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studiojeon · 3 years ago

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bitterness in goodbye | jjk

this is part of my troubled outsiders series. sadly, you can't read this as a stand alone (meaning: feel free to check the previous parts ♡)

| summary | - You can’t help but feel a little sad when Jungkook doesn’t refrain from cuddling your arm after pleading to forgive him. You wish you could cuddle him instead, that he would lay his head on your chest as you play with his soft hair, but you recognize there are some things you just can’t have.

warnings: none (?) i mean chaeryeong insults jungkook which is an atrocity in itself but-

contents: we diving into the angst my friends. jungkook is an innocent, kind hearted soul, i promise. oc's got the feels (out oct. 1) for jk. idol!jungkook × student!reader.

author's note: I EDITTED THIS FROM MY PHONE DO YOU UNDERSTAND HOW FUCKING ANNOYING THAT IS? also, thank u for the amount of support i've been receiving lately, i appreciate everyone lots. feel free to ask away or suggest anything btw, i would love to write for any prompts you guys come up with. 💞💗💖💘💓💕

words: 1.57k

playlist: honey by halsey

Four weeks later, the receptionist of your apartment complex hands you over a cardboard box with the hoodie Jungkook and you had talked about that day on the Han River. Jungkook kept pestering you to please please please send him your address for confidential purposes, which you knew had to do with his determination to literally provide anything that catches your eye right away. You assumed it was a sensitive topic for the boy whether people had purposefully taken advantage of his money before, so you didn’t dare to say anything when the man asked you for your size literally two hours after he dropped you off, scared to either reject his solidare intentions or piss him off for bringing unwanted memories back. In your defense, your personality type keeps oscillating between INFP and INFJ so it’s only natural that you take extra care to make sure those around you have as much peace of mind as possible in your presence.

As pretty and comfortable the piece of soft clothing is, an important factor is missing, something that you can’t recreate buying two of the same size and color, and that is Jungkook's escence and how good it looks on him in comparison to anyone else in the world. Meaning, you didn’t like it as much as you thought initially would. And it absolutely did not have to do with the fact that your short stature made you look like a toddler who stole their dad’s jacket.

Still, in order to show Jungkook how much you appreciate his gift, you bring it to work the next day, and the rest of the days after that, with the excuse that with winter rolling around you needed something to keep you warm in the office. Jungkook doesn’t miss the opportunity to confirm your assumptions regarding your appearance whenever he barges into your office randomly throughout the week, arguing that ”you look so adorable” and doesn’t stop for two weeks more, until he gets used to seeing you wearing something you shared with him. Which doesn’t help ease your growing romantic feelings for him whatsoever.

Because yeah, you liked Jeon Jungkook, just like every human being with eyes and sexual desires, except, you didn’t just like him in a superficial way, and that’s where the problem with him resides. Though you are sure everyone has fallen in love with the endearing boy at some point - especially the excluded and invalidated women of society - you can’t help but place some blame on you for allowing yourself to be swooned so goddamn easily. Your mom had said to you at some point to be wary of the way some men would talk to you when you grew up, their intention usually being getting inside your pants, which has happened to you more times than you'd like to admit. And with the argument that she knew you better than anyone, she claimed you would comply right the second someone talked sweet to you; you despised the fact that was the case with Jungkook (and Jungkook only), although he had never shown any sexual innuendos. What your feelings could do to your relationship with Jungkook and your rather chill lifestyle scared you to death, shiver me timbers and all that shit, having romantic feelings for someone else is embarrassing, especially when your chance with them has been scratched out the second you laid eyes on them.

Jungkook sits on your couch, legs spread on your thighs as you two pretend to watch some series on netflix. “I don’t buy for a second the act you’re putting on right now.” he speaks randomly after staring at your deep-in-thought state for a few minutes and laughs when you snap at him for not letting you overthink in peace. “What’s going on?”

Truth is, you don’t fucking know. A few hours before he arrived at your place (you had to pick him up at the dorm and sneak the both of you through the subterranean parking lot, because god forbid someone saw Jungkook arriving at some chick’s dorm on a saturday afternoon) you swore you would be able to conceal whatever emotional turmoil you had going inside of you without compromising your regular behaviour around the man, but when push comes to shove, it’s impossible to keep yourself from wondering how far you could go before that special someone found out what was going on inside of your head.

Jungkook’s phone rings in his pocket with some annoying tone he had downloaded illegally from youtube the same day the company had handed over the device as a gift for him (you still were a little bitter over how they neglected the rest of the staff but you also knew it was kind of impossible for the human kind to just gift a-thousand-dollar-phones to almost five hundred people out of solidarity). “Hyung?” he picks up, still wary of your unusual behaviour, concerned eyes looking at you. “No, uh- i’m with Yugyeom right now.” and your heart shatters into a million pieces.

You have been suspecting for a while that Jungkook is being hesitant to introduce you to his social circle. Although, you’ve tried your best not to take it personal, it is getting harder to resist the urge to ask him what the fuck is up with that. The fact that Jungkook had to lie about the person he was hanging out with broke your ego; he could’ve just said he was with a friend, right? You suddenly feel like you’re fifteen again, when the guy you liked would love you in the dark but pretend he didn’t know you in the light.

Holding your tears back, you gently push him off and make your way towards the bathroom in the most nonchalant way you could. This is your fault for falling for the nice popular guy in the first place, you remind the reflection staring back at you. Still, as bad as it hurt, there was no way you were going to cry over a stupid boy, let alone when he was literally sat on the next room. He can go fuck himself if he thinks he can just toss this behind as if nothing ever happened.

You text Chaeryeong instead.

“chaery bom bom: i swear to god i gonna throw hands the next time i see the bitch.

chaery bom bom: like who the hell does he think he is? fucking squidward looking asshole.

chaery bom bom: he ain’t even that cute bub, you’ll get over him. i know jinyoung wouldn’t treat you like this”

You sigh. Chaeryeong has been enamored with the idea of you and his former company colleague from GOT7 since the day she met the guy (which was somewhere around ten years ago), and although he was all that, you didn’t like his quiet and cold aura, it intimidated the fuck out of you (Jungkook was the entire opposite of that).

You spray on some perfume just to have an excuse as to why you randomly ran to the bathroom when Jungkook’s inquiring eyes stare as you sit back on the couch, which is exactly what he does. “You done with your call?” you ask, bitter.

Jungkook frowns, a bit taken aback by the sudden question but still unaware of the way his words had made you feel, not even sensing the hostile change in your mood. “Yes, it was one of our managers. He was wondering if I could come back to reshoot some...-thing.”

Okay, now you kind of understand as to why he lied in the first place and to say you feel guilty is an understatement. “I supposed he backed down once you mentioned you were hanging out with Yugyeom.” playfulness makes its appearance on your tone and Jungkook rolls his eyes at you, tongue poking on the inside of his slightly red cheeks.

“Sorry for that” he moves closer and cuddles your arm, like a sad guilty puppy. “It’s just- I don’t want them asking questions''.

You understand. He is a very reserved and private person after all. It took you a bit to crack him open yourself. Plus, you kind of share that trait with him, you’d hate it too if people were constantly on your nerves for the people you decide to hang out with.

And that’s all it takes to forgive him. Not very cash money of you.

“You better not pull that shit again, though” you shift in his hold and he looks up at you. One look into your eyes and he knows what you mean. “I’ll kick you out.”

After nodding, Jungkook resumes his concentration on the series you picked out for him. Due to your short attention span, you are very picky about what you invest your time in, especifically with audiovisual pieces of media, so Jungkook trusts you whenever you recommend something on very rare occasions. As a matter of fact, Jungkook was busy attacking your kitchen counters for snacks (which you didn’t have) when you mentioned Money Heist. “Munch on some grapes instead” you suggested to soothe his disappointment.

You can’t help but feel a little sad when Jungkook doesn’t refrain from cuddling your arm after pleading to forgive him. You wish you could cuddle him instead, that he would lay his head on your chest as you play with his soft hair, but you recognize there are some things you just can’t have.

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isoldmysoultojonahclemence · 3 years ago

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Clemence Father

JONAH’S ROUTE JUST CAME OUT ON IKEREV TW AND I’M ON PART 12 AND I RLLY WANNA CAUSE SERIOUS BODILY HARM TO JONAH AND LUKA’S FATHER RN. I TALKED ABOUT HIM BEFORE ON LUKA’S EVER AFTER POST HERE BUT NOW IMMA TALK ABOUT IT AGAIN BC BELIEVE IT OR NOT, HE’S AN EVEN BIGGER ASSHOLE IN JONAH’S ROUTE.

BUT ANYWAYS HERE’S WHAT HAPPENED.

SPOILERS FOR JONAH’S EVER AFTER UNDER THE CUT

(ps the screenshots all have that orange recording button bc i want to look at them without having to go through the entire route again. sorry if they’re kinda annoying!)

Aight, so Jonah proposed to MC (well, he kinda just announced that MC is his fiancee from now on but whatever), and he decided to bring her to the Clemence house for this party to meet the family. Luka was there as well, standing in a corner. MC kinda wanted to join him in the corner as well, but Jonah dragged her off to meet his relatives. But they all seemed to dislike MC because she’s not from a good background.

Then, this dude enters the scene:

[Translation:

A dignified-looking man walked over here, looking at me, who is standing by Jonah, in surprise.]

And then, when Jonah goes to introduce MC as his fiancee, his father cuts him off by saying that he never heard of Jonah having a fiancee before. Like, Jonah was in the middle of a super serious and sincere introduction and his father just interrupted like that in a super cold voice. I was already starting to dislike him at this point, but I didn’t wanna fight him just yet.

Also, here’s something that kinda surprised me:

[Translation:

(His looks seemed to be similar to Luka’s, but his disposition...

(It seemed to be 50 times scarier than Jonah when I first met him...)]

I found it kinda weird how Luka actually took after him in terms of looks more than Jonah did??? Like, my original headcanon was that Luka didn’t actually look very similar to his father, which could be part of why he was ignored so much, but I guess he was ignored even when he looks like his father. Ouch.

Also, whenever the Clemence father makes an appearance, the thing that MC talks about the most is how scary/stern his disposition is. He must be someone really ruthless to warrant that kind of description.

After that, his father goes on to guess that Jonah had made the decision to bring MC without consulting anyone in his family because he knew that his decision would be opposed. I suppose that Jonah’s father does know him quite well, but it actually unsettles me more, because he seems to have no regard for the effect he has on his sons. Like, Jonah literally had to fight to keep his head up under such pressure.

So Jonah goes on to explain why he chose not to tell anyone about it, but his father interrupts him AGAIN with this huge speech about how the Clemence bloodline cannot be mixed with a bloodline of unknown origins. They have kept his tradition for hundreds of years, and that every single heir has accepted this fact and chose to marry someone of high social standing.

Jonah, naturally, was pretty angry, and told his father that he has gone too far. But guess what? This dude ignores him YET AGAIN and tries to convince MC to marry Levie instead of Jonah. Seriously. No wonder Jonah never listens to anyone else if this was the role model he had. I’m really starting to grit my teeth at this point.

Also, something concerning is how Jonah’s father knew that Levie is after MC, since that was classified information. Jonah confronts him about him, but he brushes it off by saying that he was the former Queen of Hearts and he has all the information sources he need. I wonder how powerful he was when he was Queen if he was still so influential in his retirement. And yeah, he totally strikes me as the sort of guy who would order Claudius to assassinate people...

But anyways, Jonah’s father tells him that he’ll pretend as if he heard nothing and walks off, even though Jonah tried to tell him that he wasn’t finished yet. What a guy.

Jonah leaves MC with Luka and goes after his father. Luka takes MC to his room and tells her something really sweet. He tells her that to trust “that guy” (Jonah) and to wait for him, which really showed his reliance on his older brother. Like, even though he rejects Jonah a lot and avoids him, deep down inside he still believes in Jonah.

And after a few parts we get a flashback where Jonah recalls the conversation he had with his father after he goes after him, and this is where my blood starts boiling.

So the Clemence father reminds Jonah, in a pretty harsh way, that when he had rejected marriage alliances in the past, he has always said that he’ll find someone better. He then goes on to call MC “that kind of person” (as in, a person of low birth and social standing), and Jonah gets pretty mad at him for that:

[Translation:

Jonah: Even if you’re my father, I cannot allow you to call her “that kind of person”...!

Clemence Patriarch: Don’t change the topic!

Hearing his father’s roar of fury, Jonah wasn’t scared in the slightest, and instead glared fierily back at him.]

I find it kinda interesting how the game refers to Jonah and Luka’s father as “the Clemence Patriarch” instead of “Clemence Father” or something. That would probably make more sense, because the term “Patriarch” can refer to a grandfather, an uncle, a cousin, etc., not necessarily a father. But I guess this highlights how his identity as a patriarch is prioritized before his identity as a father.

And then this scene happens:

[Translation:

Clemence Patriarch: Whatever you say! There is nothing more to say, get out.

Clemence Patriarch: In order to prevent the failure of the first, we still have a second.

Clemence Patriarch: I will disown you as my son, and make Luka the heir of the family, and then he’ll be the one to marry a high-born noble lady.]

DUDE WTFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF

IT DOESN’T WORK LIKE THAT??????????? YOU CAN’T JUST DECIDE THAT YOUR SON IS A FAILURE WHEN HE DOES ONE (1) THING AGAINST YOUR WILL AND TOSS HIM OUT AND MAKE YOUR OTHER SON THE HEIR???????????????????

Honestly he makes Jonah and Luka sound so expendable, and that’s really not okay. They’re human beings, his own SONS, not an object to be thrown away when it served its use. Like, if I had any doubts about why Luka left his family before, this scene just explained everything. Who would want this guy as their parent?????

And of course, as the best nii-sama in the world, Jonah caves.

[Translation:

Even though he wanted to follow through with his own ideals, he couldn’t let his important brother, Luka, be sacrificed.

Not only would Luka have to bear the burden as the heir, a burden that he has been bearing for many years,

And he would marry some lady who he has never met before, this absolutely cannot happen!

Jonah: Just this one thing...please don’t do it.

Jonah could only bend to his father’s will.]

JONAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH MY POOR BBY LET ME GIVE YOU A HUG (っ˘̩╭╮˘̩)っ

He’s literally in an impossible position right now. If he wants to marry the love of his life, he would have a sacrifice his precious brother, and if he wants to protect his brother, he would have to sacrifice his fiancee. If he wants to keep them both safe, then the only real solution would be to leave the Clemence family.

Come on, Cybird. Y’all made him turn against the Red Army in his original route and now you’re making him turn against his family now??? When will the torture for Jonah and his stans ever end??????????

And here’s a few other lines from the Clemence Patriarch to disgust you:

[Translation:

Clemence Patriach: I am a generous and maganimous person.

Clemence Patriach: As long as the Clemence bloodline is protected, I don’t care if the heir is you or Luka.]

......I literally have nothing else to say.

Istg this dude is the worst parent in the Red Army, and the Red Army is already brimming with awful parenting skills. Lancelot’s father pretty much neglected him and Edgar’s uncle straight-up abused him, but you could still tell that they cared about their sons in their own little twisted ways. Lancelot’s father eqipped him with all the skills he would need to be King, and Claudius took all responsibility for the Bright family business in the end, protecting Edgar. And then we have the Clemence father who’s all like: i MaDE TwO kIDS foR a reASoN anD ThAt iS To HAVE ONE OF THEM REPLACE THE OTHER/USING ONE OF THEM TO THREATEN THE OTHER IF THEY MESS UP. ALSO NEITHER OF THEM MATTERS APPARENTLY BC THEY’RE BOTH JUST TOOLS FOR CARRYING ON THE BLOODLINE.

DUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUDE.

I get that this is only part 12 and he’s probably going to have a redemption scene or at least some whitewashing at the end, but STILL. I really, really, really, really, really don’t like Jonah and Luka’s father.

#ikemen revolution #ikerev #jonah clemence #luka clemence #clemence father #clemence patriarch #ikerev jonah #ikerev luka #i literally hate him so much #i thought claudius won the a+ parenting award #but nah #this guy obliterated him #best nominee no doubt #god i hate him so much

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saby-chan · 3 years ago

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Fire Lord Ozai: A blood thirsty monster or the less fortunate “Zuko” of his generation?

Hello again and thank you as always for clicking and allotting some of your time to read my humble post! Since I’ve happened to notice quite an increase in posts lately regarding the controversial character and nature of the former Fire Lord, the now imprisoned fallen prince Ozai, and I’ve personally promised in my previous post that I will share my own analysis on him if people asked me to do so (which actually happened), I am here to deliver my own take on this very intriguing man’s character, while also building a potential past for him based on stuff gathered from the show’s cannon.

I would like to start this essay with what I find to be my favorite quote ever: ”Monster’s aren’t born, they are created.” ~ Naruto Uzumaki (Naruto) What I like about this quote soo much and find very inspirational is the truth it holds within its short, yet powerful message. We are often fast to judge a “book by the cover”, to reduce others to what we assume of them by their appearance or latest actions that we’ve seen them do, but never actually take a moment and wonder where they come from, if this person we soo harshly look down upon really has been this way since their very beginning?

I’ve come across many comments on social media related to ATLA, especially on YouTube videos on which people would throw with harsh comments such as “Aang being a coward for choosing to spare the villain just because they saw a dumb baby pic of them” or “Ozai is the essence of evil and even as a baby he’d been a monster”. I can’t help but wonder who hurt these people to make them be so cruel? Like, how messed up must you actually be to say that a baby, a friggin baby, is the embodiment of all evils? Or that a child was a coward for choosing to see his opponent’s last bits of humanity and opted to spare them?

Aang was soo morally conflicted about the idea of killing Ozai not only because it contradicted the morals of his people, but because he himself understood that this man hadn’t always been the cruel beast he came to met in their first and final showdown. It’s important to note here the fact that upon finding that picture, Aang was actually convinced it had to be Zuko as a baby since it looked so innocent and cute and was actually surprised to learn it was Zuko’s father. And that’s the thing, Ozai was born like us all as an innocent and sweet baby. Babies aren’t in any way evil or twisted, they don’t even have the notion of ‘good’ and ‘evil’ defined in their small, still developing minds. In fact, the very choice of the creators to add this picture in the show is meant to tell us this very thing: this man wasn’t always like this. But if he wasn’t always like this, then what happened to make him become this way?

Well, in order to find out the reason, we must go back in time to the very beginning: Ozai’s childhood and upbringing. For this next part I am going to solely focus on the show cannon, as the comics aren’t the products of BryKe and have a lot of inconsistencies to the source’s cannon (you can go and read my other post on why they fail when it comes to Zuko’s character and his family).

From what we know and can easily deduce by ourselves just from their appearances, Ozai and his brother Iroh have a huge age gap between them (somewhere between 10 and 15 years). This has to be our first red flag: isn’t it soo odd that this family opted to have their children at such a long distance between pregnancies? It almost feels as if Ozai hadn’t actually been part of his father’s actual family planning... In other words, he was a ‘mistake’ child (I actually hate having to use this terminology, but it will become relevant to when we expand on Azulon’s relationship with his sons). Sure, some may argue that Azulon actually decided to have two sons in case something were to happen to his first born, but wouldn’t it have been more logical to have his second born at 2-3 years max distance from his first? Why choose to have your second child when you are much older and thus risk having a baby with issues, if your sole purpose of this child is to serve as an insurance that you don’t ‘run out’ of heirs? It just doesn’t make much sense, so let’s go for the moment with the possibility that Ozai was an unplanned pregnancy.

This perspective actually gives way to another very interesting aspect: remember the infamous “Born lucky...Lucky to be born” quote? What if I tell you that there is a possibility that this quote wasn’t Ozai’s personal wicked invention, but actually something he himself heard from his very own father? It had been puzzling me for a long time why he choose to say “You were lucky to be born” to Zuko, which implies that Zuko wasn’t supposed to exist. I mean, it’s soo odd that Ozai went with something implying that Zuko was an unplanned pregnancy, since Zuko was the first born. So my theory is that maybe Ozai wanted to convey a different message to Zuko when he said that quote, but due to his anger he ended up replicating the same line he received from Azulon at some point in his childhood. We never got the exact flashback when the line was delivered from Ozai to Zuko, so we don’t have the exact context that lead to it (remember, we are excluding Yang’s take on the matter from the comics).

I mean, this feels like something that wicked old Azulon would have said to his least favorite child. Okay, so let’s go with the scenario that Ozai was an unwanted child, to which we could also add the possibility that Ilah’s health deteriorated after the first birth, which makes plausible the family’s initial decision of stopping at 1 kid.

Moving on, we know from the old ATLA character wiki’s that Ozai’s character design was made with Zuko in mind, being meant to be a grown up version of Zuzu, without the scar. An interesting choice indeed and even Iroh’s letter to Zuko on Ozai from one of the ATLA books describes Ozzy in a similar way to teenage Zuko in book 1: stubborn, feisty, determined and with a volcanic personality (easy to anger and competitive), so it means that these were intentional choices to imply that Zuko and his father are more similar than we were led to believe at first glance. Maybe Ozai was the “Zuko” of his generation. Also, in one of the interviews on the royal family, BryKe stated that Ozai worked very hard to get where he is in book 3, referring to his firebending specifically (we all know how Ozzy got the throne, so clearly, he didn’t “work hard” for that), so maybe he wasn’t always the strongest man alive, with the most exceptional firebending skills out there, like Azula who showed ease in her learning, but rather someone closer to Zuko’s weaker performance as a child, building his way to success through endless hard work until he became the prodigy we know today.

Continuing with our theoretical scenario, after his birth, the second child show’s lesser skills compared to his brother Iroh (by that I don’t mean that he wasn’t gifted at all, but that maybe Ozai wasn’t as fast and great of a learner like his big bro), so Azulon opts to just ignore him and continue focusing solely on his golden child. In my headcannon I actually think that Ilah survived the birth and so she was left in charge of the younger child’s education and upbringing. At this point Iroh is already 10 or older, so he is forced to focus on his development, which prevents him from spending time with his lil brother, but just for the sake of being positive, let’s assume that Ozai still had both his mother and his big brother to keep him sheltered from Azulon’s darkness for a small portion of his childhood.

I choose to believe that Ozai had his mother’s love for a small bit of his childhood due to his willingness in the show to allow Ursa (who mind you, as the granddaughter of Roku was considered a treacherous individual) to spend a ton of time with both Zuko and Azula and share her philosophy with the children, as seeing his wife playing with their children probably reminded him of his own bitter-sweet memories he had with Ilah. They also probably spent a lot of their time near the turtle-duck pond since that pond’s existence prolly dates long before Ozai and Ursa married and had their own children.

Unfortunately, Ilah dies and little Ozai remains all alone, to be influenced negatively by his father (and even by his grandpa Sozin, we don’t really know for certain when the old man died, so he prolly was there for a short time when Ozzy was still a child). Azulon most likely blames Ozai for his wife’s death as the second birth might’ve really had a huge toll on Ilah’s already fragile body, bringing her closer to death, so he still neglects and ignores the child, if not straight out bullies and abuses him for not being on par with Iroh. This prolly leads to Ozai becoming jealous of his brother since Iroh has their father’s love, pushing them further apart. I headcannon that this jealousy between the siblings led to Ozai complaining to his dad when he finally had too much of their father’s discrimination (at a similar age to when Zuko prolly did and got the infamous line, if not younger) only to get the “Iroh was born lucky, you were lucky to be born!” line with the sole purpose of hurting him since now the child knows that he was never wanted.

When Azulon scolds very furiously adult Ozai in Zuko’s memories for daring to ask to be named crown prince, he literally says something like “What, you dare ask me to betray MY own son?!” (this is like red flag number two), line that pretty much testifies how Azulon chose to pretty much treat Ozai as if he wasn’t his son too, showcasing how much he despised his second born and favored the first child over him. Since we are on the topic of their last conversation, the punishment Azulon gave to his son alone proves this man’s level of sadism, which leads me to be believe that Ozai’s childhood was full of this type of punishments for bad behaviors that could be easily corrected trough a long serious lecture or a lesser punishment focused more on teaching him an actual lesson.

The old wikis also mention on the page about the hall with portraits of the previous Fire Lords that it was the place where Ozai chose to spend most of his time in his youth, seeking advice from his ancestors. I mean, seriously now, if he had a good and supportive father and a present brother in his life, would Ozai had chosen to seek guidance from the dead instead of his living family? That piece of information that was easily overlooked by many proves how lonely this man was in his youth.

So for the most part of his life, Ozai grew up under the toxic influence and abuse of his tyrant father who refused to acknowledge him. Yet he managed to grow up still full of determination to one day prove his worth to Azulon and gain his acceptance (just like we saw with Zuko in book 1, who was desperate to regain his honor and be accepted by his father). But unfortunately, no matter how strong he became or how good of a firebender he was, Azulon was unmoved and unphased by his second son’s performance.

From what we could gather from the little info we received in the show, it seems that Ozai was never sent to the battle field to aid his older brother, being kept as a stay home prince, with the only occasion he actually left home being to search for the Avatar (I don’t think Iroh was sent to do his part on searching the Avatar since he strongly believed that there wasn’t going to ever be one, so it’s safe to assume Azulon assigned Ozai with this mission just to get rid of him for a few years) and the only purpose he ever served to his father was to become part of the old man’s genetics experiment in order to create strong unparalleled firebending offspring (which I am pretty sure were meant to be ‘biological war machines’ used by Azulon in the war, as he didn’t really seem to give a shit about Ozai’s children compared to Lu Ten). So just imagine the level of disappointment and dishonor Ozai must’ve felt as a man and young aspiring soldier to find out that he was going to be used like a ‘non-bending daughter’ in a strategical marriage and never get to serve his country in what he’d been taught was the greatest and most important war for their Nation.

All in all, this marriage didn’t really end up that badly because it seems he and Ursa were actually very compatible. The old wiki for Ursa states that she was a noble woman and the perfect match for Ozai, which leads me to believe that show Ursa was intended to be a very strong willed and determined woman who earned his respect. The show never stated that Ozai never wanted his first born or that he was disappointed with Zuko from birth like the comics say, so it’s safe to assume that Ursa and Ozai actually ended up falling in love at some point since they had not one, but two kids with relatively a short time in between pregnancies.

There are actually many signs in the show that actually prove that these two loved each other and Ozai didn’t abuse his wife: from the fact that they went every year to see Ursa’s favorite play despite Ozai hating the poor performance of the Ember Island Players (I mean, what man would do such a sacrifice as to endure the same torture every single year just to make his wife happy if he never loved her?), Ursa’s undeniable and sincere love for their children (in the show it was never stated that Ursa saw Zuko and Azula as someone else’s children, so if she were indeed an abused woman who was forced to have these children, she wouldn’t have ever loved them to such an extent, especially Zuko who resembled his father the most physically), the fact that Ursa had equal rights in their marriage and raising of their children (her even scolding and grounding Ozai’s favorite child without hesitation), to the most significant scene to the Urzai ship in Zuko’s flashbacks: Ozai sitting troubled all alone in Ursa’s favorite spot by the pond, in a sad and brooding atmosphere, after he lost her, instead of celebrating what had to be the happiest day of his life since he was finally crowned Fire Lord (it’s clear who had more importance in his heart: Ursa meant more to him than the throne, so losing her outshined his achievement). In fact, Ursa must’ve been the only thing that still kept him outside of the darkness that threatened to swallow his heart and once he lost her, Ozai had nothing else to keep him on the right path.

And even as a father, it seems that Ozai wasn’t always cold and distant to his children, as his true self depicted in Zuko’s memories on Ember Island shows him caring for both of his children, even holding Zuko close to him with a protective arm on the boy’s shoulder. Except the Agni Kai, there don’t seem to be any instances in which he was physically violent towards his son before the banishment (Iroh literally let Zuko in to join that faithful war meeting willingly. Would’ve he done that if he knew his brother to be very violent towards his children in case they disobeyed? If yes, then it would make Iroh actually very questionable on a moral standpoint) and even on an emotional level, I don’t really think that he was actually abusive to him (at least while Ursa was there) because from Zuko’s conversation with Zhao, he’s adamant that his father will take him back and even states "You don't know how my father feels about me. You don't know anything!", meaning that the father he used to know showed him a level of respect and genuine affection (if Ozai were to bully Zuko since the boy’s very early childhood, do you think this kid would grow up to be so sure that his father wants him around and would he defend this bully when someone badmouths them in front of him?).

Even with Azula, despite people demonizing her from early childhood and saying that she was manipulated since birth by Ozai to become a war machine, I do believe that she shows genuine love and affection towards her father. I do choose to believe that back in the good times when the family was happy, Ozai spent quality time with his daughter, filling in the gap left by Ursa’s neglect. I theorize that the reason why kid Azula badmouthed her grandpa and uncle was because she was being very protective of her father: since she used to like spying and eavesdropping, it’s safe to assume that she prolly witnessed many instances in which the old man bullied or insulted Ozai, favoring Iroh over him. It’s a bit harder to see it that way since her snarky comments involve dark topics, but since they live in a society governed by power and war, I see them as something similar to if Azula would’ve said “Uncle sucks and he will surely be fired from his job!” or “Grandpa is old and weak, he should leave the family business to dad!”. Even the fact that the only thing capable of shattering her to pieces was her father leaving her proves how much she cared for him. Ty Lee and Mai’s betrayal was a big blow on Azula’s control and sanity, but she didn’t breakdown until Ozai discarded her after his coronation as Phoenix King. There’s nothing more painful in this world than to be left behind by the person you loved the most and was there by your side your whole life, whom you wanted to follow to world’s end and back. That was the moment Azula finally realized that the father she used to know and love was actually gone and had been in fact, long gone for years at this point.

But if Ozai cared for his family what made him change? Easy, it all comes back to the fact that his father never acknowledged him. The throne doesn’t seem to be his ultimate goal in life since Ozai discarded of the Fire Lord title very easily, tossing it to Azula without any remorse or hesitation. It was more about the meaning behind getting the crown: replacing Iroh in the line of succession was the ultimate proof of his father’s acceptance, that he wasn’t only a “mistake” and “failure” in his father’s eyes, but since Azulon ended up saying and doing what he did, backfired Ozai and made him understand that no matter how hard he tried, the old man will never see him for what he is. So yeah, for a proud man like Ozai this was a hard defeat to swallow, which in turn sparked his strong desire of winning the war and becoming the king of the world: if Azulon wouldn’t accept him even in death, then Ozai will prove to the whole world that he was above his father and his “perfect” brother by accomplishing what they never could and even better and no one was going to stop him, not even his own family.

This is what differentiates Ozai from Zuko: while both had similar upbringings, Ozai never broke away from his obsession of gaining his father’s admiration, allowing himself to fall prey to the darkness left by Azulon in his heart and abandon his true self, only to become the copy of his abuser, while Zuko stood up to his dad and chose his own destiny. If Aang were to come back around 20 or 30 years earlier, then he might’ve actually been able to save Ozai just like he saved Zuko, but unfortunately it wasn’t this way.

Do I think that Ozai could still be saved and redeemed even after the events of book 3? Definitely! Since he’s actually a broken man and still has a tiny bit of humanity left within, I think he still has a chance to change his heart. The only thing is that it’d be a long lasting process: first off he needs to spend a long time in solitude and reflect on his life’s choices and his past, understand where he went wrong and that what happened to him in his childhood is called abuse, which he ended up replicating on his own children. After he understands his wrongdoings and becomes willing to rediscover his true self, he needs to understand the truth about the war, that everything he’d known was fake propaganda and that there was nothing glorious in what he, his father and Sozin did under the excuse of “sharing their Nation’s greatness with the rest of the world!”. But most importantly of all, the only remedy that could possibly save him is love. It sound cliche, but by responding to hatred with more hate like Zuko did in the comics would never change the world “for the better” or bring it “to reality”. The only way to save both Azula and Ozai would be trough showing them the power of love, hope and empathy, how they don’t have to struggle alone and push everyone away. And especially by redeeming Azula, she would be a very important piece in Ozai’s redemption: since he had a closer parent-child relationship with Azula and cared for her the most when he did care, realizing how much he made her suffer through his actions, that would probably break Ozai enough to make him admit that he was wrong all along.

So yeah, this is my analysis on Ozai’s character using the cannon information from the show and old wikis and why I think he is just the product of a very bad environment and an abusive parent who never showed him love (if there’s a reason for why Ozai might be uncapable of showing a healthy parental love to his children is because you can’t show what you’ve never learnt yourself), being the Zuko of his generation who never got to experience the positive influence of an “Uncle Iroh” to guide him on the right path.

You can agree with me or not on this one, but this is what I choose to believe. Maybe I am way too good by choosing to see any potential good in anyone, but I feel it’s a better way than to counter hate with more hate like Yang did in his monstrous portrayal of Ozai in The Search.

Let me know your thoughts in the comments and if you agree with anything I’ve said, feel free to leave a like and to reblog this post.

See you next time and stay safe! Bye-Bye!

Saby out.

#atla #atla rant #avatar the last airbender #ozai #azulon #ursa #zuko #azula

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angstsfordays · 4 years ago

Text

Beautiful Pain (8)

Chapter Eight- It Starts Today

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Enhanced! Reader

Summary: Post-Blip, you started to feel lost when most of the Avengers team are gone. Coping with your loss, you still find hope in the connection with your remaining friends. However, it is not easy as everyone is trying to figure their lives after the Blip.

Having a long history with Bucky ever since you both saved each other from Hydra, you were still glad you had Bucky after all this time. However, as you try to give Bucky space to find himself after being pardoned for his past, you start to wonder if you should ever cross the line of friendship before it’s too late.

That thought might have to be put on hold though, when you, Sam and Bucky find yourselves having to deal with threats that continue to rise in a post-Blip world.

Chapter synopsis: You aren’t sure how to move on from the aftermath of Latvia. Was it time for you to confront your feelings for Bucky or would you retreat back, pretending as if nothing ever happened?

Warnings: Fluffiness. Slow-burn but we're getting there! Perhaps some tear-inducing moments! 😭

Word count: 61k

Notes: Hi! I’m back after my assignment submission. Currently on a short break before an exam is due in 2 weeks. Ever since the series ended, not gonna lie I was a little unmotivated to write. However, I didn’t want to let down all those who have supported this series so far.

Hope you enjoy this chapter! 🥰 Btw, I legit bawled my eyes writing the last part! 🥲

Please give support by leaving likes, comments or helping to reblogs! Thank you! 🙏🏼

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“I’m surprised you’re still here. Figured you would be resting at home after what had happened.” Melissa, the manager of the social service centre you work for came by your desk.

“Sorry, I took urgent leave.” Looking up from the backlog of paperwork that had accumulated, you gave a sheepish smile at how much you had to get done. Melissa leaned her weight on the side of your desk and glanced down to your tired eyes.

“It’s fine, Y/N. But I don’t know if diving back into work is really the best for you now. ” You closed your eyes and let out a heavy sigh. Pinching the bridge of your nose, your eyes opened to see Melissa looking down at you in concern.

You were grateful for her check-in. Despite your so-called Avengers status, she never treated you like you were special. You still recalled the day where you stepped into her office for an interview for an open position on her team. The shell-shocked expression she had when she recognised who had decided to show up for a job interview in her office on a Tuesday morning was priceless.

“I don’t understand. Why would you be applying for a regular job here? I would expect you to continue your superhero career?”

Melissa asked with a hint of doubt before looking through your resume. Tactical negotiation skills do seem like an asset they could really use here in social work….

“There’s no more Avengers now…. Besides, I’m tired of fighting and I’m ready to do something else. I like to believe the real heroic work lies in our community.”

Your response took Melissa by surprise, in a good way of course. There was no hint of superiority that you exuded. What she saw in front of her was a woman who seemed earnest to do good work for her community.

“Any other things you would like to add on to show how you can contribute to the team?” Melissa looked at you in a renewed light and she inwardly smiled at the sight of you deep in thought to find an interesting response like any other nervous interviewee.

“I’m basically a human heater. I could step up to help if the electrical heater is not working in the winter?” The expression you had on your face after giving your reply made Melissa chuckled out loud. You inwardly cringed at your seemingly lame response but eased up when you see Melissa breaking out into a laugh.

“Perfect. Welcome to the team, Y/N.” Melissa extended her hand towards you and yours eagerly reached out to return the gesture.

Working with the social service centre here in New York had been great. You had finally found renewed passion in your life after the events of the Blip and the loss of your friends.

Everyone at the office made up a close-knitted family-like working environment and it was an added bonus that Melissa was an amazing boss too and became an unexpected confidant of yours. You felt like you finally found your place once again.

“Work keeps my mind busy. I much rather be busy than being left alone to my thoughts.” You were referring to your own overthinking with the whole Bucky situation. It had only been a few days since you returned back from Latvia, but it felt painfully long.

Melissa looked over you once more in concern. She knew that you were more than willing to share your thoughts openly with her as you two have established a close friendship outside of work for the past few months. However, she knew that they were still some things that you kept to yourself in private.

While you always maintained an optimistic front, she knew that you were only human and susceptible to darker and deeper emotions especially after all you had been through.

“Hey, Joey is making a coffee run at that new coffee place around the block. They’re having a 1 for 1 coffee deal today. You want your usual?” Nodding gratefully, Melissa gave your shoulder a light squeeze before moving off.

You swivelled your office chair back to face your laptop. The words on the screen didn’t seem to focus as your mind was clouded with the recollection of what had happened after witnessing John did the unthinkable.

What he did back in Latvia had become international news the very same day, the amount of scrutiny and support for him were head-to-head on the internet. The news on television ever since you returned home had been covering it day and night. As you recalled back the order of events that happened back in Latvia, you could feel an invisible weight in your mind and heart.

Sam and Bucky went to find John while you tried to manage the aftermath of everything that had happened. You helped to settle things with Lemar and assisted in the reports that had to be accounted back to the authorities back in the states.

When Sam and Bucky returned back to find you, they filled you in on what happened and you learnt that they had to forcibly take back the shield from John. It was too dangerous to even let John have the shield anymore, given what he had done to Nico. You were sure that it must not have been an easy fight as you recalled the bruises on each man’s face.

The three of you had another meeting once everything was settled. You were disgruntled to learn that Karli and her group were once again on the run and you were all sure that she would now make sure that she’s impossible to be found.

Looking back and forth between your two boys who found themselves at a standstill, you quietly figured that this was the end of the mission regarding Karli. Even if it was for a brief moment, you felt happy to have worked with them. It almost felt like a sense of normalcy as you worked as a team again.

The reality was that you knew Sam and Bucky still had a strict working relationship and you ever wondered if there was a chance for all three of you to work together again as the Avengers. Preparing yourself for the disappointment, you silently watched as your boys exchanged silent looks once more.

“I guess this is goodbye.” You first spoke up amidst the silence. Both men looked up in surprise when you decided to voice out the reality of the situation. You walked over to Sam to give him a goodbye hug and lingered for a moment as he gave you a couple of pats on your back.

“You take care, alright? You know you can reach out to me anytime.” Sam assured you to which you returned a grateful smile.

“Of course, see you soon hopefully.”

As you pulled away from Sam, you turned to see Bucky standing with an unreadable expression on his face. Walking gingerly towards him, you wiped off the non-existent palm sweat on the side of your pants as your heartbeat started to pick up.

“Hey.” It was just one word but you felt yourself choking to utter it out. You weren’t sure how to face Bucky especially from whatever happened back with Karli.

You weren’t sure if you wanted to address the elephant in the room but you figured that you could brush it under the rug if it didn’t seem like Bucky was intending to talk about it too. There was a brief awkward silence before you decided to break it.

“I know you still have unfinished business” Bucky’s eyes glanced off to the side and then to the ground before they met yours. Bucky was not surprised that you understood him so well. Yes, he had unfinished business with Zemo and he needed to follow through with it.

However, he also wanted to badly talk things out with you. Many revelations had come to light unexpectedly from one event to another and he wanted clarity.

“You wanna come?” Giving a brief smile at his invite, you considered it for a brief second. After everything that happened from Germany to Madripoor and to Latvia, you believed you needed to take a step back.

You would have never thought that your deep-seated feelings for Bucky would ever come to light, and it was in the worst-case scenario imagined.

What should have been a private and intimate revelation had turned out otherwise. Karli had inadvertently outed you and you were forced to confront your feelings for Bucky before you were even ready.

As much you wanted to talk things out with Bucky, it was not the right timing. Not with Zemo still out there roaming freely. Unfortunately, work needed to come first in this situation and you had to let it take priority over your heart.

Immediately as you shook your head, you could see the puzzled expression painted on Bucky’s face. He did not expect your response as he figured you would have been more than willing to accompany him.

“You don’t need me, Buck.” You were wrong, Bucky thought. Yes, he could handle Zemo on his own but he wanted nothing more than to have you by his side especially since he had learnt of your deeper feelings for him. He didn’t want to let you leave just yet.

Wrapping your arms behind his neck, you pulled Bucky slightly down in an embrace before placing a short peck on his lips. “See you around, Buck.”

“Change of plans, Sam. Mind if I head back with you?” Seeing you turning your back to walk back to Sam, Bucky could feel a sense of disappointment and hurt washing over him. Tuning out Torres’ comments, Bucky stalked out of the door.

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It was not difficult to figure out where Zemo would have escaped to. As the memorial statue to commemorate those who had fallen in the events of Ultron came into sight, Bucky’s fingers clenched tighter around the gun he had been holding.

“I thought you would be here sooner. Don’t worry, I’ve decided I’m not going to kill you-” Zemo could see Bucky in his peripheral line of sight.

“Imagine my relief.” Bucky returned sarcastically. Zemo turned to meet Bucky before he continued to speak.

“Or your pretty friend.” A small smirk formed on Zemo’s face as he sees Bucky clicked the gun in his hand with a hardened look.

“You touch her and I would end you right here.” It was almost satisfying to get a rile out of Bucky and Zemo knew you were his weak point.

He scoffed at how it was clear as day to everyone that you two had something deeper beyond friendship or camaraderie. And yet, the two of you chose to never address it.

Zemo then went on to talk about how Karli was beyond redemption and that warning Sam had been a futile attempt. He believed Bucky had the will to actually do what’s necessary, given that he was indeed programmed to kill.

Bucky was seething with silent rage. He was not a killer anymore. Zemo’s mere insinuation only served to remind him how people never changed their perspective on him. Bucky responded that he would figure out a way that didn’t pander to Zemo’s drastic methods.

Raising his right arm, the gun was pointed towards Zemo. The rush of emotions overcame Bucky as he thought about how Zemo made his life hell, accusing him of a crime he didn’t commit.

Despite some truths to his words, Zemo was relentless and pragmatic in achieving his goals and he was deemed too dangerous to be left unattended.

Gripping the gun tightly, Bucky cocked back the trigger and let it go. Zemo accepted his fate, knowing he had done Bucky wrong. The sound that followed next was not as deafening as the silence that followed next. Zemo then realised Bucky had indeed managed to move on from his past and did not succumb to his darker desires to kill him.

Bucky watched on as the Dora Milajae came to escort Zemo, with plans to take him to the raft where he would face imprisonment for the rest of his life.

Ayo came up to Bucky’s and advised him that it would be best if he avoids coming back to Wakanda for the time being. Bucky agreed that it was fair.

“Give my regards to Y/N.” Bucky nodded once more at Ayo’s words, however, the masked expression on his face did not go unnoticed by the Dora Milajae’s second in command.

“Is there something wrong?”

“No, uhm-nothing. It’s fine.” Ayo gave Bucky a knowing glance before bidding him goodbye.

“Hey, I might have another favour to ask of you.”

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Sam: How have you been doing?

Y/N: Alright…I’m busy with work. :)

Sam: Have you spoken with Bucky?

Y/N: Not really, I know he’s probably finishing up business in Sokovia.

Sam: Shouldn’t he be back home by now?

Y/N: To be honest, I’m not sure. I haven’t reached out and he didn’t contact me either.

Sam: Hey, are you alright?

Y/N: Honestly….no…I thought I could distract myself with work but my mind has never been rested ever since Latvia.

Y/N: I don’t know how to face him after what went down. Just wanna bury me in a deep hole or maybe get snapped again. Hmmm….

Sam: Girl, have you gone mad?

Y/N: Maybe

Sam: Hey, why not come over to my place for the weekend? You can finally meet Sarah and the boys.

Y/N: Oh no, Sam. I could never intrude.

Sam: What are you talking about? I invited you!

Y/N: ……….

Sam: Come on! Hey, you ever been on a fishing boat before?

Y/N: Not that I could recall of….

Sam: Then that’s perfect! Come check out my family’s boat, although it’s not in the best shape. Been trying to spruce it up and get it back to its former glory….

Y/N: Alright, dad.

Sam: Hey, watch your manners.

Y/N: HAHAHA ;) See you soon!

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You were pumped to head down to Sam’s hometown for the weekend. It was long overdue after hearing about them so much.

Adjusting the strap of your duffle bag, you gingerly walked to the front door and gave a few knocks. Tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ears, you fidgeted on your toes, hoping that you would be able to make a good first impression.

When the door opened, your eyes first looked to see no one until you averted them down. You saw a young boy with glasses looking up at you with curious eyes. Mustering your best smile, you let out a warm greeting. “Hi!”

“Who’s that AJ?” You heard a woman’s voice calling after the boy in front of you.

“Mum, there’s an Avenger at the door!” The boy hollered back before running back into the house. You weren’t sure what to do next so you remained where you stood. Within a matter of seconds, the woman you had heard about so much appeared right in front of your sight.

“Oh, hi! You must be Y/N.”

“Er-yes, I am!” You returned enthusiastically and Sarah, as she introduced herself ushered you into the door. Your eyes roamed around the homey and cosy décor that filled the Wilson home.

“I didn’t expect you to show up so early! Have you eaten?” Nodding in response, Sarah pointed out to where you could put your bag down and went back to hustling in the kitchen. You told her you already had a quick bite before coming over and she looked at you with a pleasing smile.

“Sam’s actually at the dock right now,” Sarah informed you and you blanched at the thought of being by yourself without Sam to be a buffer for your first meeting with his family. However, your worries were for nothing as Sarah welcomed you warmly.

“Don’t worry, you can join me, I’m heading over too.” Her friendly demeanour eased your initial nervousness and you nodded eagerly in response.

As you and Sarah made your way over to the docks, the two of you fell into easy conversation. You learnt from her that she was struggling to keep the family business afloat and how they couldn’t even manage to get a loan from the bank.

Nevertheless, Sam was determined and managed to call in favours from their close-knitted community to chip in some help. A sudden wave of guilt washed over you when you realised that Sam had been facing real problems of his own and that you weren’t aware of it to help.

You had wished that you had been a better friend. Being the kind soul she was, Sarah dismissed your negative thoughts and reassured you that it was alright. From what Sam had spoken of you, she was eager to meet you herself.

“Sam says you always have his back when you are all out there in all the action.”

“Of course, we are a team. Sam’s a great person so it’s not hard to be there for him when he needs it.” Hearing your answer had Sarah throw a grateful smile your way. She was glad that Sam had someone he could trust while he’s out fighting the threats of the world.

As you two approached a medium-sized boat, you could make out the figure of Sam from a distance. You were excited to run up to greet him but it was the second figure on the boat that you stopped in your tracks.

A high-pitch whistle suddenly burst into your eardrums and you realised one of the pipes from the boat was loose. You saw Bucky heading down to help Sam and you gulped nervously as you continued to watch the scene happening in front of you.

You were definitely not expecting to see Bucky here in Louisiana. Why was he even here? Your eyes moved to see Sarah moving closer to where the men stood and Bucky introduced himself with a charming smile.

Sarah returned his greeting politely and looked over to Sam. “Hey, Sam! Look who I brought.”

Back turned, you were hoping to escape unnoticed, yet you were too slow as you heard Sam calling out for you.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Slowly turning your back, you were greeted by the sight of Sam and Bucky looking with equally confused expressions on their faces.

Not knowing what to say, your eyes blinked far more than times than normal as you tried to straighten up and looked convincing. “Toilet?” You muttered out hesitantly. Sam was not convinced at all as one of his brows was raised in question.

“You came all the way to my hometown, the least you could do is say hi first.” Grimacing and giving a sorry look, you made your way to the boat and Sam helped you down.

“Hey, Sam. Thanks for inviting me.” You spoke as you gave him a hug in greeting. Bucky was surprised, to say the least. He was only stopping by to drop a package for Sam but he never expected to see you here.

He had trouble reaching out to you, crafting messages every other hour and deleting them before deciding to not contact you at all. He was wondering if you were still mad at him from when he last saw you in Latvia.

“Wait, what are you doing here, Y/N?”

“Sam invited me to come to stay with his family for the weekend, like a getaway.” Meeting Bucky’s bright eyes always did something to your guts. Your breath hitched at how he could so simply beautiful with the sea view set against his back.

“Or more like I want to introduce you to my family and planned a surprise proposal so that we can be engaged by the end of the week.” Sam’s arm landed with a slight thud around your shoulders. You turned to see him wiggling his brows and donning a mischievous smile.

Eyes widening once you processed his words, you can’t help a chuckle as you knew that Sam was trying to crack a witty joke to mess with Bucky. Bucky looked like he was about to actually combust and kill Sam with his fiercest glare.

“Oh Sam, what a way to ruin the surprise. I expected you to be more romantic.” You quipped back to play along to his shenanigans. Sam ruffled your hair endearingly before looking to Bucky who didn’t seem one bit amused.

“Woah, I’m just kidding. Would you look at his face? Man, I got you good.” A wide smile broke out on Sam’s face before he started cackling.

“That’s not funny.” Buck look to the side and gave out a short sigh of relief. He looked back at you with an unreadable expression. Sensing the tension in the atmosphere, Sam believed it was time to leave you two alone.

“Remember to thank me later,” Sam whispered into your ear before giving you a pat on your shoulder. Your brows furrowed in confusion as you looked at him walking off to the other end of the boat.

Bucky still continued to stand at his spot and you took the first step towards him. He was still silent and giving you an infamous brooding stare. Bringing two fingers to the corner of his lips, you gently lifted each side up to force Bucky into a smile.

“You are going to look physically 106 for real if you continue to frown like that.” You teased Bucky in hopes that he could ease up.

“Blame Sam.” He huffed like a little child who got nagged by his mother.

“Sam was just joking. You know that.” You removed your fingers from his cheeks and Bucky immediately missed the touch that you gave.

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“Give me a smile.” Seeing your doe eyes looking at him adorably, Bucky felt his icy exterior melting. Pretending to clear his throat, he looked to the side before facing you with a tight but warm smile. His smile widened when he saw you returning a big grin.

For a moment, it didn’t feel like what happened in Latvia had crossed both of your minds. It was just back to the way things had been before. It was safe and comfortable. But was it what you really wanted?

Were you just going to ignore your feelings for Bucky forever?

“Are you two continuing to get lost in each other’s eyes?” Sam’s holler snapped you and Bucky out of your moment. The two of you awkwardly shifted before heading over to where Sam was. You both offered to help Sam on his family boat to speed things up.

It was a truly therapeutic afternoon for all three of you. Free from the world fighting and just hanging out as a bunch of friends (more so of your thought than the boys). The entire time, Bucky was subtlety (or not) flexing his strength as he took charge of most of the heavy work.

You could see the impressive looks from some of the community members that walked past and you smirked at how Bucky was trying his best to look unbothered from the attention.

“My welding machine is broken when I managed to find it, sorry Sam.” One of the elders stopped by the boat to tell Sam and he reassured that it was fine. However, you could still see his worried expression.

“I guess it’s time for me to step up.” You exclaimed while putting down the sanding paper in your hands. You asked Sam to guide you to what needed to be welded together. Extending two fingers together to mimic a gun, you gathered flame-like energy and started to weld the pieces of metal together like it was nothing.

You didn’t realise you had attracted a small crowd as everyone gathered to see the woman who was shooting fire out of her fingertips. “That’s so cool!” A young boy yelled in excitement as he jumped up and down.

Once you’re done, you looked to see the several kids clapping fervently. You gave your best smile and threw in a two-finger salute their way.

“Seems like you have fans now,” Bucky remarked to which you smirked coyly. “What are you talking about? I always have fans.”

After everything was done for the day, Sam brought you all some cold beer to end things right. Clinking your bottles, you took a seat beside Sam as Bucky talked about how he needed to get a hotel for the night before catching his flight out tomorrow.

As he spoke, he looked over to you with an expecting look before he took another gulp of beer. Sam scoffed before convincing Bucky to stay for the night with his family. Bucky still awkwardly shifted as he tried to decline the offer.

You felt a slight jab in your waist and turned to see Sam nodding over to Bucky.

“Come on Bucky, I’m also imposing here too. Don’t leave me by myself.” Just when Bucky was sure that he would flat out refuse Sam, your words managed to bring him back. He chuckled at you giving a sad puppy look before he admitted defeat.

As the three of you returned to Sam’s house, you all washed up and got ready for dinner that Sarah prepared. You offered to help despite her insistence that you’re a guest. It was such a nice peaceful moment when all of you squeezed around the now seemingly small table now that you and Bucky joined in.

Nevertheless, dinner went well and the conversations were great. AJ and Cass heard from the kids in the neighbourhood about what you did and asked you to do a little demonstration before they got silenced by their mother.

“Are you like Uncle Sam’s girlfriend?” You choked on the water that you had just drunk and Sam who was beside you helped to pat your back down.

All attention went to little AJ who looked very serious in having his question answered. All the adults at the table didn’t know whether to laugh or panic at his seemingly innocent query.

Sarah handed you a napkin to wipe your face and you smiled gratefully. Bucky was experiencing a gnawing feeling. Sure, it was a kid asking an innocent question but it bothered him more than it should. His eyes averted to where you sat and he saw how you were trying to come up with a response.

“What makes you think so, kid?” Sam quipped in before extending an arm out to wrap around your shoulders. The spoon in Bucky’s hand was on the verge of being bent into half.

“I don’t know. You never bring a girl home.” AJ’s reasoning had you giggling at his adorable nature.

“Well, how about it babe? Should we tell them?” Sam looked at you with a smug look. You turned to see Bucky trying to look neutral but you knew his irritated look when you saw one.

“Sam….” You spoke in a warning tone before he snickered. Sam threw his hands up in defeat before turning back to his nephew to explain.

“Y/N’s a friend, she’s like a buddy to me.” Sam ruffled your hair before giving a pat on your head.

“You have someone you like, Auntie Y/N? Can I call you auntie?” Cass chimed into the conversation and your facial expression betrayed you before you couldn’t even pretend.

You sent a fleeting glance to a person with bright cerulean eyes before you cleared your throat and nodded to Cass.

“It’s a secret.” You spoke with a mischievous glint in your eyes. Finger raising up to your lips, you let out a small spark of energy which wowed the two young boys. You threw in an extra wink before you all resumed dinner.

The spoon in Bucky's hand was saved from being rendered useless. Letting out a relieved sigh, Bucky's heart started to pick up again as he thought about your response.

When would he able to catch you at the right time to talk?

-------------------------//---------------------------

AJ shared his room with his mum while Sam bunked in with Cass for the night. You took Sam’s room while Bucky took the couch downstairs. Sleep didn’t come easy for you that night and you decided to make your way down.

Once you were on the last step, you could see Bucky stretched out on the small couch. You made sure to be as quiet as possible before going to get a glass of water. Once you had your drink, you walked over and stopped a few feet short of where Bucky was.

The moonlight from the window added a beautiful glow onto him and you smiled at how he had a peaceful expression on his face as he slept.

Taking silent steps, you kneeled down near to where his head was. Seeing how he was letting out soft breaths, you believed that he was deep in a peaceful slumber.

You couldn't stop yourself from reaching out to brush the tips of his hair before sliding your fingers to stroke the apple of his cheeks. You smiled to yourself looking at the endearing sight in front of you.

Figuring you didn't want to stay on acting like a creep, you stood up and tucked yourself further into the warmth of your woolly cardigan.

You tiptoed to the front door and walked out to the lake by the Wilson house.

Breathing in the fresh air, you took in the beautiful night view and admired how the moon was reflected on the lake.

“Y/N.” Your eyes were closed and you wondered if you were hearing things. When your name was called a second time, you realised it wasn't just imagination anymore.

Letting out a shaky breath, you turned to see Bucky walking towards you with a nervous look. It dawned upon you that the inevitable moment had arrived. Now that you both had a temporary moment of peace from the non-stop fighting, you figured it was time to have the talk.

Standing face to face with Bucky, your gaze concentrated on the space beyond his shoulders. You weren’t sure how to face him in the eye yet.

It felt like minutes had passed before Bucky gathered up the courage to speak first. His hands were in his pockets as he looked down on the ground awkwardly.

“Did you mean everything? Every word you said to Karli back in Latvia.” Your eyes fluttered shut before looking back to see his intense blues peering back at you.

“Why would I lie?” You answered back in a whisper. Bucky nodded in understanding before continuing. “When did it start?”

“Remember Romania? We were at the farmer’s market and you were intensely deciding between the plums or tangerines. The poor owner thought you were getting pissed at him or something.”

“That’s what did it for you?” Bucky looked confused at your explanation. He thought it would have been some sentimental or romantic moment that you had realized your feelings for him.

“It’s cute. You’re cute.” You justified yourself nervously, murmuring the last part softly.

“Your definition of cute is weird.” He mumbled bashfully as he looked down to the ground in embarrassment. Shrugging your shoulders, you started to feel shy yourself.

“Were you ever going to tell me?” You let out a hum and thought deeply before speaking.

“I didn’t want to give you something to worry about when you’re still unpacking from the Blip, Steve leaving and your pardon. I also know you had your amends….didnot felt like it was the right time. Never felt like there was ever a right time with all the crazy things happening around us.”

“To be honest Bucky, it might have been hard for me but I would have been okay to not say anything at all. Sometimes loving someone doesn’t mean you have to be with them. True love is when you just want that person to be happy.” When you realised you had used the word love, you bit your lips as if to hold your tongue.

You slapped a hand to your lips before turning your back on Bucky, grimacing at the fact that you went that far in your explanation.

Bucky felt an emotion that was indescribable in words as he processed what you had just said. He then realised that you had always been selfless for him even it meant that you disregarded yourself in the process. How could he ever deserve someone like you?

Placing his hands on your shoulder to turn you back, Bucky was a little surprised to find you tearing up. You quickly wiped them away and averted your eyes away from him. Cradling your face gently in both his hands, Bucky gently wiped away a few more tears that cascaded down.

He didn’t want to see you cry anymore. He realised seeing you like this has brought him greater pain than he could have imagined.

He was at a loss for words but Bucky knew what he wanted to do next. He leaned down to place his lips gently on yours and your hands went to rest on the spot where his neck and shoulders meet.

Bucky hummed when he felt you returning the kiss and slid his vibranium hand down to your waist to pull you closer. Putting all his feelings into the kiss, Bucky wanted to let you know what he truly felt.

He slanted his mouth to deepen the kiss. You let out a soft gasp at the surprise but it was not unwelcome. You had always imagined what it would be like to finally kiss him and it was even better than you had imagined. Your arms snaked behind his neck to pull him down while his hands roamed around your back to feel you closer.

The two of you eventually pulled away for a little air after kissing for what it seems like forever. Bucky’s thumb swiped your swollen lips before learning it for another kiss once more. “I don’t deserve you.” He muttered through his breath.

“Don’t ever say that. Stop thinking of yourself as being unloveable. Know that you're the most precious thing to me. I will go through hell and back for you, always.” You confessed with an absolute resolve before turning shy. Your eyes moved to your hands smoothing down the material of his shirt.

Hearing your confession made Bucky the happiest and luckiest man in the world. How was he able to find someone like you who loved him despite everything he was and had done.

There used to be someone like that for him. Yet, in the end, he left Bucky alone in this world. Looking down at how you were shyly avoiding his gaze, Bucky's heart tightened in a good way.

He kissed the crown of your head before pulling you in for a bone-crushing hug as if he didn’t believe this moment wasn’t real and didn’t want to let go.

Once you two pull apart, his arms were still wrapped around your waist while you held his arms. "I love you so much, doll. You're the best thing that's ever happened."

Looking up to meet Bucky's eyes with renewed confidence, you never want him to doubt your feelings for him. He had gone through so much and you just wanted to never make him feel like he's alone.

"I will always be here for you, Bucky. You are my person to love and protect for as long as I live."

Your words were simple yet they were backed by such powerful and sincere emotions. Before he knew it, tears started to well up in his eyes.

Bucky started sniffing as tears started falling down his cheeks uncontrollably.

You were surprised at the sudden turn of events and you went to wipe his tears away with your fingers.

You found yourself joining him in crying as well but you knew that they were happy tears. Bucky brought his forehead to rest on yours as the two of you both cried silently.

"You're my only person. I will love you forever." Bucky spoke quietly before he leaned in for another kiss.

The two of you didn't want to let the other go that night. Bucky suggested for him to crash Sam's room but you were sure that your friend would throw a fit the next day.

You tried to control the volume of your giggles as you squeezed to fit into the too-small couch for two. Both of your limbs were tangled messily and you both embraced each other tightly to prevent yourselves from falling down.

The rest of the night ended in endless exchanges of smiles, eskimo and deep kisses. Both you and Bucky had finally found a home in each other.

-------------------------//---------------------------

The next morning

The sunlight shone throughout the whole room and you were reluctant to open your eyes. You felt Bucky stirring behind you as he tightened his hold on your waist.

"Oh heck no, did you two dirty my couch? I didn't give up my bed for you to snuggle with grandpa here, Y/N!" A sheepish grin formed on your face before you opened your eyes to see Sam standing with his arms crossed and a mocked disapproval on his face.

"Auntie Y/N likes Uncle Bucky!" AJ exclaimed aloud as he and his brother stepped into the living room.

You felt Bucky's chest rumbled slightly behind your back and you knew that he was amused to have riled Sam early in the morning. Pulling up the thin blanket over your head as if it could save you from embarrassment, Sam continued to go on his rant.

"Morning, my love." You turned to see Bucky looking at you fondly before leaning down to kiss the top of your brow.

Today is only the start of your forever.

-------------------------//---------------------------

"Wolves are known to follow one female wolf until death."

- Moon Lovers: Scarlet Heart Ryeo

P.S This is my all-time favourite kdrama. Check it out if you haven't! I find that the male lead has many similar qualities I see in Bucky and what a coincidence that he is also known as a wolf in the show just like our white wolf here.

Tag list: @tanyaherondale @spookycereal-s @cataves @archaeoheart @conflicted-noxsirius @archaeoheart @idiotinnit @anxious-stitcher @lindseyrae20 @mads-weasley @taina-eny @intothesoul @oopsiedoopsie23 @detecellie @blueboxesandcats

#bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #tfawts #bucky barnes fanfiction #angstsfordays #marvel fanfiction #beautiful pain

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exquisitley-obsessed · 4 years ago

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Fiancés, Firebirds, Foxes and Fawns: 2

Author: @exquisitley-obsessed

Summary: A few weeks after Briallyn's attempt at uniting with Koschei, Lucien opens the door of Lockhart Manor to find Elain, cold from the rain and holding a note from the High Lady of the Night Court demanding her to assist Lucien in building alliances with the human councils. Forced to work together by their exhausted High Lord and Lady, Elain is able to convince anyone to do anything, while Lucien has the acquaintances to go anywhere he likes. Together, they attempt to unite the fae and mortal lands and unravel the deal made between Koschei and Vassa, while Lucien remains haunted by his own promise to Elain's father. ELUCIEN, POST-ACOSF

Pairings: Elain x Lucien, Elucien

Warnings: None.

A/N: This is going to be a long, slow burn fic (hopefully)

MY MASTERLIST

THIS FIC’S MASTERLIST

AO3

Chapter Two: Interrogations

Historically, it is well known for males to experience the mating bond more viscerally, though this is no strict criterion. For example, in the case of two males being bonded, the mating bond appears to be less demanding and settles with more ease. It is males mated to females who appear to struggle. There are many theories for this, such as male/female bonding resulting in strong offspring which drives the males to copulate. Some even argue that the male’s desire comes from the Mother’s lover himself, who’s believed to have taken fire into his soul in order to reach the Motherland and mate her, and it is a bead of this fire which awakens in males when they feel the mating bond catalysed. As such, we find there being many social customs regarding mated males, such as being wary of their ease to anger and protectiveness and their overtly increased sex drive which-

“Good book?” Feyre flopped down next to Elain, Nyx having just been placed in his cradle which appeared more like a cage given the mesh wiring over the top, ‘just so he doesn’t get any ideas about flying away’, Feyre had grinned.

“It’s okay,” Elain smiled at her sister as she marked her place and set it down.

“Oh,” Feyre grinned as she eyed the title, “Interested in the bond are we?” She was just teasing, but Elain couldn’t stop the flush in her cheeks, particularly given her recent discovery on just how, physical, the bond was.

“Well considering I do have mate, I thought it was about time I looked into it.”

“You can ask me anything,” Feyre smiled kindly. “I mean, technically you could ask Nesta too but, she still isn’t the biggest fan of Lucien.” Even hearing his name on someone else’s tongue sent a bolt of energy through Elain.

“Well, I was wondering…”

“Yeah?”

“Are they really supposed to be your soulmate?”

“Well, yes and no. That’s the problem with mating bonds, they sort of mould themselves around the two people it’s attached to. It’s different with everyone. Like me and Rhys, we have a really clear mental communication, I can talk to him even if I was on the other side of Prythian, but that’s because we’re both dementias and the bond’s playing to that strength.

“Nesta and Cassian, well, I can’t speak for them, but it seems they connect on world view. Their lives are inherently interlinked with death and that’s what connects them…amongst, other, things,” Feyre giggled, “It really is different for everyone. And sometimes, yes, the bond connects two people who don’t seem to fit with one another, like Rhys’ parents for example. I don’t know if you’ve got to this section yet,” Feyre nodded to the book, “But some see the bond as not restrained to time. That’s why you and Lucien felt the bond snap into place even before you knew each other. Some people think that when you have ‘poor’ pairings, they not really bad matches but rather, the bond saw the two for their potential rather than what they were at the time.”

Elain’s brow furrowed. She’d wanted to read the book to make herself feel better, she’d never admit it to herself, but she was somewhat looking for a big flashing sign that pointed to Lucien and said ‘He’s your soulmate! You’re a perfect match! You’ll never have to worry about be alone again!’. But reading the book had only made it more complicated. The reality was, Lucien was to have a significant role in her life, whether she wanted him to or not.

“But…I don’t know…” Elain rolled her neck, “Is it worth it?”

“Is what worth it? The bond?”

“No…well, yes. I mean,” Elain thought for a moment, “I just don’t understand how the universe could expect me to fight for someone who I don’t know.”

“Yeah, I do see how that’s a bit unfair but, do you not think the bond’s doing that on purpose?”

“What do you mean?

“Well, it looks like the bond is demanding you take a leap of faith. Giving you Lucien the minute you set eyes on him is, well, it changed your whole world, right?”

“I know,” Elain huffed.

“No, what I mean is…maybe that’s the point?” Feyre was now more talking to herself. “Maybe…” Feyre trailed off before turning and eyeing her sister up and down.

“What?” Elain implored, and Feyre just shook her head, deep in thought.

“It’s just, I’ve been trying to figure it out y’know, you and Lucien, I think we all have.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“No, it’s just, he’s…well he’s loud and flirty and he can’t shut up for the life of him, it’s why he’s missing that damn eye. And you’re quiet and shy, and you just, you care about everything but…” Feyre was grinning now.

“What?”

“No, no, never mind. I just…” Feyre only smiled wider.

“No, I’m not going to say!” And then Feyre was up, collecting empty mugs from the coffee table.

“Feyre, you can’t leave, you haven’t helped me!”

“I know, I know, look, truth time,” Feyre turned back around, her smile now replaced by her High Lady look, “You’re right, you don’t know if it’s worth it. You and Lucien might turn out like Rhys’ parents, or worse…but he is your mate, and he’s not going anywhere.”

“So, what, I just proposition him next time he’s here?” Elain sighed, running a hand through her hair, feeling the same kernel of disappointment in her gut whenever she thought of Lucien on the other side of the country, avoiding the mating bond, avoiding her.

“Or you could go to him?” Elain snapped her head to her sister, who was wearing an easy smile.

“What?”

“You could go to the human lands and stay with him and his, what’s it, ‘Band of Exiles’.”

“What, just show up?”

“Actually, it’s not such a terrible idea,” Again, Feyre was now talking to herself, “Lucien’s been struggling to get the humans on board and you, well you might be perfect for the job. You understand how humans work and you had to deal with paperwork from father, not to mention the fact that quite literally no one can say no to you-”

“Lucien can,” Elain grumbled without thinking and Feyre grinned at her with a stupid, all-knowing smile.

“Elain, if you wanted, I’m sure you could have Lucien crawling around on all fours.” Elain looked away from her sister, ignoring the fact that the image popped into her mind before she could stop it, and especially ignoring the way her whole body seemed to flush in response.

“The only problem might be getting Rhys on board,” Feyre’s mind appeared to be working a mile a minute. “With what happened with Briallyn he’s a bit more, well, Rhysand than usual. And you know how he sees you.” Yes, the big brotherly talks had been slightly more regular given Nyx’s arrival. Elain supposed it was Rhysand’s subconscious way of reaching out.

“I’ll be fine if Lucien is there,” Elain shrugged non-committedly, though something zipped the length of her spine as she spoke his name aloud. One thing Elain, and everyone else could be certain of, is that Lucien would keep her safe.

“Look at you trying to manipulate around your High Lord.”

“Not manipulate-”

“I know, I know,” Feyre grinned as she peered over the edge of Nyx’s crib. “Look, on a serious note, there is work that needs doing down in the human lands if you’re up for it. After Briallyn we need a stronger base to represent the fae in the mortal world. Some more eyes and ears wouldn’t hurt and, quite frankly, whilst Lucien knows exactly how to work a court of fae, I don’t know how well he’s faring with councils of humans.”

Elain thought for a moment, truly considering what it would mean if she were to take on this role. It would mean accepting responsibility, being held accountable if she made a mistake, one that couldn’t fixed with some new seeds and freshly turned soil. She’d be on the other side of the world, away from her sisters – away from Nesta – for the first time, well, ever.

“I…” Elain began softly, “I think I’d like to go.”

“Really?” Despite Feyre’s enthusiasm in discussing Elain’s potential in leaving, it was clear that she was still mostly expecting Elain to pass on the opportunity.

“I can’t tend to my little gardens forever,” Elain shrugged, “With Lucien there I should be perfectly safe and, well, it’s human territory. I know those lands, arguably better than you and Nesta.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Feyre nodded furiously, though she seemed to not really be listening to her older sister, her mind was already helping Elain pack her dresses. “I’ll speak with Rhysand and sort out the particulars.”

“Will you,” Elain blushed without meaning to, “Will you warn Lucien? That I’m coming?” Feyre shrugged, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“I don’t have to. Technically, as his High Lady I can do whatever I want, and he just has to roll with it.”

“Okay,” Elain let loose a breath, “Don’t tell him then. I’d just…I’m not sure. I suppose I’d just rather not spook him.”

“Whatever you say sis,” Feyre grinned, and Elain allowed her own lips to mirror her sisters, the excitement and reality of the adventure she was about to undertake truly setting in. Feyre turned to leave.

“Oh Feyre…let’s not tell Nesta…at least not till I’m already gone.”

***

“Hello, earth to Lucien?”

“What? Oh...sorry, go on,” Lucien muttered, shifting is attention back to Vassa whom he was supposed to be chatting to. This was their routine, when the sun finally dipped under the horizon and Vassa returned to her mortal form, she’d waltz into the manor before disappearing upstairs to change from the cloak she left out for herself into a queen’s gown. Today she’d come down wearing a deep crimson dress made of velvet, grumbling about how the storm that was currently beating against the windows, had quite literally ruffled her feathers. The evening was then to be spent in the Manor’s sitting room, sprawled on velvet couches as Jurian informed Vassa of the recent developments regarding the human councils, and Lucien told her of the fae lands.

Normally, Lucien would last till the early hours of the morning before leaving Vassa to whatever activities she wished to complete before the sun rose and her body was changed back into that of a firebird. But these past few nights Lucien had caught himself staying awake till almost sunrise, only getting an hour or two sleep before he was up again, his body alive with energy as he strode out into the woods in the early morning light.

Everything about Lucien felt unsettled and alive, and it had been that way since the previous week when Lucien had woke to his mate’s tears running down his cheeks. What could’ve upset her so badly? Had something happened at the Night Court? He would be lying if he said he hadn’t been waiting for a note from Rhysand or Feyre informing him of a terribly tragic event that had occurred when he was on the other side of the world. Even if nothing had happened, it could of, and Elain could’ve been seriously hurt. What was he doing on this side of the world? He should be there, even if she didn’t know what she wanted, at least he could keep her safe while she thought. But with no note, he didn’t know why sweet Elain was so agonisingly sad, and there was no reason besides the bond’s invasion of privacy for him to see her. But it seemed that he couldn’t relax until he found the cause of her pain. Found it and burned it to ashes.

“Lucien!”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Dinner, tomorrow evening, Nolan Manor – Mother did you get any of that?” Vassa’s eyes were light and her tone teasing, but Lucien was feeling more beast than man with his bond so wound up.

“No offence, Vassa, but I think you might be finally losing it if you think I’d be interested in dinner at the Nolan’s.” Lucien rolled his shoulders, trying to ease some of the tension as he looked back down at the book he’d been pretending to read for the past hour. He could feel Vassa’s eyes on him, assessing him as she always did whenever he came into conversation, which was far too often for his liking.

“Are you still on that?” Vassa eventually huffed, tucking her legs up under herself on the armchair. Lucien just raised a brow at her. Had anything changed? Was Graysen any less of a dickhead? If not, then yes, he supposed he was still on that.

“Our dear Lucien’s a mated male, Vassa,” Jurian quipped without raising his head from his paperwork. “It’s how these things work.”

“But it’s not really fair on Graysen is it?” Vassa flicked a fiery strand of hair over her shoulder.

“Not fair?” Lucien ground the two words out, feeling something animalistic rear its head inside of him. But beyond the primal urges of the bond and any threats to it, Lucien did genuinely dislike the boy. What he did to Elain was beyond cruel, and if he had done that to anyone Lucien would’ve still disliked the boy, granted he might not be baring his teeth at Vassa as he was doing now.

“He did give us the manor, Lucien,” the queen’s voice taunted him.

“One act of kindness doesn’t make him any less of an asshole,” Lucien’s own voice was low and daunting, as though he were daring Vassa to make another comment. Lucien hadn’t intended for his tone to turn brutal and dark, but Vassa clearly had no education in the expectations of a mated male.

“No, but he’s still the asshole putting a roof over our heads,” Vassa sighed, setting her book down. “Does it really upset you?”

“What?”

“Having him help us?”

“We don’t need his help.”

“No,” Vassa cocked her head, “But it’s certainly been of great use.”

“You like him?” Lucien spat, feeling something sour flood his gums as he pulled on his inner leash. Vassa was his friend. Vassa was supposed to be his friend, and Lockhart Manor was supposed to be the place in which he could escape from the demands of this bond.

“He didn’t do anything to me,” Vassa shrugged nonchalantly, “In fact, all he’s been to me is kind and accommodating. Why should I have a problem with him?”

“You know why.” Something feral was awakening in Lucien as he spat those three words at the queen, and in response to the autumn son’s anger, the fire flared dangerously, filling the room with the sound of snapping wood.

“Really?” Vassa’s eyes widened slightly as she assessed Lucien, evidentially amused by his grip on the chair’s armrests and the deathly look in his eye. “That girl can do this to you when she hasn’t even shown her face in-”

“Vassa,” Jurian’s sing-song voice curled into the air from where he was hunched over the worktable, signing off contracts, “Whilst it’s delicious to poke the beast, you can only go so long before it’ll bite.”

“Maybe that’s what I was hoping for,” Vassa shrugged nonchalantly as she inspected her nails. Lucien just glared into the fire, done with this conversation and done with his friends, at least for the night. Sometimes they forgot that he wasn’t like them, that he was fae, and he more or less operated in an entirely different world to them. He couldn’t blame them though, sometimes he forgot too.

Talking of Graysen had Lucien’s thoughts once more swirling of Elain. Though there was no concern in these thoughts, just admiration. He was picturing her in the cream gown she’d worn when he’d come one day to hand deliver a stack of reports to Rhysand. It was made of cotton and lace, the same hearty materials so often found in towns of Autumn. It was so unlike the favoured revealing cuts of Night Court fashion, and so Elain in every sense. The soft gold and white colours, the layered skirts and fluttering sleeves. Looking at her as she tucked herself into a small ball on a sofa, a hefty book balanced on her lap, Lucien had wished that he’d met Elain when she was human, when she was happy and content. Maybe then she would just see him for, well, him. Not a reminder of everything terrible that had happened to her.

“I’m sorry about prodding Lucien,” Vassa smiled at him, pulling him from his thoughts as her freckled cheeks dimpled. “Can I make it up to you by letting you beat me at cards?” She was baiting him, daring him to bite back that no one ‘let’ Lucien do anything but, tonight Lucien was tired. Of everything.

“I’m tapping out,” was all Lucien said in response, standing from his armchair and throwing his book down behind him. The storm was now torrential, and Lucien welcomed the chaos, somewhat comforted by the idea of lying down in the dark and listening to the rain batter against the windows as he brooded himself to sleep.

So, Lucien set off for the stairs, happy to leave his friends to themselves for the rest of the night, but he’d only managed to cross the room before a short, shy knock reverberated from the front door and sent a wave of cautious silence and shock throughout the room.

#elucien #elucien fic #elain #elain acotar #elain archeron #elain and lucien #elain/lucien #elain x lucien #lucien #lucien vanserra #lucien x elain #lucien/elain #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #fffaf

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bedlamsbard · 4 years ago

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All right, reactions to Mando 2.05, “The Jedi”, in...semi-coherent form. Spoilers, obvs. I hated this episode, so keep scrolling now if you don’t want to see negativity. This is not in any kind of order except stream-of-conscious.

again, I reiterate, spoilers.

again, I reiterate, this is REALLY negative.

Rosario Dawson...yikes.

how...did Bo-Katan know that Ahsoka was on Corvus? are they in contact? since when? Ahsoka seems to have been on Corvus for long enough to be a nuisance to the Magistrate (Morgan Elsbeth), but normally Ahsoka is very efficient and she just...really does not seem to be here? I did not get the impression she was planning on sticking around for any period of time.

(the same could be true for Frog Lady and Bo-Katan on Trask several episodes back. that wasn’t a convert, that was three Mandalorians hanging around the port in cloaks. I guess they could be doing that on the regular, but? would the Empire not then be more worried about being attacked by Mandalorians?)

there was only ever a very, very slim chance that I was going to be happy with any translation of Ahsoka from animation to live action. I am on record as thinking that animation is the medium for Star Wars and that live action is always going to be a weaker medium than animation and that a lot of things that can be done in animation just cannot be translated to live action in any meaningful form. I knew Ahsoka’s fighting style couldn’t translate to live action convincingly (here’s what I said about the mo-capped duel in TCW); it never occurred to me that they couldn’t pull off TOGRUTA given that Shaak Ti, you know, exists, and also there are so many excellent Ahsoka cosplayers.

(Consider KM Creations’ excellent silicone lekku (S7), which have beautiful movement; the cosplayer behind that is CallMeSnips and her epilogue prototype is from SWCC is in there somewhere. I think Rei Kennex’s are latex (you can tell they don’t have much movement) but at least they’re the right length. I think Ahsoka94′s are also latex (again with the movement); this is her Mortis vision grown-up Ahsoka.)

AND YES, THE LEKKU/MONTRALS WERE A DEAL-BREAKER FOR ME.

I feel very “you have made your bed and now you have to die in it” about that -- apparently the reasoning is for stunts and movement, but for me here’s the thing: her lekku length wasn’t optional. This is not the equivalent of changing a hair style, which some people seem to think (believe me, I have read so many hot takes); this is like...I’m trying to think of a good comparison. Like putting Peter Mayhew or Joonas Suotamo in a wig because Chewie’s head was too hard for the actor to see out of, or giving them normal human hands because they can’t grip with the Wookiee hands.

Also your main character wears a helmet at all times that (if it’s anything like my Mandalorian helmet) is pretty poor visibility and full body armor and THIS was your breaking point for stunts?

Ahsoka’s lekku and montrals grow as she ages. These are about S7 length; as @reena-jenkins put it, THEY DE-AGED HER HEAD. Ahsoka fans coming in know this. PEOPLE SAW THE REBELS EPILOGUE.

I wonder how many of the people being self-righteous about being totally fine about Ahsoka’s lekku are the same people who claim that Katee Sackhoff is too young to play Bo-Katan.

this also puts them in a weird position in regards to the inevitable merchandise: do they go with normal Ahsoka from TCW and Rebels, the one everyone is familiar with, or do they go with these stunted lekku?

(I can’t believe they’re going to make Her Universe sell merch with this Ahsoka on it. it’s not going to happen but I wish HU was going to be petty enough to not sell any nu!Ahsoka merch.)

Here is some nice art of how Ahsoka’s lekku and montral should have looked.

hoo boy were those prosthetics also just Bad.

“but the stunts” buddy I’m sure Pedro Pascal and his various stunt doubles aren’t having a great time in full armor with almost no visibility either

if you’re going to put the character in, do it right

YOU CAN’T CHEAT

look, I am really, really aural -- the best example I can give is that even though intellectually I know that Matt Lanter and Hayden Christensen both play Anakin Skywalker, I literally cannot parse them as both being the same Anakin Skywalker and for that reason TCW and the PT don’t exist for the same continuity for me. (This also goes for Ewan McGregor and James Arnold Taylor, Natalie Portman and Cat Taber, and Samuel L. Jackson and TC Carson. I can kinda cope with the multiple Palpatine VAs. Yes, the decision to use Hayden and Sam in Ahsoka’s vision in “Shattered,” even blending into Matt’s voice from Hayden’s, threw me so badly I couldn’t take the vision seriously.) Ashley Eckstein has a very distinctive voice, and moreover has been the only person to ever voice Ahsoka up to this point (even in the Ahsoka novel audiobook). Barring a MIRACLE I was never going to be able to parse another actress’s voice as Ahsoka’s, solely because of how my brain works.

I could probably have parsed someone else’s face because animated Ahsoka is pretty stylized but the voice thing is a huge problem for me because of how aural I am.

(I say this but when Squadrons did a more live action-style Hera -- knowing they mo-capped Vanessa Marshall I think they used Vanessa’s face for Hera’s, which is also what it looks like on the revised art and face sculpt for the Black Series Hera -- I kind of had a meltdown about it (for...weird reasons). And that was the same VA.)

(The timeskip between TCW and Rogue One, then Rebels, probably saved Saw Gerrera for me here, but he was also never a main character.)

can you believe that Sam Witwer’s Maul got more live action respect than Ashley Eckstein’s Ahsoka

I love Sam’s Maul but wow

this is particularly jarring because Dave Filoni and Ashley Eckstein always seemed like they were friends? I realize that this gets skewed by how little of their actual lives we see online, but that is the vibe that I’ve gotten from interviews and social media posts.

can you believe that TROS gave more respect to Ashley Eckstein’s Ahsoka than Dave Filoni’s Mando episode did (here is her statement on TROS.)

back in March, when the Dawson casting rumors first dropped (or leaked, as the case may be), Ashley posted a statement about it saying that she was not involved in The Mandalorian. she has over the years been very vocal about desperately wanting to play live-action Ahsoka, who is a character solely associated with her up until today, and honestly this just breaks my heart.

I am not the massive Ashley Eckstein fan that many Ahsoka fans are, but I have never heard anything bad about her (I saw her at my hotel at SWCC while I was waiting for my roommate to arrive! that’s the closest I’ve ever gotten to her, a distance of about six feet), and I really desperately hope that someone told her about this beforehand and she didn’t find out from watching the episode.

Also, while I’m here talking about Ashley Eckstein, the characterization here was extremely off, in that specific way that happens when a writer/director is working with their absolute favorite character, DAVE FILONI. I do trust Ashley to course-correct Dave on Ahsoka (in the same way we’ve heard about Sam Witwer pushing back on people about Maul), and that...was not happening here. (I think Katee Sachoff said something similar to this about Bo-Katan in her interview last week, as well.)

how did you get Bo-Katan so right and Ahsoka so wrong

look, Dave Filoni is truly living up to George Lucas’s legacy in that he can story tell pretty well but he’s not actually that great at nitty-gritty of writing and directing. (none of the really good TCW episodes are his.)

this episode made me think of A Friend in Need (which he directed) which is not, like, a BAD episode but quite notoriously includes the Bo-Katan ass-slap and also Ahsoka beheading four Mandalorians at once.

it also includes a helpless village of oppressed and exploited Asian-coded civilians who are there mostly as background scenery so the bad guys can be bad and the heroes can feel righteous

I’ll come back to that one

the level of violence in this episode was...weird. honestly, too high? in a way that probably would not have registered if it was anyone but Ahsoka. look, I am an animated shows person. I know TCW and Rebels inside and out. I know that neither one is particularly shy about killing off faceless bad guys (though if you watch Rebels S1 compared to Rebels S4 they really dial back the amount of fatal violence the main characters commit in the last season, lol). But this felt off for Ahsoka in a way I can’t really articulate.

why is Ahsoka attacking a random Mandalorian (her allies are Mandalorians!) who is walking through the woods WITH A BABY? WITHOUT WARNING?

part of that is just her movement -- when they animated her for TCW back in 2008, they made a deliberate decision to give her mannerisms and movement and a fighting style that a human can’t do because she isn’t human and animation can do that. which means that they hobbled themselves when they came to translating her to live action because uh a human can’t do that.

something about her lightsaber blades looked really, really wrong and I can’t put my finger on what. it’s like they just used the illuminated blades of the stunt sabers but didn’t do the extra CGI that the films do? I don’t know.

Ahsoka did a LOT of dramatic posing and what WAS that?

Dave can’t direct live action, that’s what that was

since when can you canonically convey that much information mind to mind

are Ahsoka and Grogu a dyad in the Force (I know the answer is no but also: what? what was happening?)

the only people we’ve seen who can do that sort of thing are Quinlan Vos and Cal Kestis, who both have the rare talent for telemetry, and even that’s not mind to mind communication, that’s touching a thing and going “YIKES”

you are telling me that Ahsoka Tano, whom six months ago we saw take on Darth Maul, a whole barrage of Mandalorian warriors, and her entire clone trooper battalion and walk away without a scratch, had to work up a sweat fighting one woman with a spear

you do know that we all saw TCW and Rebels right

and here’s the problem! this episode makes zero sense if you HAVE seen TCW and Rebels because (1) she doesn’t look right (2) she doesn’t fight right (3) timelines? we’ve never heard of them? (4) is Thrawn back? did you find the Chimaera? (you all do remember that Ezra and Thrawn aren’t out there alone and are in fact with a 40,000 man crewed star destroyer right) (5) did you NOT find them? (6) are you even looking? (7) this is supposed to be AFTER the Rebels epilogue unless you’ve decided to take advantage of that specific ending scene not being super specifically dated and if it’s before IT MAKES IT EVEN WORSE! because I desperately hate that epilogue and its implications EVEN AS IT IS! (8) why would you call this episode “The Jedi” when since 2013 Ahsoka’s whole thing has been not being a Jedi

to be fair I’m pretty sure S7 tried very hard to course correct that but unfortunately, they could not because the rest of canon exists

are you still trying to deny me grown Ahsoka and Rex when we know you got Temuera back for a five second shot of Boba

to be fair I would have the same aural problems with Temuera voicing Rex because that’s Dee Bradley Baker as far as I’m concerned (I reiterate that this is because of how my brain process character and sound, not anythign else)

if you haven’t seen TCW and Rebels this is a random Jedi wandering around for no specific reason namedropping a completely random person who has no prior significance unless it’s going to turn up later

this entire show has consisted of namedropping random people and things with no prior significance within the show itself and it remains entirely unclear whether they’re ever going to have significance within the show itself

look, I can buy Ahsoka not wanting to train the kid both for her stated reasons and for some implied stuff from earlier on in canon (the kids in the Ahsoka novel, the babies from Future of the Force), even what happened with Ezra, and obviously she has Plans and cannot haul a baby around with her when that baby is going to be a baby for an indeterminate amount of time

which honestly is something that ought to come up because even if Ahsoka wanted to train the kid by the time she grew old and died he might, if we were very lucky, have advanced to being essentially a pre-teen and then would be on his own again? this is also true for Din.

lol sure go cast yourself out into the Force, I’m sure there’s absolutely not a single darksider still wandering around the galaxy who might perk up at “ooh, free apprentice!”

I’m literally starting to think that this show takes place in an alternate universe where Luke and Leia either don’t exist or died at some point in the OT

me, baffled, last season: you’re telling me Cara Dune, Alderaanian, had never heard of the Jedi? was she not keeping up with whatever Leia Organa was doing? was the Rebel Alliance actually big enough that PEOPLE IN IT HADN’T HEARD OF LUKE SKYWALKER?

what...is Luke doing right now. isn’t he training Leia?

WHAT HAS AHSOKA BEEN DOING FOR TEN YEARS are we seriously supposed to believe she peaced out of the Rebel Alliance after Malachor and whatever the hell they’re going to make that out to be (honestly at this point I’m betting on “they will never touch it”)

does or does Ahsoka not know that Luke exists

hoo boy can you just see them trying to cast a younger Luke, or do you think they’d CGI de-age Mark Hamill?

oh yeah let’s go through this again in a season with someone else playing young Luke, let’s, I’m not emotionally invested in that so I’m prepared to be entertained

hasn’t Sebastian Stan been floated (even if just on Twitter) for young Luke?

why are these not-imperials on this planet. what are they doing here. what’s the point.

why is the planet...being burned? I was half-expecting, like, normal deforestation (in terms of logging for lumber) but I’m also a bit ??? about this.

since when is beskar resistant to lightsabers, I thought cortosis was the only thing that was? whatever, it’s new canon, they can do whatever they want. (ETA: apparently that’s been true for a while; I am more a Jedi person than a Mandalorian one as far as the EU goes and my Mandalorian lore is my weakest point.)

dear god were these fight scenes bad

I did spot Morai and I appreciated the tookas

okay, I am taking the next thing out of bullet points because I was really, really upset by it, and as an Asian-American woman it affects me directly.

I was really, really shaken by the use of village of (space) Asian people who were portrayed solely as background victims to be tortured and exploited. Star Wars has a long history of Orientalism, and some of it I can look away from and some of I can’t. Mando especially has a very bad track record with its treatment of Asian characters (Fennec Shand), and in recent years the rest of Star Wars live action has also been pretty bad about it; I will never forget how shaken and upset I was by Paige Tico’s death at the beginning of TLJ, and Rose’s sidelining in TROS was a lot to deal with. There has also been some pretty appalling anti-Asian racism from the Mandalorian fandom that I have seen in regards towards casting rumors about Sabine (which brought me to the point of tears as recently as yesterday).

I had been braced for Rosario Dawson Ahsoka because it’s been rumored for so long, if never officially confirmed by Lucasfilm, and after they pulled the original VA for Leia from Resistance a few years ago (without ever making an official statement but it was after she made really dismissive statements during the Kavanaugh hearings) I was still really hoping they’d pull Dawson for the transphobic assault allegations, or that the rumors were false, or...something. I was not expecting the way that they treated the Asian civilian population here. I kept hoping that there was going to be something, and it’s like they kept almost going there with Governor Wing (you want to make either his name or his position clear in the actual episode, maybe?) but then kept pulling back, which just made the whole population victims that had to be rescued by outsiders. And exploited, and tortured, and abused in general.

And yes, I’m aware the Magistrate/Morgan Elsbeth is an Asian-American woman. That doesn’t make it better? Since Ahsoka presumably kills her offscreen?

(Also Diana Lee Inosanto is a stunt performer and a fight choreographer, why is that fight scene so wooden, damn.)

okay back to bullet points to wrap up

I realize I haven’t said much about Din and the kid and that’s because they didn’t...do...much? I guess if you’re actually invested in them “YAY HE HAS FEELINGS” is a major thing but I’m not

I have flashes of being invested in Din, but the problem is that I never know what the hell this show is doing because it’s all over the place. We are 5/8 of the way into season 2 and I have no idea what it’s trying to do: they keep setting stuff up and then not doing anything with it. I can make vague predictions based on what’s set up and based on my knowledge of canon, but this show is so weirdly set up and paced that I can never tell if they’re something for A Reason, for the lulz, or for the Aesthetic.

I feel extremely vindicated by the revelation a few weeks ago that Din grew up in a cult but I also straight-up feel like I spent the past year being gaslighted about what Mandalorians were, and that’s...not a great feeling. Do I think that the show is going to do anything with that? Fuck, I don’t know. I hope so. I know what I’d do as a writer. But I can’t predict anything they’re doing and that makes me really uneasy.

jeez, at least when George Lucas was making Star Wars you knew he was doing it to entertain himself and tell a specific story rather than constantly having to go back and wonder what story lines got compromised for a project down the road.

like, is this why they did mo-cap Ahsoka in S7, to brace us for live action Ahsoka here? I know they had already filmed Mando S2 before S1 came out. WHY THEY DIDN’T THEY REUSE LAUREN MARY KIM AS AHSOKA’S STUNT DOUBLE THEN? it’s not like she hasn’t stunted in Mando before?

if this was supposed to be a backdoor pilot to a Rebels sequel...I will flip a table

I enjoyed the Bad Batch eps in TCW S7 but knowing that there’s going to be a Bad Batch show I’m now wondering if they’re only in S7 to backdoor pilot that show

how far back does this go? did they put the Legacy of Mandalore story line in Rebels S4 solely to set up for this? especially considering that that’s the one thing in S4 that actually has saga weight and then they immediately got rid of everything it accomplished to set up for this?

I presume that this is the reason they refused to release the turnaround for Ahsoka’s epilogue look two years ago. apparently it doesn’t matter given they changed her entire epilogue color scheme and also her lekku and personality.

Look -- at the end of the day, there was only about a 2% chance I was ever going to like this episode, but I was holding out for it nevertheless. I do get surprised from time to time! I liked the Bo-Katan episode! This was, however, a hot mess. And yes: a lot of the things that bother me are not going to bother other people. (I haven’t seen anyone comment on the Asian villagers, for example.)

#just so there is no doubt: I HATED THIS EPISODE #the mandalorian spoilers #bedlam watches the mandalorian #mando the jedi

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dorminchu · 3 years ago

Text

Insult to Injury: The Director's Cut — Chapter 01

Note: All right, it's been a hot minute since I uploaded anything substantial in regard to this fic. So I'm going to try something a bit risky! I've archived Insult to Injury as you all know it, with the exception of a few errant reblogs outside of my control. But that's neither here nor there; I am very excited to present to all of you all the definitive version of this fic — the Director's Cut, if you will. ;)

Fandom: James Bond Characters: Madeleine Swann, Lyutsifer Safin, various OC(s) Relationships: Madeleine & OC(s) Warnings: Strong language, intense scenes of violence, general cynicism. Rating: M Genre: Crime/Drama Summary: A troubled psychologist desperate to escape her past criminal ties finds herself drawn into a far more insidious schism. [Post-Skyfall]

[Ao3 | FFNet]

— ACT I —

“Everything which is done in the present, affects the future by consequence, and the past by redemption.” — Paulo Coelho

— Episode I: A THOUSAND DETAILS —

In the sterile comfort of her office, Dr Madeleine Swann stared blankly at her computer monitor. The notification that her application as a psychologist consultant with the Médecins Sans Frontières had been sent six days prior blurred with lack of focus. The location of the mission in question was Conakry, Guinea. Her contract duration would last from the start of May to the end of August; just shy of two months away from now. There was an additional caveat:

All non-ECOWAS foreigners are required to have a valid Guinean visa and a vaccination card in order to be granted entry. Yellow fever vaccination cards are verified upon entry into the country at Gbessia.

Approval for the visa necessitated a seventy-two-hour window of clearance. And it would be at least four weeks until she heard back from the Human Resources Office—up to six if she were unlucky. She sat erect and the movement alone was enough to incite a sharp stab of pain into the back of her head. Through the window the sun cast a reddish glare, obfuscating the monitor and warming the nape of her neck. She shoved her face into the heels of her palms while the pressure in her skull abated to a dull throbbing.

Usually she made a habit of drawing the blinds. There were already enough odd complaints about her office being too cold and sterile passed along by the secretary. It had been a stressful enough week that Madeleine saw no reason to keep the shutters closed, so her clients might have something else to focus on besides four polished wooden walls and the analog clock.

What came off to most outsiders as a cool and direct manner of conduct was simply pragmatism. She had a laptop computer used primarily for sending emails. She recorded the bulk of her notes on patients by-hand and revised by means of portable recorder. She kept no photographs in her home nor office. The casual anecdotes she provided to her colleagues were ostensibly as droll as her taste in décor; though her efforts to blend in had largely gone unappreciated.

There wasn’t anything else immediate to review for tonight. She wished a curt good-night to the secretary before donning her coat and exiting into the crisp evening air.

⁂

It was only a fifteen-minute walk from the clinic to the flat. Above her head the clouds hung grey and pregnant with snow. By the time she had ascended the staircase and opened the door to her apartment her fingers prickled. Numbness seeped into her skin. She’d never much cared for the colder seasons.

“You’re back early,” said Arnaud—a fellow Sociology major from her college days. After graduating from Oxford, Madeleine had taken his offer to return to Paris and transfer over to the 8tharrondissement with the understanding that they would be rooming together. Her colleagues back then often referred to them as friends-with-benefits as Madeleine had showed little interest in dating before. After three years of cohabitation, her co-workers at the office wondered how she and Arnaud remained so cordial while balancing their careers and relationship.

“Yes.” Madeleine hung up her coat, noting that he had not yet changed out of his own. “I submitted my request with the MSF a week ago. If I am accepted I’ll be working as a psychologist consultant. In that case, I’ll be out of the country until August at least.”

“Well, you’ve never landed a position that didn’t suit you.” Madeleine smiled politely. “Can I get you anything?”

“No, thanks.” She looked away from him towards the window. “You could open the blinds. It's very bright in here with the lights on.”

“There’s hardly much to look at when the sun is in your eyes. Isn’t that what you say?”

For the most part, Arnaud was easy to live with. Neither of them required financial support and he was of equitable social standing. Her relentless volunteer work did not always lend much time to get to know his inner mind. “It’s late. Are you going out again?”

“No, I got back first. And it’s fortunate. You looked awfully cold when you came in.”

“I can hardly control the weather. And you needn’t worry, I always carry a key on me.”

“Madeleine, we live together. It wouldn’t be right to avoid you. But you know, if I were going out to an unscrupulous club it would make for a pretty good story.”

“Hm.”

“And knowing you,” Arnaud continued, “you probably won’t be going out drinking. The sunrise disturbs you in the mornings, and you woke up before I did, at seven. I assume you’ve been busy all day. In just a few weeks you’ll be working that much harder. You ought to get some rest while you can.”

“So,” a little cooler, “you’ll be another mission?”

“Most likely.”

“All these countries must seem the same after a while.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t expect you to understand. When was the last time you volunteered out of the country? 2011?”

Arnaud laughed. “Jesus, this isn’t a competition.”

“But it’ll give you something to talk about to your friends while I am away.”

Arnaud said nothing. Madeleine frowned. She went into the other room and began to change. He could not approach her in the same casual manner as his peers, nor dissect her outright. His life was one of prestige as well as privilege, and Madeleine could not foster any underlying resentment towards him for acting in his nature. The silence held, strained. Then Arnaud said:

“It’s always been important to you. That’s what should matter.”

⁂

In two weeks’ time she got a response from the HRO; the initial interview was scheduled shortly thereafter. By the middle of April she was making preparations to depart. Thanks to Arnaud’s tactic of avoidance she had little reason to tell him the details. No one would know where she was headed unless they broke inside her laptop and hunted through her mail. The situation in Guinea had kicked into mainstream awareness back in February for a week or so before gradually sinking back into obscurity.

Reports from several news outlets cited the emergence of an outbreak primarily affecting South Africa. Originating inland, a mysterious illness that revealed itself first with fever and spells of vomiting, then gradually ate away at the flesh of those afflicted and bore their bones and muscle, vulnerable to further rot. More emboldened journalists had taken to calling it the Red Death on account of this. Neither a cure nor a place or origin had been discovered.

The situation had not improved in the last two months so much as stabilised. Madeleine had been assured several times over email and electronic conference that those working in the field had already taken precautions, and she’d be instructed further on what to do upon her arrival. She was issued a few pamphlets and strongly advised to vaccinate before boarding the flight. Which she had done, but it was very kind of them to remind her.

In spite of Arnaud’s apparent disinterest, his last words to her before she departed had been: “Last year it was four missions. I'd never seen you so tired. I wish I knew what you’re trying to prove.”

After managing to get some sleep on the plane she touched down Conakry International Airport around mid-morning and contacted the Project Coordinator; a shorter man in his mid-forties with a photogenic smile and toupee. He clasped her hand in both of his clammy ones and said: “Very glad you've made it, Doctor. We need you on-site in twenty minutes. Make sure you are ready.” Her luggage was dropped off on the second floor of the Grand Hotel de L’independence, where she and the other MSF members would be rooming. The staff were polite enough, though their attention was fixed on the Project Coordinator.

Her room was spare and a little dingy, and the only means of fresh air came from opening the window and polluting the room with outside noise, but it was at least reasonably clean. A fine sheen of sweat was building on her skin. No reason to delay the inevitable.

Upon reaching Donka Hospital she met up with the rest of the team, most notably the Medical Coordinator, and the Psychosocial Unit. It soon became apparent that there were still not enough medical doctors to handle the influx of infected. An isolation ward had been established before the MSF’s involvement, but they were reportedly at full capacity; the workers in there were clad in full-body personal protective equipment. Another section of the grounds had been set aside and fenced off; rows of tents all lined up, reminding Madeleine distantly of a prisoner’s accommodations. No matter where you went the stench of rot always seemed to hang pervasively in the air.

She was paired off with another psychologist by the name of John Herrmann; American, around her age. He was of a friendlier disposition than she was used to, introducing her semi-formally to the rest of the group before adding:

“So, one thing you should know now, we’ve been having problems with the electricity on site as well as the hotel. There’s no running water either.”

“This isn’t my first mission with MSF. And I lived out in the countryside when I was small. I know how to look after myself.”

Herrmann smiled. “That’s fair.” He scratched his neck. “The mosquitoes are worse. Bug nets won’t help worth a damn. Make sure you close your windows at night, I had to learn that the hard way.”

“I see.” The humidity combined with the smell off-road were already becoming intolerable. But she did not want to appear so snobbish or weak in front of someone she would be monitoring for the next three months. “I won’t go any easier on you just because you are unaccustomed to the environment.”

“See ,that’s the kind of attitude we need around here!” He clapped a hand on her back; Madeleine regarded him levelly until he relented. “Good to have you on the team.”

The other members on the Psychosocial Unit were as amicable with Madeleine as the situation permitted. None of them got on her nerves as much as Herrmann. His enthusiasm was never to the point of seeming false or obsequious, but he remained just enough of a go-getter to piss her off. After a week of monitoring them she came away with the impression that Herrmann was genuine. He had been consistently genial with the clientele and hospital staff alike, no matter the severity of their condition. She saw no reason to socialise with him outright. The most he ever noted about her mood was: “You’re pretty reticent for a psychologist consultant.”

“I’m here to do my job. That’s all.”

Herrmann shrugged. “I can respect that. We all deal with the situation in our own ways.” He paused. “I can see why the Project Coordinator wanted you. You’re handling this situation a lot better than I would have.”

“Thank you.”

“The workload must be insane compared to what you’re normally used to. I know it took me time to adjust—" he stopped as Madeleine threw him a look of confusion “—what is it?”

“Back home, I am usually referred to as what one would call a workaholic. Or didn’t anyone tell you?”

“Oh, hey, I didn’t mean to imply—”

“No offence taken.”

The higher temperature was not so bad as the humidity that slapped her in the face whenever stepping outside—according to the forecasts, it was only going to get worse within the coming months. There was no manner of ventilation or air-conditioning in the hotel so often times she had to draw the curtains and keep her hair back. She resigned herself by reminding herself that it was better than sleeping in a tent.

There wasn’t much time to be hung-up on much else besides her assignment. The members of the Psychosocial Unit all looked good on paper, but they betrayed their inexperience through a shared level of idealism towards the mission that Madeleine deemed ill-fated. She did not blame them. Young, perhaps fresh out of school, looking to make a difference in the world without truly anticipating the gravity of the situation. Their time spent observing the crises of the rest of the world through the lens of journalism and outside empathy could not compare with the experience of actually sitting down and listening to the stuff their patients talked of with prosaic seriousness.

It often sounded outrageous when Madeleine played back the recordings, taking down notes in the quiet, stuffy hotel room. Mortality was an expected outcome, and the implication of negligence by their government a common topic of discussion among patients. Most conversations were conducted in French or else by way of an interpreter, though the antagonism in the voices of these patients needed no translation.

There was a growing disparity between the narrative put into circulation by the news and what was happening in the field. According to several members of the MSF and the staff at Donka, the media blew the problem out of proportion. The people whose condition had kicked off the “Red Death” story had been subjected to long-term exposure. Most of the patients that came through were not in that same condition, but it created an illusion of immediacy that incited concern in the public eye and a need for donations. Government officials wanted to cover up the severity of the situation as not to detract from any potential business opportunities; until the MSF got involved, they were only employing the most rudimentary of safety procedures.

This latter revelation had shaken up the Psychosocial Unit considerably; Dr Herrmann had lost his patience with the Medical Coordinator. To this end, he’d apologised profusely to Madeleine afterwards though she would hear none of it. Whatever he felt about the situation was not necessarily invalid, but out of consideration for their patients, he would not bring it up again.

Herrmann never held it against her. So Madeleine busied herself in her own work. Whatever quiet camaraderie forged between the other MSF members was not her business. When pressed for advice, she would talk calmly, carefully with the rest of the team about what would be optimal but never overreach. In the sweltering nights and throughout the early morning, Madeleine would pore over her notes, listening to the passing automobiles and indistinct conversation carried over by civilians.

⁂

June crawled by. Currently the MSF were in the process of dealing with a new influx of internally displaced persons (IDPs) from the surrounding prefectures and villages, all of whom had to be tested and separated from those not stricken with disease. Thanks to the cooperation with the local civilians and tireless efforts on part of the medical staff and Medical Unit, there had been a forty-five-percent decrease in fatalities compared to the start of the year.

The atmosphere within the hospital was not improving. The topic of insurgence was the new favourite with patients. Allegedly there had been several attacks on neighbouring villages; a consequence of the lack of tangible progress coupled with deep-seated mistrust of government officials. Now the Force Sécurité/Protection, or FSP, had been brought on in collaboration with an additional Protective Services Detail (PSD) by the name of Kerberos, to ensure the hospital and surrounding property remained untouched.

Their Project Coordinator called them all in for the sake of reviewing protocol in the event of an attack. Outright criticism of the government’s method in handling the situation was discouraged. Madeleine was savvy enough to keep herself abreast of any controversy. For the rest of the Psychosocial Unit, she presumed they were either too naïve or willing to look the other way.

The only exception to this was the Vaccines Medical Advisor, Francis Kessler; a stoic older man with thinning hair and glasses. He and Madeleine had cooperated a handful of times beforehand, at the discreet behest of the Medical Coordinator. Madeleine had found nothing wrong with his conduct. A diligent worker, he acknowledged her judgement fairly but did not overextend his gratitude. Outside of his work he was straight-laced and reserved and wouldn’t be seen socialising with any of the younger MSF who all talked about him as though he were some out-of-touch stick-in-the-mud. As the situation in the hospital became more dire he would stay behind on-site, late into the evening. Whenever they had a break, he would disappear on calls. Once he came back late by only a few minutes and apologised to Madeleine.

“I was supposed to be sent home last month, but with the situation being what it is, I decided to stay on until things are resolved.” He did not sit down, his attention turned towards the path back to the infected ward. “It’s madness. We’ve already waited until things are too severe to think of bringing in a proper security detail—who the hell does the Project Coordinator think we’re fooling?” Madeleine ignored him. “Dr Swann. The Medical Coordinator tells me you’ve been involved in volunteer work for a while.”

“Five years, as of March.”

“Perhaps they would be more willing to listen to someone with your expertise.”

“I’m flattered. But it’s fortunate that I was not selected for my personal opinion.”

Kessler chuckled. “You’ll go far.”

Madeleine had no interest in pursuing this topic any further. “Who were you speaking to?” He froze up, didn’t answer immediately. “My apologies. I shouldn’t have been so blunt. But you leave often enough on calls, and it appears to be taking a toll on you.”

Comprehension dawned on his face, his shoulders relaxed. “Just my wife. This past month has been no easier on her. But I find that it can help somewhat, just talking to someone outside of this element.” Madeleine nodded stoically. “I’ve never seen you contact anyone outside of your unit.” Madeleine did not anticipate the conversation to take such a turn, nor did she wish to divulge much about herself. But she could not deflect as she could in the clinic back home, and Kessler seemed forthright enough to warrant a harmless response.

“I’m living with a friend. We graduated from college together.”

“And you keep in touch while you are abroad?”

“He tends to lead his own life while I am away.”

“That’s a great deal to ask of someone.” Madeleine inclined her head in his direction. This was not a man that emoted often; now the thin mouth was set, and the eyes behind the glasses disillusioned. “Few women your age would devote themselves to a thankless vocation as this. Not everyone is going to want to stick around until you decide you want to settle down.”

Madeleine’s smile did not touch her eyes. She hadn’t even mentioned the nature of her relationship to Arnaud. “We have an understanding, that’s all. Besides, I don’t bother him about his social life.”

Kessler shook his head. In a few minutes they were back to work as usual. By the end of the day, Madeleine resolved to let him dig his own social grave without further interference.

By the time July rolled around Madeleine found her mind snagging easily on technicalities. She became less tolerant of the Psychological Unit’s personal hang-ups with the lack of resources and lack of any obvious moral closure. Smell of rot and disinfectant permeated into her clothing and hair until she had begun to associate the smell itself with a total lack of progress.

She left the window to her hotel room cracked most nights, afraid to open it completely. Alone with her own mind and the recorder. The conversations now circled back readily to death and terrorism. An overwhelming fear of retaliation from looming insurrection.

Madeleine stopped the recording. She checked the time and cursed under her breath. Just past one in the morning. In six hours she would return to Donka Hospital and repeat the process. A month and a half from now she would be on a flight back to Paris. Her mind wouldn't settle on either direction.

Outside her window she heard the distant voice of Francis Kessler. He was conversing in German, from a few storeys down, but as Madeleine came over to the window she understood him clearly:

“…I’ve been saying it for weeks, and they dismiss me every time. These wounds are the result of prolonged exposure from chemicals. We’ve seen evidence of IDPs coming through, exhibiting the same symptoms as the PMCs we treated back in February. How we can expect to make any progress if the Project Coordinator refuses to bring this up? We’re putting God-knows how many lives at risk waiting for a vaccine that we don’t know if we need—and even so, it won’t be ready for another week. There’s not enough time to justify keeping silent….”

Madeleine closed the window carefully. She’d never been one to intrude on family matters.

⁂

When Madeleine exited her room the next morning, she found the Project Coordinator waiting for her in the hallway, along with the head of security from Kerberos and a couple Donka Hospital staff Madeleine knew by sight but not intimately.

The vaccines had arrived earlier than anticipated, around three or four in the morning. Several members of the Medical Unit had stayed on-site in order to determine if all had been accounted for and subsequently realised it was rigged. Thanks to the intervention of Kerberos the losses were minimal. Several doctors had suffered chemical exposure and were currently isolated from the rest of the IDPs to receive immediate medical attention. Others, such as Drs Kessler and Herrmann, had been less fortunate.

Now there was additional pressure from the hospital doctors and Logistics Team to begin moving the high-risk patients to a safer area. The fear that this story would circulate and any chance of obtaining vaccines would be discouraged could not be ruled out. So they would not be reporting this as a chemical attack, but as a failed interception of an attack by local terrorists, stopped by the FSPs.

“Dr Swann.” The head of security, Lucifer Safin, gave Madeleine pause. His accent would presume a Czech or Russian background but his complexion and eye colour invited room for ambiguity. The MSF on staff commonly referred to him by surname; perhaps Lucifer was simply an alias. What set him apart was his face. Gruesomely scarred from his right temple to the base of his left jaw, though the structure of his eyes and nose remained intact. In spite of the weather, Madeleine had never seen him without gloves. “I understand that you were one of the last to speak with Dr Kessler?”

His manner wasn’t explicitly taciturn, more akin to the disconcerting silence one might experience while looking into a body of still-water—met only with your reflection.

“Yes,” said Madeleine, “but that was nearly five days ago.”

“You were instructed to monitor him during that period by the Medical Coordinator?”

“That’s correct.”

Safin glanced at the Project Coordinator. “I’ll speak with her alone.”

“Of course.”

Safin nodded. They walked down the length of the hall back to her room. His gait was purposeful and direct. He had a rifle strapped to his side. Madeleine tried to avoid concentrating on it. Her attention went to the window. She'd forgotten to lock it.

“Dr Swann.” The early morning light put his disfigurement into a new, unsettling clarity. Too intricate to be leprosy or a typical burn wound, it was more as if his very face were made of porcelain and had suffered a nasty blow, then glued together again. “What was the extent of your relationship to Dr Kessler?”

“I did not work with him often. We talked once or twice but that was all. I have my own responsibilities with the Psychosocial Unit. From what I could tell, he never made an effort to befriend anyone.”

“But you were asked to monitor Dr Kessler.”

“I was requested to do so on behalf of the Medical Coordinator. There were concerns that Dr Kessler was somehow unqualified to continue his work. In observing him, I had no reason to suspect he was unfit for the position psychologically.” Safin said nothing. “The only issue I could see worth disqualifying him for, was that Kessler and the Project Coordinator had very differing views on protocol.”

“He spoke to you about his views?”

“He expressed to me once, in confidence, that he did not understand the Project Coordinator’s hesitance to bring in a security detail.” Safin’s attention on her became sharper. “He also told me he’d elected to continue volunteering here past his contract duration, just to ensure the operation was successful. That was my only conversation with him outside of a work-related context. You would be better off asking the other doctors about this.”

“We have video surveillance in place on the Grand Hotel de L’independence. At around one in the morning, Dr Kessler exited the building and contacted an unknown party by mobile phone. Then, a minute later, you were at your window.”

“Oh, yes. I have been forgetting to close it. With so many longer days, it can be difficult to remember these things.”

“Your room was the only one to show signs of activity at that hour.”

“I was reviewing my notes from that day’s session. I heard a voice from outside, though not clearly. It was distracting me from my work, so I got up and closed the window.”

“Do you commonly review your notes in the early hours of the morning with an unlocked window?”

“I just wanted some quiet. I leave the windows open because otherwise I seem to find myself trapped with the smell of rotting flesh as well as humidity.”

Safin’s expression became easier to read, but not in a positive sense. This was not a man you wanted to be on opposing sides with. Madeleine kept any apprehension away from her face and her voice tightly controlled.

“Look. Without information about Dr Kessler’s lifestyle outside of the MSF, I cannot give you an answer in good faith. I was assigned to survey him. He showed no signs of dereliction in his work, and to my knowledge kept his personal views separate from his work. Whatever he said to me during outside hours was assumed to be in confidence. Many people say things to one another in what they believe to be confidence that they would not admit to otherwise. If I had reason to suspect he was unfit to work, I would have contacted the Medical Advisor immediately.”

Safin held her gaze. She did not dare avert her face. Then he said: “Thank you for your cooperation. The Project Coordinator is waiting for you downstairs.”

The rest of the day she spent in a different wing of the hospital. The Psychosocial Unit was cut down from four members to three. Another inconsequential day of thankless work that never seemed quite good enough. That night Madeleine laid back on her bed and watched the shadows on the ceiling stretch over peeling paint until daybreak.

When she’d arrived at the airport she could stave off her doubts with shallow, private reassurances. As long as you are here, you are just Dr Swann the psychologist consultant. Your father is many miles away and he won’t contact you again. No one else will come looking for you in a place like this.

With a guy like Safin around she was undoubtedly safer than she would have been with the FSPs alone.

Safer, but no longer invisible.

⁂

July brought hotter weather and brittle peace—the vaccines had finally arrived. The wing of the hospital that had suffered the terrorist attack was still closed and they had lost several more staff members wounded in the initial attack. Madeleine and the remaining MSF were encouraged by the Project Coordinator to take earlier shifts. Progress remained steady but there was no clear resolution in sight. The stench of rot imprinted into Madeleine’s senses to the point where she no longer consciously registered her own nausea. Discontent among the staff continued to bubble under the surface on account of the closed wing and bad press.

It couldn't last forever.

A week away from August. Just another humid morning at six AM. Madeleine rose and prepared herself mentally for the day ahead. Stress kept her mind working late into the night, but her position with the Psychosocial Unit barred her from working overtime in the hospital. She was overwhelmed with keeping up the pace, not yet to the point of exhaustion.

There was an inordinate of activity on the road outside as she got dressed and left the room. She put it out of her mind.

Outside the hotel she met up with the Medical Coordinator and a few members of the Logistics Unit. They spent about ten minutes standing idle in the humid air, too weary to speak. The streets were usually empty this time of day.

An unremarkable black Jeep pulled up. The Medical Coordinator opened the door and was about to step into the car when it happened. The Medical Coordinator’s head burst over the interior of the vehicle and Madeleine. The body slumped like a doll to the dirt. Madeleine wanted to scream but could not. She turned and found herself facing down the barrel of a rifle.

Around a dozen men with guns, sans insignia, circled them. The man who had fired addressed her harshly in French: “Where are the rest of the MSF? Why are they not at the hospital?”

“I don’t understand.” Madeleine could see another group of men approaching from the rear. A massacre, onset.

“We’ve been waiting for months for a solution, and you have been injecting us with a useless vaccine.” He aimed right at her sternum. “Your doctors gave them all false hope for months. Now the MSF have abandoned you.”

“You have been protecting them!” the insurgent roared, levelling his weapon. “All this time! You knew why they were here, and you allowed them to experiment on our families like dogs!”

The man at his left turned and fired. The insurgent fell dead. “That’s enough.” One of the men from Kerberos in plainclothes. A dozen more in military gear materialised as if from nowhere. “There is no need for additional bloodshed,” said the plainclothes. “Release them now or you will be shot.”

All around her at once, gunfire. Madeleine didn't wait to see who had fired first. She prostrated herself, hands clasped over her neck, breath clogged in her throat.

All sound ceased. Her head continued to ring. Her eyes were open but she did not process the colour staining her skin, on her clothes, the smell of it. She hadn’t been shot. Her heart hammered against her ribcage.

Heavy footsteps approaching. She closed her eyes awaiting the kiss of metal at her temple.

“Dr Swann.” Madeleine shrunk away instinctively from the gloved hand upon her forearm. “It’s all right. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Another soldier pulled her upright. Sight of blood on dry earth briefly mixed up with blood spattered across wooden floorboards. Madeleine went limp. Ushered into the backseat of an unmarked Jeep, she could not stop trembling. Shoulder-to-shoulder with another man she recognised as head of Logistics, Peter Miller. The door slammed shut, jolting her back into her own body. Sound of the ignition set her into trembling. Miller’s naked hand materialised on her shoulder. His voice overtaken by the roaring in her ears. Madeleine bowed her head into her hands like a child, whispering: “Ne me tuez pas. Je n’ai rien fait. Je ne sais rien.”

#no time to die #madeleine swann #lyutsifer safin #several ocs #crime drama #fanfic #fanfiction #multichapter #canon is gonna joss this into the sun probably #haha... unless?#slow build

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kitkat1003 · 4 years ago

Text

On the issue of Mortality

AO3 Link

MK chose to be mortal, to be vulnerable, for the time being, and Monkey King is fine with that.

On the surface, at least. Now he has a successor, one that he likes, and he’s vulnerable????

Yeah, he’s never going to sleep easy again.

(Or, 11 chapters through season 1 about Monkey King, and anxiety his successor gives him. Who knew being a dad teacher would be so hard?)

Chapter 1: Picking a successor

(Or “Look, I’m gonna come clean. Um...I’ve been kinda watching you”)

When Sun Wukong—the Monkey King—decides he needs a successor, it isn’t an easy decision. For one, he refuses to admit why. Because that would mean confronting it all and he doesn’t want to.

He needs a successor because he wants one. Who doesn’t want to retire? It’s not like he’s spent hundreds of thousands of years in technical retirement, waiting for the Demon Bull King to return. No, he’s been...super busy. Yeah. Turning Flower Fruit Mountain into a paradise has totally taken him…forever, and, like, he’s got lots of stuff to do. He watches TV, once humans get electricity figured out. Gets a computer too, once those things start popping up. He gets a lawyer or two, yknow, keeping up with the times.

He’s...super busy. He definitely deserves a retirement.

So all that’s left is find a successor. Easy, right?

Well....

He actually starts looking when he hears whispers that the Demon Bull family is starting to get close to figuring out how to lift his staff. So about a hundred years before Demon Bull King actually escapes.

He finds a few kids he thinks might work, but nothing happens, anyway, so there’s no point in interrupting their boring normal lives for nothing. Besides, he doesn’t really see any of them with the spark of...something that he wants in his successor in any of them

He watches them grow. Child to teen to adult, he watches, and then he leaves before they get too old because he doesn’t want to see the headstones.

He doesn’t understand why they have to be human. Why they have to be mortal. Why they have to be able to die.

Why he has to watch them die.

Years and years pass. He gets lax, when looking for a successor. Lax when it comes to keeping an eye on the Demon Bull family.

He does, on occasion, watch the town where his staff is. It’s a pretty populace place, always buzzing with some sort of activity, which is both fun and boring.

One night, he watches a kid—no older than 13, he thinks, since he’s gotten used to watching humans grow and can gauge it pretty well—sprint down the street in the rain, wearing nothing but a ratty old hoodie, a shirt, shorts, torn up shoes, and a headband so dirty that even he can’t discern the original color.

There are three other figures chasing him, and he ducks into an alley as they sprint past. Monkey King watches as the kid settles down, sitting in the alley, and pulling something out from beneath his hoodie.

A puppy.

“Hey there, little guy,” the kid’s voice is soft, and he scritches the tiny pup behind the ears. “Sorry I couldn’t get your siblings, but they’d already been thrown in the lake—” the look on the kid’s face is nothing short of heartbreaking.

Monkey King has plans for the group of thugs he saw earlier, if that’s what they were doing. Humans.

“But hey, managed to save you, huh? I’ll bring you to a shelter in the morning. Someone will take you home and you’ll get loved to death.” Monkey King rolls his eyes at the saccharine display, but he wonders.

There isn’t a lot of crime in this city, with its advancements. What’s a kid doing outside this late at night?

“I’d take you home with me, but mine’s more of a hovel than a place to live. You can still see it, though! C’mon,” the kid gets up, stumbling a little, and Monkey King notices that he’s favoring one leg, that the elbow of one of the sleeve’s of his hoodie is wet.

He follows.

The kid’s house is literally a shack made of a metal sheet wedged between an alley wall. There’s a ‘bench’ that’s a slab of rock placed on top of more rocks, where a well loved sketchbook sits.

The kid sits on the bench, setting the puppy down beside him as he flips open his sketchbook.

“I’m gonna draw you, so I don’t forget, kay?” He pats the pup on the head, and then, using the smallest, most worn down pencil Monkey King has ever seen, he slowly carves out the puppy’s features, getting the soft tones of fur. He keeps squinting, but Monkey King thinks that’s because all he has is the light of the lamppost for his vision.

This kid...is pretty darn good.

Monkey King watches for way longer than he would like to admit, and then watches as the kid pulls out a very worn blanket-substitute, curling around the puppy beneath it.

He frowns, but isn’t sure what to do about it.

So he leaves, and makes sure those thugs learn a thing or two about treating animals with respect.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

This kid just keeps popping up in Monkey King’s peripherals.

He likes to people watch, and the kid will just appear from nowhere. He’ll be running down the street, hanging out with this girl who looks about 3 economic classes above him. They’ll go to the arcade and play for hours, and she’ll pay for practically everything.

He decides he likes her, if she’s nice enough to do that for the kid. Plus, he feels a familiar energy coming off of her, something he trusts.

They typically end their day at a noodle shop. Pigsy’s? The kid always pays there, with coins of various sizes. The girl, when the kid isn’t looking, will slip the cook some more money. They get steaming hot bowls of ramen, harass the cook, and eventually get half chased out, laughing all the while.

“You know you can stay with me, right?” The girl says, one day, when Monkey King is people watching (read: eavesdropping on their conversation. It’s like his new favorite TV show, at this point). Kid rolls his eyes.

“Mei, c’mon, your relationship with your folks is as strained as mine! I wouldn’t want you to end up like me. Besides, I’m fine!” he insists with the grin Monkey King has grown accustomed to seeing on Kid’s face.

The information Monkey King gains from those two sentences is certainly something, and he ponders on Mei, the girl who spends her days as far away from home as possible.

Mei frowns.

“You still won’t show me where you’re staying. Or explain why your clothes are all torn up!” She pokes him in the chest, and the Kid shrugs.

“Cause you wouldn’t like either of those things! I can take care of myself! Promise.” He rocks back and forth on his feet, all smiles.

Mei fixes him with a glare, before she sighs, relenting. “Fine. But, if you won’t take my hospitality, you get my undying loyalty and free stuff!” She whips out a brand new red winter coat.

Kid takes it slowly.

“It’s getting colder out!” She explains. “And red just isn’t my color, you know?”

Kid slowly pulls the jacket against his chest, like he doesn’t know what to do with it, and then he smiles. This one is smaller. Less performative. Monkey King didn’t realize that he’d been watching the kid to be able to tell the difference, but it’s not too hard to see. Kid uses big smiles like a cloak, to hide what’s underneath. The smaller ones-those are like the slivers of sunlight shooting out from an eclipse. Wukong finds he prefers the smaller ones.

Kid wraps his arm around Mei’s shoulders.

“Thanks, Mei.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The days get colder, and Kid is still in that shack. Monkey King finds out that Kid doesn’t steal for money. Instead, he does little odd jobs for short change, and then looks for coins people have dropped. Apparently, the city’s wealth has made people more loose with their change.

Mei drags him to warm places as often as she can, but apparently this time of year she has a lot of responsibilities, or “social events,” as she calls them, so she can’t be around as much.

Kid doesn’t seem to mind, shivering through the nights, curling himself as tight as possible with that jacket and shitty blanket, and Monkey King doesn’t know why he even cares, but...

He’s not cruel. It isn’t pleasant to watch a kid suffer.

And then, Kid gets sick. Like, delirious, fever sick, and he’s not getting better.

And Monkey King has told himself, a million times, that he would let Kid figure his own life out, but he ends up picking Kid up anyway, depositing him at the ever familiar noodle shop.

The cook drags the boy inside, and Monkey King doesn’t see Kid on the streets after that.

Good.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Kid starts working at the noodle shop, apparently, and he lives above the shop. Slowly, he accrues random objects. Sketchbooks, games, figurines, Monkey King comics? He watches the show near religiously, and Monkey King is both flattered and weirded out.

A super fan, huh? Okay then.

And when he isn’t working, or watching “Monkey King: The Animated Series,” or reading Monkey King comics, he’s begging the resident bookworm, Tang, for stories, which he then sketches out.

Monkey King actually goes through the sketchbook once, when Kid’s asleep. Yup, Kid’s really, really good at this. Monkey King actually thinks about stealing a drawing, but that would be both very obvious and also stupid.

So he lets it go. He ought to look for his successor, anyway. He hears the Demon Bull family is getting close.

He leaves Kid to his life and moves on to his own.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He can’t find a successor. Somehow. It’s like every person in this city (and it would have to be in this city, because you need to be close to the staff in some regard if you want to have a connection with it. Being born near it, living near it-makes it easy for the energy, the chi, to find you) doesn’t want anything to do with hero business. The kids he considers are too small, the adults too...boring.

And he’s getting pretty frustrated here, because he thinks he might just have to fight the Demon Bull King all over again, which, ugh.

And then, it clicks.

He’s watching Kid drive around town, delivering orders, and somehow the kid steers towards the construction site. Toward the staff.

Of course.

God, it was literally staring him in the face. He feels kind of dumb, now that it hits him, but whatever. Not like anyone’s around to tease him about it.

He watches Kid waltz towards danger, music in his headphones too loud to notice the literal demon family, until Kid opens his eyes and sees the whole demon army there, and hoo boy, is this comical.

Monkey King wonders if they’ll succeed this time, in lifting his staff. They certainly seem confident. He’s kind of curious, kind of bored. The whole ‘take our rightful place as rulers of this world’ schtick is super annoying, and Red Son’s voice is grating.

The light show is pretty nice, though, and then.

Then.

Demon Bull King’s a lot smaller than he remembers, but his voice is the same, as is his attitude. Monkey King can feel Kid shaking and takes a quick sweep of the area. Seems his successor is right above Red Son.

He smirks to himself, not that anyone can see considering he’s a bird right now.

This is going to be hilarious.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When Kid touches the staff, Monkey King isn’t prepared for the feeling he gets.

It’s like he’s been the single Sun in an endless galaxy, surrounded by darkness, when suddenly another star appears from nowhere, throwing him into orbit with it. The galaxy shifts, the light doubles, the darkness recedes.

Monkey King’s own center, his sun, feels red hot, warm, and tempered by years of life, with a spark of yellow and white in its center. Kid’s is bright, brilliant golden yellow, more white than any color, bursting with energy.

That energy gets put to work pretty quickly, as the Kid fumbles his way out of the demon’s den, and Monkey King soars after him, watching the escape with a smile.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He doesn’t properly meet Kid until he gets shot all the way to Flower Fruit mountain. After Kid escapes Red Son, he panickedly tells his friends what’s going on and tries to get there on his own.

Well, all the way is a bit much. Maybe Monkey King had to catch Kid and fly him there, because Kid was looking half dead and Monkey King was a little worried, but that’s beside the point. He leaves Kid on the shore, and follows him when Kid gets up.

He isn’t expecting the frustration, when he can’t be found, but he supposes that’s his cue.

Getting stepped on is unpleasant. Guess Kid doesn’t like bugs.

God, the look on Kid’s face, when it hits him that Monkey King’s been watching him! If he could frame a memory, that would be it. Hoo, boy, is that going to be replaying in his head for a while. Kid seems more bewildered than anything else, and the idea of being Monkey King’s successor doesn’t sit well with him.

Which, Monkey King doesn’t get that. Who wouldn’t want to be taught by him?

But maybe he overestimates the kid’s spunk, his confidence, because waving off his worries doesn’t spur him on; rather, it seems to deflate him.

Ugh. Why is being a teacher difficult? It’s not like his teacher had a hard time with him, right?

Distantly, he thinks he can hear his master shouting at him. He hops off his cloud, says just the right thing to get Kid pumped up, and watches him race off.

He considers just sitting back and not watching, but then, that wouldn’t be any fun, would it?

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He isn’t actually sure what having a successor means, really. How much their powers, their lives, would mirror his own. A part of him was terrified by the prospect—could he even be known as anything special, if he was no longer one of a kind?

But there’s also something quite exciting about this. The idea that your life is being rewritten, the story unfinished and yet also repeating itself. The Demon Bull King is on the loose, with his army and family, trying to take over the world.

And only one person can stop him. The Monkey King.

Kid’s powers are volatile. He can feel them flare up from time to time, wildly flickering out of control. A lack of self confidence, that might be causing it. A part of him is annoyed by that, a part of him is relieved. Far better to have to teach someone to believe in themselves than teach them humility. He’s pretty sure he hasn’t learned that latter lesson all the way yet.

Kid vanishes into the Demon Bull King’s chest, where the staff lies, and for a moment, the new sun vanishes. Monkey King feels the cold rush of space in its absence, and feels panic, even though he’s only known this warmth for a few hours.

But then, it bursts back into existence, as a familiar stone drops from the Demon Bull King’s chest, cracking open, and, well, it’s history being written the same way over and over again, isn’t it?

Kid has a flair for silliness, childish maneuvers. He likes to have fun, and that’s the best part of the powers they share. To be invincible, to have fun while saving the day.

It’s a repeat, until, well, it isn’t.

The blow Kid takes makes Monkey King wince. The body becoming invulnerable takes time. It doesn’t just immediately show up. Every second, Kid’s body is absorbing and meshing with the powers thrust upon it, but that doesn’t mean getting hit a mile by a guy twenty times your size doesn’t still hurt, at this point.

But Monkey King knows this is what has to happen. Because heroes aren’t heroes if they never feel pain, never get hit.

Heroes, he thinks, as Kid tears himself from the wall he’s embedded in, as Kid stands, eyes ablaze, are heroes when they get hit and they get back up.

And Kid sure as hell does.

“I’m the Monkey Kid!” He shouts, like a battle cry, like a challenge, and Monkey King smirks. Monkey Kid, huh? It suits him. And then, Kid slams the staff on the ground, and the world shifts.

A part of him is kind of jealous. How come he never got a mech?! Has that been a thing this entire time? Another part is in awe of this Kid’s creativity, ability, at such a young age.

And seeing DBK get trounced again certainly keeps the jealous part of him quiet.

Kid’s got a nice group of friends. Reminds him of his journey days, him and a rag tag group of idiots going around wreaking havoc and learning moral lessons at the end of it. He’s glad Kid isn’t alone or on the streets anymore. A strong foundation leads to a stronger ability to grow.

Well, he’d better get some sort of training regimen ready. Or, at least, start thinking of some things to do to train this kid. He’s sure at some point Kid is going to bug him for a lesson or two.

Somehow, the thought doesn’t bother him as much as he thinks it should.

#lego monkie kid #monkie kid mk #monkie kid monkey king #sun wukong #kitkat1003 #monkie kid mei

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hollyand-writes · 4 years ago

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Throwaway Thursday!

I was tagged in this in early December 2020 by the lovely @fandomn00blr (back at you! 😄 and I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to reply to this!) to post something I liked but wasn’t working/coalescing/fitting into whatever I wanted it to! ❤️

Here is a long deleted scene (813 words) from my Regency AU Carver/Merrill fanfic “A Chance Engagement” (although I re-worked some of it in Chapter 20–21):

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Lady Leandra descended the grand staircase to greet Mr Tethras before he went, and ordered her son to go back to entertain their other guests, so Carver was forced to go back to the drawing room while the Hawke women had the privilege of walking with Varric out of the front entrance to linger in the street, and talk a little longer. Carver grumbled to himself, but inwardly he was torn: on the one hand he had no desire to spend any time with Babette or Fifi de Launcet; but on the other, Miss Merrill Alerion was with them – and surely he would not need to be so much on his guard around the pretty elf girl while his mother and sisters were temporarily out of sight.

He strode back into the drawing room, where Babette and Fifi were all smiles of delight at his re-entrance, and made space for him on the sofa so that he could sit between them. Carver hesitated; he did not want to sit anywhere near them if he could help it; and in the end he seated himself between their sofa and Miss Merrill’s chair, the better to look at her lovely face.

‘My mother ordered me to rejoin you,’ he said, unconsciously addressing himself more to Miss Alerion than the de Launcets. ‘I hope I’m not interrupting any intimate conversation.’

‘Oh! not at all!’ cried Miss Babette, somewhat shrilly, ‘we were just about to enquire what elven marriages were like. Are they similar to human marriages, Miss Merrill? Elven culture is so different from humans that elven gentry have very different standards of marriageability than human gentry, I am sure.’

‘Um,’ Merrill started; she looked uncomfortable in the de Launcets’ presence, Carver noted, although he honestly could not blame her. ‘Well, like humans, we’re expected to make a desirable match if we can; but elven marriages are far more about love marriages than social advancement. I’m sure the latter does happen sometimes – but generally, affection for your spouse-to-be is important.’

To her further annoyance, the Orlesians scoffed at this. ‘Oh, how quaint!’ Fifi tittered, in a voice that indicated she thought anything but. ‘How naïve! No wonder it is so easy for human noblemen to seduce their elven servants, if something as fickle and unquantifiable as love is what you value above all else!’

‘Miss de Launcet,’ Sir Carver cut in, sharply, and both women stopped giggling at a red-faced Merrill, ‘I would advise you not to insult a fellow guest in my house.’

‘Oh! of course!’ Babette simpered, anxious not to upset the man on whom she and her sister had such designs, ‘we were not trying to be rude – we apologise profusely to Miss Alerion if she believed us capable of such a thing! But Miss Merrill, as a friend: let me caution you not to give credit to such a notion. You know not the ways of the world, especially the human one; and we are only too happy to assist you. We would not want to see you taken advantage of by an unscrupulous human nobleman – would we, Sir Carver?’

‘Certainly not.’

‘You know,’ Merrill said, even more desirous of getting away than she was already, ‘I really should go back to Mahariel – I have deserted her too long. The Hawke Estate is so huge, though! – I fear I shall get lost before I find her room again, if there is not a servant who can guide me.’

‘No need,’ Sir Carver said, standing up, ‘I shall accompany you there.’

‘Oh, I really don’t think that will be necessary,’ Merrill said, backing away towards the door, while a glance showed her that both de Launcets were regarding her with hostile eyes – presumably they were angry that she was forcing Carver to spend time away from them, and she had no desire of coming between the silliness of all the human nobles in this room, ‘I am sure one of the servants will be sufficient!’

But it was to no avail: Sir Carver loomed over her, tall and broad and strapping, blue eyes peeking at her from under his dark hair so intently that Merrill felt she had no choice but to follow him.

For Carver, it was a welcome opportunity to get out of the drawing room, away from the de Launcets, and spend even a few extra moments on his own with Merrill. They did not speak as he led her through the halls to Mahariel’s chamber, but Carver’s mind was so full he was not sure he was able to speak. Merrill’s pronouncements on marriage captivated him even more than he was already, and as pleasing as she was to look at and listen to, he could not help wondering how in Thedas he would be able to keep any of this to himself for the duration of her stay.

---

I tag the following people (no pressure!): @cartadwarfwithaheartofgold, @elveny, @kunstpause, @uchidachi, @charlatron, @wardenari, @goblin-tea, @visceralcoma, @veorlian, @hawkeish, @midnightprelude, @nug-juggler, @ayantiel, @stitchcasual, @natsora, @lauraemoriarty, @andrew-blackthorn, @wickedwitchofthewilds, @asaara-writes, @ocean-in-my-rebel-soul, @in-arlathan, @jentrevellan, @luzial and anyone else who wants to do this! ❤️

#throwaway thursday #carver hawke #merrill #carver x merrill #merrill x carver #carver/merrill #merrill/carver #hollyand writes

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hitbythunder · 4 years ago

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Among the Gods of Asgard -6

A dark!Thor x Reader, minor Loki x Reader story with all the drama and angst you’re craving. Including Alexander Skarsgard as Balder. –> Read also on AO3

Summary: The gods are being loved and feared in equal parts by their subjects, more the latter by the thousands of slaves working for them. Ten feet tall, powerful and immortal are the rulers of all beings within the Nine Realms. You, the daughter of an Asgardian merchant, fancy the three handsome princes of Odin - like any woman does - and dream of actually meeting them instead of watching them at public events. That is until, as a consequence of Loki’s tricks, you are being forced into slavery at the royal court. Amidst this harsh new reality, you catch the attention of the god of Thunder who then seeks to make you his alone. You are nothing but a toy, a puppet, in the god’s eyes and he will use you as he pleases.

Do not hope for mercy.

**** WARNING: dark story, manipulative Thor, heavy rape/non-con elements, no happy ending in sight

____________________________xXx____________________________

"...And that is why the Lady Sif and I are not on good terms. Though the black hair suits her much better in my view!" the raven-haired god mused as he leaned back in his comfortable chair, the black queen being caught and turned in his slender pale fingers. A soft chuckle filled the air, its origin hidden behind the too large high back of the chair on the opposite of the chess field. "Could you turn it blonde again if the lady so demanded?" The lovely voice asked as Loki put the queen onto the field again, gently but determinedly as to win, before he looked up at the mortal girl snuggling up against the plush bolstering. "Back then, no, but I have learned a few more tricks over the past centuries!" the Trickster's eyes glinted mischievously but the girl held his gaze. She wasn't afraid of him, not like so many others, not like she should be. In fact, during the past two weeks she had become something far closer than a simple maid and Loki wondered how that had happened. Not that he would admit his growing fondness but he wasn't oblivious either.

At first, they met in the library a few times but soon their chess battles became a delightful daily routine for the both of them. The mortal proved to be a worthy opponent who could challenge the god anew every day - at least as long as Balder was away. Engulfed by the thrill of the game, both maid and master would stare for hours at the black and white chess field and choose their next move wisely. According to some research, it had been Harald Leifson who had discovered this joyous game on Midgard and his daughter had been the first one to learn its rules. Since then she had had a lot of practice and her skills were close to the Trickster's. Many times she almost beat the god - more often than he was willing to acknowledge – but she had enough wits not to boast with it. Loosing didn't go well with Loki's temper.

Instead the mortal remained polite and calm whenever the god relished in another triumphant victory because even that was better than having to (actually) work. At the beginning, the girl had been terribly nervous and her focus lay solely on the game itself, her gaze would rarely wander beyond the chess field. Also the god was quite reserved because usually he wouldn't seek the company of mortals, let alone spend his free-time with them. But as the hours of playing turned into days, the invisible ice-wall between them melted away and both couldn't remain silent for much longer. After some verbal incrementalism they began to chat rather vividly about various topics and Loki found himself sharing some anecdotes of past centuries. In turn, he learned some details of the mortal's background - but mainly he did the talking.

xxx

Word spread, however, and once certain ears were reached, Loki and _________ had to move to his quarters. The library wasn't an appropriate place to display such unconventional manners - the queen had remarked once in private and, as a good son, Loki obliged. Actually, Frigga didn't mind at all that her youngest was socializing with a mortal slave - not the kind of friend she had hoped for but better than none - however many other gods, including the king, would be offended if this sessions were to continue. Thus the queen saw to it that no such unconventional behavior was to be seen outside of the prince's chambers. She didn't guarantee for what happened inside though.

The salon of the prince's chambers was better for playing anyways: no prying eyes and unwanted attention from other gods or slaves. Their envious gazes had felt like daggers piercing into _________'s flesh, thus she was thankful for the change of setting. In fact, she regarded the whole affair as a privilege. Although she felt rather out of place at first between all the gold, ebony and priceless luxuries decorating the room, the maid became rather comfortable being there - and around Loki too. He wasn't the most affable person but somehow he warmed up to her, treated her friendly and seemed to value her for her chess skills. After all the god himself chose to spend every afternoon with her, a maid.

Don't be smug about it! You're just a substitution while his brothers are away! _______ told herself many times so that the disappointment wouldn't be too great once Loki chose to drop her again. Which he surely would one day. Gods only use mortals for their benefit, remember?

So for now, the girl enjoyed the inexplicable honor she was granted. Maybe Loki's large wolf-dog Fenrir was to thank for this strange change in his spirits, because the beast who resided within the prince's chambers had immediately taken a liking into the girl. Upon entering, the cow-sized anthracite dog had suspiciously approached from the adjacent bedroom and had sniffed at the little mortal, who had been stiff as a column that very moment. Seconds later Fenrir had licked at her slender hand to show his trust and appreciation of the new visitor, much to his master's surprise.

Fenrir usually hates unfamiliar faces, he barely behaves around Thor or Balder...Loki had thought suspiciously, not recognizing his own pet.

xxx

Then came the fever. In the middle of the night, the prince was stricken in such a violent fashion that he wasn't able to call for help. Only Fenrir noted his master's indisposition, pressing a moist snout against the god's palm for comfort, and in his delirium Loki had managed to send one simple order to his beloved pet: Get help!

The magical creature and the god had spent so much time together that they literally shared thoughts - a quite useful fact that night – and so the dog dashed away to fulfill meet the order.

However, Fenrir didn't provide the kind of aid the prince had expected. Not Frigga, nor Eir the healer but a maid rode on the beast's back as it returned - as if the wolf knew what the god secretly needed right now. ________ tended to Loki as best as she could, with cataplasms and much kindness to ease the prince's illness. But there were clear limits as the fever wouldn't vanish. When she intended to leave in order to get a healer, Loki asked her, no begged her, not to leave him alone. In the dim-lit bedroom, she couldn't see the puppy eyes he shot at her, however the tight, beseeching grasp he had on her arm gave it all away. How could she have refused?

So she sat down at his side and watched over the god while the fever raged within him, occasionally holding his hand for comfort. _________ did so two other nights too.

xxx

During the day, Loki chose to avoid even brushing the topic and instead directed the conversation towards trivial matters, for example gossip, which he normally wouldn't discuss. Luckily, _______ played along and so neither of them spoke about those hours of disgusting misery, a terrible (shameful) state the prince would never show to anyone, not even to his brothers whom he shared most of his secrets with. Yet ________ had seen it all, the weak sickly side of the glorious god as he lay there bathed in his own sweat, the wet nightwear clinging to his lean pale flesh. A mess of all sorts, just like his mind due to the delirium during which he hadn't been able to formulate a whole consistent sentence.

How pathetic, how human...The god felt deeply abashed as he recalled it, yet then the train of his thoughts also carried him to a much sweeter memory: of a maid's soft small hands tenderly enclasping his; the comfort from sensing her presence on the mattress; her lovely scent flooding his nose whenever she leaned over closely to replace the cataplasm on his forehead. A strange warmth pooled inside the god which began to surface on his cheeks the longer he beheld the mortal across the chess field. “It's your turn, your highness!” The piece of ebony between his fingers had completely slipped his mind apparently. Then he noted how transfixed, almost mesmerized he was staring at her. Suddenly snapping out of trance Loki cleared his voice and quickly averted his gaze, suppressing the shade of pink on his high cheekbones.

“... Oh, oh yes... I just happened to be distracted by a spell...anyways...” Loki declared somewhat clumsily and put the bishop on a random position on the field.

#among the gods of asgard #fanfic #angst and smut #dark!thor #dark!thor x reader #loki

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bexterbex · 5 years ago

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A Soul to Mend His Own | Ch. 2

A Kylo Ren x Modern! Reader in a soulmate au with some canon divergence. —————————————SLOWBURN————————————–

He is already the Supreme leader, searching the universe to find you, his Empress. Your name on his wrist has been the only constant in his life, while you have doubts about his existence and his acceptance of you. He isn’t in the database and why did the name Kylo Ren cover Ben Solo?

Originally posted on my Ao3 Crystallclover. If you missed Chapter 1, Click Here

Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

Chapter 2: An Arrival to be Remembered

UFO has been sited entering the Earth’s atmosphere

Unknown armed and masked being exit ship heading towards the White House, is the President in danger?

Aliens spotted in D.C.

You woke up to the sound of your alarm, and got out of bed. You have been in the habit lately to start your day without checking your phone first. Mostly to avoid early morning emails from your boss before you have even had coffee.

You head to the bathroom relieve yourself, wash your face, and brush your hair. Exiting the bathroom you head to the kitchen and make yourself some breakfast and coffee. You enjoy the sunrise through the large windows in your apartment. Finishing eating you immediately wash your few dishes and get ready for work. You pick out your work ‘uniform’ of a black blouse and black trousers. You head to the bathroom to brush your teeth, put on a little makeup and get changed.

Heading back to the kitchen you prepare a to-go cup of coffee and pull out your lunch for work. Finally, you check your phone.

First, you see an email from your boss reminding you for the 10th time about the morning meeting that you have every Thursday. It isn’t like you to forget something you do every single week for the past year. Never once have you been late, in fact, he was always the one to forget. You wonder if these emails were meant more for him and less for you. But he was always the micromanager.

Next, you check your texts. Your usual morning photo from one of your siblings about one of your nieces/nephews. Another one from Hayden asking if you were still on for tomorrow night’s weekly bar trip. You answered ‘Yes 😀 .’ Another from Carter asking what you think of the news headlines this morning. Odd, although this isn’t the first time you two had discussed something like this it was odd to receive a text like this from them first thing in the morning.

You open Twitter to see #alieninvasiondc trending. You scroll through the news tag. Every major news site around the world is talking about the shuttlecraft that landed on the White House lawn last night, and the armed and armored soldiers that departed from the craft. All of the soldiers wore white armor, except one in silver. There was one who was in all black and a red-haired human-looking man among the group. Not much is known other than they haven’t been seen leaving the White House.

You text Carter back ‘Just looked now, either this is a hoax or the world as we know it is coming to an end. I’ll see you at work.’

You packed your work bag, grabbed your car keys and set off to work. You park in the ramp attached to your building and walk to the elevator. You wave at the security attendant to the opposing skywalk like you do every morning. You arrive at your floor and buzz-in. You say hi to Nancy in reception and head to your desk.

Strangely all of the televisions in the office were muted and tuned into CBC News, normally the one in the break room and the ones in reception were on, the others only really got used during Hockey Games or events like the Olympics. Your boss was in the walkway with his attention turned to his phone.

You set down your things at your desk and boot up your work computer while setting up your laptop on its stand. You did your usual check through work emails until the 9:00 AM weekly meeting. Your boss hasn’t moved from his position in the walkway.

8:55 AM hits and you grab what you need and head to the conference room. The tv was on in here as well. The others in the Marketing department filled in after you. Your boss, Scott, had yet to move from his place in the walkway. 9:00 AM hits and you continue small talk with your co-workers, most of the conversation is directed at the events in D.C.

9:05 AM your co-worker Ally sends a Slack message to your boss. He looks up from his phone to the clock on the wall and runs into his office. After a few minutes, he rushes out and into the conference room.

“Sorry, I am late everyone the Wife is just paranoid over this Alien Invasion thing. I can’t get her to stop texting me,” he chuckles.

Ironically this isn’t the first time he has been ‘late’ to a meeting after being on the phone with his wife an hour after work already started.

Suddenly you all get an Emergency Alert System notification on all of your phones.

‘International Emergency: Please tune in to your local news broadcasting station to receive an Emergency Report.’

Scott asks, “where is the damn remote?”

Ally hands it to him, he unmutes the tv.

The headline reads: ‘President of the United States has an Important International Government Update’

Live from Washington D.C.

On the screen, it shows the President of the United States, with the silver soldier, one in all black and the red-haired man from the video of the invasion last night.

“I have an important announcement. Earth has been contacted by people from space who call themselves the First Order. The First Order has informed me that they would like to peacefully work with Earth. As long as we fully cooperate as an entire planet no harm will come to any of us. Currently, our galaxy is at war, and the First Order seeks our help, in return of offering Earth protection from a group of people called the New Republic.

They have explained to me and the U.N. as a whole that the New Republic is not to be trusted along with their mercenary army called the Resistance. It is through my decision and the decision of the U.N. that we will cooperate and join forces with the First Order to be under their protection.

All citizens of Earth in the next 7 days must register with the First Order. You will be given a citizen number, some citizens may be reassigned to work directly with the First Order. All military personal will be reassigned to be under the First Order. You should not worry as most citizens will be unaffected, life will go on as normal. As long as citizens follow these orders and any orders to come, we shall be safe,” said the President. The President moved out of the way for the man in all black and with a black mask to move to the podium.

“I am the Supreme Leader of the First Order. I promise no harm will come to those who cooperate with us. We seek to peacefully transition your planet, as you know it Earth, to a primary First Order Planet. We value honesty and loyalty, along with hard work. We strive to rebuild the Empire and to maintain order in the galaxy. That is all,” The man's voice was distorted through the mask he was wear, it sounded mechanical or digital but it had a deep sound.

The broadcast cut back to the news anchor. “Currently all citizens of earth are to report to their a local city government building or town hall within the next 7 days for First Order registration and possible reassignment. All citizens must remain calm and do as the government has directed. Any questions or concerns will be answered by local government officials and First Order personnel. All foreign citizens to Canada will follow the same protocol as citizens. All citizens are asked to bring various forms of identification, such as a Passport, driver's license, birth certificate, social insurance number card, any immunization forms, military I.D. and more. You can find a full list of required documents at the CBC website or at canada.ca. As a reminder, all citizens are urged to stay calm and to follow all orders regarding and following First Order registration. Citizens are also advised to stay tuned to local news sources for any updates.”

The conference room sat stunned at the announcement.

“Well were f*****,” said Scott. “We are all surely f*****. Who are these people to think they can just take over like that? Do they think we are just going to sit by and let them brainwash us? Let them take everything from us?”

“I don’t think we have a choice, you heard the U.S. President, the U.N. is in agreement. This is for our own safety. If you are going to go against them and get yourself killed keep us out of it,” said Daniel one of your marketing co-workers.

“I’ll talk to Henry, and see if we can all take the week off, who knows this may be the last time we even get to see our families,” and with that statement, Scott left the conference room.

You sat there not really moving, processing what you just witnessed on the tv and the confrontation between Scott and Daniel. So did the rest of your co-workers. You could tell they were all in shock, the world as you knew it was about to change, the future had shifted.

All of your phones went off again. This time it was an email from Jonathan the CEO.

‘All employees will take today, tomorrow and next week off, in order to give proper attention to the government mandate. Please be safe and I hope to see you all come -Henry G. Wells’

Everyone in the conference room got up and went to their desks. The office was silent, except for the sounds of items being put away and people gathering their things. You were almost done getting ready to go when Carter appeared next to you.

They didn’t speak, for fear of being the first one to break the ominous silence. Carter just looked at you expectantly. You finished packing up and walked with them out of the office. The elevator was packed but silent. Everyone got off and walked to their cars. Carter followed you to yours.

Keeping their voice down, almost to a whisper, they asked, “I know I texted you this morning about all this but what do you think now? Do you want to go back to your place or mine?”

You thought about it for a moment before responding, “let’s go back to mine. We can discuss it from there.”

Carter accepted your response and went to their car to leave. You followed suit. Today was not what you expected.

Tags: @sheadre

#kylo ren #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren imagine #sw #sw sequels #a soul to mend his own

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merrybrides · 5 years ago

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15 Key Secrets To A Successful Marriage

Wouldn’t you like to know the secret sauce to a happy and long-lasting marriage, especially from those happily married couples who have aced the art of leading a happy relationship?

We unveil 15 secrets of a successful marriage that will help you problem-solve the marital issues, disarm the conflicting spouse and help you create and maintain a successful marriage.

1. Be independent

Independence was rated ‘extremely important’ in a marriage.

In order to be happy in a relationship, we must be happy first. That is, in fact, the key to a successful relationship. With that in mind, wives and husbands must continue to take out time for themselves, enjoy their personal hobbies, and in general, spend some time apart.

Not only does absence make the heart grow fonder, but in the time we spend alone, we get to reunite with our spiritual side, re-establish our sense of self, and check in with the progress of our personal preferences, goals, and achievements.

Being dependent, on the other hand, weakens your resolve and ability to move forward as a free thinker.

When we maintain our independent sense of self, we will always have something to talk about at the dinner table, and we are forever stronger, healthier, and more attractive to our partners.

2. Be a good listener

We need to talk.

Most partners dread this sentence but do you know that if you are wondering how to have a successful relationship then creating a platform for healthy conversations is the way to go?

While all women should work in the art of active listening, we emphasize this as an area of special attention for men. Too often, men do not realize that all their partner needs from them is a listening ear.

This is due to their programming and the way in which they are taught to relate to others.

Remember that listening and hearing are not the same things. Listening involves our hearts. Open yours, hear what she says, look at her while she speaks, paraphrase even, and reassure.

Listening is the real key to a happy marriage, for that matter, to every relationship.

3. Agree to disagree

Being good together does not mean that couples agree on every little thing. Most of the couples we interviewed actually had varying attitudes, opinions, and belief systems; and even held opposing views on major areas in some cases.

All couples should have some level of disagreement somewhere. Successful, loving couples respected the point of view of one another and even had a sense of humor over their points of contention.

Remember, respect is one of the major elements of a successful marriage.

Recognize that of two opposite views, one of them does not have to be right.

4. Communicate – know your partner’s ‘Love Language’

There are several books out there on the Languages of Love. This was developed of the concept in psychology that each individual has his or her own unique way in which they communicate love.

By knowing your partner’s preferences and hobbies, metaphors can be used in communication that relates to something the person understands well.

Observe the physical way in which your partner shows love and you’ll know what makes a successful marriage.

This could be, washing your car, or picking up the kids. From her, it could be keeping the toiletries stocked and ironing his shirts. For others, its words, letters, and affection.

Our advice for a successful marriage? Figure out your partner’s love language so you will always know how to speak to him or her. Love languages are often talked about but couples don’t pay as much attention to this than they should.

Understanding a spouse’s love language is the secret to a happy relationship.

5. Acceptance

A major relationship killer, lack of acceptance is a trait more commonly attributed to women, who are known for their nagging. Remember, we married our spouse for who he was then, and who he is now. Even if we wanted to change him now, we can’t.

The key to a successful marriage lies in realizing this as soon as possible.

When urging or persuading him, you are only focusing on his weaknesses or problems. Change your perspective immediately and start focusing on positive traits instead.

6. Take responsibility

It is that easy and one of the secrets of a successful marriage. When you participate in a project, take responsibility for your successes and your failures.

When you and your partner have a disagreement or argument, remember to take responsibility for your actions, including anything you did or said, especially if it was hurtful, unthoughtful or created adversity.

7. Never take one another for granted

Taking one another for granted may be the most toxic pathogen of all. Once they are comfortable, it is easy for couples to begin to slip into a complacent state – and expectations form.

This is actually only a matter of human nature, as we get comfortable with what is familiar, but in marriage, you absolutely should never come to a place where you take your partner for granted.

Pledge to respect your partner indefinitely no matter what. Avoid assumptions, and offer to do nice things for your partner whenever possible. Most successful marriages have partners who vouch for this.

8. Date night

Among the other tips for a successful marriage, this tip is the most ignored and overlooked by couples, especially those who have been married for a while. It does not matter what a couple does on their date night.

Simply having a night when they spend their time just with each other strengthens the bond and maintains it over time. When you have a date night, you should turn your phones off and put them away so you are free of distractions.

Watch a movie at home with popcorn or go hiking or rollerblading together. Change it up often and be helpful and positive for one another. A romantic and thoughtful date night is not just one of the steps to a successful marriage but indeed one of the main ingredients of a successful marriage as well.

It is important to schedule this monthly if not weekly in order to maintain accountability and establish a pattern of importance in regard to date night.

9. Add romance

Wondering how to make marriage successful? Go old school with your romance. Romantic acts can be many – try giving her a flower someday or place a love note in his briefcase or backpack. Surprise him with his favorite meal, or watch the sunset together.

There is no shortage of ideas, and you’ll be amazed at how far a little romance goes toward strengthening the relationship.

10. Keep intimacy alive

Sex is very important to a healthy marriage. Sex should be regular, and therapists suggest doing it even when you’re not in the mood!

We suggest keeping it interesting by talking about what pleases you and adding any fantasy role-playing, positions, or bedroom props you may want to introduce to keep it exciting.

After all, what is a successful marriage if it doesn’t let you get what you desire?

Life coach Giovanni Maccarrone talks about how making this one conscious decision before getting married can be helpful in making a marriage successful.

11. Compliments

“A compliment a day keeps the divorce attorney away.” Acknowledging your partner’s positive attributes every day, and paying compliments, will go a long way in your relationships.

Stay positive, and keep track of what your spouse does well. When the going gets rough and his not-so-great attributes come forward, rather than focusing on the negative, try switching gears, and point out the positive stuff instead.

12. Look for the soft emotion

Behind every “hard” emotion is a soft one; this is a concept taught by psychologists.

When we feel anger, it’s usually masking another emotion behind it, such as sadness, disappointment, or jealousy. We often just use anger as a disguise to protect our vulnerabilities.

Looking for the “soft” or vulnerable emotions underneath someone’s hard display of anger will help keep you connected as you are better equipped to empathize with that person’s true emotion.

We are often searching for tips for a successful relationship but fail to realize that a simple thing such as identifying the reality of emotions can keep us on the right track.

13. Let go of the fantasy

Unfortunately, we are socialized to believe in fairytale endings and we may carry some false perspectives on reality with us into adulthood. We need to recognize that, while marriage can be a beautiful thing, it is not effortless, nor will it ever be perfect.

Have realistic expectations and do not fall victim to the fairy tale – you may find yourself sorely disappointed. This is not only one of the greatest factors of a successful marriage but plays a huge role in your happiness as an individual too.

14. Do not control

Married people often come to a place where they start to lose themselves, they give in to jealousy or feelings of inadequacy, or they forget that they are separate people away from their partners, and they may try to control their partners.

Most of the time this is done inadvertently, as expectations may grow over time.

What makes a marriage successful are communication, independent time, and healthy indulgences that will keep any couple on track. If you sense you are being controlled or are the controller, get a handle on it or make an appointment for a family counselor.

15. Never use the D- word

Presuming you don’t really want to get a divorce, don’t threaten to. Couples that use the D-word or talk about separation during fights use this as a control mechanism. Couples using it in a threatening way are more likely to see Divorce come to fruition.

Making threats is not a mature strategy for solving any problem, so don’t do it.

Most happy couples swear by these successful marriage tips. Follow these tips on how to have a successful marriage; you will not only be able to save your marriage but also be able to enjoy a highly successful one.

#marriage advice

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