#it's a very complicated story and for some reason neither side can attempt to help me

[chaninfused]

Of course it isn't, why on earth would it be your fault? Unless I'm misunderstanding the situation, it's your school that's messing up, not you. You even reached out to them so you can't say that you haven't been trying! I'm sorry if it sounds like I'm trying to force positivity on to you, it isn't my intention to pretend like everything is fine and dandy and you definitely have every right to be mad and frustrated but please also remember that it's out of your hands, you aren't to blame -🌷

the thing is

[theladyofdeath]

Life As We Know It {Prologue}

Summary: After the sudden deaths of Nesta’s sister and Cassian’s best friend, they gain guardianship of their nephew, Nyx.

Based on Life As We Know It (2010) and a prompt sent in by anonymous for our Nessian fanfic contest. This is a modern au.

Instead of doing a tag list for this story, we have decided to have a set schedule. Chapters will be posted weekly on Mondays and Thursdays. Chapters will be posted on both Shelby and I’s blogs! >> @snelbz​

We hope you all enjoy. :)

Cassian knew very little about Nesta Archeron, but he knew one thing for certain: she was hot as hell.

He had sworn he’d never go on another blind date, but Rhysand had begged, over and over again, for him to go out with the eldest sister of his girlfriend. So, to shut his brother up, Cassian agreed.

Reluctantly, but nonetheless. 

He took a quick shower where he bathed himself in a new bottle of body wash before stepping out and towel-drying his hair. Considering Nesta was Feyre’s sister, he felt the need to make a good first impression, although he wasn’t sure what a good impression was to Nesta Archeron.

He was hoping he was sufficient enough.

He dressed in his usual attire of jeans and old boots, but decided to wear a button up for once, rather than one of his go-to t-shirts. Still, he pulled on his leather jacket and grabbed his keys before hurrying out the door.

He typed the address Rhys had texted him into his gps, seeing the drive was going to take him nearly twenty minutes longer than he’d anticipated, thanks to an accident on the interstate.

He swore under his breath, throwing his truck into motion. He hurried across town and parked in front of Nesta’s townhouse, fifteen minutes later than he was supposed to. Flipping down his sun visor, Cassian ran a quick hand through his loose hair and was heading up to the front door, knocking twice.

Or he would have, if the door wasn’t pulled open the second his fist made contact with it.

Suddenly, in his jeans and leather jacket, he felt extremely underdressed.

Nesta Archeron wore a beautifully fitted dark blue dress that fell only a couple inches above her knees. She wore heels, and her hair was curled. A silver clutch was gripped tightly in her hand.

She eyed Cassian, from the top of his head to his toes. For once, even though he was half a foot taller than she, even in heels, Cassian felt smaller than shit.

“Hey,” he said, at last, once the silence became unbearably awkward.

“You’re Cassian?” she asked. 

“Were you expecting someone else?” he shot back.

Nesta’s lips thinned. “You’re late,” she said, instead. 

“At least I came,” he grinned. “Hungry?”

Nesta took a deep breath as she lifted her chin. “I suppose so.”

“Good,” he said, gesturing toward his running truck. “Let’s go. I made reservations.”

She locked her door and followed him down the sidewalk. “Are we going to be late for those, too?”

Cassian elected not to answer her, pausing at the passenger door and opening it for her. He let out a sigh as he rounded the truck to his own seat.

Something told him this was going to be a long night.

He was absolutely right.

Not a single word was said on the way to the restaurant across town, and, by some grace of the Cauldron, they made it on time for their reservations.

They were set at a table by the entrance quickly, and once their server arrived, Nesta ordered a glass of wine, while Cassian stuck with his usual beer.

“So,” Cassian began, clearing his throat as they waited for their drinks to arrive. “What should I know about you, Nesta?��

“That’s it?” she asked, brow raised. “That’s the question you’ll begin with?”

Cassian’s head fell to the side. “What question should I have gone with?”

Nesta took a moment to look around the bustling restaurant. “Well, you’ve yet to tell me how beautiful I look, or ask me how I’m doing tonight.”

Cassian couldn’t help but chuckle. “Fine. You look nice. How are you?”

Nesta snorted. “Well, I waited twenty minutes for my date, thinking he wasn’t coming. Other than that, fine, I guess.” 

“You don’t do this often, do you?” Cassian asked. There was nothing accusatory in his tone, just simple curiosity.

“Do what?” Nesta asked, the words nearly clipped.

“Date,” Cassian replied, simply. “Go out with someone for the first time.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “No. I don’t particularly have a lot of free time to waste.”

Cassian’s eyebrows rose at her choice of words. “You don’t have to be here, you know?”

The server quietly returned to the table, setting their drinks down, before hurrying away, sensing the tension between the two. Nesta’s eyes didn’t leave him the whole time. She picked up her wine glass, taking a long drink, before she asked, “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you clearly would rather be anywhere but here,” Cassian replied, leaning back in his seat. “I’d hate to waste your time.”

She was about to reply when a voice came from their left.

“Cassian?”

He looked over his shoulder to find an old friend - a term that he used very, very loosely. 

Tanwyn and he had a very complicated relationship. They were friends - at least, they had been at one time. It had all become very complicated the first time he had invited her into his bed.

And the second time.

And the third.

And every time after that.

He smiled at her, almost hesitantly. “Hey, Tan. What are you doing here?”

“Here with some friends,” she grinned, approaching their table. “And you?”

“Here with…” Cassian’s voice trailed off as he looked across the table. “This is Nesta Archeron. Nesta, this is Tanwyn-.”

“Nice to meet you,” Nesta said, words clipped. “If you’ll excuse us, we’re on a date.”

She blinked, taken aback at Nesta’s cold greeting. “Right… Sorry to interrupt. I’ll see you later, Cass.” She nodded to Nesta. “Nice to meet you.”

She was gone before Cassian could say another word, and he looked at Nesta incredulously.

She raised her glass before putting it to her lips. “So when is the last time you slept with her?”

Cassian was stunned, shaking his head. “She’s a friend, there was no reason to be rude.”

“My question still stands.” Nesta folded her hands on the table, her eyes on Cassian’s.

“How do you even know-? What are you, a psychologist?”

“No, I’m a chef,” she said, glaring at him. “But you show everything on that pretty little face of yours. It was easy to read.”

He closed his eyes, dragging a hand down his face. “We just need to…start over. This is all going wrong.”

Nesta stayed quiet before finally nodding. “Fine.”

The server picked that time to return, the two of them ordering their food, and the awkward first date conversation began again.

“I have to be honest,” Cassian began. “I’m not sure where to even begin.”

“Your name would be fine,” Nesta said, sipping from her glass.

Cassian watched her for a moment to make sure she was serious before saying, “Cassian Nazari. Childhood friend of Rhys’.”

“And your occupation?” she asked, in all seriousness. 

“I’m a bartender,” Cassian said.

Nesta stared at him for a moment before asking, “Seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously, and before you make any judgements, bartenders make damn good money,” Cassian said.

“Interesting,” Nesta said, watching him intently. 

“Right,” Cassian muttered. “Now, will you give me some insight into you or should I beg?”

Nesta rolled her eyes before saying, “I’m Nesta. And, yes, lie I said, I’m a chef. I’ve got a little restaurant in the Square”

“That sounds…interesting,” he said, repeating her words. “And your Feyre’s sister?”

“I am,” she said, pausing as the server brought out salads and she began to eat hers, without any dressing.

Cassian, on the other hand, nearly drowned his in ranch dressing. He watched as she ate her plain lettuce. “That looks…boring.”

“Salad dressing is fattening. It negates all of the goodness of the salad.” She took another bite, chewing and looking at him, then his salad swimming in ranch. “You look like you take care of yourself, I’m surprised you don’t watch what you eat as well.”

He scoffed. “I work out, but I’m not going to be miserable and eat rabbit food.” He gestured to the bowl in front of her.

She rolled her eyes, but continued to eat her rabbit food.

Silence grew between them but neither of them attempted to break it. It wasn’t until their main courses arrived that Cassian nodded toward the cursive ink on the inside of her wrist. 

“You have a tattoo,” he said.

She eyed the ink that swirled around his arms, up beneath his rolled up sleeves. “I have a few,” she confessed. 

“What are they?” he asked, starting to cut up his steak.

She took a bite of her salmon, chewing it slowly before deflecting his question with one of her own, “What are yours?”

Cassian glanced down at the swirls and marks of black ink that covered his forearms. “They’re Illyrian tribal marks. They all mean something different, but I would be lying if I told you I knew what every one of them meant.” 

Nesta snorted. “Then why have them?”

Cassian met her eyes. “My mother was Illyrian. I grew up in Illyria, with her tribe.” 

It seems the answer nearly took her back, but she ended up nodding, curtly. “How is your steak?”

“Too done,” he said, shrugging as he took a bite. “I like my meat red.” Her nose crinkled slightly. He asked, “What?”

Nesta shrugged. “I don’t eat meat.”

He blinked and watched as she took another bite of salmon. “You’re…eating fish.”

An eye roll was her reply. “I don’t eat red meat,” she clarified.

“So you’re a vegetarian?” He asked.

“No, I just don’t like to eat red meat. Chicken, pork, fish,” she gestured to her plate. “I like that. But I just prefer not to eat red meat.”

“Hmm.” It was more of a non-answer than anything, but before she could say anything, a man appeared, standing next to their table. Cassian glanced up at him. “Can we help you?”

He wasn’t looking at him though. He was looking at Nesta, who was pointedly not looking at him.

“What are you doing, Nes?”

She took a drink of her wine, draining the glass. “This doesn’t concern you, Tom.”

“Bullshit,” he spat. “We take a break and less than a month later, you’re on a date?”

She finally looked at him. “We’re not on a break, I broke up with you.”

Cassian cleared his throat. “Is this where all exes gather?” He looked around again to see if he saw Tanwyn, but she was gone.

“Leave,” Nesta said, plainly. “I can’t enjoy my dinner with you standing over me like the controlling bastard you were in our relationship.”

Cassian’s lips nearly fell open.

The woman had balls.

He respected that.

“I hate to break up this little reunion, but this is awkward as hell,” Cassian muttered, popping a spoonful of garlic mashed potatoes into his mouth. 

“This doesn’t concern you,” Tomas said, looking to Cassian, using Nesta’s own words.

Cassian chuckled and ran a hand through his hair. “I’ll give you two choices here, Tom. Either I call someone to take your ass away from our table or I make you leave, myself.”

“Tough guy, huh?” Tomas asked, putting a hand on Nesta’s shoulder.

Nesta brushed his hand off the second it made contact with her skin. “This is ridiculous. I’m calling over the server. We’re leaving.”

Cassian was inclined to agree. This date had been a catastrophe so far, but he was hopeful that maybe if she invited him in, he could salvage it.

Tomas seemed to take the hint, looking back to Nesta. “I’ll call you tomorrow. We’ll talk about this entire situation then.”

She flagged down the server, but said to Tomas, “Don’t waste your time or mine.”

He walked away, muttering something under his breath, but the server returned and after a quick explanation from Nesta, she was off to get their check.

“Well, that was awkward,” Cassian said, clearing his throat, taking a drink of his beer, planning to finish it off.

“No more awkward than running into your fuck buddy,” she replied, pulling her lipstick out of her purse to re-apply it.

Cassian managed to swallow the mouthful of beer before he spewed it all over her. He coughed quietly. “You don’t tiptoe around anything, do you?”

Her answer was curt. “No.”

The server returned, standing the check book on the edge of the table, and Cassian elected to let the conversation drop at that. He reached into his back pocket to grab his wallet.

And froze.

It wasn’t there.

He checked every other pocket he had on him.

Nothing.

“Fuck,” he breathed, patting himself down.

Nesta arched a brow. “Issues?”

“I have to run out to the truck,” Cassian said, quietly. “I can’t seem to find my wallet.”

Nesta froze from where she sat behind her half-eaten salmon. “You forgot your wallet?”

“It’s probably in the truck-.”

“I didn’t see it in the truck-.”

“Then the glove box, maybe,” Cassian snapped. “Just, give me a minute.”

“Don’t bother,” Nesta bit, reaching across the table to grab the check.

Cassian got to it first and held it outside of her reach. “I can pay for it. I took you out, I’m paying.”

Nesta scoffed. “Spare me your holier than thou male bravado.” 

Cassian stood. “I just need to run out to my truck.”

She was on her feet, snatching the check book from him and looking at the total. Without another word, she reached into purse and laid down a series of bills, before closing it and heading for the door.

Sighing, Cassian followed her, his cheeks heating. Never had he let a woman pay for his dinner, and he’d sure as hell never let her pay for the first date.

He didn’t say a word as he unlocked her door, opening it, and closing it after she’d climbed in. He rounded to his own door, immediately looking around the cab for his wallet. It was nowhere to be seen. He reached across, opening the glovebox, pulling a few things out.

His wallet wasn’t one of them, but Nesta didn’t fail to notice the gold foil wrappers. And how many he had. She scoffed, buckling her seatbelt and looking out the window.

“I’ll pay you back,” he said, after he’d started the truck and had pulled onto the main road.

“No need,” she snapped, staring out the passenger side window. “Dropping me off and leaving me the hell alone will do.”

The words were barely audible. She spoke the words under her breath. And yet, Cassian felt them like a slap in the face. 

He was mortified.

He was at a loss for words.

He just wanted to go home.

He also wanted to make a move on Nesta Archeron.

There was something about the head-strong, independent woman that made Cassian swoon.

Not that it stopped the car ride back to her home any less silent and awkward.

“You’re Feyre’s sister,” Cassian said, randomly.

Nesta blinked, looking toward him. “Yeah. Is there something wrong with that?”

“No,” Cassian said quickly. “It’s just that, you’re so…” Different. Cruel. Different. Opposite. Different. Vindictive. Different. “Not the same,” Cassian finished, at last.

“I am my own person,” she snapped, as he stopped in front of her townhouse.

“I know you are, just-.” He sighed, turning to look at her. “This has been a mess from the start. Can I come in? I’d like some time for us to talk, just the two of us. No ex’s, no servers, no interruptions. I just want to get to know you.”

She laughed once.

The sound infuriated him.

“You mean you want to fuck me,” she said, unbuckling her seatbelt. He was, once again, caught off guard by how blunt she was. She pulled open his glovebox and removed the strip of condoms, holding them up. “Forgot your wallet, but made sure you didn’t forget these.”

Cassian slowly looked at her. “That’s not fair.”

“Not fair?” she repeated. “What are you, a child?”

Cassian couldn’t help but laugh out loud. “Are you fucking kidding me? I’ve tried to be the perfect gentleman tonight, alright? Yeah, I forgot my wallet, but-.”

“And we also ran into your fuck buddy, don’t forget about that,” Nesta said, with a vindictive grin. She opened the door, grabbed her purse, and hopped out.

Cassian was close behind her, following her up her walkway. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Nesta spun around. “What the hell is wrong with me?” she laughed, humorlessly. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?” Cassian asked, as she approached her front door.

“Yet you’re still following me to my door,” she said, not looking back at him. She unlocked the door, opening it and stepping inside. Turning back to him, she held the door in one hand, the hand holding her purse propped on her hip. “Thank you for a truly unforgettable evening, Cassian, but I don’t think this is going to work out.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, letting his gaze slowly drag from her head to her toes and back up again. He watched as her cheeks heated, anger lighting up her eyes. “Yeah, I think you’re right. You’re too stuck up for your own good. Too bad.”

She groaned before slamming the door in his face, praying she’d never have to see Cassian Nazari again.

[impalementation]

spike, angel, buffy & romanticism: part 4

part 1: “When you kiss me I want to die”: Angel and the high school seasons

part 2: “Love isn’t brains, children”: Enter Spike as the id

part 3: “Something effulgent”: Season five and the construction of Spike the romantic

* 

“But I can’t fool myself. Or Spike, for some reason.”: Buffy and Spike as a blended self

Before I get into seasons six and seven, it’s worth asking: why would the show do all of this? Why would it spend all of this time developing a supporting villain and joke id character? Why would it give him a romantic arc? I see people say that the writers only gave Spike these storylines because he was popular or they wanted to keep him around, but even that being the case, there was no need to give him the specific arc that they did. It’s more than possible to read meaning into the story that they chose from the array of possible options. 

Here is the thing about the id. It’s not actually something separate from you. It’s not a ravenous monster you can blame your weaknesses on while remaining pure and dignified. The id is part of you. The immediate and enduring appeal of Spike is, I suspect, strongly influenced by the fact that the things the id wants are so very human and sympathetic. His foibles and mistakes are often painfully familiar, even exaggerated through vampirism as they are. In fact, it’s precisely because Spike is allowed to show a full range of reactions to love, because the writing is under less pressure for him to do the “right” or dignified thing, that he can at times be compelling in ways other characters can’t. If Spike just did nasty things, his appeal wouldn’t be much more complicated than the appeal of Angelus, who people tend to like as a villain or storyline rather than as a relatable character. But Spike doesn’t want to dismember nuns or construct elaborate murder tableaux. He wants familiar things like love, identity and meaning, even if the ways he goes about getting them can reflect people’s worst impulses. 

Which brings us to Buffy, and Buffy’s story about growing up. Buffy is Buffy’s show, which means that every writing choice tends to revolve around her arc in one way or another. And this goes for Spike’s storyline even more than most. In the final three seasons of the show, the writing finally engages with how inextricable the id--and all of its impulsive, inarticulate romantic desires--really is from a person’s self. So instead of keeping Spike at a comfortable distance, both Buffy and the writing begin to take him seriously. They begin to invite him in.

Starting in season five, it’s telling how frequently Buffy herself projects on Spike, rather than just the writing setting them up as mirrors. She tells him that he’s the “only one strong enough” to protect her family, and later assigns Dawn specifically to his protection. In “Spiral” she describes him as “the only one besides me that has any chance of protecting Dawn.” This is a very intimate role that she otherwise only assigns to herself (and which is not really based on pure practicality, considering that she’ll later describe Willow as her “big gun”--yet never gives Willow the task of protecting Dawn). She tells him that he cannot love, which is the thing she fears most about herself. Her protests that Spike is a vampire, and thus cannot express or want human things like love, mirror her lamentations that as the Slayer, she cannot have a normal life.

From the Gilliland Gothic double essay:

More than any of her other lovers, Buffy and Spike overlap one another so often that at times their character arcs become nearly indistinguishable. With Angel, Buffy traveled a parallel path in attempting to master self-control. With Riley, her journey ultimately took her in the opposite direction. With Spike, Buffy’s journey is most closely shadowed, in that her interactions with him in many ways can be seen as metaphors for her feelings about herself.

So now Spike is multiple things. On the one hand, he’s the soulless id he’s been since season two. His vampiric behavior represents a morally uninhibited way of reacting to romantic frustrations, among other things. But on the other hand, his vampirism now also marks him as like Buffy, not merely her opposite.* Nor is he only her mirror in the realm of romantic love. The part of him that is a vampire is the part of him that is supernatural (ie, Romantically larger-than-life), that sets him apart from regular people, and dictates how he can and cannot behave. Just like Buffy’s slayerness. His vampirism is what makes him capable of protecting Dawn, while also making him (supposedly, according to Buffy) incapable of human feeling--again, just like Buffy’s slayerness. Instead of Buffy’s Slayer side being aligned with Angelus, who was an unmitigated evil, it becomes aligned with Spike, who is something more complicated. 

*(Though it must be noted that this was a process that began in season four, with the show aligning Spike with the Scoobies by making him a victim of the Initiative. Spike being supernatural suddenly marks him as non-normative, just like the Scoobies, in contrast to the institutional conformity that the Initiative represents. The evolution towards treating the Romantic supernatural as something positive and associated with identity plays a key role in transitioning the show to the more complicated attitudes of the last three seasons.)

This shift in the show’s attitudes towards the id affects how Spike is used. In “Blood Ties” for example, Spike assists Dawn in breaking into the Magic Shop and in “Forever” he helps Dawn resurrect her and Buffy’s mother. In both cases, Spike could be read as embodying impulsive behavior that Buffy is supposed to be better than. Yet both cases specifically involve Spike helping Dawn, who is repeatedly portrayed as Buffy’s human side. As Buffy says in “The Gift”: “[Dawn]’s more than [my sister]. She’s me. The monks made her out of me. [...] Dawn is a part of me. The only part that I--”. In other words, Buffy’s id becomes closely tied to her humanity, even going so far as to become its safeguard. “Blood Ties” ends with Buffy affirming her connection to Dawn, which Spike’s rule-breaking directly enabled, and “Forever” ends with Buffy acknowledging how desperately she wants her mother back too, and becoming closer to Dawn as a result. (Compare to “Lovers Walk”, where Buffy acknowledging her id results in her breaking away from Angel, not drawing closer to anyone). Or in “Intervention”, Spike building the Buffybot directly parallels Buffy’s own anxieties about what she thinks she should be. She thinks she’s losing her ability to love, and that effusive fakery is her only recourse (as she said in “I Was Made to Love You”: “Maybe I could change. [...] I could spend less time slaying, I could laugh at his jokes. I mean men like that right? The joke laughing at?”), a fear that even has some merit, given that her friends cannot tell her and the bot apart. Instead of Buffy and Spike having separate arcs in the episode, Spike learning the difference between real and fake dovetails with Buffy’s own relationship to her realness and fakeness. It turns out that neither of them want a bot version of Buffy. They want real emotion, things like sacrifice and heartfelt gratitude. If even Buffy’s id would let itself be killed for Dawn, then maybe she has nothing to fear from herself. Maybe there is some beauty in the emotional part of her nature that she thinks she must repress.

In other words, part of the writing (and Buffy) fully engaging with romanticism and the id, means engaging with the ways they can be bad and good. There’s this weird thing that happens with Spike as soon as he falls in love with Buffy, where suddenly his actions are more uncomfortable, and to many, off-putting, because their object is Buffy (instead of another vampire like Harmony or Drusilla, who either enjoy the same vampiric things he does, or the audience might be inclined to see as a moral nonentity regardless). His comic id quality becomes somewhat darker and more serious, almost like the way Angel’s early season two darkness becomes more serious after he loses his soul. But at the same time, Spike’s actions are also more intriguing, sympathetic, and even noble...because their object is Buffy. It makes no sense that a soulless vampire should not only fall in love with the Slayer, but genuinely attempt to transform himself into someone worthy of her love. And yet that’s exactly what Buffy inspires him to do. By loving Buffy Spike’s dual nature, and the dual nature of his romanticism, is thrown into relief: it’s something that can be selfish and creepy, yes, but also something that hints at the idea that real romanticism does exist. Something worth feeling romantically about does exist. Thus the writing can at once criticize, say, the way the chivalric mindset conflates love and suffering, while also suggesting that there are kinds of love it’s worth being transformed by. (Meanwhile, Spike’s fumbling bewilderment over how to love Buffy, and what the rules of loving people correctly even are, creates a human middle ground between monstrousness and heroism). By leaning into the way that Buffy and Spike have been used as mirrors for three seasons, and introducing the mythology-bending idea of Spike being in love with Buffy, the writing is able to fully engage with this complicated, contradictory nature of love and romance.

All of which is to say. Spike becomes a potential love interest, and is given a convoluted inner conflict between monstrousness, humanity and heroism, in precisely the season in which Buffy begins to reckon with her own inner conflict between her darker impulses, her human reality, and her supernatural role. It’s no coincidence that season five opens with Dracula, an icon of romantic vampire mythology, tempting Buffy with darkness and promising her insight into her nature. Or that a vampire kidnaps Dawn--again, her human half--in the next episode. Or that the season’s antagonist is a super-strong blonde woman who wants to destroy Dawn instead of protect her. Or that she says goodbye to Riley, the boyfriend who embodied her hopes for a more normative way of being (notice how Riley is progressively destabilized by everything non-normative about Buffy’s life, and provokes those anxieties Buffy expresses in “I Was Made to Love You”). Over and over in season five, Buffy fears that her Slayer half is cold, destructive, and otherwise dangerous. That these Romantic things like gods and vampires have it in for Buffy’s vulnerable humanity. Yet Buffy’s vampire id simultaneously gives lie to these fears by proving itself capable of heroism and genuine human feeling.

In other words, Spike becomes a potential love interest in a season that treats the Romantic--ie the grand and mythical--as something more than just an attractive lie to be disabused of. Rather, the question that season five seems to posit to me, and which will not be fully answered until the end of season seven, is this: once you do clear away the attractive lies, once you accept the hard realities, once you’ve seen the darkest underbellies, what are the things that are left that are truly grand and beautiful? What are the stories that are really worth telling, and the heroes that are really worth having?

And the show asks and answers these questions on both a very personal level, and a more meta, systemic level. On the personal level, Buffy and Spike are forced to confront their illusions not just about the world, but about themselves. They are made to ask themselves what constitutes a heroic role or a demonic weakness, versus basic, unromantic humanity. And on the meta level, the show asks questions about our expectations for how both love stories and chosen hero stories are supposed to go.

part 5: “Everything used to be so clear”: Season six and the agony of the real

[sokkathebluewolf]

Hi I have a question what would you describe Azula and Zhao relationship in your story?

... a disaster waiting to happen?

Some spoilers below, so read at your own risk:

Azula and Zhao have always had a complicated relationship in Gladiator's universe. She used to practically hero-worship the guy as a kid... until she realized he was actually underestimating her and looking down on her for a myriad of reasons. Thus, she set out to prove herself to him, and to everyone who dared look down on her, so she could make him respect her for real.

Zhao, on his part, has always treated and seen Azula as a child, with only the occasional moments of realizing that she's already fully grown up (such as when they met again once he returned from the north) or that she's actually damn epic (such as during her week as Fire Lord). But more than anything, Zhao's behavior towards Azula was decidedly arrogant for a very long time. It's not until Azula seeks him out for help her in one of her schemes that he finally tries to make amends for his failings with her... and then he spends most his time attempting to make amends still, even if Azula isn't quite as antagonistic towards him anymore, what with her being a little more mature and also having waaaay too much going on in her life to worry that much about this guy anymore.

So... in Part 1, Azula was hostile towards Zhao, and Zhao condescending towards Azula. In Part 2, their relationship evolves towards a wobbly sort of respect, in which Zhao frequently attempted to prove himself to Azula too, only to fail practically every time regardless of his intentions. She didn't care much about those failures at first... but she does once he vows to help her get Ozai to stop his rampaging madness only to fail catastrophically at it.

At that point in Part 2, Azula's opinion of Zhao swings back to the absolute WORST extreme because she starts to read his behavior so far, yet again, as manipulation and deceit at every corner, as opportunism and attempts to claw at power at her expense. At best, she thinks maybe he just doesn't care if he has to go over her to get some power... but all in all, she's just reading his behavior, and her father's choices, as what Zhao has been hoping for since day 1.

This isn't exactly correct of course, we've been working with a much more complex and nuanced Zhao than what canon gave us, but what brittle cordiality he had built with Azula, whatever common sense Zhao might still have in his head... all of it falls to the wayside when he starts to see Azula not as a child anymore, but as someone with actual agency and power to strike back when threatened, and with no apparent regard for whatever she has to destroy in order to get her way. It's ironic because that description fits Ozai far better than it fits Azula... but that's how Zhao starts to see her after his gladiator is the sole casualty after the horrific destruction of the Grand Royal Dome.

Hence... Part 3 will give us the absolute worst possible state of affairs between Azula and Zhao. There's absolute distrust on both sides, and there's a certain irksome Ozai pushing his agenda of forcing people into corners, his favorite way to manipulate the world around him, and he forces these two into a corner neither of them wants to be in, which makes their relationship even worse. Zhao will certainly have a few moments of trying to do right by his promise to Sokka, back when he last spoke with Sokka in prison... but there will be a breaking point for Zhao. Said breaking point arrives once he feels used, betrayed, manipulated by Azula and it pretty much makes him snap... which paves the way for our Zhao to pretty much become the worst version of himself he can be.

As for Azula, at that point in time... well, she's never going to lower her guard around Zhao, that much should be obvious, I think. She'll refuse to ever see him as anything other than a sneaky, conniving bastard waiting to make the most of whatever chances fall on his lap. Even so, she'll make a few attempts at cordiality at a few points in time, and she'll do right by someone who should matter lots to Zhao, someone we've already seen a few times but that we'll see far more often in Part 3... our soft-spoken, quiet and awkward Rei :') But as it happens, Zhao misreads Azula's behavior towards Rei as more and more manipulation... and things become a chaotic disaster because of his assumptions. Ultimately, there's only one thing Azula will ever cherish related to Zhao... and it's literally Rei, nothing other than that :'D

So... that's pretty much it. Azula and Zhao really won't have a good dynamic going forward, it deteriorates further over time too (so... we could say it's kind of uneasy, unpleasant and painful in the early arcs of Part 3, but that dynamic grows more aggressive starting from arc 4), so unfortunately, what awaits these two in the coming chapters is not easy stuff at all. If you were curious because you hoped they'd be allies and friends... I'm sorry to say that's not in the books, not for someone like Zhao who, for all his not-so-disagreeable behaviors in Part 2, is still 100% on board with the firebending supremacist ideologies of Sozin. If a refresher is needed, he was pretty casual about sacrificing a whole slew of innocents as scapegoats to deceive the general population of the Fire Nation and to drive across a message about the harsh punishments that await anyone who dares dissent against Ozai's regime. And that's without even bringing up his willingness to destroy the Northern Water Tribe, erradicate their culture and claim their oasis not solely for the sake of slaying the Moon Spirit as in canon... but to test if its waters will truly grant immortality :')

Zhao was always a chameleon-sort of character in Gladiator, and while I certainly have enjoyed making him much more complex than he was in canon, I also can assure you... he's not a good person, on just about any level you can think of. Even if he has a handful of not-too-terrible traits here, he's still someone who has been shaped by the cruelty of his nation and who has been enforcing the will of the Fire Lord since his early years. Much like Ozai is quite unwilling to change his ways... ultimately, so is Zhao if said change means discarding the entire ideological foundation of their actions and decisions since their teenage years.

Thus, the better days of his dynamics with Azula are long gone now. There's really nothing particularly positive waiting in the horizon due to a very strong mutual distrust... and also due to their personal agendas, which yes, they both will have. In short, if you were holding your breath for anything good to come from their relationship, I'm afraid it's not going to happen.

[sparkkeyper]

A Matter of Trust

My take on the “night at Crowley’s flat” fic. 

Swapping faces requires complete trust. Unfortunately, Aziraphale has not been particularly honest leading up to Armageddon and it's hard to overcome that doubt.

Words: 2295

Warnings: None

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

"You really think she meant switching our actual faces?"

"I've been over it a dozen times and I'm quite sure. I've had the last 72 hours to become familiar with Agnes' peculiar brand of predictions."

Crowley blew out a long breath and took another sip of his coffee. It was the deepest hour of the night. Darkness pressed around the outside of his flat, threatening at the edges of the LED lighting. "Put a lot of stock in this prophecy, do you?"

Aziraphale nodded from where he sat nearby on the couch, the torn slip of prophecy on the cushion between them. "Absolutely. Every prediction in her book came to pass exactly as she saw it. If this is the scenario we're up against, then 'choosing our faces wisely' is our best shot at surviving it."

"Suppose that's settled, then. Once Above and Below start after us, they won't stop unless we really give them a good reason."

"I agree. Now, this will require complete trust and extraordinary focus in order to work. It isn't like lending someone a scarf."

"That's the point, I thought. Something neither side will see coming."

"Exactly. All right then." Aziraphale wriggled a bit on the couch, bracing himself. "Are you ready?"

Crowley set down his coffee and flexed his fingers. "Ready."

Aziraphale held out his hand and the demon took it. Swap with him.

Nothing happened.

"Er..."

"Ngk. Hang on." Crowley gave himself a shake. "Been a long day and all that. Lemme just refocus. Right, let's do it." He took the angel's hand again. Swap. With. Him.

Again, nothing happened.

There were several long, awkward seconds.

Get it together, you stupid snake. This is important. This could be the most important thing you've ever done. This is Aziraphale. Best friend for centuries. You know what to expect from him.

He did know what to expect. That was the problem.

The moment was stretching on far too long. He dropped the angel's hand like it had burned him and scrubbed his palms over his soot-stained face.

"Crowley?"

"It's fine! I'll make it work, give me a blessed break."

He stood and paced the room for a moment while Aziraphale sat stiffly on the couch, watching him. "Is there anything I can do to...to facilitate things? I'm not sure what the problem is."

"There's no problem, it's fine," Crowley snapped. "I've got this. Just worry about your end of it and I'll worry about mine. Right!" He spun on his heel with his hand out and Aziraphale stood to match him. "Swap, then!"

He clasped the angel's hand and tried. He could feel the miracle simmering somewhere in the ether, attempted but not complete. He reached for it, he reached with all his might.

"Crowley-"

"I can do this," he insisted, a pit forming in his stomach. He'd just held his car together for 40 miles, he could believe one little idea for 5 seconds.

"Crowley-"

"I can do this!"

"Oh for goodness' sake-"

The angel was frustrated. He had every right to be but that was beside the point. A frustrated Aziraphale got indignant. A frustrated Aziraphale stormed off.

A frustrated Aziraphale pulled away when they needed most to stick together.

Crowley blessed savagely and spun, stomping for the balcony.

"Where are-"

"I just...I need to get some air." He slammed the door behind him before Aziraphale could respond.

The night breeze from so many stories up was like a slap in the face. Crowley welcomed it, leaning heavily on the balcony railing and burying his face in his hands. He couldn't do the miracle. Not that he didn't want to - he'd rarely wanted anything so much in his life. But he couldn't get his heart into it the way it needed to be.

We're not friends!

It wasn't true, of course. But it was something Aziraphale had wanted to be true. Because it would make the angel's life so much less complicated. Crowley was a friend...until he wasn't. Crowley occupied a place of esteem...until he didn't. Aziraphale worked so very hard to view a messy world in a manageable way and sometimes cuts had to be made.

His coffee sat suddenly on the railing because it knew what was good for it, and when he raised it to his lips it obligingly added a considerable amount of whiskey.

If they couldn't do the swap, they had no future. The Earth had a new lease on life tonight, but if they couldn't swap it would be at the price of their own. He knew Hell would show no mercy and he couldn't fool himself into thinking Heaven would. But Aziraphale... When it came to Heaven, Aziraphale could fool himself into thinking a lot of things.

I don't even like you!

Even if I did I wouldn't tell you! We're on opposite sides!

Aziraphale, who always had excuses to fall back on.

Aziraphale, who had a book with the Antichrist's address and hadn't told him.

Aziraphale who, when the world was on the brink of destruction, had kept calling out to Heaven.

If it came down to their partnership or Heaven, Heaven was the first to be appeased, no contest. Crowley understood his reasons. Aziraphale was, at his core, an angel. He treasured that identity even if he disagreed with his superiors and assignments. He held out hope in goodness, in Her, in a way Crowley never could. He wanted so badly for everything to turn out nice and good in the end, and Crowley could not take that from him.

When Heaven couldn't provide, Crowley was there to be his safety net. But Heaven was always, always first.

The balcony door clicked behind him and hesitant footsteps stepped out into the night. "If there's anything I can do to help you focus, you need only ask."

Crowley couldn't bring himself to look at him. "Focus isn't the problem."

Aziraphale was quiet for a very long moment. "Oh," he said softly.

There was no shock in his voice. No condemnation either. Crowley wondered if it would take some time to sink it, given everything that had already happened to them tonight, but as Aziraphale joined him at the balcony railing he knew that the angel understood what this meant.

Dull blue eyes followed Crowley's gaze out over London and Aziraphale took a slow sip of his tea. "This is my fault, isn't it?"

"Don't," Crowley told him tiredly. "What's done is done."

"But the consequences are ongoing. And will be for a long time, I expect." Aziraphale sighed heavily. "I am responsible, I won't pretend otherwise."

"I tried," Crowley confessed, the words barely audible over the background hum of the city. "I truly did."

"I don't doubt it."

A breeze wandered in. Tousled through red and blonde hair. Wandered somewhere else.

"I suppose I ought to at least ask...was it slow over time or was it because of this past week?"

Crowley didn't answer for a moment, taking another sip of his coffee. "Bit of both."

"Mmm." Aziraphale nodded, not particularly surprised by this. "I should have seen this coming, really. I should have seen a good many things coming."

"Stop it," the demon muttered. "You can't see everything coming. Something something ineffability."

"Is just one of the excuses I've been hiding behind for a very long time. And now it's caught up with me. With us." He sighed. "I suppose it's not just evil that contains the seeds of its own destruction."

Crowley didn't have the energy to come up with a biting response. He just looked exhausted. "I don't regret a minute of it, you know," he murmured. "The Arrangement. You and I. Wouldn't trade it for anything." There were dark circles under his eyes. "But I can't trust you the way I'd need to for this to work. I wish I could. I've tried. I just can't do it."

Aziraphale grimaced to hear the words out loud, but did not dispute it. How could he? "I don't blame you. You're right - it's not fair to ask you to trust me when I've squandered your trust so thoroughly."

We're not friends, hung thick in the air between them.

"Not that I think you don't care," Crowley clarified. "I know you do. You're terrible at hiding it, really. And you came to find me today before it all ended. That's not nothing." He took another sip of coffee. "But you also lied to my face. Repeatedly."

"I did," the angel acknowledged quietly.

"While the world was ending."

"Yes."

"That hurt, Aziraphale."

Aziraphale bit his lip hard. "I know. I'd take it back if I could. But I suppose it's too late to make a difference now."

They stood in silence for a time. Then Crowley sighed and turned back to the flat. "Come on. It's been a long day. There's wine in the kitchen, we may as well enjoy it while we can before they come for us."

The angel followed him inside and watched as he pulled glasses from a cabinet. "Thank you again for allowing me to stay the night. You didn't have to, after everything."

"Stay as long as you like," the demon uncorked the wine bottle. "Your shop's gone. Fuck's sake, I'm not a monster."

"No." Aziraphale's expression was very, very soft. "You're not."

Crowley took off his sunglasses and looked up at him at last: this demon whose heart had been broken too many times. "I want you to be all right, Aziraphale. I need you safe. I need you alive. I want to see you happy. But I don't know how far I can meet you."

"I can't say I'm surprised, after all I've put you through," the angel admitted ruefully. "Denying we were ever friends, or insinuating that you were somehow less than I. I've been a rather dreadful friend to you over the centuries."

Crowley hung his head, wine forgotten. "I know why you keep us at a distance and I know why you lied about the boy. You were doing what you thought was best at the time. I can't blame you for that. But to do what that prophecy wants, when push comes to shove I need to believe with all my heart that you won't leave me hanging. And I...I can't bring myself to believe that." He scrubbed his hands across his face. "Given time I might, but we don't have time. I can't do it. And I hate it. Because that's going to get you killed. I need you alive but once they come for us, I won't be able to save you. Not this time."

"You talk as though you're not in danger yourself," Aziraphale's face crumpled. "Crowley, if Below gets their hands on you they will destroy you utterly. I will not let that happen. I can't take back what I've said but you are the dearest thing in this world to me and I'm not going to stand back and let them take you."

Crowley looked like he was trying so very hard to hope but just couldn't get there. "I want to believe that, I really do. But I can't do blind faith like you can. I don't have it in me anymore."

Aziraphale closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to the demon's. "I'm not asking you to forgive what I've done. And I'm not asking for blind faith. Goodness knows how much trouble that's caused." His voice cracked at that but he plunged onward. "I'm only asking you to believe me when I say that I will not let Hell have you. If we cannot switch our faces, we will find another way."

"But your prophecy. Agnes-"

"Agnes be damned." That shut Crowley up. Tears glistened on the angel's cheeks. "If I have to march Down There after you. If I have to take up a sword. If I have to stand between you and God Herself. I swear to you on everything that I am, I will not let Hell have you."

And in that brief moment, for just that one promise in a sea of other broken ones, Crowley believed he was telling the truth.

His hand scrabbled for Aziraphale's and he pushed for all he was worth before he could lose this moment, he pushed every atom of his soul into the heart of his best friend, gave him everything that he was and ever could be, and in that instant he trusted Aziraphale to keep him safe.

And then Aziraphale was pouring into him and Crowley opened himself up and let it happen, let him seep into every muscle, every bone, every molecule of his being -

-and suddenly there was no difference between them, there was no angel, no demon, just a tumult of soul and hope and pain and fear and resolve and-

Crowley tumbled out the other side like falling out of bed. He gasped in a strangled breath, stumbling backwards into the kitchen counter and staring suddenly into his own face. He stared down at his clothes - beige - and his hands - manicured - and back up, feeling the warmth of his best friend's corporation surrounding him like a blanket. Aziraphale, in Crowley's, did much the same.

There was stunned silence in the flat as they let this sink in. Then one of them snapped, or maybe both, and suddenly Crowley's face was buried in the collar of a stinking, burnt leather jacket and Aziraphale was crushing him close, and both were squeezing so hard the other could scarcely breathe.

"Thank you," Aziraphale managed at last. "For trusting me enough to let me save you."

"Not if I save you first," Crowley choked out, and broken giggles filled the flat.

(Also on AO3!)

[vintageseawitch]

severus snape was not just a bully he was a literal racist and that did not change over the years unlike other characters' attitudes 🙏🙏🙏 what the fuck how are you pro-snape

hmmm. i feel there's an extremely back-handed compliment here. are you a lurker? are we mutuals? do i follow you or do you follow me? whatever the capacity, it feels silly to ask, but: are you new here? my bio, though novella in length because keeping things in a tiny, succinct packages is not my forte, clearly states at some point that Severus Snape is important enough to me to be mentioned a considerable amount. i'll be very sad if i follow you & enjoy the content you post because tbh this anon is super disappointing. the most common types i tend to receive are snaters who are too cowardly to tell me to my face they have nothing better to do than judge people doing the least harmful thing imaginable: loving/liking/appreciating a controversial, FICTIONAL FUCKING CHARACTER.

"he was a literal racist and that did not change over the years unlike the other characters' attitudes" ummm fucking WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT. what canon evidence do you have for this except your own warped headcanons?? Snape said the word "mudblood" fucking ONCE, as a teenage boy, while getting sexually assaulted by more than one person, in public, with no one there attempting to stop them. then Snape's one friend tries to defend him & Snape snaps something stupid because he was afraid & pissed off & ashamed. don't tell me YOU'VE never said something you're later ashamed of while in a temper or feeling cornered. don't tell me YOU'RE not allowed to make mistakes. that's right, it was a mistake, & he realized immediately so he tried to fix it & in the end his friendship wasn't worth it to her so he was alone, surrounded by people who won't help him, who let some other teenage boys get away with attempted murder, & adults who don't give a shit about him making him ripe for plucking. Snape fucking CRINGES then yells at Phineas Nigellus for calling Hermione that while the trio's on the run & Snape is an unwilling headmaster!!! have you forgotten this???? if anyone is racist it's Molly Weasley for her treatment of Fleur which was never given a legit reason why she behaved the way she did. i don't even want to try to count how many times Draco Malfoy calls Hermione a mudblood; are you harassing people with hateful anons for liking Draco? is he somehow more deserving of a redemption than Severus? if you think that, go fuck yourself.

Severus Snape made a mistake when he was very young. he was alone, traumatized, full of bitterness & anger. he first came over to the side of the light for selfish reasons but then so did Regulus & Narcissa & i never see people attacking THEM. Snape made a mistake & worked to atone for this & for 17 years most take for granted he was the puppet for two megalomaniacal masters, neither of whom gave a damn about his life (Dumbledore was worse in SO many ways). in the end, it seems like snaters feel like no matter what you do, no matter what is in your heart & everything you do to try to make it right, your mistake will always define you & death is all you deserve soduspsjapxjosn FUCK THIS SHIT. FUCK ANYONE WHO BELIEVES THIS.

"Severus Snape was not just a bully" yeah you're right he was also honorable, good-at-heart, brave as fuck, fucking brilliant, & while sharp-edged, was dryly hilarious. also, don't you get tired of this same fucking "argument"?? because Snape wasn't the only bully in canon. Molly Weasley is one. so is Dumbledore. so is Hermione. so is Draco, Crabbe, & Goyle. SO WERE THE MARAUDERS. Peter Pettigrew turned out to be one of the worst; do you ever anonymously bully anyone for liking them if they do? while not counting for taste, if anyone DOES like his character, IT'S NOT. MY FUCKING. BUSINESS. nobody is hurting me for liking that character. i am not hurting YOU for liking a character. it's just easier for you to pull this fucking performative, fake-woke, absolutely repulsive purity-culture enabling bullshit than to speak up about things that fucking ACTUALLY MATTER.

do you want to know some characters i like that are ACTUALLY disturbing/toxic/any negative thing you can think of?? i like Acton from the Doyle & Acton New Scotland Yard book series by Anne Cleeland & he is a LITERAL FUCKING STALKER who plays vigilante & takes advantage of his privilege to get away with his crimes lmao. i like Father Konstantin from the Winternight Trilogy even though (or maybe because of is more accurate) he's a younger, prettier, blonder Frollo from The Hunchback of Notre Dame with his behavior towards Vasya who is very much an Esmeralda parallel. it drew me in immediately, their dynamic in that trilogy; so poisonous & twisted & depraved was his obsession with her but it was so PASSIONATE i couldn't look away. i like Krennic from Rogue One: A Star Wars Story. if you've seen it, he's the smol, angry man who thinks seeing a planet with historical Jedi sites get destroyed by a previously unknown super weapon is BEAUTIFUL. he has no qualms against forcing someone against his will back to helping to build this weapon, even if it meant killing his family.

so there are just a few that i can think of at the moment who are considerably darker than mere shades of grey; do you send hateful anons to people who like Darth Vader? what about Sauron? Morgoth? what if someone likes VOLDEMORT?????? omg (spoiler alert: they exist, & some have created some of the best hp fanart i've seen, but that's not the point right now). do you attack people for liking other morally grey characters like Kylo Ren/Ben Solo or Lestat? snaters are pathetic. if you don't like Snape, that's perfectly fine; it would just be really cool if you can take your toxic, purity culture mentality & if unable to shove it up your ass at least go haunt the places dedicated to bland, rich white boy bully-loving spaces. go on with your horrid belief that all people who are enduring trauma are only allowed to process/handle it in a set way otherwise they are the Worst Person To Exist (or... not, in this instance, seeing as Severus Snape is a FICTIONAL. FUCKING. CHARACTER). do you not realize this says so much to people in your own life who may see some similarities between themselves & a character you believe makes you a superior entity for hating & judging?? do you not give people you care about another chance after making a mistake???

i'd rather continue loving this prickly, snarky asshole than attempt to "earn your good opinion" or some fucking similar codswallop thank you VERY much. cheerio & all that, & i hope you're able to find something to do you enjoy that doesn't involve judging people for things that really don't matter. if you have an issue with what i post you can always unfollow/block me. complicated controversial comfort characters make for better things to think about than fake wokeness. toodles~

[inevitably-johnlocked]

30 FAVE BOOKMARKS of 2020

Happy New Year’s Eve-Eve, everyone!! 

And welcome to the Last Fic Rec Wednesday of 2020! No one asked for this at all, but I enjoy making unprompted lists for everyone, and I’ve been doing this list since January 2020 :P

I’ve read some FANTASTIC fics this year, and now seems like a good time as any to share with y’all some  of those amazing fics I’ve added to List of Love! I had to even whittle it down today to get it to 25 – the number I like as a “top xx” thing, so I am very disheartened that a lot of my bookmarks this year didn’t make the list :( It’s been a long time since I’ve done a “last XX bookmarked fics” list, maybe I’ll do one of those soon.

First off let’s start with 5 honourable mentions of Other Fandom fics, because I spent a lot of my summer indulging in my renewed Rimmster ship so I have a few amazing RD fics y’all should read LOL

FIVE OTHER-FANDOM HONOURABLE MENTIONS

Réveillon by Big_Edies_Sun_Hat (T, 6,431 w., 3 Ch. || GOOD OMENS || Christmas Eve, Angst, Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Relationship, Established Relationship, International Travel, Moments in Time, Historical / Biblical Interpretation) – After a gloomy history with Christmas, Aziraphale shows Crowley how he has learned to seek out the good in it by traveling around the world on Christmas Eve. Highlights include: the Annunciation; potholes; international teleportation; peace and hope; arson; Lupe gets a doll of her very own.

Out With It by Clipped_Ionian_Vowels (T, 10,255 w., 1 Ch. || RED DWARF || Post-Ace, Reclaimed Slurs, Getting Together, Sexuality, Coming Out) – Rimmer finally comes home, hangs up the wig and decides to set the crew 'straight' about one thing; he's not. And neither, it transpires, is Lister.

Standards by Kahvi & Roadsterguy (E, 11,725 w., 2 Ch. || RED DWARF || Hard Light Rimmer, Bickering, Humour, First Time, Over-Protective Kryten, Cranky Rimmer, Exploring Derelicts, Arguing Leads to Awkward Flirting, Showering Together, Intense Orgasms) – Yet another supply raid on a derelict leads Rimmer and Lister to an argument, which in turn leads to... something that's still fairly close to an argument. You get lonely in space, but you do have standards.

speed limits (and how to break them) by darcylindbergh (E, 13,750 w., 4 Ch. || GOOD OMENS || POV Crowley, UST/URT, Mutual Pining, Romance, First Kiss/Time, Crowley’s Anxiety, Gift Giving, Humour, Touching, Awkwardness, Love Confessions, Sussex, Fantasies Become Real, Marriage Proposal, Sensuality, Bottom Crowley) – There is a trick people do with a mint candy and a bottle of cola which results in a small eruption, and something very like it, for much higher stakes than a laugh in a car park, is about to take place in Aziraphale’s back room. Or: what happens when you finally unscrew the cap on a six thousand years of repression, and drop in Valentine’s Day.

Hand in Glove by lizardkid (T, 14,223 w., 1 Ch. || RED DWARF || Post-S9, Internalized Homophobia, Repression, Hurt/Comfort, Lister Whump, Worried Rimmer, Ableist Language, Cuddling) – Lister is mortally wounded in an accident. Rimmer is forced to reassess everything.

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

AND NOW: The reason y’all are here! Please know I love EVERYTHING I’ve read and bookmarked, just these ones have really stuck with me and I’ve already re-read a few of these, so yeah, please do enjoy. 

Please note that these fics aren’t all necessarily NEW fics for 2020, more like they were new to ME, and ergo, I bookmarked and started reccing them this year! There are a few newer fics, though, so yeah, apologies if you were expecting only new things.

Hope you all have a good New Year’s Day, and I hope this list makes the long weekend a great one until my FIRST Fic Rec Sunday of 2021! I might do two on Sunday just to celebrate the new year, hahah. <3 Love you all!

TOP 25 JOHNLOCK BOOKMARKS OF 2020

SEE ALSO:

Top 20 Bookmarks of 2018

Top 25 Bookmarks of 2019

The Imminent Danger of a Tumblr-Night by Loveismyrevolution (T, 2,135 w., 1 Ch. || Tumblr Fics, Friends to Lovers, Sherlock is Out of His Depth, Humour, Fluff, Pining Sherlock, Military Kink, POV Sherlock) – Sherlock gets into trouble when he pretends to know all about John's favourite social media site - tumblr. To save face he seeks help from one of the bloggers and gains more answers than he had aimed for.

Living Musical by VeeTheRee (G, 4,149 w. 1 Ch. || Est. Rel., Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Hobbies, Summer, Song Fic, POV Sherlock, Painting, Play Fighting, Soft Sherlock, Dancing, Love Declarations, Hair Petting, Promise of Forever) – A one-shot of John and Sherlock being domestic during summer. There is paint, fluff, and music from Imagine Dragons, namely from the album 'Speak To Me', specific song in this one-shot is 'Living Musical'. Part 1 of the Happy Fluffy Johnlock Time series

Stranded by BeautifulFiction (T, 5,798 w., 1 Ch. || First Kiss, Communication / Relationship Discussion, Pining Sherlock, Sherlock POV, BAMF John, Doctor John, Case Fic, Drinking, Huddling For Warmth, Friends to More) –  When stranded on a derelict barge at high tide, John and Sherlock reconsider their friendship.

Bridges by sussexbound (M, 6,602 w., 1 Ch || Post-TLD / S4 Fix It, Love Confessions, Mending Relationships, Moving Back In, Pining Sherlock, POV Sherlock, Past Abuse, Shaving) – The silence between them is deafening, interrupted only by the hum of the traffic outside, and the soft click-clunk of the plastic cups Rosie is playing with on the floor beside them. It is the first time they have been alone together, since Sherlock’s birthday. It’s only been two days, but it feels huge, important, like there is a precarious bridge stretched out before them both that they need to at least attempt to traverse.

To be loved by Strange_johnlock (E, 12,436 w., 8 Ch. || Post S3, Established Relationship, First Person POV Sherlock, Pet Names, Soft Sherlock, Mild ADHD, Protective John, Captain Watson, Body Appreciation, Bottomlock, Rough Sex, Travelling for Holidays, Introspection, Sherlock Loves John So Much It Hurts) – John is so deeply integrated into the work, both as my conductor of light, and as a great shot with a vicious right hook who tackles men -and women- no matter their size all in my defense. He protects me with all he can without question, and this loyalty is surely more than I deserve. Or: Sherlock is counting his blessings.

On The Fence by BeautifulFiction (T, 13,770 w., 1 Ch. || Fencing, Case Fic, First Kiss, Insecure John, Pining John, Hug, Greg Finds Out) – The murder of the King's College fencing champion leads to revelations about Sherlock's past. Will it be the point that tips them from friends to lovers, or will they remain on the fence?

The Invocation of Saint Margaret by Ewebie (E, 15,831 w., 1 Ch. || POV John, Crossing Timelines, Light Angst, Fluff, Series 3 John / Series 1 Sherlock, The Matchbox, Mushy Romance, First Time, Bisexual John, Pining John, Bottomlock, Love Confessions, Sensuality, Emotional Love Making, Snippets of Time) – When Sherlock Holmes opens the matchbox from The Sign of Three and John finds himself years in the past, back to that first dinner at Angelo's with a much younger Sherlock Holmes. Is he dreaming?

Permanent Fixture by vitruvianwatson (E, 18,836 w., 9 Ch || Post-S4, Parentlock, Slow Build, Friends to Lovers, They’re Good Parents, Blushing Sherlock, First Kiss/Time, Explicit Consent, Sexual Content, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Big Feelings, Crying, First Kiss, Fluff, Anxious Sherlock, Inexperienced Sherlock, Emotional Communication, Love Confessions) – Now, as Rosie sat curled up against Sherlock’s side, John watched and wondered exactly how he had ended up here. Domesticity had never suited him before, not at any point in his life. His disastrous marriage had been proof of that. But somehow, here in the warmth and safety of 221B Baker Street, here with Sherlock Holmes reading medical jargon to his daughter, Sherlock’s bony feet nudging against his leg, John couldn’t imagine anyplace that would make him happier.

Division by MrsNoggin (E, 19,542 w., 11 Ch. || Coffee Shop AU || First Kiss/Time, Fluff, Barista Sherlock, Clingy Sherlock, POV John, John’s Limp, Bed Sharing, Fluff, Sleepy Cuddles, Sensuality, Touching, Virgin Sherlock, Insecure John) – John likes mysteries. And every morning he dips into the local independent coffee bar with his newspaper and ponders another... one Sherlock Holmes.

Out of the Woods by SilentAuror (E, 20,471 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Romance, Slow Burn, Flirting, Drunk Sex, Practical Jokes, POV Sherlock, Bottomlock, Possessive John, Pining Sherlock, Frustrated Wanking, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, First Kiss/Time, Virgin Sherlock, Love Confessions, Soft Sherlock, Dancing, Bum Appreciation, Hanging out with the Yard) – Sherlock is fairly certain that John has taken to flirting with him of late, but can't be entirely certain of it. At least, not until a case takes them into a forest, along with Lestrade's team and something happens that will change everything about their lives...

Inscrutable to the Last by DiscordantWords (M, 48,842 w., 6 Ch. || Post-TRF, Alternate S3, John’s Blog/S3 is a Story By John, Divorce, Marital Difficulties, John is a Mess, Emotional Reunion, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Grief / Mourning, Pining John, First Kiss, Adorably Clueless Sherlock, Nostalgia, Love Confessions, Eventual Happy Ending) – He wasn't Sherlock, he couldn't work miracles. All he'd ever been able to do was write about them.

Anchor Point by trickybonmot (E, 49,856 w., 80 Ch. || Truman Show AU || Psychological Drama, Suspense, Slow Burn, Dark Characters / Fic, Alternating First/Third Person, Protective John, Anxious/Worried Sherlock, Tender Moments, Love Confessions, Hand/Blow Jobs, Cuddling, Jealous John, First Kiss/Time) – The world tunes in nightly for Sherlock, the ultimate in reality TV: Sherlock Holmes, a real person with a legendary name, unknowingly lives out his life in a staged setting contrived by his brother. Things get complicated when a retired army doctor joins the show to play the part of Sherlock's closest friend. This fic borrows its concept from the 1998 film, the Truman Show. However, you don't need to have any knowledge of the movie to enjoy this story.

The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse by SilentAuror (E, 50,635 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S4/S4 Divergence, Case Fic, For a Case / Reverse Fake-Relationship, Conferences, Marriage Equality, Travelling / New York, Pride, Homophobia, Bottomlock, Marriage Proposal, John POV, Sexuality, Love Confessions, Emotional Love Making, Public Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Passionate Kissing, Needy/Clingy Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Touching / Hand Holding, Bed Sharing, Little Spoon Sherlock, Intense Orgasms) – John and Sherlock go to New York to attend a conference run by the National Defence of Traditional Marriage Coalition in order to investigate the potential bombing of the annual Manhattan Pride parade. As the conference unfolds, John finds himself repulsed by the toxic ideology being presented, which becomes relevent to his own unacknowledged issues and his friendship with Sherlock...

A Goose Quill Dipped in Venom by Polyphony (M, 52,748 w., 16 Ch. || Celebrity John AU || Alternate First Meeting, TV Host John, Supermodel Mary, Character Death, Mystery, Romance, Case Fic, First Kiss/Time, Meddling Mycroft, Drug Abuse, Doctor John, PDA, Deductions, POV Sherlock, Toplock, Sexual Tension, Angry/Rough Sex, Hopeful Ending, Asperger’s Sherlock) – Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective, is called in to a very ordinary although brutal murder. Something is badly out of tune with the whole scenario and Sherlock finds himself becoming more and more obsessed with the crime - and also with the victim.

Points by lifeonmars (E, 53,791 w., 42 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || HLV Rewrite / Canon Divergence, Married Life, Pregnancy / Baby Watson, Drinking to Cope, Boxing / Fisticuffs, Clueless John, Angst, Minor Medical Drama, Tattoos, Christmas, First Kiss/Time, Eventual Happy Ending, Love Confessions, Doctor John, Sexuality Crisis, Slow Burn, Case Fic, Drugging, Blow/Hand Job, Emotional Love Making, Parenthood, Passage of Time) – What if His Last Vow never happened? This fic picks up a few months after John and Mary's wedding, in an alternate universe where Magnussen doesn't exist, but Mary is still pregnant. Life continues -- just in a different direction. And slowly, Sherlock and John find their way to each other.

Isosceles by SilentAuror (E, 56,609 w., 7 Ch. || Post-S4, POV John, Original Male Character / Sherlock Dates Another Man, Love Triangle, Jealous John, Virgin Sherlock, Sexual Coaching, Angst, Romance, Domesticity, Unrequited Feelings, Miscommunication, First Kiss/Time, For a Case, Friends With Benefits, Bottomlock, Love Confessions, Spooning) – After solving a case for a major celebrity, Sherlock gets himself asked out. When John asks, he discovers that Sherlock has no intention of going, at least not until John agrees to coach him through whatever he might need to know for his date...

Lunar Landscapes by J_Baillier (M, 57,046 w., 21 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || S3/TAB Fix-It, Slow Burn Angst, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Confessions, Drugs, Pain, Medical, Injury, Sherlock Whump, Mental Health Issues, Panic Attacks, Romance, Secrets, Tragedy, Trauma, BAMF John, Doctor!John, Drug Addict Sherlock, Injured Sherlock, Grieving John, Idiots In Love, Protective John, POV John Watson, PTSD Sherlock, Sherlock is a Mess, Medical Realism) – An accident forces John to face the fact that Sherlock's downward spiral had started long before his flight to exile even left the tarmac.

Gold Rush by ShirleyCarlton (E, 71,783 w., 17 Ch. || Post S3 / No Mary, Friends to Lovers, Mentions of Past Sexual Abuse, First Kiss, Case Fic, Slow Burn, Alternating POV, Switchlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Marriage Proposal, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Abduction, Anxious/Insecure Sherlock, Miscommunication, Emotional Lovemaking) – John has divorced Mary and pops round to 221B one evening to find Sherlock in the middle of a case. As Sherlock tries to find the identity of a young woman’s stalker, John realises he can no longer deny his feelings for Sherlock – which then, to their befuddlement, turn out to be mutual. Shy kisses and tentative embraces ensue. But will Sherlock be able to cast off a shadow from his past that he thinks might prevent John from wanting to stay?

Repairing the Broken Things by BakerTumblings (M, 75,252 w., 15 Ch. || S4 Compliant, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Trauma, Hospitals, Big Brother Mycroft, Misunderstandings, Realizations, Severe Accident, John Whump, Pneumonia, Medical Procedures, Bed Sharing, First Time, Healing, Happy Ending) – "I'm calling today to notify you that there's been an accident."

Thermocline by J_Baillier (M, 83,557 w., 14 Ch. || Scuba Diving AU || Adventure, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Marine Archaeology, Asexual Sherlock, Horny John, Relationship Drama, Technical/Scuba/Wreck Diving, Slow Burn, Underwater /  Medical Peril, Doctor John, Hurt Sherlock, Anxious Sherlock, John POV, Protective John, Body Appreciation) – John "Five Oceans" Watson — technical dive instructor, dive accident analyst and weapon of mass seduction — meets recluse professor of maritime archaeology Holmes. As they head out to a remote archipelago off the coast of Guatemala to study and film its shipwrecks for a documentary, will sparks fly or fizzle out?

Kintsukuroi by sussexbound (E, 91,823 w., 20 Ch. || S4 Compliant / Post-TLD, Grief / Mourning, PTSD, Internalized Homophobia, Therapy, Past Abuse, Alcohol Abuse, Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Depression, Anxiety, Bed Sharing, Love Confessions, Cuddling, Suicidal Ideation, Masturbation, Minor Character Death, Sexting, Frottage, Inexperienced Sherlock, Rimming / Anal / BJ’s, Emotional Turmoil, Finding Each Other) – “I love you.” Sherlock sees the words hit John with almost physical force. He reels back a little, jaw twitching and eyes filling. “I love you,” he repeats, a little softer, a little more gentle, as earnest as he possibly can. Because they’ve been teetering on the brink of this thing for years, and it had become painfully obvious over the last few months that they were at a tipping point. This had to happen. Now it has. Now they can see where they end up. The tears in John’s eyes spill over, and he wipes at them angrily. “Do you even know what that means?”  

The Summer Boy by khorazir (T, 94,706 w., 6 Ch. || Post S3/Post TAB/Alternate S4, Friends to Lovers, Asexual Sherlock, POV Sherlock, Flashbacks, Bullying, 1980′s Kid Sherlock, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Inexperienced Sherlock, Grief/Mourning, Pining Sherlock, Case Fic, Sherlock’s Past, Awkward Conversations, Anxious Sherlock) – About half a year after the fateful events at Appledore, Sherlock and John embark on a private case in Sussex. For Sherlock, it’s a journey into his past, bringing up memories both happy and sad that he has locked away for almost thirty years. For John, it means coming to terms with the present – and a potential future with Sherlock. Part 1 of the The Summer Boy series

Northwest Passage by Kryptaria (E, 95,157 w., 27 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Canadian AU ||  BAMF!John, Canadian John, PTSD, Anal / Oral Sex, Rimming, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Drug Rehab, Falling in Love, Pining Sherlock, Love Confessions, Sherlock’s Violin, Panic Attacks, Switching, Anxious / Protective Sherlock, Hugs for Comfort, Suicide Mentions, Healing Each Other) – Seven years ago, Captain John Watson of the Canadian Forces Medical Service withdrew from society, seeking a simple, isolated life in the distant northern wilderness of Canada. Though he survives from one day to the next, he doesn't truly live until someone from his dark past calls in a favor and turns his world upside-down with the introduction of Sherlock Holmes." Part 1 of Tales from the Northwest

The Bang and the Clatter by earlgreytea68 (M, 137,049 w. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Baseball AU || Slow Burn / Dev. Rel., Possessive/Obsessive Sherlock, Jealous Sherlock, Mutual Pining, Body Appreciation, Depression, Closeted Sexuality, Family, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Ogling Each Other, Anxious Sherlock, Panic Attack, Drunkenness, Talk of Forever, Big Feelings™) – Sherlock Holmes is a pitcher and John Watson is a catcher. No, no, no, it's a baseball AU. Part 1 of Baseball

Against the Rest of the World by SilentAuror (E, 151,714 w., 20 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-TRF, Hiatus Fic, POV First Person Sherlock, Present Tense, First Kiss/Time, Big Brother Mycroft, Escaping from Capture, Soft Sherlock, Toplock, Insecurity, Infidelity, Travelling, Introspection, Pining Sherlock, Depression, Fantasies, Yearning for the Past, PTSD Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation) – Sherlock has been away from London for nine hundred and twelve days and counting, and has no idea what sort of reception to expect when he finally returns.

[plus-size-reader]

Worth Dying For

Emmett Cullen x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 2007 words

Warnings: none 

Summary: Emmett falls in love with a member of the Uley pack, even though the two shouldn’t have any contact at all. 

——————————————————————————————————

Historically Emmett didn’t have the most tolerance for werewolves.

He thought what most people thought, he thought that the two species had no reason or chance at being anything more than enemies but that changed rather quickly when you two met.

For whatever reason, he didn’t have the same urge to challenge you like the others.

There was just something about you.

He couldn’t put his finger on it. Luckily for him though, you seemed to share the same confused opinion of him, which led to a very complicated romance.

The two of you frequently broke the treaty to see each other in secret. It was more than dangerous, but neither of you had much of a choice in the matter.

After all, it was like you’d thought before. Vampires and werewolves were very different creatures and you had nothing in common, except for the fact that you both navigated completely off of instinct.

You couldn’t help but do what felt right and being with Emmett felt right, even if every thought you had told you to get as far away from him as humanly possible.

It wasn’t up to you, clearly.

You both knew the consequences for breaking the treaty, and what could happen if either of you families found out about this, but here you were, crossing the slippery stones of the river under the cover of the night.

“You better be careful, wouldn’t want to fall” you heard finally, that cocky tone evident in his voice even in a whisper.

All you could do was sigh in reply. He had a point. It would be hard to explain coming home all wet, but it would be harder to explain why you’d been out there in the first place.

Still, you weren’t going to let him know that, so you only shrugged. “I think I got it handled”

You didn’t, not really.

In fact, you had been so preoccupied now knowing he was watching you, making his snide comments about everything you were doing that you didn’t realize that the rock in front of you was covered in algae.

As soon as you step down on it, resting all your weight on one wobbly foot, you did just as he’d warned you about, falling into the river.

Initially you had been worried about the cold water and having to explain your damp clothes but you hadn’t actually thought it was going to happen. As it would turn out, there was more than that at stake.

You crawled out of the lake on the Cullen’s side of the barrier, taking the hand Emmett had offered you to catch your bearings but before you could, he stopped you.

“You’re bleeding”

There was a cautiousness in his voice as he helped up onto the grass, though it wasn’t because he was worried about him. More than anything, he was just worried for you.

After all, he only knew that you were bleeding but he didn’t know how bad the damage was or what had happened when you came down on the riverbed. Not that he took much time at all to wonder before he tore at the pant leg of your jeans, ruining them.

“Emmett! What are you doing?” you asked, swatting away at his hand, taking a look at the damage.

He had completely shredded the fabric all the way up to your knee, which was now freely bleeding around the curve of your kneecap. The damage wasn’t too bad but now you’d have to explain how you ruined your pants.

This was just getting more and more complicated as the minutes ticked by.

“There’s rocks and gravel stuck in the cut. Carlisle can get it out” he explained, immediately standing from his crouched position at your side, not even noticing that he was talking crazy.

What he was suggesting could start a war.

“We can’t do that! I’ll be fine” you tried, not even attempting to stand to your feet. You knew that if you did, he would know just how badly it hurt, and that would make this all worse.

For now, you would just have to sit tight and wait for that stinging pain to die down.

“It isn’t fine Y/N. Just trust me” he urged. Had he been thinking clearly he may not have suggested it, but right now, all he could think about was taking you to have that looked at.

There was all kinds of scum and bacteria down there and your body wouldn’t heal itself nearly as effectively as his would. It would just make him feel a lot better if Carlisle told him it would be alright.

As soon as Emmett heard it from him, he would lay off but not a minute before.

“You really aren’t going to let this go, are you?” you asked, knowing for a fact that he wouldn’t. If there was one thing Emmett was more than anything else, it was stubborn.

...And unfortunately he was also immortal.

That meant that if you didn’t do as he asked right now, you knew that you’d be hearing about it for the next hundred years.

“Fine, but if we die, it’s your fault” you grumbled, securing your arms around his neck to let him pick you up from the dirt. If he had been anyone else, you would have panicked slightly over your weight but not with Emmett.

Not only did he have superhuman vampire strength but even if he didn’t, you were sure that he’d be able to handle you. All things considered, he wasn’t some frail, lanky thing.

“We aren’t going to die. You need to just trust me for once” he scoffed, that grin on his face that forced you to roll your eyes. He really believed that, you could tell, but you weren't so sure.

After all, this was his family you were talking about. He wasn’t the outside breaking the treaty on the wrong side of the stream. The only thing that saved it was that you knew he did have something to lose in all this.

...You.

He wouldn’t have even suggested it if he didn’t think it would be okay and as much as you hated it, you just had to trust that he knew what he was doing.

It wasn’t until you neared the Cullen house that Emmett really noticed a change in you. Your heart was hammering against your rib cage with nerves and he swore that you would break his skin with how tightly you were holding him.

It was strange for him to see you like that.

Usually between the two of you, all you ever did was throw jokes and teasing jabs his ways, arms folded across your chest and a roll of your eyes. He didn’t think he’d ever actually seen you afraid.

“Hey, relax. I’m not going to let anything happen to you. I promise” he promised, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. It wasn’t really something he could promise, but it would be a lie to say it didn’t make you feel better.

Emmett didn’t even bother to knock as he entered the house, immediately attracting the attention of the rest of his family, who had been waiting for him to come home.

They weren’t sure what he was doing but that fell away pretty quickly when they saw you.

“What are you doing? She can’t be here” Rosalie spoke first, unafraid to insert her opinion when no one else could. Though, everyone else paid her no mind as Carlisle emerged.

The first thing he took notice of was the blood, now mostly dried around the edge of your wound, and the various stones and things peppering the open cut.

Something had happened out there, and while you being here was a problem they would have to deal with, his first instinct was to take care of that. He couldn’t help it.

Carlisle had been a doctor since before that was a term frequently used and it was in his nature to help people, no matter who or what they were.

“Come with me, we’ll talk about this after” he decided finally, beckoning Emmett alongside him to his office, making it clear that this conversation was far from over but had been moved to the back burner.

At least as far as the rest of the Cullens were concerned.  

Though, it was a whole different story as soon as the three of you were alone behind closed doors. You expected the third degree almost immediately, even wondering if Carlisle would make Emmett leave the room.

...But he didn't

Instead, he instructed Emmett to set you down on his desk so he could get a better look at the cut. “How did this happen?” he wondered, naturally assuming that the two of you would tell him the truth.

By coming here, you had already outed your biggest secret so anything else would pale in comparison to whatever it was you had been doing out there in the woods.

“It was my fault” Emmett started, knowing that he would be far more lenient with the pair of you if he shouldered the blame and honestly, it wasn’t a stretch.

You had been trying to convince Emmett that meeting up like that was too dangerous but he couldn’t help it. The idea of not being able to see you was too much for him, and he didn’t even entertain it as an option.

“We’ve been meeting out there, by the river” you piped up, hoping that would better explain how it had happened. There was no point in hiding it now.

Whatever consequences there were, they were coming for the pair of you no matter what happened now. Keeping it a secret wasn’t going to change that and if Carlisle was going to kill you, he wouldn’t be bothering with bandages.

“Why?”

There was no emotion at all on Carlisle's face as he spoke, not to you or Emmett singularly, his attention completely on the task at hand. He could have guessed, of course, but he didn’t want to devalue what you two had.

He knew better than anyone that love could be complicated and as difficult and dangerous as it could have been, he didn’t presume to know just what you shared.

It would be much simpler to hear it from your own lips. After all, if he was going to face a literal war for this little rondeavu, he had to know what he was fighting for.

Clearly Emmett was willing to fight for whatever it was you two had, and that was enough for Carlisle to be on board, not that he was going to admit that now.

“I love her” Emmett allowed, his words filling the small space almost immediately. He had never told you that to your face but if there was ever a time to admit it, it was now.

You were in shock, rightfully so, over what he’d just admitted but more than anything, you were just trying to juggle everything you were feeling right now.

Part of you wanted to tell Emmett that you loved him too, but the other part was too concerned with the perilous situation that you were currently in to process something so intimate.

You did love him, of course you did, but it just wasn’t the right time to have that conversation.

“And is that something you’re willing to die for? Surely you must have thought about what you were risking by doing this” Carlisle questioned then, shocking you both.

He wasn’t pulling any punches in that department but he couldn’t be. This was a serious situation and it didn’t just affect the two of you. This was going to change both your lives and the lives of both your families.

...But again, Emmett didn’t even hesitate.

It didn’t matter what he had to do, or who it affected as long as you two could be together and that he knew you were safe. To Emmett, you were worth dying for.

[dreamersleeps]

thanks for your answer! I read the meta you quote, but I was curious about your thoughts on Hawks' desires to help todoroki family with Dabi and to help the hero society and if they will lead him to sacrifice himself, as a redemption of his actions toward Twice. I've a feeling he will die in the end... (sorry if I wasn't clear about it in the previous ask, I'm not very good with English)

Again no need to apologize, your English is quite good! I’d actually like to apologize about the delay in answering your ask. During that time, the official translation for Chapter 306 came out as well. 

I’m not sure if I will have anything insightful or analytical to say because I feel like a lot of other blogs have done a good job explaining their opinions, but I will do my best.

On Dabi 

Hawks has been on opposing sides with Dabi ever since they first began interacting. Not to mention, he had exposed private information he had wanted hidden, to the public. It had also been revealed that Dabi is Todoroki Touya who is related to Endeavor. Hawks had expressed that he wanted to “help” Endeavor in Chapter 299 probably due to the relationship they have as pro heroes. 

Currently, Dabi is one of the prominent faces of those seen as the “villains” who are trying to tear down the fabric of hero society which Hawks had been trained to uphold and defend. 

And looking at Chapter 306, it seems like he may be up to something again. 

Anyways, Shigaraki, Dabi and the others are trying to get their voice heard through violence, they do have a point in that hero society is flawed. I know I’ve probably talked about the same subject multiple times now but I think if we want to speculate about Hawks’ future, we have to look back at Jin’s death, and the aftermath. 

Press Conference 

In the most recent chapter, the top three heroes hold a press conference. While are many people who are furious, disappointed or have lost hope in the heroes, however we see that there are still many others who still want to believe that they can still trust and rely on the heroes.  

During the press conference we see Endeavor and Hawks addressing the points that came up in Dabi’s broadcast. So far in previous chapters we have not been explicitly shown or told whether or not Hawks feels any type of regret or remorse for his actions. In Chapter 306, we get to see Hawks’ response to the public about the death of Twice. 

“As for the matter of Bubaigawara... I felt I was left with no choice at the time.”

“If he had been allowed to wield his quirk freely... we would be looking at more widespread death and destruction.”

I think while it is important to note that this is his official response to the public, we have yet to think otherwise based on what his inner thoughts may be. So far he seems to believe that his actions were justified. 

“I couldn’t find a proper way to help him atone for his crimes...” 

I find it ironic that Hawks states that he could not “help” Jin atone for his crimes, while he himself has committed a crime and that one of the questions that we are exploring is if he will realize what he has done and will attempt to atone for his actions.

This is off topic but Horikoshi focuses in on Endeavor, with the side of the scar he received during the High End fight closest to us, while Hawks is talking about atoning. 

“...and that is truly a shame. It speaks to my lack of character.”

What I personally think is a shame is that Hawks states that he believes his failure to help Jin atone for his crimes is what he points out as a testament to his lack of character. The fact that he took someone’s life does not come first. It is very, very dismissive towards his actions and demeaning to the entirety of Jin’s life and who he was. 

Hawks and Midoriya

As you know, from the post I had linked in my first response, I think that we are supposed to be comparing Hawks to our main protagonist. I hope you don’t mind but I will be bringing up some of my points and arguments from that post again. 

The major similarity which was the main cause of both conflicts was that they were up against individuals who had a quirk that was capable of widespread death and destruction. However the key difference between the two was their heart for empathy and understanding for the other, or in the case of Hawks, his lack of either. 

While Hawks and Midoriya both are quite analytical and collect a lot of information, Hawks seems to be lost in the numbers if you get what I mean. Cold-hearted. He states that he believes that Jin is a good person as we see in Chapter 264 but I believe this is only because he and Jin had become close during his undercover mission. 

Anyways, it quickly turns in to this: 

“When neither side will give up... somebody has to die.” 

While the heroes were attempting to take down Shigaraki and the other villains (which may have also ended in death), Midoriya displays compassion towards Shigaraki despite all the destruction, hurt and pain he had caused before he loses consciousness. 

In Hawks’ own words, Jin was not beyond being helped or saved because he was “a good person.” But he does not receive the response that would have satisfied him. However, as many argue, death was avoidable. It was because of his calculations that Hawks went after Jin, and it was also because of calculations that he believed the murder was justified. Hundreds of thousands of lives over one: he could apologize about it later. 

But Midoriya was and is also put in the same position. Hundreds of thousands of lives over one. Why am I bringing up the same arguments I talked about in that post? It’s because Chapters 305 and 306 is comparing the two yet again. 

In Chapter 205, Midoriya is asked: “If a person who looks like they need saving... actually turns out to be someone beyond saving... will you have the resolve... to kill him, if that’s what it takes?” 

To which, at the end of his answer Midoriya states, “One for all is a power meant for saving, not killing.” 

The fact that the chapter with Midoriya’s meeting with the previous OFA holders and the press conference where Hawks addresses Jin’s murder come right after one another gives me further confirmation that we are supposed to compare these two characters. Meaning, I’m wondering if Hawks (vs Jin) actions will be set up as a foil against Midoriya’s (vs Shigaraki). 

A hero is someone who saves and one of the key themes of BNHA/MHA is to explore what it means to be a hero. Hawks’ actions serves as an example of a hero’s failure to uphold his duty and it looks like MIdoriya’s heart is out to do his best to save Shigaraki despite what he’s done and what he may do. 

If Hawks can not see what was wrong with murdering Jin, then I doubt he will do much to address the flaws in hero society. If he continues to fight for what was the status quo, then he will be defending the very system that failed individuals like Jin and the reason why he was killed. At the moment it seems that it is the adults, or the former generation who have fallen with hero society and that the younger generation is supposed to be the ones to right their wrongs and improve on their mistakes. 

I really like Hawks and am always hoping to see change in him, however I think so far his arc is not setting up for redemption. Even the question of redemption with him is complicated and I’m sure people are divided on that topic. 

I always express this: the story is still set in motion and anything can happen between now and by the time we get to the end of the series. So far, based on what we have been given it seems that Hawks is being set up to fall again. If we bring up the angel reference or metaphor, perhaps it’s implying that he believes that he can not do wrong. It is like a sacred job he undertook to protect humanity. He believes he is merely fulfilling his duty, when in reality maybe he is has become like a fallen angel. 

“If getting my hands dirty can somehow bring everyone peace of mind.... I’ll gladly take on this task.” 

But then again in this panel from Chapter 192, it is also possible that what Hawks is actually thinking about does not not line up with what he is saying. He’ll take the fall if someone needs to. With the current state of things, society is looking for someone to stand up for them and despite all that has happened, Endeavor, Hawks and Best Jeanist have chosen to stand up. 

I’m not sure about whether I think that Hawks may die, but if he does I’m pretty sure that his death will mean something: as in maybe it will serve as some sort of commentary for who Hawks was and what he fought for. 

Thank you for sending in your ask, and I hope that I properly answered your question :) 

[walkerwords]

“The Savior Sessions” Part 33 of 33 - Negan x GN!Reader

IMAGE CREDIT: AMC

SERIES MASTERLIST

Summary: Beta makes his final move against the survivors as the group prepares for the final showdown against the Whisperers and our story comes to an end.

Word Count: 4971

Warning: Swearing, Violence, Blood

Song I Wrote To: “Sanctuary” by Welshly Arms

Note: THANK YOU. That is all I can really say. I have never written something this long and I am forever grateful for the handful of you that have stuck with it for all these months. Happy TWD 10c premiere and I can’t wait to write even more for you though I may need a break for a bit! I hope you also listen to the song for this chapter, I think it fully encapsulates the relationship between Negan and the reader! ALL OFFICIAL DIALOG IS PROPERTY OF AMC

————-

They say that Death rode on a pale horse as Hell followed behind, but they had never considered that Hell was with them all along and that they were only waiting for someone to swing the sword.

Your sword hung on your hip as the rumbling sound of the Dead crashed over you in waves. From the tower window, it looked as if the ground was alive with insects rather than crumbling bones and rotting flesh.

As soon as Gabriel sounded the alarm, you and Negan went off to help where you still could. Michonne was frantically searching for Judith who had run out after her uncle in hopes of helping. She only began to relax after Daryl had gotten through to her to tell her that they were on their way back to the tower.

They also had Kelly and Carol with them.

Gabriel was running around with blankets, extra weapons, and ever extra bottles of water for those he would be moving out of the tower as the herd got closer. You were starting to feel a bit out of sorts. You had been waiting for this moment since Beta had singled you out in the clearing during the fair and yet, you didn’t know if you were ready to face him for the last time, but you had to be.

At this point, it was either him or you.

The Walkers were a big problem, but then there were the Whisperers that moved within the herd. There was no way to properly single them out without wasting long-distance ammo. These were the days that you missed the armory back in Alexandria.

The only guns in the group were Gabriel’s shotgun and Rick’s colt python in which Judith carried. It wasn’t enough and you knew that. The only hope that any of you had was that Michonne and Gabriel’s plan of diverting the horde would stand up.

When Daryl and the others returned, Gabriel explained what he wanted to do.

“Is that even going to work?” you asked as you stood in the hallway.

“It’s the only thing we’ve got,” Gabriel said. “If we can get the stereos working and lead the horde away, it may be the only thing capable of drawing away this large of herd.”

“What about the Whisperers in the herd?” Kelly asked. “Isn’t their whole thing herding the Dead towards a certain area?”

“Negan said that it’s more complicated than that,” you said. “It’s not an exact science. If they try to force the Walkers, they start to become more aware of the Living among them. It never ends well.”

“Meaning what?” Carol asked.

“Meaning I don’t like our odds,” Michonne said.

“Neither do I,” you agreed.

“It’s either this or we wait to be slaughtered,” Gabriel said. “And considering we got kids in here, I don’t like that idea at all.”

“Of course not,” Michonne said. “Okay, so we get to the wagons on the outskirts and we get them hooked up, then what? Where do we take them?”

“We can figure that out once we get them away from the tower,” you said. “Beta isn’t going to stop until we are all dead. He can’t take on all of us at once so he’s using his Walkers. This may be the only opportunity that we have to get to him.”

“Beta is not the only enemy out there,” Carol said.

“That’s rich coming from you,” you shot back and Daryl got between the two of you.

“Easy,” he warned. “We are not going to get anything done by fighting among ourselves. Gabriel is right, we have to get to the wagons.”

“We have to get through that horde before we do anything,” you said.

“We’ve done it before,” Daryl said and you quickly realized what he meant as did the others. Michonne made a face of disgust along with your own.

“Well, this isn’t going to be pleasant at all,” you said.

“Never is,” Michonne added, “but we gotta do it.” Frowning down at Paul’s coat, you sighed.

“Fine, someone find us some Walkers,” you said, “and make them extra bloody.”

--------

“Have I told you yet that I hate this plan,” Negan said as you finished strapping your knives to your thighs and storing more in your coat. 

“Many times,” you said with a sigh. 

“And yet, you’re going through with it,” he said. 

“Like Gabe said, we don’t have many other options,” you said, turning to him. “Unless you know if any RPG’s just happen to be in this very building with useable ammunition.” 

“Afraid not,” Negan said with a frown. 

“Then it looks like we are shit out of luck, honey,” you said as you double-checked your weapon on your hip. “I know you’re worried about me, but I have to do this and so do you.” 

“Nah,” Negan said, disagreeing. “I’m not exactly an invisible force when it comes to these assholes. I’ll stick out too much, you’re going to have to do this part without me.” 

You knew he was right. There was no doubt that Beta had found Alpha’s head and knew that Negan was the last one to be with her. While Beta still wanted to kill you, right now, Negan was number one on his kill list. You were just hoping that he would be too distracted with his own vengeance to recognize yours. If you could keep hold of even an ounce of surprise, then this would be a whole lot easier. 

“I get it,” you said. “I don’t like it, but I do understand.”

“Thanks,” he said. You then pulled him in for a harsh kiss, putting all your passion into it. If this was the last time you held him like that, then you were going to make it count. Pulling back, you stared into his eyes, eager to see that fire. When you did, you gave him a half-smile. 

“Now or never, big man,” you said. “Are you with me?”

“Damn right,” he said before pressing a kiss to your forehead. He then pushed you back towards the main hallway where you were supposed to meet Daryl in order to don your Walker disguise. As you walked away, he felt as if you were taking a part of him with you and he prayed that part would be enough to keep you safe.

----------

“Our plan is the same,” Gabriel said as Negan listened at the side. “Lead the horde away, just not from Oceanside as we had planned. Once the Walkers are clear, we evacuate to Rendezvous Point B. Luke, We ready?” Gabriel asked Luke who was standing next to Jules. 

“Yeah, yeah. Uh, technically,” Luke said with an attempt at a reassuring smile. “Okay. So, these are the final pieces that we need to connect to the wagon. But in order for it to do the pied piper thing that we need it to do over the cliff, we gotta get from A to B, and I gotta plug and plug,” he said.

“And then we should be good to go?”  Kelly asked. 

“Hopefully,” Luke said.

“That wagon is on the other side of the horde,” Beatrice said. 

“Which is why we have these,” Daryl grunted as he and Jerry dragged in two extra-large Walkers into the foyer of the tower. 

“Oh man, this is just wrong,” Luke said. 

“But it works,” Gabriel said. “Trust me, I know.” Negan smirked at that, remembering that time he and Gabriel had done the guts trick to get back into the Sanctuary. That time felt like another lifetime ago now that he was thinking about it. 

Negan stepped away from the group temporarily, heading to one of the vacant watchpoints. His eyes scanned the horde for Beta, but he couldn’t see the man amongst his Dead. If Beta was out there, he was staying out of sight for a reason. Negan never pegged the man as one who would lead the army. He was more of a free agent when it came to taking orders from his Alpha. However, now with Alpha gone, it seemed as if the Beta had finally taken command of the pack. 

It wasn’t very reassuring. 

Negan had seen some large hordes since this had all started. He had even told you about a particular one that scared the hell out of him. Negan didn’t think a tow truck would be able to get through this one even if it had a flame thrower attached to it. Michonne was right, he didn’t like their odds either. 

Taking one last look, Negan turned away and headed back into the fold. 

As he neared the main area of the fighters who were waiting to go out, he noticed you, soaked in Walker blood, trying not to gag. If it was any other scenario, he would think it was adorable.

It was a moment later that Daryl noticed Negan. 

“Hey,” Daryl called, approaching Negan, “why you clean?”

“I ain't goin’,” Negan declared.

“You've done this more than any of us,” Daryl said. “How the hell is this any different?”

“I am on the tip-top of every skins' kill list. Especially Fee Fi Fo asshole. So, if the idea is to get through without drawing a shitload of attention, then I am the last person these people want standing next to them,” Negan said, not liking the idea of more of these people dying because of him. 

“That's a bunch of bullshit,” Daryl said, shaking his head. “You wanna be a part of this? You gotta put your ass on the line just like everybody else and (Y/N) needs you by their side.” 

“They understand,”  Negan said. 

“Do they?” Daryl scoffed. 

“Yeah, I do,” you said as you approached. “I thought we could do this together, but we can’t. At least, not this part.” Negan nodded, agreeing with you. 

“We’re just leading the horde away,” Daryl said. 

“You are,” you said. “I’m not.”

Daryl understood your words immediately. Negan, who had already guessed your plan, was silent as he stood by your side. Daryl was shaking his head as he looked at you. You were one of his closest friends and he was just realizing how serious you were when it came to getting to Beta. He had been so focused on Carol’s vendetta against Alpha, that he had missed the signs of your own fury.

“No,” he said, “not like this.”

“I’ve already made my decision, Daryl,” you said. “You’re not going to change my mind. Look, Gabriel is staying behind to protect the kids and I need you to disperse the herd.”

“Are you hearin’ this?” Daryl asked Michonne who was nearby. 

“I am,” she said with a nod, “ and I am trusting that they know what they’re doing.” 

“Fucking ridiculous,” Daryl said as he stormed away. 

“Great, so if I die, he’ll be dancing on my grave,” you said as you watched him walk away. 

“Daryl will be fine,” Michonne assured you. “Besides, Daryl doesn’t dance,” she said with a wink and a nod before going to follow him in preparation to leave. 

-----------

You lost sight of Negan shortly after the group headed out of the tower. 

While you were still covered in the Walker guts, you weren’t leaving just yet. You had a plan and you needed to stick with it. Standing across from Dianne, you watched as your family began to move through the Dead. You could make out a few of them, but not everyone. Also with the sun beginning to set, you knew that it was only a matter of time before you lost all visibility.

Everything that had happened since that first wind storm, was suddenly echoing around in your head. You had lost people shortly after that night and it just kept crashing down like that tree that collapsed the wall behind your house. You weren’t even sure if your house was still standing at this point. Aaron and Alden had radioed to say that the horde had moved through Alexandria, trampling it. They were supposed to keep on them, but then their line had gone silent and nobody was hearing from them. 

It was making you nervous, not knowing where your friends were. You knew that Enid was worried, but she was staying busy, looking after the kids with Siddiq who was constantly hovering over Rosita and Coco. Considering they were the only doctors in the group, they would not be going out into the horde until it was clear. They would head straight for the meeting point and even then it was a risk to have them out there. However, you knew that they were strong fighters and that they would do everything to survive. They had proved that the night Alpha had taken them. 

The Fair seemed so long ago. That moment of you walking up the hill to see your friends and family on pikes still haunted you, but you used those feelings of horror and despair to keep your vision alive. The vision you had of your future with both Negan and Lydia by your side. 

You had always fought for family and you were not going to let Beta take that away from you. 

A sudden scream broke you out of your thoughts as Beatrice went down in the horde. Dianne was stunned next to you as you watched the woman being torn apart by Beta’s guardians. You knew that Carol had been with her, but you couldn’t tell if she was down as well. You couldn’t look away as blood and flesh were covering the Walkers as they feasted on your friend. 

Holding your head higher, you moved away from the window and headed towards the elevator shaft. Catching Negan’s eye who stood near Lydia, you nodded to him. He nodded back and with one final look, you grabbed the rope and began to propel down, adjusting your focus not on your family above, but the enemy below. 

-------

“They're coming up,” Judith said, who was staring at the stairwell in horror. Gabriel pushed her back, holding her tightly.

“You all know what to do,” Gabriel said. “Dianne, you get the first group. Children and wounded come second. If Rosita argues, just come and find me.”

The evacuation went smoothly as Dianne got everyone out, even Rosita and her baby. It was going well, but Negan knew it wasn’t nearly done. There was more work to be done.

Not too far away from Gabriel, Negan spoke to Lydia. “You know how this ends,” he said with a sigh. 

“I don't and neither do you,” Lydia argued, looking up at him with those big brown eyes of hers.

“Come on, kid,” Negan said. “You being here when the shitstorm hits ain't changing what definitely is happening.”

“I'm not leaving,” she said defiantly. 

“They're never gonna trust me, you,” Negan said, knowing well enough that no matter who he wanted to spend his life with, he would never be more than what these people remember from eight years ago. “Doesn't matter what we do now. You can just slip out, down, and dance your way through the Dead.”

“So can you,” Lydia pointed out, gesturing to the Whisperer mask he still had in his jacket. 

“Like you said, I ain't no hero,” Negan said. 

“You could be,” Lydia prompted.

“Well,” Negan said, pulling her into his side. “I guess that's what I'm doing now. You be careful, kiddo, and you know what?” Negan then pulled out another mask from his coat, one that Lydia instantly recognized as her mother’s. “You take this and you use it for good, you know, if that’s something you feel like doin’, alright?”

Lydia took the mask in her hands and clutched it in a fist. 

“Don’t die,” she whispered. “Please, Negan, I can’t lose any more family.” 

“I ain’t plannin’ on it,” he said as he kissed the top of her head and then turned his back on the room. Lydia watched as Negan took hold of the rope that led into the elevator shaft. Not looking back, he began to descend. He didn’t stop until his boots found solid ground again.

Shoving the mask onto his face, Negan pushed out into the world, ready to face anything that it threw at him. Even if it was for the last time.

He was on the outskirts of the horde when he exited the building, but he didn’t see any Whisperers and he didn’t see you. He didn’t think you would be waiting out in the open so he figured you had disappeared into the trees or even the horde itself. 

Pulling the bat off his shoulder, Negan looked down at what you had coined “Lucille 2.0”. His hand wrapped around the end of the bat, feeling the familiar grip. With a deep breath, he held it close to his face one last time. “Thanks, old girl,” he whispered before tossing the bat into the horde of Walkers. He watched as it disappeared amongst the Dead and felt another weight disappear from his shoulders.

Drawing his knife, Negan began to move through the herd in hopes of finding you and the man you were going to take down. He just hoped that Daryl’s plan started to work and that the building behind him didn’t succumb to the wave of Walkers among him.

-----------

Something was wrong, that much you knew. 

You didn’t know what it was, but the horde had stopped moving in the direction of the cliffside. You could hear the crashing of metal and cracking of stone behind you as the horde moved into the building.

The only good thing was that only the Whisperers could move up into the building and you were just hoping Gabriel had enough fighters to keep them back. However, he was also trying to evacuate people so it could easily go bad very quickly. 

Fresh blood was splattered on nearby Walkers and you were praying that it was Whisperer blood and not the blood of your family. You wanted to stop and search for any bodies, but so far, you had gone undetected in the herd and you needed to keep it that way. 

Shouts of alarm came from the building, but you couldn’t turn back and so, you kept Walking.

It was well into the evening when everything seemed to slow down. You had been moving through the horde slowly, taking out any Whisperer that recognized you. It was easy to do, a few quick slashes and the blood would attract the Dead. However, as you killed more of them, they began to realize the enemy had infiltrated their own army.

It was a few minutes later that you saw a familiar face in the crowd. Magna moved behind a slow-moving form and then slit their throat. The Whisperer fell to the ground as Walkers fell upon them, and then, Magna was gone. 

You heard more sounds of choking as more Whisperers fell to the phantom movements of your friends and family. You could never pinpoint where they were in the crowd, but soon, you began to join in the stealth mission. Using your smaller blades, you cut down Whisperers, silencing them once and for all. 

When one went to stab you first, Kelly was there in a second, slitting their throat, and throwing them down to the ground. You nodded to her as you passed by and she reached out and grabbed your hand quickly before continuing on. 

Everything was going as planned, but you couldn’t find Lydia. You didn’t know if she had joined up with Daryl or had stayed behind with Gabriel. You hoped that Negan had eyes on her, but you didn’t know where he was either.

As the sun finally set and darkness fell, the horde began to thin and the enemy was finally exposed. 

Negan saw him first. 

Beta stood amongst the dwindling Dead acting as if he was the king of them all. A moment on the left, caught both men’s attention as Alpha’s mask moved through the crowd.

Negan shook his head at the move Lydia had made. If he wasn’t sure that she wasn't, he would have thought she really was his kid considering how daring she was with taunting Beta like this. 

Beta stared at her in awe until she disappeared again from view. It was enough of a distraction for Negan to move in.

He knew you had to be close so with a smirk, he let loose his memorable melodic whistle, something he hadn’t done in a while. 

He just hoped that you would get the meaning. He was essentially sending up a flare in the form of a few notes. “Come get him,” Negan whispered as he approached Beta. “Hey, shithead,” he spoke louder, gaining the attention of Beta. 

The larger man instantly locked onto Negan’s position with ferocity. Recognizing him, Beta charged right for him. Negan braced himself for impact when Beta threw a Walker at him. “Shit!” Negan said as the Dead man fell upon him, its jaws fighting their way towards his throat. Pulling his knife, Negan finished off the Walker, kicking it away, but Beta wasn’t done. 

He threw himself toward Negan as the latter tried to get to his feet. Beta aimed his fist at Negan’s head, catching him in the temple and Negan went down hard. Blinking back the black spots in his vision, he focused back on the enemy above him.

“For Alpha,” Beta growled. Negan stared him down as Beta raised his knives above his head, ready to strike true, but a sound from his left made him turn. He snarled as you came running from the horde with your sword in your hand. Beta didn’t have any time to move as you rushed past him, your blade slashing out to the side and cutting both of the man’s Achilles tendons. 

Beta yelled out in pain as blood pooled from his ankles. Negan pushed him off of him as you circled back. Kicking his knives from his hands, you reached down and shoved your blade into Beta’s shoulder. The same shoulder you had injured in your fight with him in Alexandria. Beta bared his teeth at you and that’s when you noticed the new mask on his face.

It was half of Alpha’s own face.

He seemed to be sneering at you as you reached forward and placed your hand on his throat, forcing him to look at you. “I’ll kill you,” he spat. 

“You make veiled threats,” you said, quoting what he had first said to you in the clearing as your friends were being slaughtered by his Alpha. “I told you that I wasn’t going to die like this. Not by you or anyone.” Beta yelled, trying to get up and attack you when suddenly Daryl appeared out of the darkness. 

Pulling his blades, Daryl brought them down into Beta’s back, keeping him in place. The shock of pain sent Beta back to the ground. Blood bubbled at his lips and you leaned in closer, making sure your face was the last one that he saw. “Killer,” Beta spat at you as Daryl pulled his blades from Beta’s body.

“No,” you said as you pulled back and then in one fluid motion, buried your sword up into his chest. “Survivor,” you corrected as you withdrew your weapon and kicked him to the ground and towards his own Walkers who smelled the fresh blood immediately. 

Negan and Daryl instantly, stepped in front of you as you watched the Dead tear apart Beta. The sound of tearing flesh and the growls of the Walkers had never sounded so liberating before. Negan slowly took hold of his mask and tore it from his face, letting it drop to the ground beside him. Daryl, who had been the first one to fight Beta, let out a breath that spoke louder than words.

They had won. 

“Now is it over?” you asked, leaning on your sword, 

“Yeah,” Daryl said. “It’s over. Come on,” he said as he passed Negan, knocking his fist against the taller man’s shoulder. Negan then reached down and took your hand in his and without looking back, walked away from the bloodbath that had ended the war.

---------

The sun was rising by the time, you managed to find the group again. 

You, Daryl, and Negan found Carol first. The woman looked as if she had been through hell, but she lit up as soon as she saw her best friend. Daryl grabbed her first, hugging her close. It immediately reminded you of when they had reunited after Terminus. 

Looking around, you couldn’t find the person you had been worried about since you had dropped down the elevator shaft. “Lydia,” you said, “where is she?” Carol looked up from her moment with Daryl and approached you. 

“Rendezvous point,” Carol said. “She went looking for you. Both of you,” she said, sending a look to Negan. You didn’t hesitate to start running through the trees. Negan was right behind you as you jumped over old roots and fallen branches. Your only thoughts were on Lydia and if she was okay. Seeing the break in the trees ahead of you, you slid to a stop, your eyes scanning the area. 

Negan arrived right behind you, but then, he froze. He felt as if the world was suddenly pulled out from under his feet. Everything around him felt on fire as he beheld who was kneeling in front of Judith, speaking softly to her.

Maggie Rhee. 

You noticed his hesitation immediately. “What’s wrong? Do you not see her?” you asked, still looking around for Lydia. 

“(Y/N)…” Negan said slowly.

“What?” you asked and then he was nodding over to where he was looking. Turning, your eyes found Maggie who had finally noticed Negan. The woman was staring at him as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Negan swallowed thickly as Maggie stared him down.

There weren’t many people in the world that scared him as much as Maggie Rhee did and he was not looking forward to the words she would definitely be throwing at him. “Ignore her,” you said.

“(Y/N),” he said again. You grabbed him by his shoulders and turned him back to face you. He did, looking down at you with worry in his eyes. 

“Just for right now,” you said. “We need to find‒”

“Hey!” a familiar voice called out and you could have sunk to the ground at the amount of relief that flooded your system. 

“Oh, thank god,” you said as you turned to see Lydia running towards you. Her eyes were red-rimmed and she looked exhausted but she was alive and that was all that mattered. Lydia ran right to you, throwing her arms around you and Negan. You didn’t hesitate to follow suit, wrapping your arms around both of them. 

Your family. 

Negan squeezed both of you tight in his arms, finally letting his heart settle from all the adrenaline that was pulsing through him. “Is he dead?” Lydia asked as she was pressed between you two. 

“He’s dead,” you whispered. “I promise, we got him.” Lydia pressed herself tighter to you before she stepped back with a relieved expression on her face. You then grabbed her and checked her for injuries. Lydia was doing the same as she checked over you and Negan. When Lydia noticed the blossoming head wound on Negan’s forehead, she became worried.

“I’m fine, kiddo,” he assured her. “I’ll take a bruise over a body bag any day.” Lydia then looked from him to you and then back at him. 

“Does this mean you’re staying?” she asked, looking at him with hope in her eyes. 

“Nothing is going to make me leave you,” he said. “Either of you.” Lydia let out a breath as she moved in to hug him again, coiling her arms around his waist. He held her back and sent a wink to you over her shoulder. You moved and picked up his hand, pressing a kiss to the back of his knuckles, not caring who was watching. 

You would deal with her later. 

“So, now what?” Lydia asked.

“Now, we start fresh,” you said, taking her hand in yours, Lydia leaned into Negan, her head resting on his chest. “And who knows, maybe we discover a little more about each other along the way.”

“I like the sound of that,” Negan said as he tugged you into his side. 

“Me too,” Lydia sighed. 

“Good cause I am not giving up on either of you,” you said, trying not to get emotional, but it was futile. Letting a tear fall, you smiled at them. “You’re my family,” you choked out. 

“Ain’t that the truth,” Negan said as he leaned down and pulled you in for a kiss. You kissed him back quickly, knowing there was a future ahead of you filled with more. “I love you,” he whispered. 

“I love you, too,” you said. “Until the end of our little universe.” Negan grinned at that as he pulled you and Lydia in closer, holding onto his found family. 

There was a lot more to come and you knew that. With Maggie’s reappearance, it was not going to be easy and there were always going to be more enemies and wars to fight. However, because you had the man you loved and a kid who was a hell of a fighter, you knew you were going to be okay no matter what the new world threw at you.

After years of feeling like an outsider, you finally felt whole and it was all because you took a chance and spoke to the big bad wolf. 

THE END.

TAGS: @not-too-tall-for-trick @lucillethings @cameronsails @stark-dreams @amaroho @thanossexual @yes-sir-hotchner @boom-bunny @delusionalteenagewhispers @scootankle @ritajammer21 @writteriguess @tea-atfive @jennydehavilland @waspyyy @yespleasejayhalstead @hoemadegrace @writingdeadangel @huffledor-able541 @pulplorrd @felicisimor

[lollytea]

If you don't mind, do you have any more Shere Khan and or Bagheera headcannons you would like to share?

DO I???

(You are so welcome!! I get so excited whenever somebody shows an interest in shagheera cuz of me. I live for it!!

I have like a truckload of headcanons about their past and present but I’m saving them for this fic once I get into the mindset to get back to it. Soon I’m hoping! BUT I’ve always thought way too much about Bagheera and Khan so I probably have plenty of rambly thoughts I can talk about!)

— Bagheera was raised by his mother and, to an extent, his great grandfather. Great gramps was ancient and couldn’t really do much to care for a child, other than sit in his chair and entertain the little one with stories of his life back in India. Bagheera would listen, enthralled. Bagheera idolized his great grandfather.

— The world hadn’t been very nice to Bagheera’s mother so, as a result, she kept her child sheltered. She coddled him, fussed over him and was overprotective to a fault. This led to Bagheera being a gentle, skittish, naive and high strung boy.

— He got the biggest whiplash of his life when he started school and realized that other boys were not like him. They were loud, rowdy, nonchalantly rude and played rough. Bagheera struggled a little at first but he eventually adapted, mirroring the ways of other kids so he would fit in better. It was during this time that Bagheera’s personality really began to define itself. He was painfully aware that he was small for his age, clumsy and not very fast or strong and he developed quite a complex about it. But it wouldn’t be forever. He had every intention to improve himself in that department. For the time being, he attempted to compensate with a sharp tongue and a hot temper.

— Shere Khan had been raised with his future already decided for him. Since he could walk, he had been told that he would inherit the family’s business empire and he held a lot of pride in that. However when you allow a child to mentally develop with the knowledge that one day they will basically rule the whole universe, (at least it feels like that when you’re so small and are too immature to fully grasp the reality of your future) it may do some permanent damage to that child’s psyche.

— Shere Khan was spoiled, doted on, put a pedestal, had his parents singing his praises. As their only child and heir, of course he was to be treated like he was special. Because he was. Shere Khan was special. Until he wasn’t.

— If you struggle with your studies, you’re too stupid to inherit the family fortune. If you get upset and cry, you’re too weak willed to inherit the family fortune. If you’re not good at everything you do, you’re not as brilliant as we thought you were. Years and years of mixed messages results in a child who doesn’t know for certain if he’s the most talented boy in the world or if he’s completely worthless. It’s the uncertainty that causes such instability. Shere Khan is cocky, smug, arrogant, a perfectionist, cagey, confrontational, competitive, hellbent on proving he’s the best and terrified of ever being seen as weak.

— Bagheera has had a fascination with books since he first learned to read. Unfortunately your literary options are scarce when you’re dirt poor but he does what he can. He frequents the neighborhood’s tiny library even if it’s limited, he’s reread the books he does own to the point he has them memorized and he collects newspapers and magazines to obtain as much knowledge as he can. Occasionally he’ll gather newspaper clippings of current events and make his own “history books.”

— Shere Khan is deeply interested in botany, though he really doesn’t have the time to focus on it with the overload of other subjects he’s obliged to perfect. His grandma gifted him a selection of bulbs and he likes to grow flowers on his windowsill. He’s extremely proud of his plant work. But that’s a secret shh.

— Bagheera and Shere Khan are almost equally matched academically, with Khan inching just a little ahead. However it’s clear from the start that while Khan is the sharper of the two, he can’t compare to the genuine passion Bagheera has for learning. Despite their smarts, the two boys aren’t really liked by teachers. They and their other four friends are incorrigible troublemakers, with Shere Khan being the most disruptive of them all. And while Bagheera can’t help but be dragged in, he does try to behave himself sometimes. Unfortunately he’s constantly getting in trouble for drawing in his notebook.

— There are a lot of bad aspects of this friendship. Shere Khan is prone to flippant insults and Bagheera’s self esteem is shaky enough as it is. There are times when Shere Khan makes Bagheera feel terrible about himself. And though Shere Khan doesn’t understand the extent of Bagheera’s feelings, he knows he’s making him feel inferior. And he leeches off that insecurity to assure himself of his own superiority. Shere Khan probably wouldn’t be half as annoyingly egotistical if it weren’t for Bagheera.

— However, as time goes on, this more malicious side of things starts to fade into a complicated yet comfortable companionship. It’s odd. Everyone agrees that it’s odd. While the antagonistic vibe never quite goes away, with the two constantly challenging eachother, there are days where they get along fine. It depends on their respective moods. One day, Shere Khan would hassle Bagheera until a fight breaks out and the very next day, they could chat with eachother for hours about their favourite novels and the day after that, there’s a reasonable middle ground of jokingly teasing eachother. No one understands it. Shere Khan and Bagheera never even notice that this is peculiar. It’s just their normal.

— Shere Khan and his family would usually leave for a few weeks every year to stay at their summer home. Bagheera would write him letters to keep him updated on the lives of himself, Baloo, Louie, Haithi and Kaa. Half of Khan’s responses were irritable that Bagheera was pestering him with messages, while the other half was listing words that Bagheera had misspelled. One year he returned a week after Bagheera’s birthday and passed him a parcel wrapped in brown paper and tied with string. It was a pocket dictionary. Shere Khan framed it as condescending, since Bagheera liked big words so much but was so terrible at spelling. He certainly hadn’t expected Bagheera to be as delighted with the gift as he was. But he found himself proud that he had given it to him.

— As opposed to their other friends, Shere Khan and Bagheera were fond of the night. They would often sneak out after dark and meet up for walks around the city. Sometimes they’d talk about everything and nothing, sometimes they would argue and sometimes they would say nothing at all. But they enjoyed it. Both felt the need to wander late at night and neither wanted to do it alone.

— Bagheera really started to grow as a person during his time in flight school. He made plenty of friends, grew in confidence, expanded his knowledge and had the support of his best friend, Baloo through all of it. He also learned some things about himself, which goes without saying. He hadn’t seen Shere Khan in years but upon a little reflection, realizes with amusement and a little embarrassment that his admiration towards Khan was most likely a childish crush. He comments to Baloo that being so interested in a boy who was mean to him was rather pathetic on his part. But a part of him knows that it was probably more complicated than that. Whatever it was, he accepts it but doesn’t dwell too much and moves forward. He figures he probably won’t ever see Shere Khan and while it is a little sad, he will certainly survive.

— Shere Khan also learned some things about himself while pursuing higher education but when it comes to his previous friendship with Bagheera, he opts to think about it as little as possible. While Bagheera was currently becoming far more outgoing, Shere Khan was steadily closing himself up until he was left entirely isolated. It was voluntary, of course. He had no interest in making friends and even if spending weeks without speaking to anyone had its mental effects, Khan was too stubborn to change his ways.

— Just like when they were children, Bagheera would send Khan letters. However, Khan had already made the decision that Bagheera was not to be involved in his life anymore. However he was so starved for familiar interaction, he read every letter and even wrote responses, even if he never sent them. He kept all of Bagheera’s letters in his desk drawer. And then they were moved to a box. And then that box was piled under by other boxes. As an adult, Shere Khan doesn’t quite know where exactly the letters are but he’s certain that they’re still somewhere in the house.

— When the two meet again as adults, Shere Khan comes to the reluctant conclusion that the boy he always showed up in school work, had become a far smarter and well read man than Shere Khan will ever be. And once he does allow himself to admit that, Khan can come to appreciate the person Bagheera has grown into. He’s very impressed.

— Bagheera is comfortable with himself. He wouldn’t say his self confidence is a hindrance anymore, not like when he was younger. But he finds that even as an adult, he often has moments of doubting himself. After being made feel so small for years and years, that sort of thing never quite leaves you. Even in adulthood. And isn’t it strange when the person who made you so insecure when you were children, is now the one making every attempt to build you back up again.

— Bagheera wouldn’t say he’s especially brave or anything. He’s still afraid by little things like thunder and spiders. But upon meeting Shere Khan again, he simply cannot wrap his head around the notion that anyone could find this man intimidating. All Bagheera sees is his old friend, who has taken on yet another mask to make himself seem cool.

— There are things Shere Khan has always known about Bagheera. He’s passionate and opinionated. A bit of a windbag really. As a child Shere Khan had found this annoying. But nowadays, he would consider it a pivotal aspect of Bagheera’s brilliance. Khan wasn’t all that intense about any personal matters these days so Bagheera brought so many new concepts to the table. He activated the side of Shere Khans brain that wasn’t strictly office based. It was a welcome change of pace.

— Bagheera has heard from many people that Shere Khan is apparently terrifying. It’s the icy demeanor, it seems. But oddly enough, once he had gotten used to Shere Khan all those years ago, Bagheera found his nonchalant disposition to be comforting, and now it was even more so. Khan rarely got outwardly agitated or panicky or raised his voice. And for Bagheera, somebody prone to anxiety ridden outbursts, a person like that was most welcome in his corner.

— Shere Khan has noticed that Bagheera carries around a worn, well loved pocket dictionary. Now he remembers giving him one over twenty years ago but it’s not likely that it’s the same one. Years and years go by and even long after considering Bagheera his other half, for some reason Shere Khan can never bring himself to ask. Maybe he just doesn’t want to know the truth. Believing what he wants is nice.

— Bagheera had always enjoyed sketching but it isn’t until his adulthood that he decides to indulge in buying paint supplies. Before long, a once empty space in Shere Khan’s penthouse is cluttered with paints and tarps and finished canvases propped against the walls. He’s particular fond of depicting countryside landscapes. Self portraits too but he’s afraid people will think he’s self centered. Shere Khan simply says if you’re both beautiful and artistic, then self portraits should be a no brainer. Bagheera had to politely ask Shere Khan to stop going to art galleries and showing immense interest in his art to raise the bidding among the rich crowd, as he would really like to see how much he can do on his own.

— Shere Khan played piano as a child. He didn’t remember the act of playing itself, but the obligation to sit at the stool and practice when he would much rather be outside. He associated piano with a lot of negative feelings, so once he had left his family’s home, he avoided the instrument at all cost. However, he accidentally discovered a little later than life that if he wasn’t under any pressure to do so, he quite enjoyed playing. It was calming for him. He liked the music it produced. But he was a bit out of practice. He was uncomfortable with being less than perfect at something and found the whole ordeal of improving oneself to be humiliating.

— Bagheera had a piano set up in their home for Shere Khan’s birthday. On the walls surrounding the instrument, he hung up the first few paintings he had done before he had gotten the hang of the whole art thing. It does take a month or two before Khan is willing to sit in the stool and give it a serious try but once he does, there’s music every evening at exactly 6:25pm. Not perfect music. But Bagheera makes it known how delighted he is to hear it.

— As he gets older and works gets more taxing, Bagheera has a tendency to fall asleep earlier. Usually in the evenings as he’s sitting in his chair and on page 6 of his book. Shere Khan hates this because if he leaves him there, he’ll wake up with a bad back and a creak in his neck, so he has to make the effort of dragging him to the bed. And Bagheera is not easy to carry.

— Shere Khan on the other hand can stay awake for days at a time, usually working and Bagheera hates it. Because not only is this biologically impossible for a person to pull off without losing some sanity, he doesn’t like to sleep on his own.

— They enjoy watching antique auction shows and get into extremely intense debates over it. Usually over the price or how ugly they think said antiques are.

— To this day, they still like to go on late night walks around the city. There’s a different atmosphere now that they’re no longer children but it helps them remember where they started off. And just like always, sometimes, they would talk about eveything and nothing, sometimes they would argue and sometimes they would say nothing at all. 

[impalementation]

spike, angel, buffy & romanticism: part 2

part 1: “When you kiss me I want to die”: Angel and the high school seasons

* 

“Love isn’t brains, children”: Enter Spike as the id

For all that I’ve just discussed all of the ways that the first three seasons subvert the romance of Angel, it’s also true that the writing still fundamentally takes him—and Buffy’s relationship with him—seriously. To some degree it has to. Because Buffy is the show’s emotional anchor, if the writing didn’t take her emotions seriously, the audience wouldn’t either. It needs to be sympathetic to her (regardless of whether it endorses her, per se), or else it would run the risk of losing all pathos. Making fun of Buffy and Angel makes for a great gag in “The Zeppo”, and fits with the general way that season three undermines the romanticism of them, but if that was the show’s attitude the whole way through, it would come off as simply meanspirited. It would seem like it was making fun of Buffy for being a stupid teenage girl in love, instead of sympathetically depicting the human experience of being caught up in big, tempestuous emotions.

But at the same time, if the writing were to only take romance seriously, that wouldn’t feel very true either. Or fit with the general Buffy ethos, which loves to flip between serious and silly moods in order to capture all sides of whatever it’s exploring. And therein is the magic of Spike’s addition to the chemistry of the show. Practically from his introduction, Spike parallels Buffy’s romantic storylines, except unlike Buffy, Spike is allowed to do the comic or morally incorrect thing. His status as a soulless vampire means that the show is free to use him to point out both the sillier and darker sides of romance, without tainting Buffy’s heroism or the seriousness of her emotions.

In “Becoming, Part 2” for example, Spike is free to explicitly say that he’s saving the world because he wants Dru back, and leaves Buffy to die once he’s gotten her. Whereas Buffy, despite also wanting the person she loves back, ultimately chooses to save the world rather than keep him. Spike allows the episode to show what Buffy’s, or anyone’s, romantic id might want, without Buffy herself going through with it. He also allows the episode to show the ridiculousness of the romantic id, by giving him comic moments like “Didn’t say I wouldn’t”, or “God, he’s going to kill her”, or beating Angel with a tire iron, or any of the times that Buffy makes fun of him (“The whole earth may be sucked into hell and you want my help ‘cause your girlfriend’s a big ho?”). All of which is in contrast to the tragic seriousness of Buffy’s heartbreak. Spike in season two is not a character without pathos; in fact, he has quite a lot of pathos that parallels Buffy’s--think of the tortured close-up on his face as Angel and Drusilla taunt him in “I Only Have Eyes For You.” But neither is he limited or defined by that pathos.

He plays a similar role in both “Lovers Walk” and “The Harsh Light of Day”. In “Lovers Walk” he’s devastated by the loss of Drusilla, as Buffy was devastated over Angel in “Anne”, yet the way they get out of their respective depressions is very different. Tonally, “Anne” plays Buffy’s misery extremely straight, and when Buffy decides to stop moping and become an agent in her own life again, her version of “agency” means getting in touch with her leadership and heroism. Whereas for Spike, agency means a love spell, or torturing Drusilla into liking him again. The romantic id tries to re-possess the object of its desire, whereas the ego or superego is able to set that desire aside, whether or not it wants to. More obviously, Spike in “Lovers Walk” parallels all of the other characters and their romantic situations. All of them are behaving somewhat selfishly or self-destructively in their love lives (Xander and Willow cheating, Buffy and Angel torturing themselves with friendship) but are in denial about the fact that they’re doing so. And then Spike blazes in with his version of love that is selfish, scary, grandiose, charming, pathetic, genuine, and absurd by turns—and suddenly, everyone’s romantic weaknesses are out in the open. It makes perfect sense that Spike finishes the episode gleeful and optimistic, because “Lovers Walk” as a whole represents a triumph of the romantic id over the romantic ego, if only temporarily. And it’s all handled with a brilliantly whiplash-y mix of comedy and tragedy because at the end of the day, the power of the romantic id really is ridiculous. The way that Spike turns on a dime between being scary and pathetic parallels the way it’s at once absurd, and kind of frightening, that your id would make you, say: cheat on your wonderful high school boyfriend, just to have a chance with your childhood crush.

Because Spike is often treated as the show’s romantic id, the writing’s relationship to his romanticism gets complicated. Like Angel, there is something romantic in his aesthetic and behavior, even if he doesn’t look like Angel’s conventional Byronic hero. He wears a long, dramatic coat, poses rebelliously with his cigarettes, and dotes on his paramour with the elaborate attentiveness of Gomez Addams. But unlike Angel, he is not just a romantic symbol or object, he is also a romantic subject. That is to say, Spike’s romantic storylines tend to emphasize his romantic desires, and use those desires as motivation. By contrast, Angel’s storylines don’t really have much to do with whether he’s “gotten” Buffy or not—instead they have to do with whether Buffy has gotten him. The fact that Buffy and Spike are both treated as romantic agents in this way is a key indication that the two characters are meant to parallel each other. Angel’s side of the Buffy/Angel romantic storyline has to do with whether he can control himself around Buffy, whereas Buffy’s has to do with whether he likes her or wants to be with her. Similarly, Spike’s romantic storylines hinge on the status of whether Drusilla or Buffy want him. 

Not only is Spike a subject when it comes to romantic relationships, he’s also a subject when it comes to Romantic thinking. He is a character practically defined by his romanticism. He aspires to romantic things, and therefore can be used to poke at romantic outlooks. Despite his grand love for Drusilla for instance, she still cheats on him, and he still has to knock her out, do a love spell, or torture her to get her back. Or he’ll make grand pronouncements that are immediately followed by things like getting tasered by the Initiative or falling into an open grave. Because of this, Spike is able to parallel Buffy’s Romantic thinking as well, not just her romantic desires. Notice how in “The Freshman”, when Buffy is feeling out of touch with her Romantic Slayer self, that she has a scene where she’s treated like Spike--she delivers a dramatic threat and then falls through a ceiling. Or in “Some Assembly Required” when she obeys her id and hotly demands that Angel listen to her, she falls into an open grave. This kind of comedy has a lot in common with the deadpan Angel humor discussed in the last section, but notice that the target of that humor is Angel’s romantic objecthood rather than an outlook Angel has. Angel’s role, when it comes to romanticism, has to do with how Buffy and the audience sees him, whereas Spike’s role (at least in the early seasons) has to do with how Spike sees, period.

The show doesn’t just poke at Spike’s outlook though, it also uses him to poke at other people’s romanticism. In season two, for example, Spike is the one who gets impatient with Angel’s grandstanding, sarcastically explaining that “we do still kill people, you know” and “it’s a big rock.” In “Lovers Walk” he’s the one who cuts through Buffy and Angel’s drama, reducing it to “googly eyes” with a dismissive handwave (while also building it up in his projection-y “you’ll never be friends” speech). In “Something Blue” he points out that Willow is barely holding it together. In “Pangs” he’s the one who brings the debate over the Chumash nihilistically back down to earth, and in “The Yoko Factor” he schools Adam on Yoko not really splitting the Beatles apart. In other words, Spike attempts to see both the romance and the reality of things. He is the avatar of both, which I would argue makes complete sense, because in many ways romance and reality are really two sides of the same coin. Poetry and stories are fake and bigger than life, but you use them to tell truths. But being the id, his point of view can be hypocritical and biased as much as insightful, just like anyone’s gut reactions and poetic notions can be. After all, you can use poetry to tell lies, too. 

Lastly, on a meta level, there is a tackiness to Spike that undermines his romantic qualities better than making him dangerous ever could. Spike likes Passions and Dawson’s Creek (in contrast to Angel reading La Nausée by firelight). He lives in a crypt, but the vibe is more “homeless” than “Dracula” (in contrast to Angel’s tastefully decorated apartment). Spike may act like a romantic, but what does it say about how romantic romanticism really is, that the romantic things he likes can be so unrefined? And with the chip, he’s rendered impotent and pathetic. To me, there’s no more perfect image of how the writing uses Spike than the image of him in his black coat, red shirt, and big, leather boots, blasted under the fluorescent light of his Initiative cell. Light that makes his aesthetic seem suddenly fake and silly and surreal. For all that the writing subverts Angel, he is still the kind of character who gets to disappear mysteriously into the shadows, because he is the romance that Buffy has been forced to abandon. Whereas Spike is left with no place to hide. 

If Angel represented the idea of binaries, then Spike represents the lack of them. There is a reason that Spike invites so many queer readings. He is a vampire, but he loves. He is an object, but he’s a subject. He tells the truth, but he lies. He is a villain, but he is a hero. He is masculine, but he is feminine. He is insightful, but he’s a fool. He is pathetic, but he is sympathetic. He is on the outside of the Scoobies, but he is on the inside. These aspects of him are not split between different personas, but exist within him simultaneously. It is telling that the show introduces human, mythos-bending vampires like Spike and Dru in a season about disillusionment, and it is telling that Spike’s role in the show becomes ascendant in the seasons after Buffy leaves Angel and his split personality behind. As Buffy begins to reckon more deeply with her id, and her dualities, she will begin to reckon with Spike.

part 3: “Something effulgent”: Season five and the construction of Spike the romantic

[murasaki-murasame]

Thoughts on Higurashi Gou Ep20

In which Satoko gets sent to gay baby jail for crimes against the aristocracy.

Also I’m finally vindicated in talking so much about Umineko spoilers, lmao.

Thoughts under the cut.

Oh boy where do I even begin with this one, lol.

Well, firstly, I actually like how relatively subdued this episode was, compared to my expectations. Like, Satoko getting sent to a literal on-site prison center is extremely fucked up, but I kinda expected something like her straight up murdering someone. Instead it all started when one of her normal traps ended up giving someone minor injuries, and then after she spent a while in prison, she just went back to school, and ended up going on a trip back to Hinamizawa with Rika and the gang where she stumbled her way into the meta world because haha Featherine go brrr.

Which feels a lot less over the top than I was expecting, but I think it’s a good thing that it didn’t turn into some sort of psychotic mass-murder event or something.

Also, the whole angle of miscommunication leading her to think that Rika ratted her out and got her sent to prison is really neat, and helps make the situation way more messy and complicated without making anyone unrealistically evil or anything. It at least makes it a bit more understandable that Satoko would genuinely blame Rika for her current misery.

I still think they’re both more or less equally in the wrong, though, and they both contributed to the miscommunication. Satoko is basically refusing to adjust to the culture of St Lucia’s, and she’s actively pushing away Rika out of stubbornness, while Rika is leaving Satoko alone to go hang out with her new rich friends, and is giving up on reaching out to Satoko at the slightest bit of resistance from her. So neither of them are really doing enough to communicate or compromise, but it fits with how Satoko is unwilling to change herself, while Rika is desperate to have a place where she can stop putting on a childish act all the time.

It’s kinda interesting how many people seem to fall really strongly into the category of either blaming Rika or blaming Satoko for everything going on here. It probably says a lot about each person’s own personality and their own previous friendships.

I’ve seen people disagree about this, but I actually like that the ‘big incident’ ended up just being that one of Satoko’s normal traps ended up hurting someone. It’s way more minor than pretty much anyone expected, and it feels kinda jarring when compared to all the slapstick comedy stuff in this whole series, but I think that sense of contrast is intentional, and it goes to show just how much Satoko isn’t fitting in with her new environment. She comes from a countryside village where this sort of rough-housing is normal, and everyone’s familiar with Satoko’s traps, and she’s trying to apply the exact same things to a stuck-up boarding school full of rich kids who don’t even know her. Back in Hinamizawa the other club members would just brush off having a metal pot land on their head as part of Satoko’s traps, but in this sort of environment it’s something unprecedented and shocking.

There’s also the fact that Satoko usually sets these traps up in rooms that have much lower ceilings, whereas here she had the pots fall from a chandelier high up in a fancy entrance hall, so it’s likely that they fell a lot further than they usually do, and thus picked up more speed and caused more damage. Which in it’s own way goes to show how Satoko just isn’t used to her new environment, and is still trying to act like she’s back in Hinamizawa where everything’s small and cozy and everyone’s willing to put up with some bumps and bruises as part of having fun.

I still feel like there has to be more that goes on to show how Satoko gets to the point of straight up being willing to repeatedly murder Rika across multiple time loops, as well as hurting all of her other friends along the way, but this whole flashback still isn’t over yet.

I’m also getting more and more convinced now that it actually took a while for her to get to the point of actively trying to murder Rika. I think that throughout the first arcs, she was going through her own whole arc where her motives and methods changed as she became more aware of what was going on.

I’m not 100% sure about a lot of this, but I think that in Onidamashi she didn’t even do anything until the very end. I think that arc was her attempting to just go back to how things used to be, and the stuff with Rena and Keiichi wasn’t planned by her at all. She might have done a murder suicide with Rika to start a new loop afterward, but I don’t think she was trying to kill anyone, or even hurt Rika at all. At least not in that arc.

Watadamashi’s one of the more confusing arcs, but I also get the feeling there that she wasn’t really trying to hurt Rika or anyone else. I don’t think she’s the one who killed Rika in that timeline, and I think her going to the Sonozaki estate at the end of the arc was due to her genuinely trying to figure out what happened to her. Same with her suspicion toward Keiichi.

Tataridamashi’s kinda weird in general, and even after all these flashbacks it still feels weird. But with what we’ve seen of Satoko lately, I really don’t thinks he was spending that whole arc just intentionally lying to everyone about the abuse while not actually being abused by Teppei for some reason. Unless she got told about what to expect from Featherine, a post-Matsuribayashi Satoko shouldn’t even have any experience with a timeline where Teppei shows up, and he doesn’t show up in the first two Gou arcs either, so I think everything with her in Tataridamashi was actually genuine.

The stuff at the end of that arc with Ooishi is still a bit of a mystery, though. Maybe that’s where she first starts actively sending people to go kill Rika, but I’m not sure. The question of why she’d change her motives and methods partway through if she started off with innocent intentions is a bit of a mystery, but I get the feeling that Tataridamashi might have been the turning point, since it would have been the point where Satoko really started to realize just how much pain she herself was going to have to deal with in these loops. So that might have pushed her to try and be more forceful in her methods to try and make Rika change her mind about the village, because she wants to get out of the loops as fast as possible, and she’s also stuck in them until she can ‘win’ against Rika. Which would fit with how in Nekodamashi she seems genuinely distressed and conflicted about having to kill people. I think that rather than her just being some kind of sadist, she’s just trying to brute-force her win condition as fast as possible while dealing with the escalating stress of being stuck in this loop.

And even if she got cured of her syndrome over time after Matsuribayashi, being sent back in time to her pre-teen body might mean that she started slowly developing it again as the loops went on, which might have made her more willing to resort to violence to try and escape.

So basically I think the story boils down to Satoko being given the ability to go back in time with time-looping powers, in a way that’s structured as a game between her and Rika where her goal is to convince Rika to stay in the village forever instead of leaving for St Lucia’s. So at first Satoko didn’t really have any reason or motive to be violent about it, but as time went on and she became exposed to all of the different scenarios with her friends going crazy and killing each other, and in general all the trauma that she basically side-stepped in the Matsuribayashi timeline, she got more and more desperate, and more and more violent.

I at least like the idea of Satoko basically taking for granted that she happened to wind up in the good timeline where everything went well and nobody went crazy and killed each other, and now her attempt to go back and ‘fix things’ has caused her to trap herself in the same hellish loop that Rika was trying to escape from in the first place.

I could also totally see Featherine setting this up and watching it unfold because she knew it’d be fun to watch, lol.

And yeah on that note, Featherine’s officially in the story now. So that’s a thing.

I guess we’ll see how things go next week, but I think it’s kinda fruitless to try and deny that this is Featherine. I could see them not using her name explicitly, but for all intents and purposes this is literally just Featherine, and at some point we’d just be arguing about meaningless semantics.

They did adjust her design a little bit to fit the Japanese mythology vibe of Higurashi more, but I’d say her design is still about 80% the same, and they still included both her distinct memory device and the green sash with the medal on it that has nothing to do with Japanese mythology. They just replaced her cane with a staff, adjusted part of her dress to look more like Hanyuu’s outfit, and gave her some eye-shadow.

I get the feeling she’ll just introduce herself to Satoko as ‘Oyashiro-sama’, to explain what Satoko meant about meeting Oyashiro-sama and being made into their new miko, but she’d still be Featherine at the end of the day.

One detail that might go a long way to explain things one way or another is how Featherine mentions having met Satoko at some point in the past. Which might mean that she’ll just straight up say that she’s a version of Hanyuu and reference the events of Matsuribayashi. I know people still disagree on if Hanyuu and Featherine are the same person, but I think that for all intents and purposes they are. If anything, ‘Gou!Featherine’ might exist to show how that transition happened in the first place. Which is probably along the lines of Hanyuu ‘going to sleep’ after Matsuribayashi, physically maturing and having her personality adjust, and then going on to straight up ascend into witch-hood. But we’ll see how it goes.

I’ve also seen people suggest that it might tie in to the hypothetical connection between Satoko and Lambda, which might just cut straight to the chase and directly bring Featherine’s role in Umineko into this, but that seems less likely. I still like the idea of Lambda being relevant to this somehow, but I’m not sure if she’ll come into play just yet.

It might annoy some people, but I hope that they just commit to having Satoko and Lambda literally be the same person, and just have it be a bit of a time paradox where maybe Satoko becomes Lambda after going through this loop, and she then goes back in time and gives Takano her blessing to trigger the original events of Higurashi. Which might be a bit of a clunky retcon that’d annoy people who don’t like paradoxes, but honestly at this point it’d be the most satisfying way to actually explain who Lambda is, and how her relationship with Bern even started in the first place.

This also feels like exactly the sort of situation where Featherine would grant Satoko the powers of a witch as part of setting up this whole loop, like what Lambda did with Takano and Beatrice. Satoko gets to become a new witch of Hinamizawa for the duration of the time loop, and maybe at the end of it, both she and Bern ascend into full-fledged witches who leave their game board and become voyagers.

Though, like with how I think they’ll avoid outright using the name ‘Featherine’, they might just use the word ‘miko’ as a sort of analogue for the concept of witches, so it fits Higurashi’s setting more.

There’s also the point that, as Satoko mentioned, she had broken into the Saiguden as a child, but I dunno if Featherine is referring to that. Honestly that whole plot point still feels super weird to me. She brings it up in this episode, so it’s not like Ryukishi forgot about it, but then we see that even in this loop, the statue is unbroken, which just raises the question of if it’s some kind of major oversight or retcon about what Satoko did when she broke into the Saiguden as a child.

Anyway, the real question with all this super heavy-handed Umineko stuff is whether or not this is actually going to lead to something along the lines of an Umineko anime remake [or a Gou-style sequel]. It really feels like they’re risking alienating people on both sides of the aisle if they bring in Umineko elements without doing a whole lot with them.

I have a lot of thoughts about how some kind of new Umineko anime could work, but I’ll just make a separate post about that if I want to go into it in detail.

I’m also wondering more and more whether or not they’re even going to be able to wrap up Gou’s story itself in just four more episodes, or if we’ll get some kind of second season. I still feel like we’re in an awkward situation where four episodes doesn’t feel like enough to wrap things up, but even one more cour feels like more than we need, considering how deep we are into the end-game. Unless things massively switch course for a second season, I dunno if there’s that much material left. Considering that this isn’t even acting like a remake anymore, I doubt they’ll go back and cover some of the stuff they’ve glossed over like Meakashi and Tsumihoroboshi. But who even knows.

One option is that Gou could directly lead into a new Umineko anime, especially if they go down the route of doing a Gou-style sequel to Umineko rather than a regular adaptation. There’s a lot of ways they could handle it.

Also, we STILL haven’t seen the animation for the new ending theme, so unless we’re just never getting any, I think it’s probably going to include stuff like Featherine that would have been a spoiler before this episode. The way that they only played the last section of the OP visuals also makes me wonder if maybe they’re going to adjust those as well, even if the song stays the same. I could at least see them explicitly showing Featherine rather than having her be a silhouette.

Anyway, I’m still enjoying this arc a lot, and I think it actually serves as an interesting continuation of the VN’s story, but as a whole I think it says a lot about Gou that it feels more interesting to just speculate about the Umineko references going on, lol.

[giffingthingsss]

J/C, C/7, and Me

Disclaimer: I am not necessarily a J/C shipper. I just have eyeballs and enjoy the show. Long ass post. 

In the Beginning

Was a Janeway/Chakotay romantic plot baked in? I tend to think not. At least not at the very start. But this is pure speculation on my part.

If romance is your goal, then it’s much more interesting to have Chakotay not immediately being 100% supportive. (An AU where they never get lost and it’s just Janeway pursuing this Maquis leader and maybe eventually being persuaded and helping him, please.) 

I think initially they were flirting with the idea of Janeway/Paris. The character of Tom was described as being a potential love interest for Janeway. That idea doesn’t seem to have made it past the character sketches, but you can see a trace element of it in the very beginning. 

The writers played with a number of character combinations. A pretty natural chemistry was cropping up between Captain and First Officer. Little things were dropped into scripts. Performances certainly came across as interested, whether intended or not, who knows. 

Ramping Up

Where before there were hints and moments, Resolutions kicks off a series of flashing red sirens.

From this episode on there would be declarations of... ‘you bring me true peace’, and ‘I’m frickin jealous, okay?’ and bawling declarations of ‘you can’t die!’ These developments are not in the shipper’s imagination. They’re building toward something. Clearly. Obviously. Said all the people with eyes. 

For the first couple seasons, Janeway being engaged kind of kept this at bay. But now they’re fully playing with it. 

Road Block

However, Kate Mulgrew (and maybe others, I dunno) was like, ‘sure. develop the relationship. but no sex. the first female captain isn’t going to be having booty calls in the ready room. not gonna happen. people are going to take this captain seriously.’

So they played with it here and there, but it could only go so far. Kate seemed to want the best of both worlds. A deep, complicated, growing relationship, that never tipped over into the sexual. Her focus was on getting the crew home. 

Beltran flat out says (in one of the books I own that I don’t feel like digging out) that Chakotay was in love with her. But Beltran was getting frustrated. When Year of Hell came around, he apparently called up the writers and said, ‘how long is this guy gonna keep throwing himself at a woman who never reciprocates? it’s getting pathetic. either do something with these two or don’t.’ 

Loner Janeway

Along the way, I think Kate became enamored with the idea of the loneliness of command, the sacrifices it entails. Fell in love with the poignancy of it all.

This is not something that’s out of character for Janeway. Beyond the fact that in the beginning she was engaged, pairing off was a luxury she didn’t think the captain had. So any kind of romantic relationship she might pursue would have to start with her being broken out of that mindset. 

That’s basically what Resolutions did. Once they finally pried Voyager out of her fingers, you could see a burgeoning love very clearly. But then Voyager came back. And with it her... resolutions. 

Coulda Woulda Shoulda

If they had wanted to snip it and move on, they should have had that conflict between Janeway and Chakotay at some point. Perhaps after Beltran called them up and said, ‘hey. Make up your minds.’ 

Have the characters actually talk about it and reach a conclusion and there ya go. But maybe the writers just didn’t know wtf they wanted to do with it and wanted to leave their options open. And then did nothing at all. 

Me, a Non-Shipper

Personally, I tend to agree with the Mulgrew side of things (and can also see why Beltran would be bored with the eternal holding pattern and not mind when they said ‘hey, you can kiss Jeri Ryan.’)

They developed the Tom/B’Elanna romance, which was great. We didn’t need non-stop romantic plots. I think the shippers could understand Kate’s reasoning and were willing to go with the slow burn...if the writers had actually sat down and decided that’s what they were doing. If only they hadn’t dropped the ball at the very end.

Here’s the thing: if you build up a relationship like that, you can’t be upset when people notice. And you can’t give up on it behind the scenes without telling the audience on screen. ‘There are some lines we never cross’ might have been an attempt, but was too late. And was certainly not closure. The audience deserved better. 

C/7? WTF!?

Well, if you thought there was no build up for it, it’s because there wasn’t. If you felt like it was whirlwind and came out of nowhere, it’s because it was, and it did. Apparently even in the writer’s room. 

Brannon Braga wanted Seven to die in the finale. He was writing her episodes to gear up for that. Human Error, the episode where Seven experiments with romantic ideas with a holographic Chakotay (with a kiss that was apparently the result of a dare Beltran made to Jeri), was written with Seven’s death in mind. It wasn’t supposed to be the opening salvo of an actual relationship. 

I think Seven of Nine should have bit the dust. I think there had to be a real sacrifice for this crew getting home, a real blood sacrifice. Seven of Nine was, for me, designed to be a character that was gonna die tragically. I planned that.... There’s an episode called Human Error that I wrote...she's trying to feel emotions. She actually succeeds and then almost dies. She learns there’s a Borg implant, that if she becomes too human, it will kill her. And it was that moment in my mind that would set up the finale, where she realized she can’t live here, she can’t live there. And she dies getting her family home. - Brannon Braga

I’m glad they didn’t go that way for various reasons. I love Endgame as it is. But it’s interesting to know the thought process. They weren’t gearing up for romance, they were aiming for tragedy. At least Braga was. 

Human Error was only about six episodes from the end. At the time of that writing, that's what was in at least his head. 

Human Error was not written with an eye toward a C/7 future. Without that episode I doubt highly C/7 would have been a thing. And it wasn’t even written to make it a thing.

Endgame obviously didn't go that way. Janeway-palooza instead. So. What do we do now? What to do with Seven? And from here on, all I have is speculation.

Retooling

'Well, we've got this holodeck scenario from the episode we wrote when we were planning to kill her off that hints that she might like Chakotay. So. I guess we'll go with that.' 

It appears to me that they retooled recently written story elements to fit their ending, to provide more motivation for that ending.

They picked the three people it would kill Janeway most to lose. Tuvok, obviously. An ongoing torment, visiting him every week. Seven dies (a remnant of plan A) and in a sense takes Chakotay with her. 

This is all fuel for Admiral Janeway without making it about saving her lover (unless you’re a J/7 shipper, in which case, hog heaven).

When you think of it only in terms of ‘what can we do to make the finale work’, it’s not terrible. When you think of it in terms of seven preceding years, it doesn’t work at all. They got myopic. 

In hindsight I think the writers could probably admit it was a mistake in terms of the show, and they should have resisted the urge to do something that was thrown together and jarring rather than nothing at all with Seven.

Gossip

Apparently neither Mulgrew or Beltran were opposed to C7 in the end. Maybe because they had at points been a bit frustrated with each other behind the scenes. Whether those frustrations were forefront in anyone’s mind at the time, idk. 

I tend to think Kate really was over the idea of Janeway’s destiny having much to do with romance at all.

It is interesting that when Seven first arrived on the show, Kate specifically mentioned not wanting the writers to throw her with Chakotay. At that point perhaps feeling a tad possessive. Perhaps didn’t want him ‘sullied’ by the busty blonde.

But this was seasons in the past by the time the finale rolled around, and I doubt highly it had anything to do with anything. Who knows. 

Me on Endgame

Personally, I'm glad Endgame was a Janeway palooza. I love 99% of Endgame. I’m glad it was about Janeway vs.Janeway vs. Borg Queen. I wouldn’t have wanted it to be about J/C either.

But if you’re not willing to go there, leave it then to the imagination. It's cruel to basically tell your audience that these two would be together if not for their delta quadrant circumstances, and then rip the rug from under them the second they get to the quadrant where this romance is supposed to be possible. Not cool, man. Not cool. 

When I first saw Endgame (as a non-shipper with eyes) C/7 was jarring and weird. But I thought the scene where Seven was distancing herself was well acted and stirred up an emotion or two (even if it was a little histrionic, considering they'd just started dating). So I wasn’t throwing things at my television. Just confused.

I also basically dismissed their future relationship. They got home after like one date, not ten years of marriage. And now their lives will completely change. So I just kind of hand-waved it away. "It did its job for the episode, but the future's changed and they won't last. So whatever."

Headanons on Janeway’s romantic reasoning and original timeline reaction to C/7

Captain Janeway had no idea how long it would take to get back home. Obviously you hope for tomorrow, but it could be twenty years from now. She resigned herself to not pursue romance. Her sole purpose in life was to get the crew safely home.

So I speculate her reaction to C/7 would be quite stoic. She would recognize it’s not fair for him to just pine away, possibly forever. That she has made this choice and he shouldn't have to be alone because of it. Her being alone is just part of the price she must pay, the burden she must bear. Her own wants and needs must take a backseat. She has greater responsibilities.

In fact, I can see her encouraging C/7. She would see it as a form of selfless love. ‘It doesn’t matter that he’s with me; it matters that he’s happy.’ Of course feelings would rear their heads from time to time, but she would quickly corral them into that channel.

Lots of lovely internal martyrdom. She would make it her mission to make sure they were both okay and happy. A bit of a masochistic streak that she buries under a sense of nobility and sacrifice.

This is the kind of angle I think Mulgrew came to prefer. That lovely little tragic pang. She loves drama, if nothing else.

“It’s a lonely thing, but I’m gonna get this crew home.” - Kate Mulgrew

“You always made it hard for yourself. If there was a rocky path and a smooth one, you chose the rocky one every time.” - Coda

This is a woman with a lot of love to give. But finds herself, or perhaps unnecessarily forces herself, depending on your view, in a place where that’s not a possible life choice. So those instincts expand outward, enveloping them all. She finds fulfillment in the well-being of the crew and the ship as a whole. 

Post Endgame

Their trip was shortened by a lot because of Endgame. The future is no longer written in stone. So the possibilities are endless, the sky’s the limit. And apparently Seven’s a lesbian (I haven’t seen it, but I hear tell). So. There ya go. 

(She is crying here, btw. I never noticed before I did that episode and feel the need to point it out once again. Lest anyone else still not have noticed.) 

If you actually read this whole thing, congratulations. Hopefully it made sense. I now continue with my rewatch and probably won’t talk much about this in the future. Unless something new comes up, I’ll just continue to be a non-shipper with eyeballs, enjoying whatever’s around. 

[forever-rogue]

Concept for a possible Dyn Jarren x reader?? Reader and mando are in prison or being held captive and reader just totally pulls a Rey and uses a Jedi mind trick to get guard to release them and reader is confused about her new found force abilities but also ready to kick ass and Dyn is just in awe

I really like this idea and just kind of it took and ran with it. I hope you guys enjoy!

»»————-　♡　————-««

“So are you like a real Mandalorian?”

“What do you think?” his snarky response came followed by a heavy sigh, and despite the helmet, you could tell he was rolling his eyes. You had been stuck in the small holding cell with him for several hours and he hadn’t uttered more than a one or two word response to anything you’d said or asked him.

“I dunno,” you shrugged your shoulders innocently, “part of me thinks yes, obviously, since you’re wearing the armor and everything.”

“Then you should go with that for an answer-”

“But,” you interrupted him, tilted your head, a smirk on your face, “part of me thinks no since you’ve gotten yourself looked up in here. Aren’t Mandalorians supposed to be talented and skilled warriors? Either the standards for Mandalorians these days are very low or you’re a very bad representation of your people.”

“Do you ever shut up?” was his only response and you realized you had gotten under his skin. Whatever skin he had under the full suit of armor; not a single inch was exposed, no stray lock of hair peeking out from the helmet. You wondered what he looked under there…was he handsome? Rugged and worn out from years of battle? Was he young? Was he battle-scarred? You had so many questions for him, feeling yourself drawn to him for whatever reason.

“Not really,” you admitted, shooting him a wink to try and get some sort of reaction out of him. he had seemed so stern and stubborn the entire time, “kind of what got me here in the first place. You’d think I would have learned at some point, but my mother always did say my mouth would be the death of me.”

“It appears so,” was there a tone of bemusement in his voice? You leaned back against the cell wall and tucked your legs under you, watching as a few droids walked by. There was a beat of silence as the Mandalorian shifted in his seat, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees, “what do you do?”

“Afraid that’s classified,” you said and he made a small sound that was akin to of course, “let’s just say I’m a spy of sorts. Nothing too exciting. At least not as exciting as being a bounty hunter. I assume you’re the one that the Bounty Hunter’s Guild is looking for?”

“Might be,” he answered as he turned his head towards.

“Figured as much,” you heard some footsteps approaching the cell and got up, almost running to the front of the cell. You turned back to him, “you don’t see many of your kind these days. It’s almost refreshing.”

“Oh?”

“I’m from Mandalore too,” you explained, “well, at least I was. But that was a long time ago. I don’t really belong anywhere anymore. I suppose neither of us do anymore.”

“You’re from Mandalore?” that had piqued his interested and he moved closer to you as you just nodded, “what’s your name?”

“No one,” you said quietly, putting your finger to your lips as the footsteps stopped near your cell, “hey, hi, hello! Perhaps you can spare this poor prisoner a moment of your time?”

“What do you want?” the guard came over, his voice gruff and annoyed, and you wondered if you were doing the right thing, “we’ve got real business to attend to.”

“Umm,” you could feel the Mandalorian’s eyes glued to your back as you suddenly realized you didn’t really have a plan. You didn’t really think you’d get this far, but you weren’t about to back down. You narrowed your eyes at him and stated simply, “you’re going to open the door.”

“I’m going to what?” he asked, and you were unsure if he actually wanted you to repeat the question or if he was just so amazed that you’d even make the demand. You swallowed the lump in your throat, and nodded.

“You’re going to open the door,” you repeated as you stared him dead in his cold, steely eyes. A sort of trance-like look crossed his face as he reached into his pocket. Was it actually working? You decided to push it further, “and then you’re going to let us go and get inside the cell.”

There was a snort of laughter from behind you as he watched you attempt to negotiate, sure that you were just setting yourself up for failure, but you cast a quick glance at him, letting him know to shut up.

The guard was still for a few moments before he nodded and repeated after you in a dead pan voice, “I will open the door and let you go, and I will get inside the cell.”

“Y-yes, exactly,” your heart was beating wildly as you got a step back, waiting for something, anything really, to happen. The guard punched some sort of code to the cell door and it quickly opened, you let out a long breath that you had been holding in.

He stepped inside and you took the opportunity and stepped into the freedom of the hallway. The Mandalorian didn’t know what was going on, just as confused as you were, but he quickly followed after you. Before sealing the door, you stepped back in and held out your had, “you will give me your blasters.”

“I will give you my blasters,” he reached into his holsters and handed you both of his blasters, and you quickly clipped one onto your belt and handed the other to the Mandalorian. Once he was sat down in the space you had previously occupied, you sealed the door back up and took a step back, trying to comprehend what had just occurred.

“How did you…do that?” you turned back to face the warrior that loomed over you, and you just shook your head, stunned as much as him that your crazy little plan had worked.

“I have no clue,” you admitted, “I just wanted to try something. I’ve done it a few times in the past, but it’s never worked this well before. I just assumed I was good at negotiating. I dunno.”

“Are you…” he trailed off as you grabbed his hand and dragged him along with you. You didn’t have much time to waste, you were positive of that fact, and wanted to make a quick getaway, “hey!”

“Come on Mando,” you whispered as you checked to make sure the coast was clear, “we’ve got to move fast if we’re going to get out of this stupid prison without anyone finding us.”

“Why are you helping me?” his voice was more gentle than you thought was possible, “you don’t know even know me.”

“Doesn’t matter,” you said, shoving him against the wall as a pair of mouse droids rolled by, “I know you’re not a bad person, and I know that neither of us should be locked up. You can stay behind if you want…”

“Not a chance,” he responded, stepping past you and taking the lead, “I’ve got it from here. The path out isn’t too complicated, let’s go kid.”

“Y/N,” you told him as you trailed after him, almost struggling to keep up with his long strides, “my name’s Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he repeated the name, deciding that he liked how it sounded and thought it suited you perfectly. It was familiar, and he tried to remember who else he had known with that name…he’d heard it before, but couldn’t place it.

He was about to say something else, but pulled on his sleeve in a silent attempt to stop him. He turned to you and shook your head and pointed down the hall, where a few guards were coming your way. They hadn’t noticed you just yet, but you knew you couldn’t let them go; they’d discover your whereabouts and alert the whole base, which would make it almost impossible to get out.

“I’ve got this,” you said quietly, leaving his side and strolling over to them. They looked at you with shock on their faces when they realized who you were, blasters raised at your face. You flinched internally, but kept your face neutral, “hi, I bet you’re all wondering why I’m here-”

“How did you get out?” one of them asked immediately.

“Well, you see it’s a actually a pretty funny story,” you said as they leaned into you, but instead of finishing your thought, you raised both of your hands and grabbed two of the blasters and kneed the third in the groin, catching them all off guard. You struck them with the blasters, knocking them unconscious, but letting them live before skipping back over to the Mandalorian, who had been silently watching you in a sense of awe and wonder. You had him another of the blasters, “they’ll be out for a while, but they’ll be fine.”

“You didn’t kill them,” he wasn’t so much a question as it was a statement and you nodded, “why?”

“Why kill them?” you asked in response, “they’re not the bad guys, they just happen to be in our way. There’s no reason to kill them.”

“You’ve never killed?”

“I didn’t say that,” you said as he stopped and observed you intently. Deciding to take the lead again, you motioned for him to follow you, knowing you were only a few minutes away from freedom, “come on Mando, I’d almost think you wanted to stay with slowly you’re moving.”

“I’d rather be in a lot of places,” he said and you just laughed at his words. There was a certain way he spoke, how a sigh seemed to be laced into his words whenever he was distraught or annoyed, that endeared him to you. He almost seemed like an old friend, and in some ways you were already going to miss him when you parted ways.

“Let’s go then,” you insisted, “freedom awaits.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

After a short while longer of working your way through the maze of the prison, you ended up at the entrance, bursting out in the brilliant sunshine of the afternoon. There was nothing but brush and trees around surrounding you, and it was a welcome change from the prison’s metallic walls.

“Holy shit,” you said, relaxing slightly as you stretched and let the sun warm your body, “I can’t believe we actually made it out. I never thought that would work.”

“What was your Plan B?” he asked as you watched you curiously.

“Plan B?” you giggled, “there was no Plan B. I was just going to try what we did, and if that didn’t work then…well, I would try to go out fighting.”

“Where will you go now?” he asked and you shrugged. You doubted you could go back to the group you worked with, at least not without compromising them, and you didn’t want to needlessly put them in danger. You weren’t sure where you’d go, but you could figure it out, you always did.

“I dunno,” you admitted, “my face is plain so I can blend in well. Maybe for now I’ll travel around, just to make sure no one’s after me. I’m pretty sure I’ve been presumed dead by others anyway.”

“Oh,” he was stoic again, trying to search for the right words.

“What about you, Mando?”

“I don’t know either,” he answered, “but I’ve got to get back to my ship, there’s some precious cargo on there.”

“The Child,” you answered and he nodded, not surprised that his reputation preceded him, or that you knew exactly what was going on.

“Yes,” he said, hanging his head for a moment before turning back to you, “do you…well…”

“You should get going…”

“Yeah,” he agreed, and he didn’t seem eager to part ways with you just yet, “I could…if you were interested….use someone of your talents…”

“Are you asking me if I want to come with you?” you asked, a bemused smirk on your face as he nodded, “I mean…I guess that could be interesting…and I want to see this Child. Maybe I could teach you a thing or two.”

“Me? Very funny.”

“What should I call you then?” you asked as he started to lead the way back to his ship, hot on his heels, “Mando? Does that work?”

“It’s what most people call me,” he answered, and then he paused for a moment, “but you, and only you, can call me Din.”

“Din,” you repeated, stopping dead in your tracks, you knew that name. You knew the man in front of you, or at least the boy he had once been, “Din Djarin?”

He came to a complete stop as he turned around and faced you, “how did you know that?”

“We…we know each other,” you answered, trying to contain your excitement that you were possibly being reunited with your childhood best friend, “Din, I’m Y/N. Y/N L/N.”

“Y/N L/N,” he repeated and it suddenly clicked in his mind. He had known you, he had known you long ago, and in another life almost, “it’s been…years.”

Before you could say anything else, he threw his arms around you and engulfed you in a tight hug against his armored body. It only took a moment before you returned the hug, burying your face in the soft cloth that covered his neck, holding back tears. It had been so long before you had seen him, or anyone else from your home, let alone experience actual human contact.

He slowly let go out of you before moving his helmet, pausing as he debated taking it off. You grabbed of his wrists and shook your head, “you don’t have to…I know it is the way.”

But he shook his head as you dropped your hand and ever so slowly removed the helmet he had so rarely taken off since he had dawned it. As soon as he took it off, he shook out his dark locks before looking at you, the same boy you had known grown into a handsome man. You just grinned at each other for a few moments, soaking in the moment of actually being together again; you never though you’d see him ever again, especially not in this lifetime.

“Din!”

[the-girl-in-the-box]

Not Today II

A/N: Hi! So, we’ve got a bit of exposition in this chapter, but I really wanted to explore Aethelind’s response to what has happened in Kattegat, and Ivar’s hand in it, as well as something of a refresher on the situation and a brief explanation to make this readable for anyone unfamiliar with Vikings! I hope this hasn’t made this chapter too boring, and that it will still be enjoyable even if it’s dealing with material we’re probably familiar with! We’ll be getting back to new territory with the next chapter, so until then- skål, and I’ll see you next week! (Taglist at the end!)

Summary: When Ivar takes the throne of Kattegat, Lagertha flees to Wessex along with Björn, Ubbe, Torvi, and the Bishop Heahmund. There, they seek the aid of King Alfred. This aid comes in the form of his sister, Aethelind, who agrees to travel to Kattegat and try to reason Ivar, who she spent some time with during their youth, when her grandfather King Ecbert hosted Ragnar Lothbrok in their castle. Now, she is the only hope for Lagertha and her supporters to retake Kattegat from Ivar the Boneless.

Masterlist

—

It hadn’t taken long for Aethelind to go and find the Vikings. She knew her brother would have questions, and if she wanted his support in supporting Lagertha, she was going to need answers for him. Answers that, truthfully, would only come from her Viking guests. Aethelind figured it would be smarter to get those answers before she saw her brother.

Lagertha, Björn, Ubbe, and Torvi were all congregated in Lagertha’s chambers, trying to make a plan concerning Kattegat, when there was a knock on the door. The four looked up, then to each other, sharing a suspicious glance amongst themselves as Lagertha called out, “Who is there?”

"It is Aethelind,” a gentle voice replied, and the Vikings shared a look of relief as Lagertha called for her to enter. It was true that they didn’t trust anyone there in Wessex very much, but watching the way Aethelind came into the room, the idea of trusting her- at least a little- became a bit more bearable. And really, did they have any other choice?

Aethelind offered each of them a warm smile. “I wanted to apologize for my brother,” she began. “He worries for our kingdom, but I believe there is no reason we cannot protect our people, and help our friends. So, I would like to formally welcome you back to the Kingdom of Wessex. It’s an honor to have you here.”

“You are very generous, Princess,” Lagertha replied politely, and stood to go and greet Aethelind properly. “And we are very grateful. You have already done more than we hoped you might.”

Aethelind shook her head, taking Lagertha’s hands in her own. “I cannot begin to imagine what you have been through,” she said. “I’m sure this is quite the least we can do to help, but I promise you, I will speak to my brother about doing more.”

Lagertha squeezed her hands slightly. “Thank you, Your Highness,” she said. “It is true, we have been through… very much, lately.”

“Would you be horribly affronted if I asked you to sort of… elaborate on this for me? Before today, the last I had heard of the sons of Ragnar was that they had killed my grandfather, King Aelle. But now…” She paused, and turned to Björn and Ubbe. “I have two of those sons as guests in my villa. I think it’s time I heard your story.”

Aethelind released Lagertha’s hands and gestured for her to sit once again, before seating herself between Björn and Ubbe. But neither man had the chance to explain before Torvi, Ubbe’s wife, was speaking up.

“You do not hate them for killing your grandfather?” the doe-eyed blonde asked Aethelind, looking across at the woman who had sat on Björn’s other side.

Aethelind’s eyes widened and she felt her cheeks darkening a bit as blood rushed into them at Torvi’s question. “He had a… predisposition to cruelty, and I knew he had killed Ragnar,” she managed. “I suppose I just… understood.”

“And… this had nothing to do with Ivar?” Ubbe asked. Aethelind’s cheeks reddened further, betraying the answer before she could even say anything. She found herself wishing he weren’t so perceptive. “He spoke of you when he returned, as I mentioned before. You must have been close to him.”

Aethelind sighed, and nodded a bit. “I… confess, I did hope my grandfather’s death might bring him some peace,” she admitted.

“Ivar has never had peace,” Björn said. “He is too violent a man for that.”

Aethelind’s brow creased thoughtfully for a few moments, before she shook her head. “He was not violent when I knew him,” she countered. “He was vastly intelligent, I could tell that much without even understanding so much as a word he said. We used to play chess, and we’d play together and beat my brother. But when my brother did win, he was never given to anger. He was always so gentle… How could such a sweet boy have become such a violent man?”

"He was always cruel,” Ubbe said. “Wickedly smart, but cruel all the same. It adds to his violence.”

The look on Aethelind’s face made Torvi’s chest ache, and she turned to whisper to Ubbe, “Let her breathe. This must be quite a shock to hear. We know he’s good at presenting himself however he chooses, and she didn’t exactly know him for very long. Give her a moment.”

Ubbe nodded, and soon all attention was on Aethelind, who took a deep breath and then looked up. “How did you come to be here, then?” she finally asked.

She had expected that Ubbe would be the one to explain, but he didn’t. Instead, it was Lagertha who spoke. “I killed the Queen, Aslaug,” she confessed. “Neither my son, nor any of hers, agreed with what I had done, but they all chose to respond to the change of power in very different ways. Björn, of course, stayed with me, but-”

“I joined Ivar in going to make an attempt on her life,” Ubbe suddenly broke in. “She had killed our mother, after luring myself and our brother, Sigurd, away to keep us from protecting her. Sigurd was unmoved by our mother’s death, but I only gave up on my pursuit of revenge because Björn asked that Ivar and I spare Lagertha.”

“I did not ‘ask’ you not to kill her,” Björn countered. “I told you, you would have to kill me if you wanted to kill my mother. You conceded then, Ivar did not.”

“And where was Ivar?” Aethelind asked. “I can’t imagine he would have just… let his mother be killed, not without at least trying to stop it.”

“He was still here in Wessex, or perhaps on his way home, when our mother was killed,” Ubbe answered her. “He returned with news of our father’s death, only to be given news of our mother’s.”

Aethelind swallowed hard, and asked, “So you, Ivar, and your brother Sigurd all lost both your parents in quick succession?”

"And Hvitserk,” Ubbe added. “Our other brother. He agreed with Sigurd, and took no action against Lagertha.”

Aethelind nodded, going over all the information she had in her head so far. So, Björn, Ubbe, Hvitserk, Sigurd, and Ivar were the sons of Ragnar. Björn was Lagertha’s son, and Ubbe, Hvitserk, Sigurd, and Ivar were Aslaug’s. When Lagertha killed Aslaug, Björn supported her (though he didn’t approve of the action), Hvitserk and Sigurd remained neutral, and Ubbe and Ivar attempted to avenge their mother. Ubbe, however, conceded, while Ivar wouldn’t. This was all very complicated, in her opinion.

With all this straightened out in her mind, Aethelind asked, “So where was Hvitserk, then, if not with Aslaug?”

“In the Mediterranean, with me,” Björn answered. “We all returned to find my mother was the Queen of Kattegat.”

“I see,” Aethelind replied. “And now? Where are he and Sigurd? And Torvi, where were you during all of this?”

An awkward silence fell over the Vikings, and they all looked to each other. Eventually, Torvi told Aethelind, “I was with Lagertha. I am her right hand.”

Aethelind nodded, but the awkwardness had not yet gone away. “And… Sigurd?” she prompted. A feeling of dread settled in her stomach.

“Sigurd is dead,” Ubbe finally answered.

And so, her suspicions were correct. “I’m sorry for your loss,” she said gently. “Did… did he die in this war?”

Ubbe sighed and shook his head. “He provoked Ivar at a feast,” he said. “And Ivar threw an axe. It killed him almost immediately. A few steps, and then…” He gestured in a way as to show someone falling over. “He was dead.”

Aethelind swallowed hard, and let her eyes slip shut. “Good Lord,” she whispered, before her eyes opened again. “I’m so sorry to hear this. I can’t even begin to imagine…”

“We really fell apart then,” Ubbe said. “Hvitserk chose to stay with Ivar in York, and we didn’t see either of them again until they came for Kattegat.”

"We won that battle,” Lagertha interjected then, and Aethelind found her attention being pulled to the woman. “At great cost, but we won.” She paused, taking a deep breath. “And then Ivar joined forces with King Harald Finehair, and Rollo, his uncle, who brought him Frankish support.”

“And… they won,” Aethelind surmised, her voice soft. “Is that when you came here?”

Lagertha nodded, looking to the ground, and Björn put a hand on her back. “Rollo helped us escape Kattegat,” she told Aethelind. “And Heahmund brought us here.”

“I’m glad he did,” Aethelind said definitively. “You’re all safe, now, I can assure you of this. And I will be talking to Alfred. What happened to you… It was wrong. Alfred and I will come up with a plan to help you return home, I’m sure of it. You deserve no less.”

None of the Vikings had expected this response from the Princess. They’d figured out that once, she and Ivar had been close. Or, close enough, at least. Close enough she’d seen fit to quickly ask after him, once realizing the relation, and close enough that Ivar had spoken of her. So to hear her speak in opposition of him…

“What about Ivar?” Torvi asked. Somehow, she couldn’t quite wrap her head around what might could even be called a betrayal of the Boneless King.

Aethelind sighed sadly, and shrugged, shooting a weak smile to Torvi. “I don’t believe he is the same boy I once knew. Whatever happened once he left here… That boy is gone. Isn’t he?”

Ubbe shifted at her question, drawing the room’s attention to him as he leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees, and drew his brows together thoughtfully. “I don’t know,” he eventually confessed. “But if he is not… He is buried beneath years of anger, and pain, and hatred. I have not seen the boy he once was before our father died, and I doubt he will show that side again. I hope something will bring that boy back, I just…” He finally sat up a little, looking to Aethelind. “I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

Aethelind nodded, swallowing. She turned back to Torvi and asked, “Then what about Ivar? He has changed beyond recognition. My heart aches for the loss of him, but my mind knows I must move forward. No, it isn’t the easiest thing to do. I will mourn the boy I knew. But this new Ivar sounds so different… I’m not even sure I can see him as the same person. And in the end…” She chuckles softly and shrugged. “I only knew him for a few days years ago, anyhow.”

The group chuckled a bit. “You say all this now,” Björn commented. “But you have not faced him yet. It is easy to have such little concern until you are confronted with the issue. We will see if you still feel so unworried about Ivar then.”

Aethelind felt a weight settle in her chest. Björn was right, and she knew it. All this talk was all well and good, but looking in Ivar’s eyes… Would she be ready to stand against him still?

She wasn’t sure she had the answer.

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