can make it simple." You said tugging his arms around so he faced you, "We take it back. All the way back. Back to seventeen. Let's be seventeen again, Bruce." He smiled softly down at you. That wouldn't have made sense to anyone else but Bruce knew. He knew not to question you and to just live in the moment like he wish he had the balls to at seventeen. He gathered you into his arms. "Let's just be normal and seventeen. Watch Pretty in Pink, drink beer, take off our clothes, dance and shit. Hell I don't know. Don't you want a life with me-" he cut off your rambling with his lips as he spun you around gently like he wished he would have at Prom that one night years ago. For a second. A split second. He opened his eyes and you were back in the uniform and he was back in his marching outfit. The both of you, young, reckless, and pimply. And not caring. And so it stayed that way.

#bruce banner #nerd x prep #the hulk #bruce x reader #marvel #marvel imagine

0 notes