#probably wren let's be honest

[rebouks]

Smile for the overworked police officer who can't be arsed with your bullshit (✿◡‿◡)

thank you @zosa95 for this amazing ask! sorry it's so late lmaooo.. here's a handful of miscreants for you and their naughty crimes!! honestly if it weren't for Arturo a bunch of these guys (including Oscar) would've deffo ended up in prison or had a longer sentence so ig at least he was useful for something 😅

[wildemaven]

Sweet Creature: Chapter One

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader (In future chapters)

WC: 4070

Summary: A washed up movie star with a failing career, fresh out of rehab and looking to turn his life around. He moves back to his small hometown to take a break from stardom and help his sister out with his niece— He’s traded the high-life for school runs and crafting. What he doesn’t except is to meet you, his niece’s school teacher who couldn’t care less about his extensive filmography or his dwindling fame.

Warning: 18+ Blog; brief description of drug use, rehabilitation/mentions of rehab stay, getting treatment for drug addiction, absent parents, anxiety, sister giving ultimatum, apologetic Dieter, determined to turn life around, cursing, if I’ve missed anything feel free to let me know.

A/N: Firstly, big thank you to @gnpwdrnwhiskey for listening to me drone on about this! And for also being a champ and beta’ing for me too!!

This chapter has some heavy elements to it, and I hope it comes across as a serious tone considering the topic of drug usage. I wanted Dieter to be deliberate in his attempt to better himself. There might be some reference to this characters contents in the future, but this will be the only one containing any actual drugs. There’s a lot of information packed into this chapter to help get the story going. I’ve been so blown away by the responses to this series and I really hope I do it justice! Any questions/comments/or you just want to chat more about this chapter, my ask box is always open!! xx

Series Masterlist / Playlist / Main Masterlist

Next

A few sharp knocks on the bathroom door. 

“Hello?? Is someone in there?”

No response. 

The slightest twist of the knob. Unlocked. Unoccupied. 

Only the opening of the door reveals quite the opposite. Occupied. 

“Oh! I’m so so sor— Oh my god! Are you fucking serious right now?! You’re getting high at a 6 year old’s birthday party!” 

No response. Just a deadpan look of nothingness from the body propped up next to the toilet. 

“I fucking knew it. I knew you would fucking let her down!! God!!! You’re such a fucking deadbeat, washed up douchebag— so fucking ridiculous.”

“W-whyy a-rrre y-youuu yellllling? Shhhhh!” His speech laden with a hint of sarcasm. 

“You’re a fucking joke! I can’t believe you would do this to your sister!”

“What are you yelling about in here?? Wren is getting ready to open her presents and wants everyone to watch her. Dieter why are you on the flo— are you fucking high?” 

“Ag-ainnn shhhhhhh!” His pointer finger emphatically raised to his lips, the noise too much for his dazed mind. 

“You promised me Dieter! You fucking promised me no drugs! I should have known better, I should have fucking known you’d do this— you don’t care about how much this hurts me to see you like this, constantly letting me down. I’m done Dieter, I’m so fucking done trying to help you if you’re not going to help yourself. Fuck! Get the fuck out! Go! Now!! I don’t want you near us, I won’t put Wren through this. Get help or stay away!”

The door slams, Dieter left alone to ruminate  over what was said in the small tiled space. 

Even in his stupefied state, the words thrown at him were enough to make an immediate impact. The cognitive part of his brain working over time to push through and make a levelheaded thought. 

“Deadbeat”

“Washed up”

“Get help or Stay away”

Reaching for his phone, he dials his lifeline who drops everything for him, probably due to her reoccurring paycheck, his assistant whom he’s thankful doesn’t hate him enough to ignore his call out of the blue. 

“Heeeey! I n-neeeed y-you to c-ommme g-get meee…”

He knew this was it, he had to get his shit together or suffer the consequences. 

*

He feels different if he’s being honest with himself. 

Lighter. 

Healthier. 

Alive. 

365 days clean. He made a commitment to a year long stay at a drug rehabilitation center, followed by a 3 month residency in a sober living facility conveniently tucked away in the Hollywood hills. 

Yet, he feels more lost than he was before he started treatment. 

He can’t remember what living a normal, healthy life is like— a life not high out of his mind 24/7.

This wasn’t his first time trying to get clean, he’d become a regular of sorts at a few different rehab centers scattered through out the greater Los Angeles area. 

Each stay with the same goal and each one a failed attempt at getting control over his life without the drugs. 

It was never “hope this is the time it really clicks for him”, it was always a question of “how long will he go this time before he’s kicked out and checking into the next one”— might have even been a headline a time or two. 

Many centers refusing to even consider treating him based on his past reputation alone. 

His agent’s patience was wearing thin trying to book roles for Dieter, doing his best to convince directors he wasn’t a liability and he could get the job done with zero risk in hiring him— it was far from the truth. 

Each day on set became a game of Russian Roulette, no one really knowing which side of Dieter they would be dealing with while shooting. That in itself was a metaphorical high he chased with each role he booked, seeing how long before some one caught on to his slurred words, blood shot eyes and sluggish demeanor. 

On numerous occasions Dieter thought he was skillful in his ability to mask his inebriated ego. He was combative with the crew and fellow actors— his temperament calm and mellow one moment, then seething and dripping with rage the next. 

He was getting sloppy. The teetering domino of his life had slowly began to tip and once it did finally fall, his entire life crumbling around him. 

*

The traffic is heavier than expected. Dieter wonders if it’s due to others similarly seeking to leave the city in hopes for a break from the dim aura that Los Angeles is. He can feel the weight of the city’s reputation lift from his shoulders with each passing mile as he maneuvers through the stretch of freeway congestion. 

A few honking horns bring his attention back to the conversation he’s currently semi engaged in. 

“This is a big step Dieter. I’m really proud of how far you’ve come.” 

He instantly cringes at the thought of getting back out to sell himself for roles. Facing those who were- and are- tired of his shit. 

The downfall of his career began when he was late for dress rehearsal for a role he some how managed to get— this role having potential to get him in the running for award nominations, propelling his career to new heights. But when he was no where to be found at call time, his assistant went on the search for him and it’s where she found him passed out in his trailer. He was too far gone to even pull himself together, prompting the director to fire him on the spot. 

The rate of speed at which news travels in Hollywood is the equivalent to a fast moving wildfire— once that first bit of gossip hits the ground, it’s spreading through the industry with a sudden surge of ferocity and growing far beyond what is predictable. 

His agent's attempt at damage control was a wasted effort. Directors dumping Dieter’s preproduction roles, actors refusing to work with him and threatening to quit if Dieter stayed on— his list of films beginning to dwindle in a matter of days and by the end of the week, Dieter Bravo was jobless. 

“The next few months will go by quickly, and before you know it you’ll be back out here booking jobs and proving everyone wrong.” 

Vanessa, Dieter’s assistant and full time babysitter, always seemed to have a way to make him feel at ease. And at this point, the only person he knew who believed he could actually turn his life around. 

“I really fucking hope so.” He sighs, this was his attempt at thinking positive. 

“Have you talked to her yet?” Her voice cracking through the car speakers as he continues his drive north on the 101. 

“Briefly. Told her I’d probably be getting in around 6 or so— BEEP!— Watch out asshole!” Throwing a middle finger at said asshole driver who nearly missed clipping his car. 

“She’s proud of you too, ya know. Might not seem like it right now, but she is.”

“Hmm. I’ll just agree to disagree with you on that point. Having a drug addict—“

“Former drug addicted, Dieter.” 

“Right— well, having a deadbeat for an older brother doesn’t really leave a lot to be proud of.”

“You’d be surprised. Hey, I got another call coming in. I’ll be in touch with you soon! Call me if you need anything! Again, Dieter, I'm really proud of you!” 

“Thanks Nessa! I’ll talk to you soon.”

The call ending abruptly, leaving him to sit alone in his thoughts for the next hour and a half—something he hasn’t really taken the chance to experience since, well, a long while. 

The Santa Monica Mountains provide a scenic view as he leaves behind the place he saw as his home for the last 20 years. 

His current destination plugged into his stupidly expensive sports car. 

Home. Where he grew up. 

*

He can’t even remember the last time he visited. Not due to the years as an actor taking him to all areas of the world. The last time he had been home was just over a year ago and he was high out of his mind, barely remembering the trip as a whole. 

His sister had asked if he’d be able to make it to his niece’s birthday. She was turning 6 and had been begging for her uncle to be there to celebrate with— he was easily her most favorite person. The specifics of the getting to his sister’s home and the actual party are pretty blurry for Dieter. 

Dieter spent most of the last year trying to produce a coherent flashback of the day that would ultimately be his last time using, the reason for his commitment to getting his life together. 

He never expected the lowest point in his life would be being caught in the bathroom of his sister’s home doing a few quick lines on the toilet seat, as his niece was blowing out 6 candles a few feet outside the tiny bathroom surrounded by friends and family. 

The moments following are a mixture of hazy clips, fragmented bits of information,

he’s tried to piece together to the best of his ability. 

The rush of someone bursting through the bathroom door, the echoes of laughter and music piercing his ears as he’s hunched on the floor against the wall, little specks of a white powdery residue dusting his mustache. 

There’s screaming as he does his best to focus his blurry attention on the distorted enraged figure in front of him, yelling something about being washed up— his eye lids heavy and fighting against them to keep them opened. 

If he had to recall the exact moment he knew he fucked up, it was seeing the hurt and disappointment on his sister's face— her face wet with tears as she poured out her disappointment and pain over the fact that he was strung-out at her daughter’s birthday party. The weight of his consequences bleeding through him as he vividly recalls his sister telling him to leave and not come back unless he was sober. 

The next day he checked himself in, determined to get his life together for good. 

*

He shakes away the subtle tinge of guilt that starts to bubble up in his chest. 

Remembering the ‘54321 Method’ he was taught in treatment to help ground himself when his thoughts start to become overwhelming…

5 things you see: the sun slowly making its way to the horizon, cars moving swiftly by his own, Live Oak trees rooted among the mountains, the slightest twinkling of the first few stars, his reflection in the rear view mirror— lighter, healthier, alive.

4 things things to touch: the leather of the steering wheel, his jeans fabric soft and comfortable, the cool metal of his rings adorning his fingers, the weight of his sobriety chip in his pocket a constant reminder of how far he’s come.

3 things you hear: the familiar beat of a popular song streaming through the car speakers, rhythmic tapping of his thumbs in tune with the song, his off-key voice as he sings along to the words he knows.

2 things you smell: his olfactory nerve triggered at the distinct scent of his woody amber cologne, that new car smell that still lingers throughout the car’s interior. 

1 thing you taste: a minty tingle on his tongue as he chews his last piece of gum. 

His nerves settle, his eyes focused on the road ahead, deciding he’ll right his wrongs when he gets to his stop— his sister’s house. 

*

The trip took longer than he’d originally planned. Weekend traffic to blame for the 2 hour delay in his arrival. 

‘Welcome to Ojai’— the stone sign greets him, dim uplighting barely making it readable as he turns on to the familiar street. 

The town is all but empty at this time of the night, street lights plus the few restaurants and bars that are open give off enough ambient light to drape the streets in a subtle glow. 

He’s instantly taken back to his childhood, so many memories tucked away throughout the picturesque landscape. 

Growing up with famous parents wasn’t all that glamorous in Dieter’s eyes. 

Dieter’s parents, Dean and Mary Bravo, were both well known in the tv and movie world. 

Dean had been known for his roles in James Bond-esque action films through his career, notably his best work among other smaller productions he worked on. Mary was the queen of daytime television with her numerous roles in soap opera’s biggest shows, a socialite getting invited to glamorous events and elite celebrity parties. 

Together they were Hollywood’s “It” couple, jet-setting to all parts of the world when schedules allowed for it. 

Dieter and his younger sister, while born into this movie star family, were raised far from it. Dean and Mary deciding to buy a home in the mountains outside of the headlines and prying eyes, a place where their kids could live a some what normal life. 

Normal was anything but normal. Dean and Mary didn’t let children hold back their lives and desires of more fame. Leaving them with nannies so they could keep up with the demands of working and living their best lives. 

Ojai, a small village-like town nestled in the valley of the Topanga Mountains, became a literal playground for Dieter growing up. 

Little reminders of his childhood still remain as he ventures further into town. He finds himself slowing the car a bit as he takes it all in, rolling the window down to let the evening air hit his face— it’s crisp as it trickles across his skin. 

The private school he attended all through his schooling years sits on top of a hill that over looks the valley. The school’s reputation was highly regarded and offered a plethora of academic courses and electives. Dieter found the  art and theater programs to be where he excelled most, painting and acting fueled his passion for the arts, propelling him into pursuing one as a full time career. 

He spots Bart’s Books as he drives on, an outdoor bookstore, that had become a daily hangout as a kid. The red wooden shelves still filled with adventures and history to get lost in. He discovered his love for storytelling sitting on the covered patio, nose deep in fictional worlds he dreamed of visiting. 

Across the way, a ‘no vacancy’ neon sign flickers on. Capri Hotel, a newly renovated hotel that still looks like it could have come straight from the 1960s with its mid-century design and modern style. He recalls the summer when him and his buddies regularly jumped the fence to swim in the pool, the cool water under the stars was refreshing during the California heat waves. They managed to only get caught once but worked out a barter with the then owners, they clean the pool and in turn can use the pool at their leisure. The hotel seems to be under new ownership now, but it seems to be doing well. 

On every corner there’s an art gallery. Some still looking as if no time had passed, others adorn new names and a fresh coat of paint. Several galleries offered summer painting classes, where Dieter found he had more creative freedom than in school to explore all mediums and really honing in on his style. He’s always imagined he’d have his own showing of his paintings, friends and family gathering to see his work— a dream he never lived out. 

His car parked and engine killed, he still hasn’t found the courage to get out. He can see a few lights on from the front windows of his sister’s quaint Spanish style home. Trying to not let the vague memories of his last visit deter him from going inside. He sends Vanessa a text, letting her know he’d made it safely and that he’d text her if he needed anything. 

Bags in tow, he makes his way to the front door. Nerves and emotions swirling around, reminding himself to breathe, letting go of the fear and expectations he’d had for this reunion. 

He opts for knocking, assuming Wren would be sleeping at this hour. 

The clicking of locks being turned, twisting of the door knob, the black wooden door swings open to the space that’s haunted him for the last year. 

“Hey, Diem. Sorry I’m so—“ He starts to explain his lateness before he’s cut off. 

“Dieter! Oh my god! I thought something happened to you! What the fuck?!” Her body launches at him, arms wrapping around him securely. He accepts the impromptu hug, dropping his bags to return the gesture. 

“No, no I’m good. Traffic was a nightmare and by the time I thought to call, service was fucked. Sorry for making you worry.” 

“You’re here and you’re safe— that’s all that matters.” 

This greeting is going far better than he had expected, but he hasn’t made over the threshold, still plenty of time for Diem to drop the hammer on him. 

“Come in! Let’s get you all settled in.” She ushers him in, closing the door and adjusting the locks again. 

He takes the space in, noting not much has changed from what he can tell in the diffused lighting, but he feels warm and welcoming even for him. 

“I got the spare room all cleaned and ready for you. New sheets on the bed and a few extra pillows just in case.” She seems skittish moving about the living room, picking up the few toys laying around the room and placing them back in their designated baskets. “If you want to sit, make yourself comfortable. You want anything to drink? Eat?” 

She seems just as nervous as he is and that makes him feel less anxious for some reason. 

“I grabbed some food on the way, I’m good.” Setting his bags down, he makes his way to the couch and sits down, deciding to rip the bandage off so to speak. 

Diem taking his lead, sits on the opposite end of the couch, legs tucked under her and hands resting on her lap. A lull hangs over them for a few moments, neither really know what to say or do. He notices her fingers fidgeting and decides to break the silence. 

“I know we haven’t talked much since the last time I was here,” He sees the brief wince on her face at the mention of it, as if she’d been actively trying to avoid talking about it. “But I want to tell you how sorry I am for—“

“Dieter, you don’t have to.” 

“No, actually I do. And I’m going to. Not only because it’s part of my steps in recovery, but because you deserve it— Wren deserves it.”

“She doesn’t know— about the drugs or you going to rehab.” She doesn’t look at him as she says it. 

“I won’t mention it to her then.”

“I just told her you were busy and that you’d be coming to spend time with us 'cause you missed her.”

“Why did you agree? After all the shit I’ve done and put you through, why are you letting me stay here?”

That gets her attention, her eyes glossy with unshed tears as she looks at him with nothing but love and forgiveness. “Because you’re my brother and I want you here, despite all the shit you put me through.” 

He shifts closer to where she’s sitting, wiping the few tears that had decided to fall. He doesn’t think he deserves her kindness, but is grateful he has this opportunity to do what he’s been wanting to do. 

“I’m sorry for the pain and hurt that I caused you. Not only at Wren’s party, but all the other times I’d said I was clean and wasn’t. For putting you both second to my addiction. I’m sorry for not being here when you needed me most. I promise I’m going to do my best to earn your trust and prove to you that I am committed to my sobriety.”

Leaning back, his hand digs into his pocket pulling out his proof, grabbing Diem’s hand and turns it over placing the chip in her palm. She looks at it then back at him, the most genuine smile graces her face before she wraps her arms around his shoulders and pulls him in for a hug. 

“I love you Dieter! Thank you for not only doing this for us, but for yourself as well. I’m really proud of you.” 

“I love you too Diem.”

Releasing Dieter from the hug, she adjusts herself back to her previous position, now more relaxed with her elbow resting on the back of the couch propping her head up as she looks at Dieter, really taking in how healthy he looks since she’d last seen him. 

“Thank you for also letting me stay here. I needed to get out of the city for a bit, clear my head and shit. Should only be a few months or less, until I can get a few things lined up— have a few potential projects I requested scripts for.”

The thought of returning to his old ways terrified him, he had all the tools and support to continue working on himself outside of treatment, but he didn’t want to chance it. He instantly knew exactly where he wanted to spend the next few months re-acclimating back into this new way of living, away from temptation. Knowing their last conversation was anything but great, he'd decided an e-mail felt less grievous and hoped she’d find it in her heart to accept him back in her home again. 

“Of course. Stay as long as you need to.”

“And I can help how ever you need me to, figured it would keep me busy doing stuff, help out with Wren.”

“Oh my gosh, please! It’s peak tourist season the next few weeks at the Hotel and I’ve got a handful of events we’re hosting too. School runs would be a big help for me.”

“Hotel?” He’s sure he heard her right but doesn’t remember any mention of a hotel that he can recall. 

“Funny story actually-- I bought the Capri last year. Did some renovations and it’s been great really. Keeps me busy most of the time, but I love it.”

Diem was never one for the spotlight, especially with movie star family members, actively avoiding anything to do with Hollywood and its ostentatious air. She always had a knack for making drab things look enticing, so Dieter isn’t surprised one bit by the mention of her being the new owner of the Capri Hotel. 

“And now that I’m the owner, you can swim for free— pool cleaning is encouraged too.” He laughs at that. 

“Congrats on owning a hotel I guess. I’ll definitely be taking advantage of swimming privileges then.”

“Alright. I’m going to head to bed, got an early morning dropping Wren off before I meet with the planner for our next event.”

“I can take her tomorrow.”

“You sure? You don’t want to settle in a bit first?”

“Nah, it’ll be nice spending some time with her.”

“Okay. Prepare yourself for a wild time then.”

She kisses the top of his head before heading in the direction of her room. Stopping before turning down the hall, she looks back at Dieter who hasn’t moved from the couch, one of his hands rubbing at the opposite shoulder and leaning his head to the side to stretch it out a bit— the longer car rides really doing a number on him. 

“Dieter—“ 

His head turns towards the direction of his name being called. 

"Hmm?"

“I’m really glad you’re here.” 

“Yeah, me too.”

Next

[forwhump]

a/n; sorry I’m posting again :’) I’m losing track of what I’ve posted because I’m not posting in any sort of chronological order so if I’ve posted anything about the auction (technically it’s a fundraiser but I’ve always called it the auction) then this is a prequel !!! if I haven’t then >:) enjoy this totally innocuous thing, nothing horrible happens after this at all

also I’ve been losing track of the names I use for the background soldiers since the very beginning so if I ever use a name more than once it’s up to you whether it’s the same guy or two guys w the same name <3 LOL

tw/cw: dehumanization, captivity, mentions of dismemberment, implied rape/noncon, misgendering, transphobia, grievous bodily harm, stabbing

living weapon whumpee, military whump, creepy whumper

Any night that Silas spends with Wren is a good night.

It doesn’t matter how much he’s bleeding, or how much he hurts, if Wren is nearby and Silas is sure that he’s okay, that he’s safe, then it’s a good night. He’s died happy knowing that Wren is safe.

There’s something to be said about the nights, however, that Wren is safe and he’s okay and Silas isn’t bleeding. He isn’t in pain.

Silas is sitting on the floor, back against the side of Wren’s bed, head tipped back against the mattress. Wren is curled up nearby, his hand in Silas’ hair, and he’s reading quietly, something Silas isn’t really following, fixated as he is on the soft sound of his voice, on his strange, Wren accent. Silas has his face turned, cheek against grey sheets, watching Wren as he reads to him, holy, even more inhuman than Silas in his beauty. In the yellow glow of the lamplight, cast from Wren’s desk, his hair glows something golden and his eyelashes cast long shadows on his cheeks.

It’s a good night.

It starts that way, anyway.

“You’re beautiful,” Silas says, because he’s beautiful and Silas is nothing if an honest, maybe blunt person.

Wren looks up at him and he wishes, for a moment, that he could draw like Wren can, because it’s a picture he’d like to remember and he doesn’t think he will. He doesn’t get to remember very much. But Wren smiles at him, soft and sweet, and Silas forgets about anything that doesn’t make him so pleasantly warm it makes him a little uneasy. “You’re not listening to me at all,” he says, “are you?”

“I’m kinda listening to you,” Silas says, “mostly I’m looking at you,” and Wren laughs, pushing his face away with the hand in his hair.

Silas turns his face back to try and bite his fingers and Wren laughs again, a sound that makes Silas feel so warm all over he might flush with it. Wren is beautiful, arguably, all the time — some really ugly things have happened to him, have been done to him, but Wren, at his core, interwoven into his DNA, is so beautiful that Silas sometimes has a hard time looking at him. It’s like staring too hard into surgical lights, too bright, it makes him see the same sort of spots. Wren’s always most beautiful when he laughs.

He doesn’t laugh often — not often enough, anyway. But Silas has gotten good at bringing it out in him, and he’s best at it when he doesn’t try. At the end of his life, when his brain is removed from this thing they’d turned him into and what little is left of him is destroyed, if they bother to ask him what his proudest accomplishment was, this is what he would say. That he got to make Wren laugh.

“Sorry,” Silas says against his knuckles, and he tries to bite him again and Wren bats him away with a smile that makes him dizzy.

“I don’t believe you are,” he says, and Silas can’t help the smile that pulls at his own mouth on one side.

“I’m not,” he agrees, and the way Wren laughs reverberates through his chest.

“I picked this for you because I thought it would hold your attention,” he says, and the way he smiles at Silas would probably give Silas a headache if he let it.

“I want you to read the one that Hal wanted you to read,” he suggests, just because Wren keeps telling him no.

“No,” Wren says, predictable, and Silas smiles against his knuckles. “Hal wasn’t being nice. You won’t like it.”

“I’ll like anything if you read it to me,” Silas says.

Wren has a very peculiar way of looking at him sometimes, soft and sweet, eyebrows pulled together in the middle. He looks at him like that now, and it warms Silas in almost the same way his laughter does, even if he doesn’t quite know what it means. “Not Frankenstein,” he says, but he laughs again when Silas ducks his head and obligingly presses a kiss to his hairline. “You’re cute,” he says with a smile, “but still no. I’d read you anything else.”

“Just not what I want,” he says, and Wren laughs.

“You don’t even know what it is!” He protests, which makes Silas grin, despite his best, most valiant attempts not to. “You just like to argue with me.”

“I like to do everything with you,” Silas says, kissing his knuckles.

Wren snorts out a laugh as he pushes his face away again. “Shut up,” he says, and he says it with a sort of fondness that makes Silas’ chest constrict. He reaches towards him because he can’t help himself, grabbing Wren around the waist and hauling him off the edge of the mattress. Wren laughs again and Silas smiles properly. “What are you doing?”

Silas pulls him into his lap. “You’re not close enough.”

“No?” Wren says, and he puts on the voice he uses when Silas is in trouble but his smile is blinding and he leans his weight into Silas’ chest, arms around his shoulders. Silas’ hands span the entirety of Wren’s back and Wren is looking at him really closely, a little pink across the bridge of his nose. His hand on Silas’ cheek is almost painfully gentle.

He’s so close. “You’re beautiful,” Silas says again, because he is, and it bears repeating. “Even more beautiful up close.”

He’s so close Silas can see perfectly well the way he flushes, pink, beneath a splattering of freckles Silas only ever sees when they’re this close. It makes him grin, which makes Wren laugh again, pinching his cheek. “Shut up.”

But he’s so close. He’s so close that Silas can see freckles splattered across his face, clustered closest across the bridge of his nose and along his hairline. He’s so pale, and his hair is so light, but his eyes are so dark, and they’re huge, and he’s so beautiful but Silas has thought it’s given him a surreal sort of quality, that sometimes he looks even less human than Silas. “More than beautiful,” he says softly, because he doesn’t quite know how to put it into words. “Extraordinary.”

Wren angles his head and his smile takes on an odd sort of softness that never fails to make Silas’ face feel hot. “You’re too sweet to me,” he murmurs.

It’s kind of a dumb thing to say. “I’m in love with you,” he says softly, because he thought as much was obvious.

He can feel the way Wren’s breath hitches against his chest, and that’s all the time he gets before it all goes to hell.

The door is kicked open with a force that makes it sound like it’s been blown to pieces. Wren flinches with his entire body and Silas holds him protectively to his chest without even really thinking about it. A man called London, with an accent Silas doesn’t like, stands in the doorway and his lip curls back from his teeth as he looks down at them, his gun at the ready against his chest.

To Wren, he says, “I thought we told you no dogs in your room.”

“No dogs on the bed,” Silas says, and if his eyebrows lift, challenging, he can’t help it. “I’m not on the bed.”

London’s lip curls back a little further. “Common room,” he barks, accent grating. “Both of you. Let’s go.”

“Why?” Silas says.

“A talking dog,” London remarks, sharp. “One that talks back. How peculiar.”

Silas starts to lift both his middle fingers and Wren quickly pushes his hands back down. “We’re coming,” he says, and he says it in the weird, kind of saccharine voice he only ever uses with the soldiers.

Except London’s gun is still drawn. Except London isn’t wearing the usual black tactile uniform of the soldiers on patrol. He’s wearing a black uniform only Silas has ever seen, because it’s the black uniform the soldiers only ever wear in active combat. Whatever’s waiting for them out there, it isn’t good.

“Wren,” he says softly.

“Silas,” Wren pleads, even quieter. “Please.”

Silas grunts, but Wren had said please so Silas would’ve been obedient if he’d asked him to amputate his other leg. He heaves himself up, into his chair, and follows close at Wren’s back. London falls into step at Wren’s side, and tells him, “beastiality doesn’t suit you.”

Silas says, in his best imitation of London’s accent, “cunt.”

London pivots and hammers the barrel end of his assault rifle into Silas’ hollow eye socket in one, fluid motion. Something in his face, something that feels like his cheekbone cracks under his skin and he grunts in pain.

Wren starts to gasp, “Silas,” but London silences him with a snap of his gloved fingers and a crude point.

“Move,” he snaps.

Wren turns towards him anyway. “Silas —“

From the end of the corridor, from the common room, Hal’s voice says, “Silas?”

Silas stops trying to dry his bleeding eye socket with his sleeve. The throbbing headache of his broken cheekbone dulls to a beat drowned out by the roar of his heartbeat. Being summoned from his room in the middle of the night is one thing. Wren being summoned, too, by a soldier in full combat uniform is another. Hal also being called on —

Wren feels it, too, because his hand finds Silas’ arm and his fingers are shaking. “Hal?”

“Wren? What the fuck is going on?” Hal calls.

London growls, “move.”

Wren looks down at Silas, who turns his head to kiss his sleeve, as soothing as he can manage.

He should’ve grabbed his fuckin’ leg. He’s still new to needing it — to feeling this fuckin’ helpless without it. What’s going to happen to them? How is he going to get Wren out of it with one fuckin’ leg?

Hal isn’t alone in the common room. He’s standing with Robin and June, huddled close in a space crowded with soldiers. Every one of them is dressed in full combat uniform.

Point stands proudest among them, and he looks up with a grin.

Silas groans. He can’t help it.

Wren pinches him through his sleeve. “What is this?” He asks softly, not quite looking at Point, who looks at him intently and like a predator.

With another lecherous grin, he says, “field trip.”

Wren makes a sound that would probably be amused in any other situation. “What?”

“Field trip?” June repeats.

Point holds up a hand, quieting her without looking at her. “We’ve got a long ride ahead of us,” he says. “Let’s move, soldiers.”

And the whole thing is kind of surreal, clouded by Silas’ worsening concussion and broken orbital socket, pooling with blood. Hal, June, and Robin are led down a different corridor than Wren and Silas; Wren and Silas, flanked on all sides by soldiers and Point, are led to a service elevator.

Silas, in all his years in the district, has never been outside. This isn’t really any different.

The service elevator lifts them to a section of the district like any other — dimly lit, chipped grey concrete. Down a corridor, a huge metal grate had been lifted out of the way, opened to the back of an armoured van, doors closed and secured.

It’s Point, of course, that unlatches and opens these doors to the back of the van. It’s crowded with soldiers, with Point’s favourite men, crammed on the benches lined along the inside, standing along the back. Point jumps up into the van and whirls back around with a bizarre sort of flourish. “The girl will ride with me,” he announces. “Animal transport will be up next for the dog.”

Wren’s voice has gone flat, but his accent is probably the thickest Silas has ever heard it when he says, “you’ve gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me.”

Point grins with all his teeth and he looks even less human than Silas. “You know I don’t kid ‘bout you, cowgirl,” he says, mocking, and Wren takes a quick step back, knocking into Silas. “I ain’t playin’ with you, neither. Get on up here.” He pats his thighs, beckoning.

“Fuck you,” Wren says, but his voice sounds brittle and his accent sounds even thicker. Silas curls a protective hand around his hip.

“C’mere, girl,” Point says, and whistles, patting his thighs again. “C’mere.”

“Fuck you, I’m not getting in the rape van,” Wren snaps, and Point’s jovial mocking drops off his face. It’s like he’s been wiped clean, replaced by something totally and uncomfortably blank.

“You’ll do whatever I fucking tell you to do,” he deadpans, “or I’ll make your dog bite the bumper and you’ll be forced to watch as I crack his ugly head in half. And then I’ll fuck you anyway, mm?”

He takes a step back down from the van and Wren’s whole body tenses. Silas pulls him close, into his lap, away from Point, who pinches the bridge of his nose. “Don’t start with me, freak,” he says. “I don’t want to kill you while I’m hard. Give me the girl.”

“You’re a fuckin’ weirdo,” Silas tells him, and something twitches in Point’s jaw.

“You’re a failed fucking science experiment,” he snaps. “An crippled fucking dog. A waste of fucking skin, and I fuck your girl better than you do. Give her here.”

Silas raises his eyebrows. “I’ll tell you what, Darren,” he says, and Point’s eye twitches, this time. “Why don’t you go fuck yourself?”

“Silas,” Wren breathes.

Point’s lip curls back from his teeth. He angles his head at a soldier standing close, Haunt, who quickly lifts his gun and shoves the barrel hard against the nape of Silas’ neck.

Whatever, what’s another gun to the head? But Wren gasps, reacts, human, and he’s distracted just long enough that London’s able to grab him by the arms and haul him out of Silas’ lap.

Time warps. Slows down.

Wren screams.

Point grabs him around the waist, lifting him off his feet as he struggles.

Silas reaches for him and he’s stabbed quickly in the throat.

It happens so quickly that his crewneck is already sticking to his chest before it even starts to hurt. Then the pain starts to gurgle at the back of his mouth, sucked into his chest as he takes a wet, choking breath in. Point doesn’t look at him as he opens his jugular, but he looks up with a grin as Silas bleeds, wrenching the buck knife out of Adam’s apple. A rush of blood follows the blade, and Silas’ prison greys are already black, soaked with blood.

He thinks his ears are ringing, but when the blood stops rushing he realizes Wren is screaming and Point is laughing at a garbled, cackling pitch.

“I was waiting for you to try something,” he cackles. “You’re getting predictable, Silas.”

Silas raises a hand to the wound and his shaky fingers dip into the opened meat of his throat, gagging him.

With an ease that makes him gag in much the same way, Point pulls Wren’s hands behind his back and lifts him as he struggles. He throws him into the back of the van, onto the floor between the benches, and as soon as Wren hits the ground, face down, a soldier steps down hard on the back of his head, pinning him. Wren screams bloody murder and it sounds nothing like blood rushing in his ears.

A different soldier peels down Wren’s waistband with the toe of his boot and the way Wren screams echoes between Silas’ ears, bouncing off the inside of his skull. It makes him vomit, but he doesn’t know blood or bile, but most of it seeps from his opened throat and only a mouthful makes it to his tongue, long numb and useless.

Point pats his cheek twice, hard, and Silas vomits into his lap. His chin finds his chest and he doesn’t have the strength to lift it off again. “You’ll follow in the med van,” he says, and Silas hears him in odd bits and pieces. Somebody close is making horrible, wet gasping sounds and he has a really sick feeling it’s him. “And you’ll be good as new by the time we get where we’re going. We got a long ride ahead of us.” Silas can’t see anything except blurry red spots, but he doesn’t need to see Point to know he’s grinning when he says, “your girl’s gonna be in good hands the whole time. Don’t you worry.” He knocks Silas over the back of his head and his laugh is a cackle.

Silas doesn’t see it, but he can hear Point jump into the back of the van. There’s some kind of sound that follows it, skin on skin. Wren sobs loudly and Silas vomits down his chest. “Alright, girl,” he says, loud and theatrical, probably more for Silas than Wren, in a sour, mocking version of Wren’s accent. There’s a creak of the hinges as he grabs at the doors. “Time to get fuckin’.”

The doors close loudly and something in the sound feels like a bullet to the brain, a sudden, sharp explosion of pain that ricochets behind Silas’ eyes.

He doesn’t remember anything else for the next three days.

[its-a-me-mango]

Hi I've had several people ask me for my opinions on the movie so instead of answering them all individually, I'll give my honest opinion here. (There's a few focused one I'll answer but this is just my general feel for it)

Ok so, I'll be honest, not my favourite SMG4 movie, don't get me wrong I still enjoyed it, I enjoyed it a lot, but as a few people said, it felt more like a long SMG4 episode than a movie. I think if you see it like that then a lot of the flaws with it kinda melt away, at least to me lol.

We know the team can do absolute bangers (Western Spaghetti is still my favourite SMG4 movie you can fight me on it), I think they just missed the mark a bit this one, especially for someone as important as Mr Puzzles. You'd think if this was a finale to him they'd maybe, I dunno, show him more? It's hard for me to say personally what I would do differently, but I think what they did wasn't the best for him. I'm hoping he shows up again maybe, that'd be nice and would make the movie feel less anticlimactic for me and probably a few others.

Then again we've seen him non stop for like a month so I don't feel like complaining too much lol.

The gags though were super fucking funny and that's what I love most about SMG4, I ultimately don't care if the story is lacking, as long as I'm having a good time then the story can do whatever the hell it wants. I'm not a South Park fan AT ALL and even I was crackling at the South Park skit. The references and jokes, the live action bit, MEAT MALLET?! It's stupid shit like that that makes me love watching SMG4.

I do genuinely think a lot of you would be happier if you took SMG4 less seriously, no offence to any of course it's fun to take silly shitpost shows seriously, but at the end of the day they are shitpost shows, they're meant to be stupid and make dumb jokes, again this felt way more like an SMG4 episode than a movie and I'm fine with that.

Anyone saying SMG4 fell off or were horrifically let down or something like that is being silly, you can say you didn't vibe with the movie it's ok, subdue your expectations and watch Bob make a pickle rick joke with me, you'll understand my vision then.

I get the impression they wanted the movie to be more silly and stuff instead of serious like previous movies, Mr Puzzle is a villain yes but he's a horrifically cartoonish one. His main goal was to control the world though the TV or something like that, like compare that to Wren's goal, there's a clear difference in tone between the both of them.

Regards, I still enjoyed the movie, yes it was a bit over hyped but it wasn't a total letdown for me, it gave us Mr Puzzle characterisation which is nice, again it was REALLY funny, and I always love to the see the team try new and silly ideas! I hope they do more weird and wacky stuff like this in the future because you can tell the team was having fun with this! That's more important to me than anything else.

Also that song was an absolute BANGER, certified bop!!!!! 💥💥💥💥💥💥💥

[hellonexrth]

open starter !

Wren felt like a live wire, adrenaline coursing through her veins as she slammed the empty shot glass onto the bar with a shoulder shimmy as the alcohol burned her throat. She hadn't always been much of a drinker, but after abandoning everything she knew to move to New Orleans and join a literal pack of new friends, she'd taken up quite a few new hobbies.

With both hands on the bar, she pushed herself up, leaning over to make eye contact with the bartender—who was almost certainly sick of her shit. She held up two fingers, wiggling them with a wide smile. The night, for a sane person, probably should have been winding down, but a night ending meant going home alone, something she still, despite the years, wasn't exactly used to. So, as the shots were placed in front of the two of them, she grinned and raised her glass once more, clinking it with the person before her. In drunken adoration, she couldn't help but let honest words slip from her lips as she grimaced at the burn of tequila once more. "You're a good friend, you know that?"

[lemon-russ]

Hozier has invaded my brain and compelled my worms to write more angst, but now it has a complete storyline set out at least :,) I will return to lighter things next, keep it balanced a little.

Thanks @squishyowl for the dividers! Taglist: @sleepyfan-blog @undeaddream @scriberye

Letting People Down Is My Thing (Ch.2)

<Prev| Next> Ao3

Song: West Coast Smoker -Fall Out Boy

Cato x Fem OC

CW: Drugs, Alcohol, Alcoholism, PTSD/ Trauma, General dourness (will have others as it goes please check CW every time!)

Summary: Wren gets a job. She does not want it but it's hard to refuse a primarch.

Word count: 2,198

“So… Captain Vaille,” Guilliman said from behind a desk he comendeered for the meeting.

She cleared her throat. “I'm not a Captain anymore, sir. Retired.”

Guilliman knit his brow and nodded. “Right. Ms. Vaille, Cato tells me your time in the guard was pretty decorated? And you were able to talk down some lords?” he continued.

She smiled nervously, “yeah, A couple of times. But those were more about, intimidation, I think. and being on planets not very resistant to the Imperium.” She said as she fidgeted her feet. She was suddenly self conscious about her looks, thinking of how Cato said he looks out of place in nice clothes now.

Guilliman nodded a bit. “You've been out of service for a while. Do you feel you are still capable of these duties? There may be combat.” He said seriously.

She frowned. “I suppose? I can talk to them, and probably can still handle a fight.”

Guilliman sat back in his chair, hands folded as he thought. “Captain Sicarius shared the reports of your career. I was impressed. And to be honest, we are running out of options. The Impirum is on my back about wrapping this up.” He sighed and looked at Cato. “Captain Sicarius, do you still endorse Ms. Vaille to lead this?”

Cato hesitated, looking at Wren a long moment. She frowned a bit as his gaze bore into her.

“…Yes. Yes, I still believe Ms. Vaille is a capable Captain, given the opportunity.” He said at last.

She tried not to grimace. She was hoping he'd change his mind and send her home, but it seemed he still wanted to cause her some amount of trouble.

Guilliman nodded. “That's all I need. I will give you some Guardsman to bring along, and Captain Sicarius will join you with the second company. I'll leave the details to you both. Attempt a peaceful resolution, but do not leave without the planets under out control.” He said, turning back to his paperwork.

“Of course, Lord Guilliman.” Cato nodded, turning on his heel and leaving without a glance to Wren. She took a second to process but scrambled after him.

In the hall, she jogged to catch up to him. He kept his gaze ahead. “We leave in 6 hours. I expect you to behave like the respectable Captain Guilliman Thinks you are.”

She furrowed her brow. “Why did you agree if you don’t think I can behave?”

“Because I think you can. I’ll just be making sure of it.” He said, glancing down at her with a small frown. “Three years is a long time for mortals, but I should hope not so long that you completely obliterated the Captain Vaille I knew. She’s in there, and I need her to get off her drunken ass and do her job.”

Wren snapped her mouth shut, staring ahead at the floor tiles instead. Cato kept his gaze on her. “Well? Can I count on Captain Vaille? Or should I expect I’ll be wrangling Wren, the hivecity wreck?” He said in a low voice.

She pressed her mouth into a line, not looking back up at him. “I’ll be fine. I’ll get this stupid thing you dragged me into done, and I won’t embarrass you like I always have.” She mumbled bitterly.

Cato looked surprised a little at her dig, then scowled. “Yet here you are, trying to start fights. Leave our past where it belongs. Work with me as a professional and we’ll be done a lot sooner.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re the one calling me a wreck.” She grumbled.

“Yes, because thats what you are, currently.” He retorted, turning his gaze back to the corridor. “I haven’t said a thing about our relationship beyond work. Try and return the Courtesy, Captain.” He said with an edge in his tone.

She huffed. “I will try, Captain.” She said in a mirrored annoyance.

___________________________

Wren met with her lended retinue of Guardsmen and outlined them on their situation and her plans. After she dismissed them to go prepare for the journey, she noticed a couple sitting on crates at the back of the hangar, chatting and sneaking sips out of concealed bottles.

Her hand slipped into her coat to find her flask, then she swore when she remembered Cato had tossed it. She bit her lip, hesitating, then headed towards the Guardsmen. The men looked up and went pale, hiding their bottles when she approached.

“Ah- Captain. Can we help you?” The younger of the pair said with a casual smile.

She darted her eyes to and from the bottles, raising a brow at him. He frowned, shifting uncomfortably.

“Have the rules on alcohol changed since I was last on duty?” She asked, giving him an admonishing look.

The young man swallowed hard. “N-No, Ma’am. Sorry, Ma’am.” He said, his friend shrinking back nervously.

She nodded, and held out her hand. “I’m not a hardass, but you’re not subtle. Don’t let me catch you like this again.” She scolded as they nervously handed her the bottles.

“Of course, Ma’am, I-It won’t happen again.” The older stuttered as they both stood and saluted. She nodded her head sharply to the barracks and they scrambled off to get ready.

Wren smirked to herself, looking around to check the coast was clear before taking a sip of the amasec herself. “Amatures.” She chuckled as she pulled an empty flask from her coat and filled it. She was glad Cato only grabbed the full one, annoying as it was to have half the capacity. But she knew she could always shakedown rookies to fill them at least. Some things never change in the guard.

She finished off what in the bottles didn’t fit in the flask and tossed them into a shoot, then headed off to the thunderhawk that would bring them to the ship. The amasec took some of her anxious edge off about the flight, but it was still there. She watched as the Guardsmen packed their things and settled in for the short flight, her stomach twisting a bit at the impending flight. Two flights in one day was a lot, she was still rattled from the first.

Wren sighed and lit a lho-stick from her coat, one of the few things they were allowed to indulge in.

“Ready to go, Captain.” The pilot reported, snapping her out of zoning out. She nodded, picking up her pack and joining her men in the thunderhawk. She sat and strapped in tight, closing her eyes and focusing on breathing. She drew some looks from the men but didn’t care. She focused on thinking she was anywhere else as the ship lifted off.

__________________________

The thunderhawk ported in the cruiser they were given for the assignment. As soon as the ramp lowered and doors opened, Wren bolted off it and found the nearest trash receptacle to vomit into. The Guardsmen and serfs gave her looks as they got off, and she shot a scowl at the ones who met her eyes, making them startle and have the decency to look embarrassed, scurrying off to their quarters.

She lit another lho-stick with shaking hands and took a few deep breaths to compose herself. She straightened herself up and set off to wash her face and mouth before reconvening with Cato.

“You somehow look more like shit.” He said dryly when she found him again on the bridge. She scowled, knowing she was still pale and rattled, but he didn’t have to point it out.

“Rough flight.” She snapped quietly. Cato’s expression softened a bit and he looked away and back at the scurrying workers of the bridge.

“Ah. Right.” He mumbled awkwardly. “Is everything settled? How long until we can warp?” He asks the ships Captain quickly.

The Captain rolled her eyes at him. “I will let you know, Captain Sicarius. We have calculations to make still.”

Cato huffed, heading off the bridge. “Tell me when you finish, I’d like to be done with this whole thing.” He called back in annoyance as he left through the giant doors.

The Ship Captain, Captain Brealian, watched him go tiredly. “He’s always so impatient.” She chuckled to Wren.

Wren looked up from her vacant staring a little surprised at the casualness. She chuckled a little. “He does have a reputation for that.” She added.

Brealian smiled, “The more you work with him, the more you see he’s really just a petulant child under all the glory and honors and rank.” She said with another small chuckle.

Wren quirked a brow. “Oh? You, uh, work together a lot…?” She said, trying to sound casual. She didn’t love the strange feeling clawing in her belly at the Ship Captains casual attitude towards Cato. Not that it was any of her business- or that she cared for that matter. He could do what he wants. Emperor knows she had partners after him…

“Oh, all the time.” Brealian laughed lightly, and Wren’s stomach squeezed. “He’s constantly running around, so we’re on a pseudo retainer for the second company. We work with others still but we are usually with the Second.” She says with a smile.

Wren gave a tight smile. “You must get sick of dealing with Cat-” she cleared her throat, “-Captain Sicarius, then. He uh, seems like a real pain in the ass.” She forced a chuckle.

Brealian full laughed at that, “Oh, he is a huge pain in the ass. But, he’s not so bad. I think he’s a bit of a softie deep down, just doesn’t know how to handle himself.” She said with a chuckled and fond smile.

Wren was glad she threw up already because her stomach definitely was thinking she should try again. She swallowed and chuckled back. “Oh, yeah, probably…” she said, glancing at the chronometer on the wall. “Oh- Throne, I gotta get back to it- Good to meet you, Captain Brealian-” she said quickly.

“Please, Call me Tressa.” Brealian said sweetly, holding a hand out.

Wren forced a smile and shook her hand. “Wren.”

Brealian Smiled wide. “A pleasure, Wren. I’ll let you be off then.” She said kindly, and Wren smiled back before scurrying off the bridge.

Why does she have to be nice? Wren groaned internally. No, no, she was overreacting, there was no reason to think anything was going on between Brealian and Cato anyways. And she shouldn’t care in the first place. Of course Cato would go meet new people- it’d been three years. She’d had a revolving door of partners in that time.

She frowned and caught her breath for a minute, leaning against the metal panels of the corridor walls. It wasn’t the same, though, she thought. All of her partners were shallow distractions. Not frequent co-workers who say sweet things about her to strangers. She grimaced and felt her stomach lurch again.

Fuck. She took a quick sip of her flask and tried to breathe slowly. This whole thing was a shitshow. She’d gotten over Cato years ago, but then he had to force her to come play diplomat for him and now all the old aches were boiling up again. Did he enjoy torturing her? Maybe that was his grand sadistic plan, watch her squirm and have to make small talk with Sweet, put together Tressa. She groaned and took a longer drink from her flask.

“Didn’t I specifically ask you to behave? where did you get that anyways.” Cato’s voice snapped her from her wallowing. She scrambled up off the wall, hiding her flask and steeling her expression.

“Where did you come from?” She snapped awkwardly. A flimsy attempt to divert the topic and Cato did not take the bait. He glowered at her.

“Didn’t I toss that? Oh throne- did you have two? Or are you smuggling a whole bar in there?” He said, grimacing in annoyance.

She scowled up at him, trying to will the color from her cheeks. “Can you leave me be for ten minutes? You know every Guardsman on this ship has amasec on them.” She grumbled, pulling her flask back for another drink just to bother him this time.

Bother him it did, and he looked at her in disgust. “Seriously, Wren? How bad is this? You can’t handle a half a day?”

She huffed. “Don’t call me Wren. We’re not on a first name basis anymore.” She grumbled, eyes dropping to the floor.

He furrowed his brow an gave a tight frown. “Stop trying to change the subject.”

“Stop thinking you get a say in how I live my life.” She retorted, pushing past him and continuing down the hall.

He groaned. “You can't avoid this forever, Captain Vaille.” He called after her tiredly.

She flipped him off behind her as she turned the corner to find her quarters.

[eerna]

Wren treatment in tpt made me so mad!!Wren story is focused on how shes objectified,how everyone silence her,how she doesnt have agency on her own,Her caracter arc in tsh was amazing because we see her transforming into what she fears,she becomes everything she fighted for years against and stop wanting to be a pasive caracter but one who moves the story,i didnt want her to become completly evil but i wanted to see her evolution and how she finds herself also knowing oak better.But wren in this story doesnt do ANYTHING after ch 3 shes just oaks love intrest,she just folows everyone around because shes yet again powerless,oh oak did that! oh bogdana did that !but what wren did?Everyone did more than her we dont even se her reunion with her family(it was the thing i most wanted to see)when wren spoke with them in tsh i cried,i cried so much only for this plot point to be erased.Bring them in faerie and make her mother shout at bogdana,make a family reunion,yea maybe will not be the same in oak pov but would at least be something.We got so much jurdan but we never see a true talk between wren and jude or her with any of oaks family even tho in tsh wren craved their acepptance and if it was to show that wren doesnt care it was done poorly.I understand that oak relathionships with his family are a big point in his caracter but let be honest there was some scene who were there just for the fanservice.A lot of people will probably like tpt more because of the same reasons i couldnt like it,if a caracter needet to be sarcificed for the fanservice than it not a good book no matter how much i love the fanservice.The irony of how oak was always more important and cherished in story but also in the narative it INSANE tsh and tpt tels more oaks story than wrens wich makes for a not so great conclusion.

Yyyeeeah your closing statement pretty much sums it up... Oh so Wren is recovering from being treated like a voiceless puppet used by her parents? Well now it's the narrative's turn to use her the same way yippie!!!

[better-call-mau1]

Congratulations! You’re being smothered with a completely random headcanon about Mandalorian marriage customs rescued! Please do not resist.

The Rite of Riduurok Akaanir, aka “Lover’s Quarrel”

Alright…so I gotta be honest and say that even though I can’t remember how exactly this headcanon came to me, I’ve been carrying it around for years, ever since first watching Rebels and shipping Sabezra 😅 …and at this point, I feel like it’s burning a hole in my head, trying desperately to get out, so I’m gonna save myself the expense of reconstructive cranial surgery and just share it:

Mandalorians like to fight. Actually, they don’t just like to fight, “weapons are a part of [their] religion,” or at least their culture—and for many, their entire lives are built around that. In the case of the Children of the Watch, strict adherence to a No-Living-Being-Can-See-You-With-Your-Helmet-Off orthodoxy even gets in the way of basic interpersonal behavior, like eating a meal together. The implications of that are…interesting…and not in a “wow that’s cool!” way…more like a “kark, that’s depressing” way.

Basically, I started to wonder how the “BAM! BOOM! BAM! BOOM! BLOW STUFF UP AND KILL THOSE FORCE-WIELDING MANIACS!” portion of Mandalorian culture (so…most of it?) intersects with intrinsic parts of human…wait, nope, sorry Grogu sentient life—namely romantic intimacy. (Paz Vizsla has, presumably, not taken his helmet off in decades…and he has a son who’s probably 12ish years old, tops…so do you think he ever stares at his kid and tries parsing out his own features to get an idea of what his wife looks like?) It’s an extreme example from an extreme sect, but there’s application to Mandalorian society as a whole. Where does love fit into a worldview or galaxy-view, I guess where conflict is a core tenet? When do individuals stop existing as warriors and start existing as people? Do they ever?

Anyway, the point is that on its face, the cultural dogma doesn’t seem to leave much room for authentic social and romantic intimacy, especially the latter since, ya know, the beskar has to come off both literally and figuratively in order to procreate. It’s difficult for me to see how the necessity of physical and emotional vulnerability can coexist with the rest of Mando culture—so let’s just leave it at that.

But for a civilization to survive as long as Mandalore has without totally disintegrating, those intimate relationships have to exist, and there’s plain evidence that they do. For all their problems, the Wren family clearly loves each other, and we even get a glimpse of some soft Alrich/Ursa PDA in “Heroes of Mandalore.” Then there’s Bo-Katan, who still cares deeply for her sister despite…well…joining a terrorist faction to help overthrow her. That says something, right?

Wrapping my mind around how authentic love can exist in a fictional warrior society really got me thinking—so much so that I headcanoned a ritual (Riduurok Akaanir, “Lover’s Quarrel”) to help myself work it all out.

The general idea? On Mandalorian wedding nights, the bride and groom have a private duel. A duel to the death? Maybe if it’s an arranged marriage and one party really wants out and I’m gonna speculate that Bo-Katan widowed herself at least four times before running off to join Death Watch.

More commonly, though, it’s just a playful act to embody love transcending conflict. Alrich Wren, for example, isn’t a traditional warrior, but Ursa didn’t assert her superior combat prowess on their wedding night by firing a wrist rocket at his face something Bo-Katan probably did to a few of the short-lived husbands Satine picked out for her. (“Parry this, you kriffing casual.”) Instead, I’d like to think Alrich and Ursa went through the basic motions of a hand-to-hand duel, not necessarily to prove who’s the better warrior, but as an intimate prelude to the actual consummation of their marriage—almost like a mutually disarming dance. (Could it be light-heartedly competitive? Sure! As the first Mando to perform the Riduurok Akaanir with a Jedi, Sabine would go all-out to make sure she doesn’t lose to Ezra! 😆) When the dance-duel ends, they set aside their warrior identities to become something more: husband and wife. It’s like a way of saying, “As Mandalorians, what we do is fight, but we’re more than mere weapons. We fight so we can love. We wear armor to protect ourselves, our homes, and our families. It’s an important part of who we are, but we’re ultimately made of flesh and blood, not cold beskar.”

So that’s the point of Riduurok Akaanir, a term I came up with using this nifty English to Mando’a online translator (before I just called it “Wedding Night Fight” in my head). It’s not supposed to be a blanket explanation—but intimacy and vulnerability don’t have clear utility in a warrior culture, and this is my best attempt at bridging that perceived gap.

If you made it down this far without dozing off, enjoy this Sabezra incorrect quote! 😁

Fenn Rau: I trust that Sabine briefed you on Mandalorian wedding customs?

Ezra: Yep! I know exactly how not to get myself killed before officially becoming a married man.

Rau: The trick is not getting yourself killed *after* becoming a married man. Did she explain what happens on the wedding night?

Ezra: Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...

Rau:

Ezra:...yeahthatsnotreallysomethingIneedorwantSabinetoexplaintomeandKanankindofgavemethelowdownbackduringmyJeditrainingdayssoIthinkIknowwhattodobutthanksanyway.

Rau: Kanan taught you about the Mandalorian ‘lover’s quarrel,’ then? His instruction was even more thorough that I imagined. Or maybe he always knew you and Sabine would end up together.

Ezra: Sorry, did you say...?

Rau: The Rite of Riduurok Akaanir is usually non-fatal. Sabine seems to be genuinely fond of you, so I’m sure you’ll survive to see the sunrise.

Ezra:

Ezra:

Ezra: Oh kriff.

[jessicas-pi]

y'know I'm a little surprised that the Princess Bride reference didn't win, but then again, this one is also a great choice

Sabine’s face is set in determination. “Okay, I’m gonna ask you a really weird question, and I need you to be honest.”

“Sure.”

“Completely honest.”

Ezra nods. “Of course. What is it?”

“If I asked you to, would you fake-marry me?”

Ezra stares at her.

“…would I fake-marry you?”

“Yes. If I asked, would you? Because—” She sucks in a breath of air, and he can sense her spiking anxiety. “Because, you’re my best friend and if I had to choose someone to spend the rest of my life with it would be you, and my family thinks you’re great, and—and if we were fake-married then when I go back to the Ghost you could have the bottom bunk in my room and you wouldn’t have to share with Zeb anymore, and it would be fun, right? And—when we’re older, maybe we could adopt a kid, or a Padawan, and let’s be honest, it would be hilarious for the Countess of Clan Wren to have a Jedi son-in-law, and you don’t have to say yes, obviously, this is just random and hypothetical and—okay, it’s not hypothetical, but you can say no and I’d understand, but—”

He interrupts her with a touch on the arm.

“Sabine.”

She winces and looks away, but Ezra smiles.

“I would totally fake-marry you.”

Sabine meets his eyes instantly. “Really?”

“Really. We’ve been fake-dating for two years; this is just the logical next step, right?” he jokes, but she stays serious.

“You don’t need time to think about it?”

“No. Honest.”

For a second, their gazes hold, and then Sabine nearly tackles him over in the second enormous hug she’s given him that day.

“Thank you,” she whispers, squeezing him tightly for a second before letting go, and she sounds so relieved that it makes him wonder if there’s some bigger reason she wants to fake-marry him. (Probably complicated Mandalorian politics.) “You’re actually kind of great, Ezra Bridger.”

“And somehow it took you this long to figure it out,” he banters back.

“Very funny.” She punches his arm with a laugh, then clasps his hands and meets his eyes and smiles so warmly that he would think there was something more behind it, if he didn’t know there wasn’t. “So, who are we thinking for wedding guests?”

Ezra thinks for a moment pretending to be solemn, then cracks a grin. “Can we invite all the guys who said you were out of my league and pity-dating me?”

“Only if I can paint Chopper pink and make him our flower droid.”

“Deal.”

[letstalkwhump]

Welcome to Let’s Talk Whump, a series of interviews that spotlight the amazing people in our whump community! I’m Malice and I’ll be your host today. 

Here today to talk all things whumpy is the brilliant @whumpcereal!

It’s great to have you here! Let’s start with a fact or two about yourself  like your favorite color or favorite animal? 

My name is Kay, and I’m a high school teacher in my 30’s. Besides whumping unsuspecting gentlemen, my hobbies include reading a lot, belting out showtunes, cooking for people I love, hitting up new bars and restaurants with friends, and traveling. And since you asked–and as a teacher, I hate unanswered questions–I’ve recently realized that orange might be my favorite color, and I love gorillas. 

What does whump mean to you?

 It’s the sort of pressing-on-a-bruise feeling that is wrapped up in watching someone suffer and then be comforted. It’s the need for vulnerability and human connection. It’s watching Prince Philip get chained to a wall and not understanding why you find it so magnetic, but you do, haha! 

How did you find the whump community? What made you want to join? 

I was writing for the Newsies fandom (I know) during the pandemic, and one of my favorite authors tagged her epic work with “whump.” I clicked the tag on tumblr, and I found @lonesome--hunter’s Ezra almost immediately; I fell down the rabbit hole and never came out. After Ezra, I spent a good long time with @ashintheairlikesnow’s Danny and then @galaxywhump’s Wren. I realized that a lot of what I was putting in my own writing could be classified as “whump,” but I wasn’t sure how to join in the fun. I lurked for a while and then beta-ed for @darkthingshappen before I got brave enough to post my own stuff. But part of what motivated me to start posting was just how supportive and welcoming the whole community is. On AO3, you can get tons of hits but almost no real engagement; with whump, that’s totally different. It makes my little dopamine receptors ping. 

The whump community is amazingly supportive! Do you think your view on or the way you consume whump changed since you joined? 

 I am definitely a hurt/comfort gal. I can’t do the hurt without the comfort, and I need my whump to be strongly oriented in the characters’ feelings, whether we’re talking whumpers or whumpees. I struggle when a character is just getting the shit kicked out of them endlessly; I want them to have some relief, even if the relief is bittersweet or painful in its own way. I also find it easier to whump an OC than I do a fandom character, just because if they’re mine, I can build the kind of backstory that makes the whump reasonable. 

And your favourite whump trope?

 I do like noncon. Whump is a genre where I’ve really been able to explore scary things that have happened to me, and when a whumpee has an honest (and not needlessly gratuitous) nonconsensual experience, I gravitate toward it, especially if they’re allowed to explore the aftermath and how it makes them feel. I also love a mute whumpee–probably because I watched The Little Mermaid too many times growing up. Something about the helplessness of being trapped in your own body and at the mercy of others–hey, whumperflies! Captivity whump too, especially anything in the BBU. The BBU was one of my favorite discoveries when I found the community. It provides such rich opportunities! 

Captivity whump is so good! Would you mind sharing a favourite piece you've written? (the following pieces may contain non-explicit nsfw references)

Ooooh. Well, I guess I’ll choose one from each of my series. For Jack, my first and forever whumpee in Behavior Modification, and his caretaker, my wish-fulfillment fake husband, Joe, it’s this piece with their little girl. It’s something that I wrote in basically a single stretch one afternoon last summer, and I’m proud of it because it shows both how far Jack has come in his recovery and how much everything he’s gone through is still affecting him. It also shows how fierce of a protector Joe is, even though Jack’s got strength of his own. Plus, Hallie, their little girl, was super fun to create. She’s a feisty little thing, and I liked the idea of looking at such a dark, violent system through a child’s eyes. 

For The Kennel, it’s this piece which immediately follows my boy Will after his best friend Tommy is forced to assault him. It’s got the aftermath of noncon, plus it includes a lot of world building for my scary whumper, Doc, and his particular set-up. It really sets up the horror of the situation in which Will and Tommy have found themselves and also emphasizes the stories of other whumpees whose stories I’d love to explore (Justin and Tony, I’m looking at you). Plus, it gives Annie–who’s technically the caretaker in this story, even though she’s been abused herself–a chance to think about how she’s been raised and the way her father treats people. My favorite moment is when Will just breaks down completely, because we haven’t seen him do that yet. It’s a human moment, and he’s feeling so much less than human that it’s almost cathartic. 

And then, honorable mention to this piece where I crossover my two stories and let Jack help Will as his post-rescue counselor. I had so much fun with that reveal! 

Oh wow, I love the Kennel piece! You’ve broken my heart with Justin and Will! Would you like to share your writing routine  with us?

 I’ve actually been riding a bit of a block lately, but typically, I am an evening writer. No drinks or snacks, but usually movie scores that match the mood of what I’m writing. On good nights, it’s big blocks; on others, it’s just a sentence here and there (that’s been where I’m at lately). I try to write a little every day, but again, it’s been rough lately. Being a teacher at the end of the year is just as hard as being a student, haha. 

I can only imagine! Are some things easier for you to write? Anything you struggle with writing?

 I have an easier time writing recovery than I do straight whump, which is sometimes a bummer, because the whump community doesn’t seem to like recovery quite as much. So, I’ll pour myself into a recovery piece I have big feelings about, and then it won’t get quite as much traffic and engagement as when I’m roughing up the boys. I am very careful about how I write noncon. I think I do a decent job, but I try to approach it from a place of sensitivity to the person who is suffering versus engaging through violence alone. That can take a lot of time and thought and big feelings. 

And is there anything you're working on at the moment? 

I do have a fantasy crossover miniseries with Jack, Joe, and Ivan and @oddsconverts’ Josh and Felix that I’ve had a really fun time working on. I need to write a little intro before I post it. I need to go back to Jack and his intimacy consultations at WRU, and AU AU Joe and his reaction to the Drip. Poor Will and Tommy are in desperate need of attention; I need to get Will sold away so all the drama can increase. Maybe during summer vacation? 

Do you have a joke or pun you would like to share to spread some smiles today? I am only funny on accident. Just ask my students. ;-) 

Do you have any writing advice you’d like to share?

I’m great at giving advice to others, but absolute shit at following that advice myself. For instance, write for you. Don’t write for hits, likes, reblogs, etc. Just write what you want to read. Write as often as you can. During the pandemic, what got me back into writing after years of thinking about it was trying to write a little every day. Find you some writing friends who will get excited with you when there’s something you can’t wait to write about. 

Finally, would you like to give a mention to some of the amazing people in the whump community?

I already mentioned some of my favorites, but shout outs to @hold-him-down (whom I was lucky enough to eat very expensive risotto with this spring and whose Leo is one of my very favorite whumpees), @peachy-panic (58 Days is one of my VERY favorites), @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump (whose Wyatt has my whole heart), and @squishablesunbeam (I mean, Jesse? Come on!). My first friends in the whump community were @darkthingshappen (creator of my Benny baby), @oddsconvert (whose series are all so beautifully written that I can’t choose a favorite–she even made me like vampire whump–and who is my wonder twin forever), and @sparrowsage (go check out his new stuff!). 

Thank you so much for joining us, @whumpcereal ! It was a pleasure to have you here! 

And to all you lovely folks at home, have a whump-derful day!

[elliepassmore]

The Prisoner's Throne review

5/5 stars Recommended if you like: scheming, court intrigue, faeries, morally gray characters

Stolen Heir review

First, I want to say I called it regarding Oak being exactly the kind of person you would think he would be after being raised by Madoc, Oriana, Jude, Cardan, and Taryn (and the Court of Shadows). How any of his family members were surprised by that I have no idea. I'm also happy to say that Taryn actually does seem to have gotten herself together and is much more tolerable in this book than in TFOTA (of course, that was also 8 years ago and Oak's POV is not Jude's, but still).

I enjoyed Stolen Heir but I think I like this one better. I did miss Wren's POV, though like with Oak's in book 1 having her narrate would obviously give some things away. The first book was quest-based and so we got to see a lot of new people and places, and much of the plot centered around the details of the quest. This one, on the other hand, is more along the lines of what we saw in TFOTA, where it is court against court and scheming abounds among those who want power. Questing plots are fun, but I do think I prefer this kind of intrigue.

I was so excited to see Jude and Cardan! I found it interesting to see them through someone else's eyes, since in previous books we've only ever seen them through their own, but Oak is Jude's younger beloved younger brother and Cardan's nephew and BIL, so he has a very different view of them than they do of themselves. That being said, they are more or less exactly as we remember and I enjoyed getting to see their interactions and reading their sass.

Oak is a trickster and a liar. He is, as mentioned, exactly the kind of person you would expect considering his family and the people he grew up around. He's good at scheming and seeing what people want, but he's also incredibly loyal and would do anything for his family. Unlike his father and sister, Oak still doesn't have ambitions for the throne. But that doesn't mean he isn't still involved in court intrigue, and this book shows us just how involved he is and the manipulations he's willing to use to protect the throne. It was interesting to get inside Oak's head since he's a child in TFOTA and Wren is technically a newcomer. Oak does feel like he needs to live up to what his family needs and the sacrifices they've made for him (though let's be honest, Jude's queenly ambitions only started with Oak, she sustained them on her own), and that creates an interesting dynamic. Related to this and to his scheming, Oak has so many layers and masks to portray the things he wants people to see that he also feels like people don't really know him, and it was interesting to see how that plays out.

Oak and Wren spend a lot of time separated in this book, but it's clear Wren is trying to get a grasp on what's going on and what exactly she wants. There are enemies closing in on all sides, and she struggles to find a workaround for all the people demanding things from her, and who have the power to make those things happen. While I know it would probably spoil some of what she's planning, I would've liked to have Wren's POV in this book alongside Oak's. I feel like we are missing part of the story by not having it, and I'd like to know more of her thought processes and how she decided what was a strategic decision vs not. That being said, we do get to see how Wren behaves when she feels she's been betrayed, and we also get to see how far she'll go for those she's loyal to. She and Oak have that in common, and the two are seemingly willing to rend anything, including themselves, apart in order to save those they love.

I enjoyed following the schemes of this book and learning who the new enemies were. Bogdana is obviously a major player, but there are people in the background that get revealed as the book progresses. In TFOTA, the game is putting someone on the throne and keeping them there. In this book, it's about determining who is out for the throne and what (and who) they have on their side, all while trying to balance competing priorities.

I'm particularly interested in the setup at the end of the book that seems to promise at least one more book set in Elfhame/involving the Greenbriar-Duarte clan. Holly Black had an interview that basically said as much, so I'm super interested to see where that goes (here's hoping it's Jude and Cardan again!).

Overall I enjoyed this book and seeing how Wren and Oak's story ended. It was interesting being inside Oak's head, though I did miss Wren's POV as well. I'm looking forward to future books set in this world!

[rebouks]

Previous // Next

[Wren leapt beside Robin, jostling and slapping him awake violently] Robin: Ugh-.. WREN! Wren: Everyone’s distracted-.. show me the thing! Robin: Nu-uh. Wren: Pleeeease? Robin: Nuhh. Wren: C’MONNNNNN! … Wren: So, you n’ Alex never got inside? Robin: We didn’t really try all that hard, to be honest. [Wren hummed thoughtfully as she followed Robin, making good on her promise not to run ahead] Wren: I wonder why she stopped writing. Robin: I don’t know. Wren: Do you miss her? Robin: Yeah. Wren: Do you fancy her? Robin: No… Wren: Do you fancy Levi? Robin: No. Wren: Do you fancy anyone? Robin: Not at the moment, I guess. Wren: Hmm-.. do you think Levi’s girlfriend is pretty? Robin: What’s with all the questions? Wren: You went all red when he showed you a picture of her. Robin: Well-.. you smell. Wren: Not as bad as you, swamp ass! Robin: You’ve got swamp ass. Wren: [scoffs] We need a really strong stick-.. or a crowbar! Robin: Let me pull one outta my swampy ass. Wren: I bet dad has one. Robin: A swampy ass? Wren: [laughs] A crowbar, stupid! He’s always banging on about how useful they are. Robin: He’s probably right. Wren: I bet he’d wanna get inside, we should show him! Robin: You’d have to grass on me for bringing you here first.

[thecleverqueer]

I’m getting on the bus way late, but I feel compelled to defend the Wolfwren ship.

To preface, if it was made to be canon, it would be hugely impactful for the LGBTQ community as a whole for so many reason. In the same breath, however, I don’t see it ever becoming canon. Maybe I’m just jaded by the sheer number of queer-coded people in media with literally zero payoff. Never mind the fact that Lucasfilm is owned by Disney, who despite ring-wing criticisms, are by far the most vanilla, lukewarm media creator who shows literally zero inclination or willingness to “rock the boat” in any capacity. Truly, I would be shocked and nothing they have ever done has shocked me. And, honestly, it doesn’t truly matter either way. People should be allowed to enjoy what they enjoy without people judging or constantly attacking people over it. It’s all fiction regardless. The Wolf and the Wren don’t even exist in reality, so…

Still, the actors involved have obviously embraced it, fed into it, appreciate it, and I think that’s adorable and commendable. I find it incredibly interesting, yet not shocking that Natasha Liu Bordizzo picked up on Sabine’s clear queer-coding (whether purposefully done or not) and ran with it. This isn’t wholly relevant in and of itself, but I’m building to my point.

My point is that I have seen some arguments against Wolfwren that come from very homophobic, comphet places. Gayness still makes many people uncomfortable, and I’ll be honest, that’s on the person that’s being made uncomfortable by it and not the gay in question. Particularly, and since it is now sort of socially unacceptable to outright bash the LGBTQ community, I see A LOT of red herring arguments being made to try and divert attention to the real reasons that they hate it. And, I’m going to discuss one of those arguments that feels like is being made in bad faith.

The argument in question is the comparison to Wolfwren and Reylo. Many anti-wolfwrenners argue that they hate the ship because it reminds them of Reylo, a problematic ship between two people with a borderline abusive power dynamic that weirdly fall in love after a series of very questionable interactions.

And first, let’s be honest, some of these people probably do, at some levels, like and appreciate Reylo and that’s fine. To each their own. But, Wolfwren isn’t anything like Reylo at all. And comparisons truly cannot be made like that here.

Is Wolfwren problematic on the surface based on the happenings of Ahsoka season one alone? Yes. Absolutely. It’s not a washed and folded LGBTQ pairing. It’s not supposed to be. Their relationship has started out in kind of an ugly place. They’ve been gritty and violent. They’ve attempted to kill each other multiple times. That’s madness.

Still, there is no lop-sided power dynamic here though. Kylo Ren was obviously more powerful than Rey, both in the force and by societal position. He was a right hand man to the leader of the First Order. Rey was just a scavenger, rummaging for parts on a backwater planet. He’d studied the force since he was a tot. Rey didn’t even realize she had it. They were not equals. Sabine and Shin are, in every aspect of the word, equals in the story. Shin ultimately gay panics and stabs Sabine in the torso, but Sabine struck first in that skirmish. In fact, Sabine struck first in every battle that she and Shin had. And while Shin did have force powers where Sabine had yet to unlock her own potential, Sabine’s a bad ass. She’s not tradwife material (despite a lot of preconceived notions). She’s a warrior, someone that likely had blasters in her hands before she could write. That is something in and of itself. Sabine is equally capable, if not more so than Shin. Sabine is not a helpless victim just because she got stabbed, she has been an equal participant in every interaction that she and Shin have had.

Another difference is that Shin and Sabine have not lobbed words of hate, disdain or abuse at one another. Shin tells Sabine, “you have no power” then Sabine straight up shoots her with an arm cannon as if to say, “bet”. Other than that, there has been no hateful banter between them. At no point have either of them uttered the words “you’re nothing” while the other stood by in tears. It’s basically been well-matched sword duels where neither has truly gotten the upper hand outside of one lucky strike at the beginning. Sabine was unbalanced.

What truly makes this a decent ship is the “enemies to lovers” dynamic, a plot device that has been used time and time again in media (albeit mostly in cishet connotation where it doesn’t seem to bother other cishets). Shin is not beyond redemption. She isn’t inherently evil. She hasn’t truly abused Sabine outside of fighting back after Sabine went after her. Shin has done nothing other than sword fight with an equal, and follow around a master with questionable values. She is still perfectly capable of a redemptive arc, something that I feel was teased in episode 7 when Ahsoka reached out calmly to Shin saying, “I can help you.” It will not shock me when Shin does turn to the Jedi in the story, where she could and likely will find belonging. With that, she and Sabine could find happiness in a more homo-friendly, less heteronormative society. And if either of them were male and the other female, it would totally be embraced by the larger viewing audience as totally normal and okay.

So yeah… there it is.

[inawearyworld]

another wren thought:

(regarding little details of the movie, more shakespeare nerdery, and the possible effects of the possibly-foregone conclusion)

it’s been noticed that, on wonka’s candy-making suitcase thing, when he presses a button to add lightning to noodle’s chocolate, there are some other buttons with little indicator pictures, and one of them has a heart on it. i think i saw a post here that wondered whether that meant he could make aphrodisiac chocolates. which could be VERY INTERESTING

i think that, at some point during the heist, as wren trailed the cartel and occasionally let herself be seen for half a second to throw them off, she overheard their conversation, part of which involved fickelgruber ranting to the others of how “that sickly sweet child stole my florence. i wouldn’t be surprised if it was one of his magic chocolates that did it. to dispose of a business threat is one thing, but wonka deserves what’s coming to him.” and the others are just “certainly, felix”, unsure how to feel abt the bombshell dropped yesterday re: his background but still sticking by him bc they’re in too deep now (and because i’ll die on the hill that, despite their nastiness, the cartel actually does care about each other, in their way).

so wren’s obv thinking a lot at this point. a) worried sick abt what exactly is “coming to him” b) realizing that, if willy is a “child” in felix’s eyes, so is she c) about the magic chocolate thing…he wouldn’t. he wouldn’t. would he? either way, i’ve known long before he came to town that something needed to change.

so she kicks her spying into high gear, trying to stop whatever’s about to happen from happening, but winds up losing the cartel at some point. then she and lofty rescue the pair and the story goes on. she does bring up later what she heard, and willy is stunned by felix’s implication, in the same way he’s shocked by any immorality through a lot of the movie.

he says simply that, in his travels through greece, he did come across a little purple flower in a field of white ones. remembering how his mom’s voice danced across shakespeare’s curious poetry of fairy magic and love-in-idleness, he bottled a bit of the flower’s juice (along with that of its antidote), but never used it.

and he’s telling the truth, of course, so her worry is put to rest. they’d probably think of it as something funny; she’d swoon, overact, wax poetic as if she had been taken over, and he’d laugh, because he’d never want her to be anything but herself. and something inside her would warm to know she’d made him laugh, because she loves him. she loves him, because there is a meadow in his eyes and a sky in his voice, because he is compassionate and creative and honest.

it isn’t until he gets older and jaded that he takes on wilder’s Core Wonka Thing™️ of wanting the outside world to never be sure whether he’s lying or in earnest at any given point.

…and then the question is how long wren stayed when that did happen.

presumably, the cartel didn’t face enough consequences when they landed to be truly ruined, if the plot sticks and they were able to rebuild their businesses and send spies. the worrying thing is that there is canonically a massive gulf of twenty-five years between the end of the prequel and the start of what everyone knows. apparently paul king said once that a sequel to the prequel would be much darker.

and where does that leave wren? maybe willy, as he became paranoid as described at the start of catcf, started to mistrust her. maybe her heart broke as she watched the kind young man who’d helped to set her free become everything that he swore not to be. maybe as he became more of the morally grey willy wonka that the world’s always known, more isolated and fearful, he made another emerald-wrapped heart-shaped almond milk chocolate, but he did press that button for the first time. maybe she realized it before it was too late and left, not knowing-perhaps not caring-that the second he pressed the button he immediately regretted it. of course he’d go back to the initial suitcase, of course he’d want things to be as they were when he first defeated the cartel and he was young and hopeful and kind and the world was full of possibility, bc even in the prequel one of his main motivations is nostalgia. “i just wanted it to feel the way that it did when i was a kid.” the first chapter of charlie and the great glass elevator is called “mr wonka goes too far”, which is a solid summation of just about all of his post-prequel characterization.

catcf as a story demands that willy wonka begin it alone. and of course wren would refuse to be manipulated by yet another chocolatier, to be kept in yet another cage. she is the songbird and she must fly.

she will get out if she has to.

…but maybe, just maybe, she won’t have to. maybe, to bring it back to midsummer, “the story shall be changed”. maybe the foregone conclusion isn’t so foregone. maybe he’ll keep his integrity and things will be okay in this universe. maybe she won’t have to be in a constant state of leaving in order to preserve her freedom. i do hope so.

[nightwingshero]

WIP I’m On Time Finally

I was tagged by the amazing @inafieldofdaisies thank you, lovely!!!

Tagging: @detectivelokis @baldurrs @marivenah @jinfromyarikawa @sstewyhosseini @simonxriley @playstationmademe @water-writings @pen-in-hand @oathofoaksart @fadedjacket @minilev @socially-awkward-skeleton @direwombat @aceghosts @glowwormsmith @madparadoxum @shegetsburned @ghastlyrider @starsandskies @sukoshimikan @voidika @redreart @delicateweapon @vampireninjabunnies-blog @ri-a-rose

I’m doing Resident Evil stuff...I guess Alex decided to make an appearance now. This isn’t that good, but this just kinda played out in my head and I just went for it. I’m like...90% sure Wren left her filthy ass clothes on the floor...so I gotta fix that, she knows better.

Being in a communal shower area was something I had to get used to, but it wasn’t so difficult since dorm life in college had been the eye-opener for me in that regard. I was used to it, but these did offer some privacy, the showers themselves a step down to offer better draining for the water, and half walls that encased each shower, closing it off a bit with room to hang whatever you needed—benches running through the middle of the room for sitting. So I didn’t pay any mind to the following footsteps, and if I was honest, I couldn’t fucking care less who it was—I was never self-conscious or shy, and I would be damned if I let anyone get in the way of me and my date with the shower. Slipping in, I closed my eyes and sighed as the water pelted against my shoulders, the pressure just a little off but it was enough to get my muscles to relax—I didn’t have high expectations for the luxury of somewhat-public showers. My eyes opened as those boots hit the tiled floor of the showering area, nothing between us but the shower curtain.

“You know, you’re fucking hard to keep up with when you’re on a mission.” The voice called as the person finally reached the shower. “Wouldn’t expect it with those short legs of yours. You gotta run to keep up with Chris, don’t you? Full on jogging. You ever run track?” I exhaled heavily through my nose as I squeezed my eyes shut, begging whoever was listening to make her go away, but there was no such thing. “I’m gonna just…sit here. I have a question for you.” Alex continued. “How, hypothetically, would you tell your boss that you’re talking to his sister?”

I opened my eyes once more and looked at her, or at least, looked in the general direction of her. “I probably wouldn’t, because I wouldn’t be talking to his sister. Why are you talking to Claire?” I gave it another second before frowning. “How are you talking to Claire?”

“Instant messaging. Texting, though I get annoyed with it. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had to hit the same button over and over because I keep missing the damn letter I need. And everyone thinks I’m gay for Jill, I’m not gay for Jill.” There was a sound of what could have been paper shuffling, just barely noticeable under the sound of the running shower. “She is so cute though, damn. That cop though…he’s a cutie too.”

Without even thinking, I snatched the curtain and looked out to see what she was doing, and sure enough, Alex was seated on the bench closest to my shower and thumbing through a manilla folder. Papers and pictures were paperclipped to both sides of the folder, and I could barely see the black and white images of the survivors of Raccoon City tucked safely inside. “Where the fuck did you get that?”

Alex just shrugged without even sparing a glance. “I mean, its confidential for most people, but we’re pretty okay, right? The government trusts us a little bit—besides we knew about this shit before anyone else because of that mansion thing.” It was easy to forget that Alex had dealt with this shit from the beginning, that she was with Chris and Jill during that mansion fiasco that led up to the disaster that ended with a city being nuked. “Some of this shit is still blacked out for even us though. Not the pictures, thank God. Look at that face, damn. Is this the cop you spent your night with, Wren? I could be straight for him. Lucky bitch.” I rolled my eyes and yanked the curtain shut again before grabbing my shampoo and lathering it in my hair, wishfully thinking it would drown her out. My nails dug a little too harsh against my scalp as she continued. “Please tell me you were able to enjoy that partnership a little bit during all of that.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Alex. We were fucking surrounded by zombies. How the hell would you expect us to fuck in a situation like that?” I replied without thinking, irritation and disbelief coloring my tone as I rinsed my hair quickly.

“You find a nice closet and bang it out. I’m sure you guys were able to clear some rooms out in that police station. A quick little—”

“Can you not?” I knew she didn’t mean anything by it, knew that she had no way of knowing, but that didn’t stop from the wounds I believed had long since healed to tear open just enough for my chest to ache. It made me scrub my skin harder with the body wash I used.

“I’m just saying he’s cute.” Alex replied. “Claire though…”

Fully cleaned, I shut the water off and yank the curtain back. Alex didn’t even look up from the folder she was studying as I wrapped the towel around myself. “I really don’t think sleeping with your boss’ sister is the right way to go. Chris will kick your ass.”

“Not necessarily sleeping with her, Wren.” Alex retorted weakly as she rose to her feet and finally glanced up at me, mischief dancing her dark brown eyes. “I mean…what’s wrong with a date or two?” I let out another sigh as I made my way back towards my locker, Alex still on my heels. “It’s not like its someone he doesn’t know, right? I feel like he would do a background check on some rando.”

I scoffed as I dropped my towel and slipped new underwear on. “Stop trying to fuck Chris’ sister.” Alex groaned and threw her head back dramatically.

“And who else am I supposed to date? What about Ms. Glasses you met the other day?”

“You can’t fuck Hunnigan.” I threw her a look that earned me an exaggerated pout in return. “I’m serious, she gives us intel when we can’t get it—do not fuck up a contact, Alex.” She stuck her tongue out at me while I clipped my bra, and she looked back down at her precious little folder.

“This is some serious shit, though.” Alex’s voice softened. “You guys really went through hell and back together, didn’t you?”

Yes. We did. The words became stuck in my throat with the lump settling there. I hated it, the way I still got emotional about it even after the years that had passed. Swallowing, I quickly shove my Nirvana shirt on and glanced at back at her. “You went through some shit too, don’t forget you played along with that haunted mansion like the fucking Scooby Gang.”

“I’d do anything for a Scooby Snack, I guess.” Alex laughed as she closed the file and tossed it aside. “The only thing I got out of that shit was trauma. Wasn’t worth it.”

There was no stopping the small laugh that escaped, and if I were honest, I welcomed the change in conversation. “Agreed. Let’s get some food, I’m fucking starving.”

“Sure, let me get a shower and we’ll bounce out of here. Your ass is buying though.” She stood and slapped my ass lightly before walking off, throwing a peace sign over her shoulder. “I’m not a cheap date, babe!”

“You should probably tell Claire that.” I called back before slamming the locker shut.

[hollowflight-propaganda]

Inspired by @ravewing, here's a random list of my faves from each tribe too cause why not :3

MudWings - I've developed such a fondness for Clay after going through book 1 again. I also really like Reed and I desperately wish we got to see more of him. Shout out to Asha and Copperhead as well.

SeaWings - I've also been thinking about Riptide quite a bit recently, and it's mostly because of his squandered potential to be honest. And of course there's also Turtle my beloved. I could write an essay about that guy.

RainWings - Fun Fact: Kinkajou was originally my favorite character when I first read the books! I wouldn't call her my ultimate favorite anymore, but I still really like her. I also particularly like Mangrove and Handsome.

NightWings - Moon. Also Starflight and Mightyclaws.

SandWings - Sunny for this (and also the NightWing category). Six-Claws and Boa too.

IceWings - I really like all 6 of the royal kids, Snowfall especially. Opal too, we don't talk about her enough. I also have a soft spot for Hvitur. Like, he's the only IceWing we know of who joined the Talons during the war, (not counting "Cirrus" for obvious reasons) and I wanna know why. What's his story Tui?!?!?

SkyWings - We all like Peril, this is fact. For good reason too, I'd say she's probably one of, if not the most strongly written character in the whole series. I've also always liked Vermilion for.... no real reason honestly. I just like the guy.

SilkWings - Dusky. I'm also a pretty staunch Blue defender. None of y'all get him like I do. (I could go on and on for SilkWings, but if I did I'd probably bring up like 10 more characters, so we'll just move on)

HiveWings - Cricket. Can't really think of anybody else rn cause most Pantalan characters I especially like are SilkWings for some reason.

LeafWings - Same goes here too. Hmmm..... Sundew's a fun character, and I wish we knew more about Willow. Like, she has a pet cockatoo! That's a fun trait! We should let her be a weird bird nerd I think /pos

Bonus: Scavengers - Firstly Wren, because I find it funny how she's like the only human y'all will give the pass. Anyway, my true favorite is Leaf- NO WAIT DON'T GO YET, I CAN EXPLAIN. His character has interesting setup guys, I swear. I don't wanna turn this into a Leaf rant, but MAN, he was screwed over BAD. I feel Dragonslayer kinda got too caught up in making all those fun connections to arc 1 instead of making it feel like the three protagonists were actually accomplishing anything. I'll talk more about it once I get there in my reread, but yeah. Leaf's my guy :)