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snowysosturn · 4 days ago

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Allies or Affiliates? - Chris Sturniolo Part 11

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

Pairing : Y/n x Chris Sturniolo

Summary : Law student Y/n’s life takes a turn when she reconnects with Chris, her brief teenage flame who is now a dealer for a dangerous Boston drug gang. As their bond reignites, Y/n is drawn into Chris’s tumultuous world, where rival gangs clash and loyalty is everything. Balancing her love for Chris with her own ambitions, can their connection survive the chaos that threatens to pull them apart?

Warnings : MDNI, mentions of drugs, mentions of selling drugs, angst, cursing, mentions smoking weed, death

Chris's POV

Sitting in Y/n’s treehouse with her after being so intimate felt like stepping into a different world, one I’d almost forgotten existed. We could see the stars through the treehouse window, her laughter echoing in the dim fairy lights as the effects of the weed softened the edges of everything. The air felt thick and warm, and her gaze was softer, more open, as if the high had taken down her walls. When her hand brushed against mine, her fingers tracing gentle lines, I felt a spark of something that went beyond words.

Finally, we made our way to her room. Y/n barely made it to her bed before she collapsed, a sleepy smile on her face as she drifted off almost instantly after telling me I could spend the night. I stretched out beside her, feeling a peace I hadn’t felt in years, like all the noise in my head had finally quieted down. Her soft breaths filled the room, and for once, I felt like I might actually sleep through the night. Here, with her warmth next to me, the world seemed so far away.

I closed my eyes, letting myself drift, her presence like an anchor. But just as I felt myself slipping away, my phone buzzed in my pocket, the sound jarring in the quiet of her room. My heart sank as I looked at

the screen, Nate’s name flashing across it. I sighed, irritation prickling at the edges of my calm. The last time I’d been in Y/n’s bed, Nate had blown up my phone too, begging me for some weed because he “needed something to take the edge off.” Typical.

I ignored the call, sliding my phone back into my pocket, hoping it wouldn’t wake her. But a few seconds later, it buzzed again. I declined it a second time, annoyance pushing out the peace that had finally settled over me. Whatever Nate needed could wait.

Then, a message came through:

Answer your fucking phone.

The words sent a shiver down my spine. Nate never talked to me like that, never demanded anything from me with that kind of urgency unless it was serious. My stomach twisted as I slipped out of bed as quietly as I could, not wanting to disturb Y/n, and made my way out onto her balcony, carefully closing the door behind me.

As soon as I stepped outside, Nate’s name flashed on my screen again, and this time, I didn’t hesitate. I swiped to answer, dread pooling in my gut. "What’s going on?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady but low.

There was a pause on the other end, a silence so heavy I could almost feel it through the phone. Then Nate finally spoke, his voice rough and strained. "Danny. He’s dead."

The words hit me like a physical blow, a sucker punch to the gut that stole the breath right out of my lungs. He was gone? Just like that? For a few heartbeats, everything around me froze, the world narrowing down to those two words, echoing in my head. Danny’s dead.

“What?” I whispered, gripping the balcony rail so hard my knuckles turned white. “What happened, Nate?”

Nate let out a shaky breath, his voice thick with something I’d rarely heard from him – fear. "It was a hit. One of the guys from H Block.. they got him, Chris. I-” His voice cracked, and he took a moment to compose himself. “He was out alone, they ambushed him. By the time anyone knew what happened, he was already gone."

I closed my eyes, the weight of it settling heavily on my shoulders. Danny was gone, just like that. It was a stark reminder of the life we were both tangled in, the violence that came with it, and how quickly everything could go south. We all knew the risks, but that didn’t make it any easier to face.

"Nate.. I’m so sorry, man fuck." I managed to say, my own voice hoarse with shock. I didn’t know what else to say. Danny had been a pain sometimes, sure, but he was family to Nate. And he was one of us, as much as any of us could be called that.

“Yeah, well..” Nate’s voice dropped, a bitterness seeping into his tone. “This is what we signed up for, right?”

I swallowed, feeling the bile rise in my throat. He wasn’t wrong, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. That didn’t mean it didn’t feel like a punch to the chest, a reminder of just how easily I could lose everything.

And then, like a ripple through the haze of shock and grief, came a thought that made my stomach clench even tighter. Y/n. I’d promised her I’d get out of this, somehow, that I’d find a way out, but right now, that promise felt impossibly far away.

“Are you with anyone right now?” Nate’s voice brought me back to the moment, a question layered with an unspoken warning.

I glanced back toward Y/n’s room, the soft glow of her bedside lamp just visible through the curtains. “Yeah. But she doesn’t know anything about this, Nate. I.. I can’t tell her. Not about Danny. Not now.”

There was a pause, then Nate sighed, a sound that carried a world of resignation. “Maybe that’s for the best. It’s not exactly something you can just drop on someone. Besides, if you care about her, you’ll keep her out of this mess. You don’t want her caught up in what happened to Danny.”

I nodded, though he couldn’t see it. Nate was right, as much as I hated to admit it. If I wanted to protect Y/n, I had to keep her as far away from this shit as possible.

After the call ended, I was left with a hollow feeling in my chest, standing alone on Y/n’s balcony as the weight of what Nate had told me settled in. Danny’s dead. He’d been the first to pull us into the Crimson Cartel, the cousin Nate had practically idolised, the guy who showed us how to survive. And now he was gone, taken out by H Block, the gang we were always in a deadly dance with. The thought of going back inside, of laying down next to Y/n and pretending everything was normal, felt impossible.

I sent Nate a quick message to let him know I was on my way, then carefully slipped back into Y/n’s room. She was still asleep, her breathing deep and steady, and for a moment, I almost convinced myself to stay, to cling to this feeling of normalcy. But there was a sick twist in my gut, the knowledge that this world I was a part of, the world I’d thought I could keep from touching her, was more dangerous than I could ever fully admit.

With a last glance at her, I quietly made my way out of the house, moving into the cool night air, my mind churning with anger, grief, and an uneasy resolve. I knew exactly where Nate would be, our usual spot at the docks, where we’d go when things felt too heavy, a place removed from all the noise. The streets were mostly empty as I drove, the city lights blurring past in a haze of red and yellow. My mind kept replaying the conversation with Nate, the anger in his voice, the grief masked by bitterness.

When I arrived, Nate was already there, leaning against his car with his hands shoved deep into his pockets, staring out at the water. He looked rough, more so than I’d ever seen him, his shoulders tense, his jaw set in a hard line. As I approached, he didn’t look at me, just kept his gaze on the dark, choppy water, his silence heavy with emotion.

“Hey” I said softly, coming to stand beside him. I didn’t know what else to say, didn’t know if there was anything that could actually ease the blow.

Nate exhaled a shaky breath, then finally turned to look at me, his face twisted in a mix of anger and sadness. “I keep thinking it’s not real, you know? That he’ll just.. show up, same as always.” His voice cracked, and he quickly looked away, clenching his fists. “But he’s gone, Chris. They took him. Just like that.”

I reached out, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Nate. I can’t imagine what you’re going through.” The words felt weak, inadequate, but I didn’t know what else to say. Losing Danny was a blow for both of us, but for Nate, it was something deeper, something raw.

Nate laughed bitterly, shaking his head. “You know what’s messed up? He warned us about this. Said one day, we’d either get out, or we’d end up like him.” His gaze turned cold, a hardness settling over his face. “Well, I’m not going out like him. I’m not just letting them take him and get away with it.”

The intensity in his voice sent a chill down my spine. I knew what he meant, even if he didn’t say it outright. Revenge. He wanted blood for blood. And maybe, in another time, in another life, I’d feel the same. But standing there, hearing the anger in his voice, I felt a strange clarity, a need to break this cycle, not to keep fueling it.

“Nate, listen” I began, my voice steady but pleading. “This life.. it doesn’t end well for any of us. If we keep going down this road, we’re going to end up just like him. This could be our chance, Nate. Maybe we can find a way out. We could leave the cartel, start fresh somewhere else, away from all of this.”

He finally looked at me, his eyes narrowing as if I’d just suggested something absurd. “Get out? And do what, Chris? Get 9 to 5’s, pretend we don’t have blood on our hands? This is all we know, man. This is all we have.” He shook his head, his face twisted in disbelief. “They took him from us, and you’re talking about leaving?”

I held his gaze, refusing to back down. I knew shit was going to hit the fan between the two gangs now that one of our top men were gone. “Danny didn’t want this for us. He wanted us to survive, Nate. That’s why he brought us in, to protect us. But we’re in too deep now, and if we don’t get out, we’ll end up just like him. Don’t you see that?”

Nate scoffed, turning his back to me, his shoulders hunched. “What, you think they’d just let us go? Crimson doesn’t do retirement, Chris. You know that as well as I do. The only way out is in a body bag.”

“Maybe” I admitted, the reality of his words settling heavily in my chest. “But maybe if we play it smart, we could find a way. I’m not saying it’ll be easy, but I’m saying it’s worth trying. We don’t have to end up like Danny.”

Nate was silent for a long moment, staring out at the water, his face a mask of tension and turmoil. Finally, he turned back to me, his eyes dark with a determination I didn’t quite recognize. “I don’t want to leave, Chris. I want them to pay. Every single one of them. Danny didn’t deserve this, and I won’t rest until they know what they’ve done.”

His words hit me like a punch to the gut, and I felt a flicker of fear, a sense of impending danger that went beyond the cartel and its threats. Nate’s anger, his need for revenge, was something that could easily consume him, and me, if I wasn’t careful. I’d thought maybe he’d see reason, that he’d want to break free from this life as much as I did, but it was clear that Danny’s death had only solidified his loyalty, and had anchored him even deeper into this world of violence and retribution.

“Just.. think about it, okay?” I said, feeling a knot of helplessness tighten in my chest. “Think about what Danny would really want for you.”

Nate’s face softened just slightly, but his resolve didn’t waver. “I know what Danny would want” he muttered, turning away from me. “And I’m going to make sure he gets it.”

I watched him for a moment longer, my heart heavy with a mix of worry and sorrow. Nate had always been like a brother to me, but in that moment, I felt a distance between us that I wasn’t sure we could ever bridge.

Nate took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair as he exhaled, the weight of everything finally sinking in. “I’m going to crash, man. Maybe smoke a joint, see if it takes the edge off. I can’t think straight right now.” His eyes met mine, hollow and exhausted. “I’ll catch you later.”

“Yeah, take care of yourself” I replied, clapping a hand on his shoulder. But as I turned to walk back to my car, my mind was already elsewhere.

I’d only left Y/n’s place about an hour ago. Surely she was still asleep - the first time you smoke weed you have the best sleep of your life. The memory of her, half asleep and peaceful, pulled at me in a way that nothing else could. If I was careful, I could slip back in without her even noticing. I could be there, beside her, just for a few more hours, away from everything else.

The drive back was quick, my thoughts scattered between Nate’s broken expression and the hope of finding some comfort in Y/n’s presence. When I reached her house, the place was silent, dark windows giving nothing away. I parked a little further down the street, keeping my footsteps quiet as I made my way around the side, toward her balcony.

The familiar route felt oddly reassuring, like muscle memory kicking in as I climbed up and peered into her room. Carefully, I slid the balcony door open and stepped inside, moving quietly as I slipped out of my shoes and settled onto the edge of her bed. Sure enough, there she was, exactly as I’d left her, wrapped in the blankets, a soft rise and fall to her breathing. Just seeing her like that, oblivious to the chaos surrounding us, brought an unexpected calm. She didn’t stir, but I could feel her warmth, the comfort of just being near her.

Y/n’s POV

Sunlight streamed through the blinds, gentle but enough to nudge me awake. I blinked a few times, adjusting to the light, and felt a familiar warmth beside me. Chris. He was here, his arm draped across me, his chest rising and falling steadily. For a moment, I just lay there, my heart swelling at the sight of him so peacefully asleep next to me.

This time, he hadn’t left in the middle of the night. He’d stayed.

The realisation filled me with an unexpected happiness, like maybe last night meant more to him than I thought. But as the initial rush of contentment faded, I remembered a tiny detail I hadn’t had to consider over the weekend: my parents were home.

The thought hit me like a shock of cold air. I couldn’t help but glance at my closed door, wondering if they’d wake up before Chris left. I was used to slipping out of the house quietly to avoid questions, but the idea of him sneaking out felt a little nerve wrecking. What if we were too loud? What if they happened to catch him in the hallway, or worse, heard him on his way down?

I sighed softly, trying to piece together what this all meant. Things with Chris weren’t exactly straightforward. After last night’s conversations and the intensity of everything between us, the way he held me like I was his anchor in a storm, it made me realise just how deep he was in all of this. And I couldn’t just pretend I didn’t know now.

Chris woke beside me, his eyes fluttering open as if he’d sensed I was awake. He blinked a couple of times, and when he saw me, a small, sleepy smile spread across his face.

“Morning” he mumbled, his voice husky.

“Morning” I replied, unable to hide my own smile. I hesitated, glancing at the door again. “So.. my parents got back yesterday.” I whispered, half teasing, half nervous.

His eyes widened slightly as he realised the situation. “Ah. Right” he said, a hint of a grin playing on his lips. “Should I start planning my escape route?”

“Maybe” I chuckled. “Or I could try to sneak you out before they wake up.”

“Think we’d get away with it?” he asked, shifting to face me, his eyes still half closed but filled with a warmth that made my heart skip a beat.

“Only one way to find out” I replied, giving him a small, mischievous smile. I hated the idea of him leaving, but the last thing I wanted was to face my parents’ questions first thing in the morning.

Chris nodded, running a hand through his tousled hair as he picked his phone up to check the notification he just received. "It’s okay" he murmured, his voice still soft from sleep. "I’ll go through the balcony. I’ve got things to take care of anyway."

There was something in his tone, something quiet and weighed down, I’m hoping he wasn’t starting to regret last night. I wanted to reach out, to make him stay just a bit longer, but I could see it in his eyes, the urgency to go.

“Alright” I said, my voice reluctant as I tried to keep it light. “Guess I’ve got all morning to kill anyway. I don’t have class until late this afternoon.”

He reached over, brushing a thumb across my cheek, his eyes studying my face like he was memorising it. “I’ll text you later, okay? Maybe we can meet up tonight.”

I nodded, feeling a small twinge of relief, an indication that it's not regret. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

With one last glance toward my bedroom door, he slipped out of bed, pulling on his shoes quietly before heading toward the balcony. He paused at the threshold, looking back at me one last time, and for a second, I thought he was going to say something else. But he just gave a soft smile, then disappeared over the railing with practised ease.

The room felt colder, emptier the moment he was gone.

I spent the next two hours rotting in bed, aimlessly scrolling through TikTok, trying to distract myself from the heaviness of last night. I was in a surprisingly good mood after everything with Chris. It was comforting waking up to him beside me, even if he had to sneak out through the balcony before my parents woke up. I couldn’t help but daydream about the future, wondering how things could be if we both left all this craziness behind.

Eventually, I noticed it was already 10:30 a.m, and I figured I should probably make some breakfast so I made my way to the kitchen. I loved having some kind of noise in the background, so out of habit I turned on the kitchen radio and let it fill the space as I danced around, preparing scrambled eggs and toast. The morning felt so ordinary and nice, the smell of coffee, the soft sounds from the radio, it was a comforting routine, like a safe bubble around me. The kitchen was bright, the world felt warm, and my mind drifted back to Chris and all the possibilities ahead of us.

Then, the soft background noise of the radio was interrupted by a breaking news announcement that made my heart drop.

"A man killed in last night's gang related feud has been identified as 31-year-old Daniel Doe."

The words barely registered at first. "Doe? Daniel Doe? As in Nate’s cousin, Danny?" I felt the floor slip beneath me as the reality of what I’d heard sank in. The world around me seemed to blur, the sizzling of eggs on the stove now distant and irrelevant. I gripped the counter to steady myself, my mind racing.

Danny was.. dead? As a result of the feud?

Images of Nate and Chris flashed in my mind, Nate’s anger, his focus on some unknown turmoil that he and Chris wouldn’t discuss, and Chris’s hesitations, his careful attempts to keep me in the dark while also trying to keep me close. They’d both been connected to this from the beginning. I thought back to Chris’s face this morning, the way he looked at his phone. That’s why he was off.

I glanced back at the radio, my hands trembling. The familiar warmth of the kitchen now felt suffocating, like I’d been thrust into someone else’s life. For the first time, it felt as though the dangerous world Chris was tangled in was no longer just a dark secret but a harsh, painful reality. This wasn’t just his story, it was becoming mine, too. It just reinforced the fact to me he needed out now.

I needed to talk to him.

Chris’ POV

Waking up next to Y/n that morning felt almost surreal. The quiet warmth, the way her breath moved softly as she slept, the faint light filtering in through the blinds, there was a peace to it all, like something I hadn’t felt in ages. Just being there with her, no running, no hiding, no keeping up walls. For a brief moment, I let myself imagine what life could be like if things were.. different.

She turned to me smiling with that sleepy softness that nearly made me forget everything else. But just as she whispered that her parents were home, my phone buzzed on the bedside table. I ignored it at first, not wanting to break the moment. But then it buzzed again, and I knew I’d have to check it. As I picked it up, the message notification lit up across the screen, and my stomach twisted at the sender’s name. Vince.

“I need you at the harbour in an hour. Don’t be late.”

I felt the blood drain from my face. Vince never gave times or places unless something big was going down. And after last night with Nate, after everything that happened.. I had a feeling I already knew what this was about. I swallowed, trying to hide the tension from Y/n, even though I could feel her watching me.

“I'll go through the balcony.” I said, forcing a casual tone, though my chest felt tight. “ I’ve got things to take care of anyway.”

She nodded, understanding. It was something she’d heard me say before, though this time it felt heavier. We both got up, and as I got ready, I tried to keep my mind on the drive ahead. She didn’t ask any questions, thankfully, just smiled and kissed me goodbye before I headed out the door, promising to see her later.

The drive to the harbour was tense, my hands gripping the wheel as I ran through all the things Vince could want from me. After Danny’s death, things were bound to get messier than they’d already been. And that was saying a lot. Nate had been enraged when I’d seen him, just lost in his own anger. Vince’s message felt like the beginning of something that couldn’t be undone.

When I arrived, the familiar salty scent of the harbour filled the air, and I parked my car, scanning the area until I saw him standing by the water, looking out over the edge. Vince was a large guy, even with his back turned, his silhouette a solid, immovable force that made it clear he was someone you didn’t mess with. I got out of the car and walked over to him, the weight of the morning hitting me with every step.

This meeting wasn’t going to be anything good.

As I approached Vince, the intention to bring up my plans for getting out of this mess circled in my mind. I knew he wouldn’t like it, fuck he might not even hear me out, but I had to try. This wasn’t what I wanted, and after last night with Y/n, after getting a glimpse of what my life could be if I left it all behind, I felt even more determined.

But before I could even open my mouth, Vince turned to face me, his expression harder than usual. His dark eyes held an intensity that made my stomach drop before he’d even spoken a word.

"Chris" he began, voice low and steady, "I need you to step up.”

I blinked, every thought in my head screeching to a halt. "Step up?" I managed, trying to keep my tone calm even though a hundred red flags were already flashing in my mind.

Vince nodded, his gaze unwavering. "With Danny gone, there’s a spot that needs filling. I can’t pick Nate, his court case a few weeks ago has him under too much scrutiny. Plus he’s too close to this right now. He's emotional, unstable. But you.. you’ve been around long enough. You know how things work.”

The weight of his words hit me like a slap in the face. He didn’t need to say it outright for me to understand. He wanted me to take on a bigger role, to fill Danny’s shoes. Danny, who’d just been killed.

I swallowed hard, fighting to keep my face blank, even as I felt panic clawing its way up my throat. My mind raced, every argument I’d prepared dissolving in the face of this new reality. I’d hoped to talk Vince into letting me out, to make a case for why I needed to distance myself from all of this. But this was the exact opposite of what I’d planned.

"Vince, I.." I stammered, trying to pull myself together. "I don’t know if I’m ready for something like that."

Vince’s gaze hardened. "There’s no time for second guessing, Chris. Crimson needs people we can rely on. You’re smart, you keep your head down, you don’t have a record, and that’s an advantage. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think you could handle it."

The urge to tell him no, to beg for a way out, to walk away and never look back, surged up in me. But staring into his face, I knew the stakes. This wasn’t a life you just “walk away” from, and pleading wouldn’t make any difference to Vince. It might only make things worse.

The reality of it washed over me like ice water. Vince wasn’t giving me a choice. Danny’s death had created a void, and whether I wanted it or not, he was shoving me right into it. The world felt like it was closing in, my mind screaming as I grappled with what this meant for me, for Nate.. and for Y/n. She didn’t deserve this. None of this was supposed to touch her life.

But here I was, on the verge of getting dragged in deeper than ever when I should be trying to get out.

a/n : am I in too deep... have I lost my mind.... I CAN BE YOUR HERO BABAYYYY

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grits-galraisedinthesouth · 1 year ago

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Worldwide Privacy Tour Part 2, it seems, is well underway.

"Yes, the night was pure Meghan Markle: A manufactured build-up of anticipation, a highly dramatic entrance afforded no other actual activist — Meghan climbed on stage to the Alicia Keys she-ro anthem ‘Girl on Fire’ — and then... a whole lot of nothing...This crowd was checking their watches."

"If anything, as the night dragged on and the event slipped an hour behind schedule – a sudden break announced so we could finally have dinner – the crowd bristled...Notably, not one person I spoke to nor one speaker or honoree mentioned Meghan. Not one said how exciting it was to have her there. Not one expressed the slightest curiosity at what she’d have to say."

"And this image, our renegade duchess without a palace-worthy advance team to prevent such cheap optics as the Hertz hiccup, set the tone for the evening: Fatuous, irrelevant, high on its own self-regard, all sense of purpose lost. Gloria Steinem, once the face of women’s rights, reduced to star-f***ery. It was a bizarre night."

MAUREEN CALLAHAN: Meghan's word-salad Manhattan gala appearance

She so badly wants to be the Queen of Hearts.

But, as she arrived on Tuesday night, making her grand entrance in Midtown Manhattan, sauntering past that rental-car backdrop, it was more like the Queen of Hertz.

Of course, as the world is now all too aware, Meghan Markle capped off winning a meaningless award with what we’re told was a ‘near catastrophic’, ‘two-hour’ car chase through the streets of Manhattan.

Yes, according to a spokesperson, Meghan, along with hapless Harry and mom Doria, were the subjects of a wild, impassioned hunt by the paparazzi.

Some sympathetic commentators have already made the gruesome comparisons to Princess Diana’s tragic final fate.

But to echo the statements made by New York City’s own mayor Eric Adams and the police department: Perhaps it didn’t quite happen the way it was painted.

Recollections may vary.

Naturally, their mouthpiece Omid Scobie is whining that no one from the Palace has yet reached out.

Wonder why?

One also wonders what Gloria Steinem, the 89-year-old feminist icon who chose to honor Meghan as a ‘Woman of Vision’ at Tuesday night’s Ms. Foundation Gala, must be thinking now.

After all, the car ‘chase’ debacle soon stole all the thunder from her event, which I was lucky enough to witness first-hand.

Now, it was hardly the red carpet one might expect. Hardly the pomp and circumstance of, say, a coronation.

Yet Meghan forged ahead as she always does, as if this were her crowning moment, sheathed in gold as if to symbolize a crown.

Or an Oscar statuette.

Same difference, really, if your only goal is fame. That’s our Meghan, none too subtle as ever, literally going for the gold as Harry and Doria took their positions three steps behind.

Harry may be a prince of the blood, but never forget — Meghan is The Star. Her Norma Desmond-ing is among the great spectacles of our modern age.

And this image, our renegade duchess without a palace-worthy advance team to prevent such cheap optics as the Hertz hiccup, set the tone for the evening: Fatuous, irrelevant, high on its own self-regard, all sense of purpose lost. Gloria Steinem, once the face of women’s rights, reduced to star-f***ery. It was a bizarre night.

Upon entering the Zeigfeld Ballroom, guests were asked whether they were ‘VIP’ — seems even feminist movements have their echelons — and turfed to the lobby.

My $1,500 entry-level ticket got me a hard seat with a front-row view of coat check.

After ten minutes, circumstances having changed inexplicably, the riff-raff were allowed up to the second floor.

Here were two open bars serving top-shelf liquor and the shock of post-pandemic dress code slovenliness. One unkempt guest was wearing sparkly Birkenstock sandals and a black stretchy minidress under a pink puffer jacket.

These were the VIPs?

The only recognizable person I saw was Peloton instructor Ally Love, and that’s saying something. Where were the stars? Where were the notables of the movement? The Malalas? The Fondas? The Beyoncés?

Perhaps no one was meant to outshine Meghan. Only one feminist icon was going to enter via rental car office!

Down in the ballroom, the plated salads on our banquet tables were ready waiting for us – dry, unsightly, stringy greens that resembled nothing so much as regurgitated hairballs. Notably, not one person I spoke to nor one speaker or honoree mentioned Meghan.

Not one said how exciting it was to have her there. Not one expressed the slightest curiosity at what she’d have to say.

If anything, as the night dragged on and the event slipped an hour behind schedule – a sudden break announced so we could finally have dinner – the crowd bristled.

It says something when a table of size-6 women tear into their heavily glazed steak and buttery mashed potatoes with abandon.

Yes, the night was pure Meghan Markle: A manufactured build-up of anticipation, a highly dramatic entrance afforded no other actual activist — Meghan climbed on stage to the Alicia Keys she-ro anthem ‘Girl on Fire’ — and then... a whole lot of nothing.

Verbiage and word salad that were content-free, except when speaking on her favorite subject: herself.

Here, in real time, we observed Meghan’s inability to read a room. She thanked the ‘other honorees’ without naming them.

‘Congratulations,’ she said, ‘and frankly, well deserved.’

It was all so smug and supercilious, this glorified podcaster telling these boots-on-the-ground activists — no matter what one thinks of their politics — that they had, in fact, earned their place on the same stage as the great Meghan Markle. That ‘frankly’ was so typical. It was meant to redound to Meghan’s benefit, as the lone wolf daring to speak the unspeakable.

There was the cringe-inducing humblebrag, calling her new friend Gloria ‘Glo’.

It brought to mind the forced intimacy of meeting Kate Middleton barefoot and insisting that the pair share lip gloss.

It's 'Glo' to Meghan, but Meghan is 'Duchess' to us.

‘We all bear witness,’ Meghan continued of her fellow honorees, ‘to you standing in elegance and the power of your strength.’

Huh?

This crowd was not convinced. This crowd was checking their watches. There were trains to catch, children to kiss goodnight. Alas, we were stuck with the vapidity of La Markle.

Her speech didn’t even deliver fresh content! She repeated the story, as told on her podcast, of poor little Meghan coming home from school to her TV dinner, cat collars and copies of Ms. Magazine strewn about courtesy of her mother — even though it’s well-documented that her father primarily raised her.

‘Having these pages in our home,’ she went on, ‘. . . signaled to me that there was so much more than the dolled-up covers and those images that you would see on the grocery store covers. It signaled to me that substance mattered.’

Says the former D-list actress and former briefcase game-show girl who used her looks to get ahead. Who has posed for those very same magazine covers.This warmed-over speech, less heated than our steaks, was Meghan’s greatest hits:

‘Change is just one action away.’

‘You can be the visionary of your own life.’

‘Daily acts of service, in kindness, in advocacy, in grace and in fairness.’

‘The imprints that were forged in my mind — I can now connect the dots in a much better way to understand how I became a young feminist and evolved into a grown activist.’

A feminist who, let us not forget, has publicly demonized her famous sister-in-law — ‘Waity Katie’ to Oprah and an audience of millions.

Kate made me cry! WAAAGH!

In truth, Meghan's a self-identified 'grown activist' who has done nothing. The pontification, her sing-song-y cadence as she luxuriated in her own praise, was as insufferable as it was revealing.

‘Ms.’ she said, ‘was formative in [my] cocooning. It piqued my curiosity, and it became the chrysalis for the woman that I would become and that I am today.’

Right: The woman who vilified the institution headed-up by Queen Elizabeth II in her final years. The woman who heavily alleged institutional racism until her husband finally backed away from that terrible smear.

A woman with no substance and no accomplishments as a feminist. A woman who is still trying to one-up the royals, even from a car-park adjacent ballroom with no red carpet. Meghan is the personification of Ms. as an organization that has lost its way.

Indeed, most of the night was spent advocating not for women but for trans rights and Critical Race Theory.

‘Abortion is racist,’ we were told.

Beware the ‘the white supremacist patriarchal system.’

Yes, even the Ms. Foundation – established for biological women out of a deep, and enduring, necessity – has been subsumed by men who identify as women.

How fitting then that the night was overshadowed by a grasping phony whose empty platitudes on stage failed to make headlines, whose spokesperson told a wild story of a high-stakes car chase.

Pity Meghan, but recognize her strength. Admire her, but never laugh at her. And never, ever question her veracity.

Worldwide Privacy Tour Part 2, it seems, is well underway.

#worldwide privacy tour #waaagh #megxit #fraud and fraudess #jussie smollett #maureen callahan #ms #gloria steinem #hertz #hertz dress #hertz so bad #sparry #word salad #low rent #participation trophies #participation awards #south park

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cleversteel · 1 year ago

Text

COLM!! in Fódlan

source: shadoll

GENDER. Male (he/him)

AGE. 18

HEIGHT. 5’9” (175 cm)

BIRTHDATE. 9th of the Garland Moon (June 9th)

CREST/HOLY BLOOD. None

CLASS. Black Eagles Student!

AFFILIATION. The Kingdom of Renais

BIOGRAPHY. A thief who hails from a village razed to the ground. He has a pure heart and tries to put his skills to more positive uses, even if he occasionally makes some... questionable decisions. Awoke in Fódlan after stealing something he probably shouldn’t have, later wandering from Adrestia to the Officers Academy and enrolling there.

PERSONAL HISTORY

785 - Born to a couple of common blood in the village of Lark in Renais.

788 - Befriends Neimi, another from the village of Lark. Is at her a side a year later when her mother passes away.

803 - The War of the Stones begins, and Lark is later attacked and burned down by Bazba’s Bandits. He joins Eirika’s army after successfully stealing back Neimi’s mirror.

803 - The war ends. Not too long after, he mysteriously awakens in Fódlan and enrolls in the Officers Academy.

INTERESTS. Protecting Neimi, thievery, medicine LIKES. Neimi, michew berries, home, herbs, stealing, marshmallows, food in general DISLIKES. Losing, lowly bandits, those who endanger the helpless, being underestimated, Lloyd (derogatory) STATUS. Black Eagles Student CLOSE ALLIES: Neimi, Pelleas, Kiran

DINING HALL PREFERENCES

LIKES. Beast Meat Teppanyaki, Saghert and Cream, Fish and Bean Soup, Sautéed Jerky, Sweet and Salty Whitefish Sauté, Sweet Bun Trio, Fruit and Herring Tart, Garreg Mach Meat Pie, Peach Sorbet, Two-Fish Sauté, Gronder Meat Skewers, Vegetable Stir-Fry, Bourgeois Pike DISLIKES. Vegetable Pasta Salad, Small Fish Skewers, Country-Style Red Turnip Plate, Super-Spicy Fish Dango, Pickled Seafood and Dango, Daphnel Stew, Fried Crayfish

DINING HALL NOTES

DEFAULT. ✧

“Always happy to share a meal with friends!”

FAVORITE DISH. ✧

“Hey, I really like this dish! Do you like it too?”

LEAST FAVORITE DISH. ✧

“Well, I… uh… haha…”

WITH EPHRAIM. ✧

“Oh, I should tell Kyle about this!”

WITH KIRAN. ✧

“Oh, Rose, you should try this! It’s really tasty!”

WITH NEIMI. ✧

“Isn’t the food here great? I figured you’d like it.”

WITH PELLEAS. ✧

“If you don’t want your food, I’ll gladly take it! Oh, we could trade! You can have some of my vegetables!”

WITH VALTER. ✧

“(Ah, shoot. How’d I end up sharing a meal with this guy?!)”

TEA TIME GUIDE

FAVORITE TEA. Sweet-Apple Blend, Southern Fruit Blend, Honeyed-Fruit Blend CONVERSATION TOPICS. A place you’d like to visit, children at the market, close calls, cooking mishaps, exploring the monastery, I’m counting on you, our first meeting, past laughs, reliable allies, school days, someone you look up to, tell me about yourself, thanks for everything, the view from the bridge, working hours for guards, working together, you’re doing well, your ambitions, cats, a dinner invitation, favorite sweets, food in the Dining Hall, shareable snacks, strange fish in the pond, hopes for your future, monastery mysteries, likeable allies

TEA TIME QUOTES

GREETING. ✧

(1) “Hey, Professor! I made it!” (2) “I was pretty quick, wasn’t I?” (3) “I’m not a HUGE tea person, but I don’t mind!”

FAVORITE TEA. ✧

“Oh, this one smells nice!”

FIVE STAR TEA. ✧

“Wow, this smells expensive!”

BEING OBSERVED. ✧

(1) “Hm? Do I have something on my face?” (2) “Oh, do you like my earrings? I pierced them myself! It was… ahaha… not my finest work.” (3) “My mom used to describe my ponytail as a ‘dove tail.’ I admit, I still get kinda sentimental sometimes when I think about it.”

QUIPS. ✧

“Huh?” “Really?” “Wow.” “(Laughter)” “How about this?” “Did ya hear?”

ENDING. ✧

“I had a lot of fun! You should invite me again sometime.”

FINAL COMMENTS. ✧

(1) Back in when I was in the army, we had a Father in our troops who blamed me for setting his extra clothes on fire. Twice. Crazy, right? ANSWER: Nod, Laugh (2) A close friend of mine once lost something precious to her, so I stole it back for her. I could tell she was really worried, but I wasn’t going to let those bandits keep it! ANSWER: Agree, Commend (3) Man, candy is really tasty! I wish I could have some all the time... ANSWER: Disagree, Admonish (4) This place is really nice... Since I’m living here though, I don’t intend to borrow anything. ANSWER: Praise, Admonish (5) I really like it here, but... well, I kinda miss my friends from home. ANSWER: Nod, Chat

MISCELLANEOUS DIALOGUE.

GIFT GUIDE

FAVORITE GIFTS. Owl Feather, Tasty Baked Treat, Watering Can, Hunting Dagger, Legends of Chivalry, Forget-me-nots, Ceremonial Sword DISLIKED GIFTS. Watering Can, Training Weights, Monarch Studies Book, Coffee Beans

GIFT QUOTES

DISLIKED GIFT. ✧

“Ahaha...”

LIKED GIFT. ✧

“Thanks! This is nice!”

FAVORITE GIFT. ✧

“Oh, this is REALLY nice. Thanks a lot!”

LOST ITEMS

SPARE EARRING. A golden earring in the style of a ring. It’s not real gold, but it still looks really nice. Likely belongs to someone who likes jewelry but doesn’t like to spend. Location found: Training Grounds. BEGINNER’S GUIDE TO MEDICINAL HERBS. A book detailing basic information on various plants and herbs that any apothecary ought to know. Likely belongs to someone with an interest in plants and medicine. Location found: Fishing Pond. BAG OF TREATS. A bag of baked goods with varying degrees of sweetness. Likely belongs to someone with a sweet tooth. Location found: Dining Hall.

LOST ITEM QUOTES

OWNER. ✧

“Oh, you found it! Thanks for getting this back to me.”

NOT OWNER. ✧

“It’s nice, but... not mine, sorry. I could help you find the owner though!”

BATTLE QUOTES

MOCK BATTLE RETREAT. ✧

“Shoot... Sorry guys!”

FIRST KILL. ✧

“Whoa... Haha...”

MONASTERY QUOTES

CHOIR PRACTICE. ✧

(1) “Haha... I am not really a singer...” (2) “Welp, here goes nothing!”

COOKING. ✧

(1) “Okay, let’s do this whole cooking thing!” (2) “My mom always did it like this...!” (3) “And bam! Easy.”

TUTORING

INSTRUCT

BAD. ✧

“Wait, really?” Critique: Gah... No need to be so harsh...! Console: Yeah, I got this! I’ll definitely get it next time!

GREAT. ✧

“I know, I know. I’m just that guy!” “That was easy!”

PERFECT. ✧

“It was nothing.” PRAISE. “Aw, thanks, Professor. You’re not that bad a teacher, you know!”

TASKS

STABLE DUTY. ✧

“Now how did Neimi do it again?”

WEEDING. ✧

“Gah... I HATE weeding!”

SKY WATCH. ✧

“Whoa... Okay! We are REALLY high up!”

CERTIFICATION EXAMS FAILED. ✧

“Aha... I probably should’ve paid more attention in class...”

PASSED. ✧

“Hah. Light work!”

SWORD. ✧

“I’m not physically the strongest, but I am really accurate! That’s why I learned the sword as a self-defense weapon! I figured that, since I’m at a military school and stuff, I could maybe get better!”

BOW. ✧

“A close friend of mine was an archer, just like her grandfather before her. They were AMAZING, and I want to be like them. So, I’m taking up the bow!”

LANCE + RIDING. ✧

“I’m pretty light on my feet, but horses are pretty good too! The way they can carry you across a whole field in a fraction of the time...! Oh, and of course, I’ll be learning the lance as well. I’m not really good at it, but I’m gonna need it to pass the exam, right?”

LEVEL UP

0 TO 1 STATS UP . ✧

“Not my best work.”

2 TO 3 STATS UP . ✧

“Hey, it’s better than nothing!”

4-5 STATS UP . ✧

“Always improving!”

6+ STATS UP . ✧

“Impressed?”

UPON REACHING LEVEL 99 . ✧

“Wow, I’m incredible! I bet no one could stop me now!”

BUDDING TALENT

“Huh. Who’d’ve thought?”

NEW SKILL

“Ooh, a neat new trick!”

RECLASSING . ✧

“Hey, I’m adaptable!”

BATTLE QUOTES

WHEN SELECTED

FULL/HIGH HP . ✧

“You got it!”

MEDIUM HP . ✧

“I’m good. Don’t worry about me.”

LOW HP . ✧

“Okay, I might need a bit of help here...!”

ENEMY DEALS 1 OR NO DAMAGE OR MISSES . ✧

“Nope!”

CRITICAL ATTACK . ✧

“Sorry about this!” “Light work.” “And here we go!” “Guaranteed results!”

GAMBIT . ✧

“I’ve got an idea!”

GAMBIT BOOST . ✧

“I’ve got your back!”

DEFEATED ENEMY . ✧

“Whoops! Should’ve been better, I guess.” “Haha! Take that!” “Good luck beating me!”

ALLY DEFEATS ENEMY . ✧

“Nice work!” “Glad you’re on our side!” “You’re pretty good!”

ALLY HEALS/RALLIES . ✧

“Thanks!” “I appreciate it!” “I’ll pay you back later.”

DEFEAT QUOTE

CASUAL . ✧

“Gotta admit, I can’t keep going much longer. I’m just gonna fall back here. You guys keep going, okay?”

CLASSIC . ✧

“No... Nei...mi...”

THE ADVICE BOX

“I really like it here at the monastery and I’ve made a lot of friends, but sometimes, I miss my friends back home. What should I do?” > You should write letters home! It might not cure your homesickness, but they’ll at least know you’re thinking of them. > Try and recreate what you liked about your homeland and share that with your friends here! You might be away from home, but you can still bring it with you here! > You should try and visit whenever you get a break from school! Nothing beats actually being with the people you care about most. (Correct Answer)

#[‘some of us don’t know anything other than a thief’s life.’] (meta content)#[‘this is ridiculous…’] (memes)#// me when i started: i'll do this over the course of a few days to keep from getting overwhelmed #// also me four and a half hours after i started: so i'm done now #// man. colm. him. :softsmile:#// forever cheesed by the auto-suggested pelleas support tags he has :joy:#// i also find it funny how valter and [redacted] were very mild in food opinions #// and then colm said 'i have Opinions'#// vegetable non-liker :weary:

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x0401x · 4 years ago

Text

Jeweler Richard Fanbook Short Story #13

Feel free to message me about possible corrections, and please consider supporting the creators by purchasing digital copies of the official releases: Novel || Manga || Fanbook. In case anyone is feeling generous: Ko-fi | PayPal. ( ╹◡��)っ’･*

← Previous || Index || Next →

Ramen Story

The voice of the owner as he said “welcome” turned into a mutter at the end, fading away. I could understand how he felt. With a light, cut-and-sew jacket draped over him, a blond, blue-eyed man had come inside, standing behind another man who quite literally had the air of a student. It wouldn’t be unreasonable to wonder if he was an actor. But we were just a party of two.

“Two people,” I indicated with a peace sign. We were guided to a table seat. There were no other people around. While we were at it, we gave them the meal tickets that we had bought from the vending machine outside. A couple of negi ramen.

“What a surprise. There’s always a long queue for this shop. So that’s how shops are like right after they open in a student district?”

In this shop, currently reserved to our exclusive use, I talked without restraint about all sorts of things – about the layout of the classroom building in my campus, about the hideout-like garden in the university’s premises, about my friends and even about my teachers. The shop’s atmosphere did that to me. The man who could well be the best listener in the world let me talk as much as I wanted, occasionally making an exasperated face.

“Here, sorry for the wait. It’s hot, so be careful.”

“Thank you, thank you.”

“You too, Mr. Foreigner. This is ‘hot’.”

As Richard replied with a “thank you, madam”, the old lady laughed fickly.

Now for the ramen.

Its soup was salt-based, warm steam wafting from it. That being said, it wasn’t as if there was anything special about it. We hadn’t added any ingredients, so it was a simple one. Fermented bamboo shoots, dried seaweed, fish cake and a large helping of green onions.

We silently put our hands together to thank for the meal, taking the chopsticks and parting them with a snap. I took the dwindled noodles, then opened my mouth wide and filled it with them. I tried to make as little noise as possible.

Delicious.

This shop’s ramen was simple, but it was a strong ally for a student’s cold pockets and quick-to-get-hungry stomach. It stayed steadily in your belly, resolutely reminding you for about three hours that you had eaten ramen today. And above all else, the animalistic joy of eating without thinking was more irreplaceable than anything else. Tasty food was great.

By the moment I was done with my very-IQ-lacking monologue of “thank you, o ramen; o ramen, thank you”, there was only a little bit left of the contents of my bowl. Still eating the green onion ramen without a sound, Richard looked at me with upturned eyes from his bended posture. Those blue eyes made me seriously wonder if there weren’t gemstones inserted in them.

“Hey, you got a moment?”

“As you wish. Whatever you please.”

When I prefaced it with, “This is serious talk – super, super serious talk”, he made a face that screamed, “You’re being too long-winded”, so I went straight to the point.

“I didn’t think you’d actually come eat ramen with me.”

I hadn’t imagined that the day would come when I could eat a bowl of ramen for 450 yen at a historical, cozy ramen shop in the student town with this beautiful man who usually only wore suits. I hadn’t at all. Even now, another side of me was still tilting his neck somewhere within my mind, wondering about “how things came to this”.

Ever since around the time I had started working part-time in Ginza, I had no sense of reality. Not even about the fact that I would later be going to Sri Lanka. No, of course, I was fully ready and had a Visa, so I was in a phase where all I had left to do was get on the plane and I was making the oh-so-busy Richard help me out with that, but...

Richard took a sip of the salt-based soup with the china spoon, then glanced at me. “So you were not expecting anything from me, is that it?”

“No way. On the contrary.”

When I said that I just didn’t think he would give me the OK, Richard’s lips curved in the shape of an arc, and after looking for napkins on the table, he realized that there weren’t any, so he took a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe his mouth.

“I value the accuracy of your palate. It is obvious that, if you have a shop you like, I would want to try eating there.”

“Thank you. And for remembering about it too.”

Soon after I had started working part-time, I was introduced to a stone called chrysoprase. I once laughed my butt off when I learned that the etymology of the fresh green-colored stone included the meaning of “leek” or “green onion”. The topic then changed into ramen, and we, the shopkeeper and part-timer who subtly had not yet thrown off reserve with each other, talked about liking green onion ramen, what kinds of toppings we preferred, and other such things. I had kind of thought that “it’d be nice to go have ramen with this guy someday”. Back then, to me, Richard was someone as far-off as the moon and stars that shone in outer space. Of course, he was still as resplendent as the moon and stars even now, but he didn’t feel as distant.

Once I was done drinking the soup up to it’s last drop, I heaved a small sigh. “That was delicious. Last time eating Japanese ramen and this one for a while, huh.”

“How about putting instant ramen in your suitcase?”

“I ain’t used to making those. I’m the type that goes out to eat ramen rather than making instant ones. But there’s curry roux inside. Weird story, isn’t it? I’m going to a curry culture zone, yet I’m taking curry with me.”

“Analyzing Indian and Sri Lankan curry by Japanese curry standards can cause serious stomach problems. Beware.”

I puffed out my chest, saying that I had properly prepared myself for this because he had already told me about it before, to which the beautiful man gave a little sigh.

“May I also talk about a truly serious topic?”

When I told him that didn’t mind it at all and that I wanted to hear it, Richard looked at my face directly. It made me nervous. What was he going to tell me, I wondered.

“I did not think that you would actually invite me out for ramen.”

“Me?”

“Yes. I honestly did not.”

“Why?”

As I kept on tilting my neck at that sentence, which you wouldn’t think would come from someone like him – who looked like just breathing was enough for him to get invited to eat out –, Richard spoke to me reticently. He told me that people were quick to come towards him, but there were also those who surrounded him from a distance, watching him without trying to shorten the distance between him and themselves. So this kind of thing also happened?

Looking back, I was also from the keep-a-distance group at first. But I sucked at giving up, and whenever something that made me happy happened, I would be overjoyed no matter how many times I remembered about it, so every time I recalled the chrysoprase talk, I would find myself thinking that I should invite him out for ramen. It just so happened that the desire for this “someday” had amplified as the number of times that I thought about it increased, and I had finally voiced it this spring.

The shop was tiny and had a bit of a mysterious scent, but it was truly delicious. It would be closing this spring. I was concerned about what to do if he declined it with an awkward face, but the response I got after speaking up was a “When will it be?” without a moment’s delay.

“Was it okay to have invited you?”

“What do you think?”

“Well, I was just thinking I was glad that I invited you, but...”

The reply was a short-range smile. That slightly tired face with no sense of uneasiness to it was bad for the heart. But I was gonna get used to it. I had to.

“Still, was it really all right? That I was the one you had a meal with for the last time at a shop that you have fond memories of, I mean. Would it not have been better to do so with the friends that you always ate with?” Richard asked.

Hmm. So he was gonna bring that up, huh?

“Well, well, thank you very much for your superb consideration. But I’m glad it was with you.”

“Is that so?”

“I’m glad it was with you. Not anyone else; with you.”

I had learned many lessons even in just four years of university, such as that things were shifting, everything kept changing over and over, the green onion ramen shop would be gone, I would be leaving for Sri Lanka in the near future and there was no telling how my life was going to be from now on. But this jeweler was a man who knew very well how to cherish a memory.

Only to people like that did I entrust the things I didn’t want to forget.

Bidding a courteous farewell to the elderly shopkeeper and old lady employee, we exited the shop. Cars rushed on the Yasukuni Avenue. Kasaba during holidays was so quiet that it felt like a different world. As the wind softly blew, the cherry trees planted along the street shook and their pale pink petals scattered about.

“That was delicious, huh~. You got any plans for later?”

“I am going to help Saul with chores. We are not boorish enough to engage in business talk after just eating ramen.”

I stole a peek at his profile as he started chewing on a mint gum. The beautiful man brushed cherry blossom petals off his golden hair. He offered me one of the white gums, asking if I wanted to eat it.

I probably wouldn’t forget this sight. Even if that ramen shop was gone, even if my address was no longer in Tokyo.

Richard tilted his head a little, as I was still staring at his face even after accepting the gum. “Anything the matter?”

“Aah, sorry. Your beauty was like you’ve come from another world, so I spaced out.”

I then changed the topic, saying I was going to think about what to have for dinner or something. There were still lots of shops that I wanted to visit while I was still in Japan, though they were all set-meal and chain ones. I didn’t think I was able to hide my melancholy, but he’d probably act like he didn’t see anything. I was grateful for that.

In the middle of our walk to the train station, I looked back at the cityscape one last time and wordlessly offered a moment of silence to it.

Thank you for everything; I’m off!

#housekishou richard shi no nazo kantei #housekishou richard #jeweler richard #the case files of jeweler richard #nakata seigi #richard ranashinghe de vulpian #richard ranashinha de vulpian #richard #jr short story collection #tsujimura nanako #yukihiro utako #novel #my translation

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when-i-was-your-angel · 4 years ago

Text

Live For Me

Bucky Barnes x Shapeshifter OFC

Word Count: 1343

NSFW: None

Warnings: Suicide, Endgame Compliant, The Winter Soldier, Panic Attacks, Sad Bucky, Self-Destructive Bucky, Bucky chokes Dany and not in a fun way

Tags: Angst, No Happy Ending

Summary: Steve has left Bucky for Peggy. Dany tries to convince Bucky he doesn’t have to let this break him, but he’s determined to shatter.

A/N: This is based on my OC, Dany Thornberry. She is in love with Bucky but he doesn’t return her affections. I have a RP account on twitter if you’d like to learn more about her. The handle is @/angel_Iike_you (the L in like is an I).

Steve was gone.

He had gone back.

When presented with the choice between staying with Bucky in the present and living with Peggy in the past- he chose her. He chose a woman he barely knew over his best friend.

It broke him.

Bucky didn’t leave his room for three weeks.

Dany tried to check on him. Short of busting down his door- there was nothing she could do. Nothing he’d let her do. She left thermoses of soup outside his door and returned the next day to find them still full. She kept leaving them.

Three weeks and two days after Steve left Bucky came out of his room. He didn’t speak to anyone. He only trained.

And trained.

Hours upon hours spent in the tower gym. Working his muscles until he collapsed. When his arm gave out and he could barely stand- he’d shoot. When he ran out of ammo he returned to the punching bags and the weights. On and on it went.

Dany visited him there. At first she spoke to him about how proud she was that he was doing something. He never spoke. Not once. Her words of encouragement turned into sobbing pleas of Speak to me. Please, say something.

But he was silent. His heart had left him and returned to the 40’s. To the decade that stole him away in the first place.

So she went to her last resort.

Physical confrontation.

Dany tried to block his path and was promptly shoved out of the way. She stumbled a few feet but managed to not fall on her ass. She gripped his arm and turned him to face her.

“Bucky, please.” She was answered not with words but with a cold hand on her throat. Her pleading eyes were met with dark unforgiving blue ones. She gasped and clawed at his metal hand. He gave her a final squeeze and dropped her. Dany fell to the ground and gasped for the sweet oxygen filling her deprived lungs. Still, she crawled for him. Bruised and crying, she was on her knees for him. This confused him. He had hurt her. She should be running away not crawling in complete submission towards him. He found he didn’t care. Bucky knew he had loved the woman before him at some point, but he couldn’t muster a single feeling or thought other than “He’s gone. He left. He left me.” So Bucky left her there. Crying, bruised, and broken, he left her.

- - - Three Weeks Later - - -

Two short knocks on hollow wood echoed through Bucky’s bedroom. He had returned to his floor for sleeping purposes. His bed was too cold. Too empty. He laid on a blanket, a black duffel bag next to him.

“Bucky, I know you’re in there.” Silence.

“Bucky- please. I need to know you’re okay.”

‘Okay?’ He thought. ‘My okay left in a space suit six weeks ago.’

“That’s it. Open up or I’m breaking the fucking door down.” He sighed. A broken door meant noise. Loud noise. He didn’t much feel like a panic attack right now. Bucky stood and walked to the door on easy feet, opening it to reveal Dany.

She looked a mess. He may have been heartbroken and utterly wrecked internally, but he was still showering. Her hair was knotted and her cheeks puffy. Her eyes were red and her hands shaky. But when she saw him, alive and conscious, she smiled.

“Hey, sugarplum.” Her voice was raw from crying. Bucky tensed at the name. It was familiar. Familiarity is weakness.

“What do you want?” The first words he’d spoken since Steve left. His voice was raw like hers but from lack of use rather than sobbing. Crying was for the weak.

Her face brightened. His words were harsh but they were words. He was speaking. She was foolish to believe he was healing.

“I wanted to make sure you’re…” Her gaze fell behind him. First to the blanket on the floor, next to the duffel bag beside it. Her breath hitched.

“You’re leaving.” Her body straightened. She was a spy. She was an Avenger. He was a possible ally. Possible threat.

“Where?” Was her only question.

“Russia.” No point in lying. All she’d have to do to find out was ask Friday who he’d been in contact with to get him a private flight. Her eyes widened in fear.

“Bucky- you wouldn’t.” Her voice was dangerously close to breaking.

“I am. There’s nothing left for me here.” Bucky realized he could see her heart breaking. Shattering. He didn’t care.

“So because he’s gone you’re going back to them? Back to him?” Her hands clenched and unclenched at her sides.

“What do you want from me, Dany?” Bucky’s voice was monotone. Flat. There was no trace of love or sadness or even anger. This - she - was simply a nuisance. Preventing him from accomplishing his mission.

“What do I want from you? You-” She took in a shaky breath, her shoulders heaving. “I gave you everything! I gave you every piece of me! What do I want from you? I want you to choose me! I want you to live for me!.” She didn’t know when she started hitting his chest but she was. Her fists pounded on the hard muscle there. Dany let out a broken sob and looked up at him. At the blue eyes she had drowned in so many times. At the forehead she had kissed and the nose she had set when he broke it. She brought a hand to his jaw and brought his face down to hers, pressing her forehead against his.

“Please. Stay.”

He said nothing. Only waited for her to release him. When she did, he pulled back and closed the door in her face.

She checked with Friday in the morning.

“Sergeant Barnes left at three AM this morning, Ms. Thornberry.”

Dany nodded.

He was gone.

- - - Six Months Later - - -

Dany clicked on the TV and listened to the newscaster drone on and on about some politician’s shady dealings. She tuned it out. Nothing reached her brain anymore. Everything was stopped in the cotton of her ears. She was filling out paperwork from her latest mission. It had been violent. She had nearly lost her arm.

Good.

After a few minutes a musical tone played from the TV followed by a dramatic voice.

“Breaking News out of Budapest - the Winter Soldier has been spotted fleeing the scene of Hungarian President Nagy’s assassination.” The woman droned on but Dany’s eyes were glued to the screen. That was Bucky - her Bucky - in black leather with a red star painted on his arm. Bucky had killed a man in cold blood.

‘No.’ She thought. ‘Not Bucky.’

But as the camera zoomed in on a man with a mask covering his mouth - as Dany saw the cold blue of the eyes that used to be so full of life - of love - she knew.

Bucky Barnes was dead.

- - - Six Months Later - - -

The Soldat sat in a hotel lobby. His latest master had a meeting and he was told to sit and wait - like a good dog. He did. He was always obedient. Ever since the man with blonde hair and deep blue eyes had left. The TV in the corner blared a story about lost puppies. His acute hearing made the volume insufferable. A loud musical tone almost made him wince- almost. A man behind a news desk began speaking in Romanian, his voice echoing around the tiled room from the speakers in the television.

“Breaking News from New York City. The Avenger commonly known as “Changeling” has died. She was found in an apartment in Harlem. Cause of death has yet to be released but insider information describes a possible suicide.” The rest of the man’s words fade out as the Soldat watched the television. Pictures flashed across the screen of a beautiful woman with mahogany hair. She had a bright smile and hazel eyes. A flicker of a memory danced through his brain. Dany. Dany is dead. He thought for a long moment. Long after the images had left the screen and after his master had called him back to their home base, he thought about the girl with the pretty smile and the hazel eyes.

And he felt nothing.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x oc #bucky barnes x original female character #angst #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes #avengers endgame #the winter soldier

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fatesdeepdive · 3 years ago

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Entry 53: Home Sweet Abusive Home

I unlocked the Conquest version of My Castle at the end of the last chapter. It’s basically the same; there are different building styles, Lilith attacks instead of heals, the shops sell Nohrian weapons instead of Hoshidan ones, etc. I’m going to be ignoring castle stuff this time and instead analyzing classes.

Class Profile - Nohr Prince/Princess

Corrin and Kana’s default class, wields swords and dragon stones. Balanced with good HP and Strength. The class’s first skill, Nobility, boosts EXP gained. The other skill, Dragon Fang, gives a skill stat determined chance to do a special attack that does 1.5 damage. Dragon Fang also has unique animations that have Corrin attacking with dragon arms. Design wise, the black and white stripes are nice but a bit busy. The cape is nice, but the random slits over the princess version’s thighs are dumb.

Class Profile - Hoshido Noble

Nohr Prince/Princess’s promotion in Birthright and an optional promotion in Revelation. Stat wise, it has better Strength, Skill, and Defense than its Nohrian counterpart, as well as the ability to use staves. It’s first ability, Dragon Ward, gives nearby allies a luck based chance to half damage taken. This fits with its more supportive role. On the other hand, its second ability Hoshidan Unity gives a 10% boost to the activation rate of all skills. Design wise, it’s a silver and gold version of Corrin’s normal design with a few details that make it look more Hoshidan. It’s a great design, assuming you ignore the fact that the female version isn’t wearing pants.

Class Profile - Nohr Noble

The Conquest version of Hoshido Noble. Has slightly better Speed, Magic, and Resistance, as well as the ability to use tomes. Its first skill, Draconic Hex, lowers the stats of enemies after combat. The other skill, Nohrian Trust, is really interesting, allowing Corrin to use the battle skills of supporting allies. I love the black coloring with hints of magenta and the tattered cape, but I have to groan at the cleavage and continued lack of pants for female units. Also something I noticed: Nohr Nobles have a shield on their left shoulder, while Hoshidans have a shield on their right shoulder. It’s a nice little detail.

Also, you know how I stole Rinkah and Sakura’s weapons? The damn game gave them back!

Conquest Chapter 7: A Dragon’s Decree

Moron and his Nohrian siblings return to Castle Krakenburg. Garon praises Xander for invading Hoshido. Xander brings up Moron, who Garon apparently can’t see from ten feet away, and Garon is shocked that Moron isn’t dead. Garon yells at Moron for coming home and accuses him of being a spy. Xander insists Moron is loyal and brings up the fight with Ryoma. Iago believes this to be a ruse, which makes sense. He did that shit in Birthright.

Moron asks about the exploding sword. Garon very convincingly pretends to know nothing. Garon uses the fact that Moron is suspicious of the repeated attempts on his life as evidence that Moron is a traitor and orders Xander to execute him. So glad we came back.

Camilla and Elise beg for mercy and Xander refuses to kill his brother. Iago says that makes Xander a traitor, too. Moron says he’ll kill himself to protect Xander. Garon, overjoyed at the idea of suicide, decides to leave it up to Anankos, the dragon god who was mentioned like once in Birthright. Anankos whispers to Garon to spare Moron, if he passes a test. Moron must suppress a rebellion in the ice tribe to prove his loyalty, without any help from his siblings or the Nohrian military. Something about Moron going off alone to enemy territory to prove his loyalty feels oddly familiar...hope this isn’t secretly a ploy to kill Moron again.

Xander says that taking out an entire army singlehandedly is impossible. Moron agrees to the mission. After Moron leaves, Garon monologues about how Moron is going to lose all hope and wish for death. Real glad we chose to side with Nohr, this truly was the right decision.

Xander, hearing Garon say evil shit out loud, does not decide to stop working for Garon. He says he knows what he has to do, but spoiler alert, it isn’t overthrow his evil father.

Moron goes through the woods of the Forlorn, where you fight Leo in Birthright, with only Lilith accompanying him. Faceless show up and attack, surrounding Moron. Felicia shows up and takes one out with a dagger. Moron points out that he had to destroy Felicia’s friends and family without help, but shrugs it off because they aren’t technically at the Ice Village yet.

This battle is actually pretty good, taking on a ton of enemies with only two units. At the start of turn three, Silas and Elise show up to rescue Corrin. At the start of turn four, Elise’s retainers Arthur and Effie join them. Arthur mentions that he’s late because a bird stole his map and Effie’s late because her armor made her sink into the swamp. Elise mentions that Xander planned out this rescue behind Garon’s back.

Arthur

Arthur is Talitu's rude Wind Mage son...wait, wrong Arthur. Arthur is a Monk who...okay, once more time. Arthur is Elise’s unlucky but heroic Fighter retainer. I love Arthur as a character, this boisterous, cheesy, superhero fighting for justice. His design has this massive lantern jaw and he wears a superhero costume with a cape. His personal skill, Misfortune, makes critical hits more likely on both him and his enemies. This is fitting for the running gag of him being supernaturally unlucky, something reflected in gameplay by him having an abysmal luck stat.

Effie

Elise’s other retainer, a Knight. She seems to be a protective warrior. Honestly, I didn’t pick up too much about her personality because I was distracted by her utterly monstrous strength star. Effie is buff. Her personal skill, Puissance, pairs well with this by boosting her damage if she’s far stronger than an enemy. Personally, I’m not too fond of Effie’s design. Her face feels to girly and looks like she’s wearing make-up, which doesn’t match her personality. The big shoulder pads look weird and the boob plate is eye-roll inducing. At least it’s better than her Heroes design, which is atrocious.

After battle, Felicia volunteers to lead us to her village. The camera pans over to reveal Iago was responsible for the faceless attack. Because he’s an evil asshole who I hate.

Also I grabbed Mozu between chapters.

Support: Corrin/Elise

C: Corrin stumbles upon Elise practicing punching in a field. Elise insists she's just picking flowers because she's sweet. Eventually, Elise admits that she's training so she won't be a burden to the army.

B: Corrin trains Elise to grow stronger. Elise struggles to do push-ups.

A: Elise sobs about being pathetic. Corrin insists that war isn't about fighting, it's about having a pure desire for peace. The amount of people Corrin kills contradicts this.

S: Corrin gives Elise flowers to propose to her. I vomit.

Review: Setting aside the incestuous pedophilia that ends this one, not bad. I think Elise works more than Sakura because at least she’s entertaining when complaining about being a burden.

Support: Arthur/Felicia

C: Felicia tells Arthur she's a bad maid because she's incompetent and clumsy. Arthur relates.

B: Arthur explains that the best way to deal with problems is to be carefree. As he walks, he almost slips on a banana peel (despite the army not storing bananas) and is swarmed by mosquitos (which don't exist in this region).

A: Arthur tells a story of a time he tried to save a drowning person, hit his head, and almost drowned. The person he tried to save was helped by someone else. Arthur explains that he and Felicia shouldn't worry about mishaps.

S: Arthur asks Felicia to meet with him so he can propose. They fall in a pit, Setsuna style, and Felicia accidentally freezes Arthur's fingers so he can't get the ring out of his pocket.

Review: Paring up these absolute messes of people is hilarious.

Support: Mozu/Silas

C: Mozu asks Silas if she should just leave the army and go back home (to the corpse filled ruins of her village I guess) because she isn't very strong. Silas volunteers to train her to be stronger.

B: Mozu says Silas shouldn't waste time training her. Silas tells her her "I'm too weak to be good" mindset is holding her back and that her wasting her potential is a sin against her murdered parents. Goddamn.

A: Mozu, believing she has potential, improves. Silas says he wasn't talented as a kid and only became a good knight because he never gave up. Mozu promises to cook for him.

S: Silas proposes so he can have pie every day. Mozu fantasizes about killing people with S-Rank pair up bonuses.

Review: Not bad, but needed a certain spark to be great. Silas telling Mozu that attitude is everything is interesting, but it kinda falls off towards the end.

Support: Effie/Jakob

C: Jakob bakes a cake for Corrin. Effie eats it. Jakob tries to physically stop her but she shrugs off everything he throws at her.

B: Effie works out by lifting water barrels and tells Jakob that she needs to be strong so she can protect her friends, even if it costs her her own life. Jakob says he doesn't want her to die for him because he'd have to spend the rest of his life feeling guilty. Ugh!

A: Effie says that she can't not protect him because they're friends. Jakob says that's fine, just don't die in the process.

S: Jakob bakes a cake with protein powder instead of flour to propose to Effie. Effie says she isn't going to marry him for his baking skills, but for his good heart.

Review: Pretty good. Effie is amusing throughout this Support and the discussion of dying for friends is nice.

#effie fire emblem #arthur fire emblem #fire emblem fates #nohr #fire emblem conquest #elise fire emblem

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keanan1501 · 4 years ago

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Notable swaps: Dream & Tubbo, Fundy & Ranboo, DreamXD & Micheal

TRIGGER WARNINGS: mentioned child death, attempted child murder, intrusive thoughts

Short synopsis: Tubbo escapes prison and heads to Logsteadshire to deal with Dream once and for all, instead he finds something intresting in Logsteadshire... or should i say someone? Tubbo swings his sword in a lazy arch, a pleased grin on his face as the sword's enchantments hum under his hand "This is perfect" he breathes, turning to face his three companions with a bright smile "You three did wonderfully! Sam, consider your debt repayed" The creeper hybrid huffs, eyeing Tubbo as if the younger male was nothing but dirt beneath his shoes "Whatever, just don't expect me to come running when that cranky hog starts chasing" Tubbo giggles, grabbing Sam's arm and pulling him down, allowing Tubbo to pet Sam like one would pet a dog, the ram hybrid is blissfully ignorant of the creeper hissing in protest "Awe, Sam~ It almost sounds like you care for me~" he coos, and his bright smile transforms into something more sinister "Let Techno come, i escaped his 'unescapeable' prison after all. There's nothing that stupid pig can do that i can't counter"

Sam nods, a short and tight one, before he turns around and takes a few steps away from the group "Also, Tubbo. Keep away from Fundy, or else" Tubbo blinks, tilting his head slightly as Sam walks off, he'd known Fundy had moved in with Sam and Ponk shortly after L'manburg exploded, but for someone like Sam, who had rumors surrounding him about his heartlessness, warming up to the cheeky fox hybrid? That was something he didn't expect, he could feel excitement bubbling inside of him, Fundy was his little spy, and Sam and Ponk were both very powerful people, if his motto wasn't "the higher the risk the better the reward" he would have felt fear, unfortunately for Sam and Ponk, he only sees this as a challenge.

"Tubbo, everything alright?" right, he isn't alone. "I'm fine, just scheming" Tubbo shrugs Purpled's concern off, and smiles at Tommy, who is looking at him like he hung the moon and stars just for the blond, maybe he had, the white streak in Tommy's hair certainly proved he had. A small chuckle escapes his lips as he thought back to his now dead ally, Quackity, the duck hybrid had given him the revive book, allowing him to bring his two favorite toys back to life after their deaths, both now sporting a white streak amongst their usual brown and blond hair, proudly showing off the fact that they belong to him, that they're his toys, and noone else could ever hope to claim them.

Sure, Wilbur would have protested with every inch of his being if he could hear Tubbo now, but Tommy had accepted it, embraced it even, all he has to do is give Wilbur a nudge in the right direction, and his favorite toy will fall back into place, just like he'd done during exile. And Tubbo knows exactly how to give said first nudge, who better to target than Wilbur's best friend, his emotional support, his other half, his Dream?

Tubbo digs inside of his pocket, taking out a slightly dented but otherwise beautiful and functioning compass, the words "your Wilbur" carved into it with so much care, Tubbo could insult Phantommy in a lot of different ways, but he can't help but compliment the late ghost's designing skills and steady hands. Phantommy had given the compass to Dream, giving a similar one to Wilbur, except Wilbur's was labled with "your Dream" during exile, Tubbo wanted to tear Phantommy a new one right then and there, but he knew better. Phantommy wasn't Tommy, of course the silly ghost would think Wilbur belonged to Dream, he simply made a mistake, Wilbur belonged to Tubbo, not to Dream! So when Dream, Schlatt and Ranboo were attacked by a horde of creepers Tubbo swooped in and stole the compass, giving it to its rightful owner.

"I'm going to give a short visit to everyone's least favorite president" Tubbo announces, clicking the compass shut and stuffing it back into his pocket "Tommy, i trust you can distract Wilbur and Fundy long enough for me to have a pleasant chat with Dream?" the blond nods quickly, and Tubbo affectionately rolls his eyes, Tommy knows his place as Tubbo's toy, but even Tubbo is sometimes suprised by how much Tommy wants to please his "hero". The poor boy hadn't learned a thing in Pogtopia, had he? As soon as someone more powerful comes along Tubbo would drop Tommy like a stone, but until then Tubbo could enjoy soaking in the pure wonder and awe Tommy has for him.

The blond scurries off, and Tubbo turns to Purpled, smirks and winks, which causes the purple-hoodied male to grumble in either disgust or adoration, Tubbo liked to believe it is the latter "Don't forget i left Ranboo at the alter for you!" Tubbo shouts teasingly as he runs off, laughing as he could hear Purpled make fake gagging noises, definitely disgust.

The trek from the prison to Dream's new village... what was it called again? Logsteadshire or something? wasn't long, and Tubbo cringed as the buildings came into view. Sure, the odd mish-mash of dirt, stone, wood and diamond were passable as houses, but Dream never did have the best eye for design. Tubbo was glad Dream let Schlatt, Ranboo, Fundy, Ponk and Techno do most of the rebuilding for L'manburg, Blood God knows what Tubbo would have done if that stupid country was filled with Dream's odd shacks.

He wasn't here to bash on Dream, he was here to get his armor and weapons back, most notablely his sword "Wasp's Stinger" otherwise known as one of, if not the, most powerful weapon in his land. The dry sand crunches under his feet as he walks confidently across the sand, he could see Eret's kid, Junior, peeking out of one of the holes in the second biggest dirt shack, which must mean that Dream lives in the biggest shack.

Tubbo throws the door open with reckless abandon, walking in to the space like one would walk into their own house, he knows Dream isn't home yet, a good predator waits for their prey after all. He plops down on the couch, his ram ears perking up as the couch lets out a creaking noise, he can't help but wonder if the couch is older than him.

Then he freezes as hurried footsteps thunder down the stairs. Had he been wrong? Is Dream home? Is someone else here to housesit?

"Daddy! Daddy! Look!" Tubbo relaxes as a young ocelot hybrid comes around the corner, the kid couldn't be older then three, which means there is no threat. The kid is beaming, eyes screwed shut and a large droopy smile on their face as the kid proudly holds up a drawing containing four stick figures.

"I'm not your dad, kid" Tubbo chuckles "Sorry to disappoint you" the kid gasps and their round big cat ears pin back, their green eyes wide with both curiosity and fear. Tubbo blinks, and suddenly the ocelot hybrid is gone, and in their place is a ziglin, looking at him like Tubbo was the savior of the world, back then it had felt nice to have someone depend on him, now? It fills his chest with a burning emotion he can't quite place, a mix between grief, anger, confusion and betrayal. Michael can't look at him anymore, so why is he still looking at Micheal?

"Come sit kid, i won't hurt you" Tubbo pats the seat next to him, kids tended to overshare, he was going to use the kid to get some info on Dream, that was all, he wasn't being nice because the kid reminds him of Micheal, he's just being tactical. The kid slowly shuffles over, clutching the drawing like a lifeline, once the kid decides they're close enough he stops, and Tubbo leans forewards to inspect the drawing.

For a three year old he had to give the kid props, the lines looked good and he could make out who was who. Dream and Fundy are standing close together, the kid inbetween them, Wilbur is off to the side, but just like the three in the foreground the kid had drawn him with the biggest smile.

"Who did you draw?" Tubbo asks, looking at the kid with a genuinely curious expression, the kid glows at the question, and points to each stick figure in turn "That's my papa Dre! That's my daddy Funwy! And un'le Wilby! And me!" Tubbo nods, a small smile on his face, so what if the kid reminds him of Michael, noone would get hurt if he entertains the kid for a bit, right?

"Owl?" the kid asks, poking Tubbo in the leg and Tubbo chuckles "I'm not a owl, i'm a ram" he helpfully informs the kid, who pouts in response "Owl?" the kid asks again "You want to go see Wilbur?" Tubbo asks back, knowing Wilbur's wings were often compared to those of a owl, but the kid shakes their head, grabs a book, and flips through the pages. The kid holds up the book and presses it against Tubbo's face "Owl?" Tubbo backs away a bit so he can read the words on the page, it's a classic toddlers book, going over different animal sounds, and a lightbulb turns on in Tubbo's head "Are you asking me who i am?"

The kid nods, gleeful that Tubbo finally understands "I'm Tubbo, can you try saying my name?" Tubbo crouches next to the kid, gently grabbing the kid's hand and writes each letter of his name on the kid's palm, as the kid reads them out loud "T-u-b-b-o" a second of silence "T'bbi!" the kid cries victoriously, and Tubbo just puts his arms up in celebration with the kid, not having the heart to correct them.

"T'bbi, out?" the kid asks, looking at him with the biggest puppy eyes Tubbo's ever seen, how does this kid know his one weakness? Tubbo signs but smiles, opening the door, the kid rushes out and throws themself into the sand, letting out a screech of excitement "Daddy and papa do not let me out!" the kid babbles, making sand hills with such vigor that Tubbo can't help but admire the kid.

Would Micheal be like that if he'd hadn't...? His hand twitches. It was Dream's fault. The handle of his sword felt cold against his hand. He could get revenge. He takes a step forewards, his sword hanging limply by his side, when did he take it out of the scabbard? He could make Dream feel the same pain, the same dark spiral that he went through. His eyes flicker across the kid's body, quickly finding every weak point that would ensure a quick and painless death. He wasn't heartless, he wouldn't let the kid suffer. He puts his hand on the kid's cheek, the kid leans in to the touch, leaving their neck vulnerable. He wasn't a monster like Dream, he wouldn't leave the kid to bleed out, scared and alone.

He snaps from his thoughts as he feels something rumble beneath his hand, his ears face towards the kid, flicking whenever he could pick up on the faint sound of purring. Tubbo quickly sheaths his sword, noone deserves to go through the loss of a child, not even his greatest enemy. He lets out a sigh and pats the kid on the head, the kid purring even louder.

His ears flick backwards, and he realizes someone is approaching, probably either Fundy or Dream, and as much as he wanted to stick around and taunt the two, the ocelot kid was too young to get wrapped up in their silly game of chess. "Hey kid? I have to go" the kid whines as Tubbo pulls his hand back, short stubby arms reach out to his hand, trying to grab hold of it, but Tubbo is faster, he jumps up and silently runs to the other side of house that the approaching person is coming from. He could hear the kid yell "Daddy!" loudly, the kid's feet kick up sand as they run towards Fundy, the fox hybrid's orange hair standing out against the pale sand "XD?!" Fundy asks, worry coating his tone like Tubbo coats things he likes with honey "How did you get outside?! Is Dream here?!"

"T'bbi!" the kid answers simply, and Tubbo could almost see the fear rolling off of Fundy in waves "Y-you aren't try-ing to say Tubbo, are you?" the kid doesn't answer verbally, but from Fundy's sharp intake of breath he could tell the kid confirmed Fundy's words.

"Tubbo?! I know you're here! I'm calling Techno!" Fundy barks, and Tubbo peeks around the corner to see Fundy typing something on his communicator. With a ease that clearly shows he's done this many times before Tubbo pulls out a bow & arrow and shoots, the arrow goes straight through Fundy's communicator, breaking it, leaving Fundy with no way to call for help, and judging by Fundy's startled yip, the fox knows it. Tubbo steps out in the open, and the kid reaches towards him with a delighted cry "T'bbi!" Fundy grabs the kid's arm and pulls them close, baring his teeth at Tubbo. The ram hybrid just smiles and walks towards them, hand already on his most dangerous weapon of all, eyes unmoving from Fundy's stone-still form. Tubbo whips out his most dangerous weapon and fires, Fundy letting out a screech as he's assaulted by twin streams of thick honey. Tubbo knew repurposing those water guns into honey guns was a genius idea, he can't believe Sam doubted him.

"What?! Why?!" Fundy groans, trying to brush the sticky liquid out of his coat, but only succeeding in smearing it out more "Because, you and me, we're friends Fundy, best friends even!" Tubbo replies, walking past Fundy like he didn't just doom the poor fox to being a bee attraction for the next week "We're not friends!" Fundy snaps back, and Tubbo turns to face him, blue-green eyes almost seeming to glow in the light of dusk

"If we weren't friends, why would you help me so much? Blowing up the community house, spying on important events, guarding Wilbur's music disc, setting off the TNT trapping Wilbur in prison. All of those things are things that you did, things i asked you to do"

#dream smp au #dream smp #dsmp au #tubbo #fundy #dreamxd #swap au

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ivarthebadbitch · 4 years ago

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Strange things can happen

Chapter 14 summary: Ragnar makes an offer.

Canon divergent, everybody lives, arranged marriage AU after 4x14. Read this chapter on Ao3.

Previous chapters: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13]

On Ao3: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13]

Pairings: Ivar x OC, Ivar vs. basically everyone

Warnings: None

Word count: 2153

Tagged: @youbloodymadgenius @heavenly1927 @nukyster-blog @bae-roman @adhdnightmare @danisnotsosecret (if you would like to be tagged, let me know)

Notes: This week’s chapter is out a little early, BUT I have at last officially fallen behind, so no post for next week. Sorry for the delay, but we are actually closing in on the end here...probably going to end up around 17-18ish chapters total.

CHAPTER 14: A reasonable proposition

Under any other circumstance, Ivar would have been thrilled to be reunited with his father and Ubbe. But from one look at their faces as Aethelwulf hastily ushered them into King Ecbert’s study, it was painfully clear why they had come. As all eyes turned in his direction, it was also obvious that he was in a considerable amount of trouble.

“King Ecbert,” Ragnar acknowledged first with a nod. Then he turned to look at him. “Ivar,” he said in a tone that made his blood run cold.

“Father,” Ivar answered, trying to keep his voice from wavering. He could feel himself shrinking under his gaze.

Ragnar put his hand on his shoulder and squeezed hard enough to make him flinch. “Was there something you forgot to tell me about, boy?” he asked in Norse in a deceptively pleasant tone. “Something important with regards to your marriage?”

He looked away as shame flooded through him once again. Ragnar let out a humorless laugh and slapped him on the back. “I’ll have words with you later,” his father murmured in his ear. “There will be plenty of time for us to talk on the trip back to Kattegat.”

With that, Ragnar turned away to talk to Ecbert, and Ubbe stepped forward with a guilty look on his face. It was obvious what he had done.

“Traitor,” Ivar muttered before his brother could speak, smacking away his hand as he attempted to ruffle his hair. “Fuck you.”

Ubbe looked momentarily wounded, but then he leaned down to speak in Ivar’s ear. “I’m here to help get you out of this mess, you idiot,” he said quietly. “Just go along with what we tell you to do and we’ll all get out of this alive and you can go home.”

“Everything was going fine until you showed up,” Ivar snapped, even though that hadn’t exactly been the case for the past forty eight hours or so.

Ubbe scoffed at him and shook his head in disbelief. “What did I just say? Don’t be stupid. Father and I will sort this out.” Ivar rolled his eyes, but Ubbe was not done. “Really, Ivar? You didn’t tell Father before the marriage?”

“Shut up,” Ivar said through gritted teeth. “Looks like you were happy to tell him, though.”

“I had no choice!”

“I had no choice!” Ivar repeated in a mocking imitation. He leaned forward. “Why are you here anyway? You didn’t have to come with Father.” Then it dawned on him. “Unless…”

Now Ubbe looked especially uncomfortable. He took a step back, but not far enough to put himself beyond Ivar’s reach. Ivar immediately launched himself at Ubbe, sending both of them and the chair clattering to the floor. He managed to get in a couple good punches before Ragnar swooped in and dragged him off, smacking his head against the edge of the table with such force that he saw stars.

He gazed up at his father in a daze as Ubbe got up and brushed himself off, rubbing his jaw where Ivar had hit him. To the side, he briefly registered Ecbert and Aethelwulf staring at him with their mouths wide open before Ragnar grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him in close enough for Ivar to feel the heat of his breath.

“Control yourself, or I’ll make you wish you’d never been born,” Ragnar snarled. Without loosening his grip on Ivar, he looked over his shoulder at Ecbert and smiled. “King Ecbert, we have important matters to discuss, and my son Ivar is very tired. Perhaps he can take some rest in his room while we talk. He may rejoin us once he is capable of behaving himself.”

“A good plan,” Ecbert said, and motioned for the guards to come forward.

Ivar nearly blacked out as Ragnar relinquished his grip and gave him over to the guards, who draped his arms over his shoulders and pulled him into a standing position. “Father, wait, I can explain—” he pleaded, but they were already hauling him out to the hallway and back to his room with his feet dragging uselessly across the floor.

The room was empty and dark. The guards dropped Ivar on the bed and walked out without a word, shutting the door firmly behind them. He heard the click of the key turning in the lock and his heart suddenly filled with despair. He would be sent back to Kattegat in disgrace and he would never see Aldreda again. She would marry Ubbe in his place and forget all about him. Somehow the thought of that hurt more than anything.

He knew he should be angry with her. She had told Ecbert his secret, after all, and he wasn’t about to forgive her for that. It was a betrayal, pure and simple, and at any rate, forgiveness was something Christians did. He should be furious.

He found he didn’t want to be angry with her.

Ivar sat back on the bed and exhaled slowly. He was used to being angry about all sorts of things, of course. That was the way he had always been, ever since he was a small child. It had never occurred to him that he didn’t have to be. The thought was oddly liberating. He felt the sudden urge to tell Aldreda about his revelation, until he remembered she probably didn’t want to talk to him.

He flopped on his back with a groan and stared at the ceiling. Ubbe was right—he was an idiot, though not for the reasons his brother supposed him to be. He really had made a mess of things with Aldreda. At this stage, it was hard to see a way to fix it, especially with his father now breathing down his neck along with everyone else. For the first time in weeks, he felt unbearably alone. He didn’t want to cry again as he had in front of Aldreda after she told him she asked for the annulment—he was a man, and men were supposed to be stronger than that. But if nobody was around to witness it, then maybe it was all right.

In the fading evening light, he curled up on his side and wept until he fell asleep.

With his wayward son momentarily dealt with, Ragnar settled in at the table with Ecbert, Aethelwulf, and Ubbe. The journey to Wessex had been full of bad weather and various mishaps, and they were fortunate to have arrived intact, if a little worse for wear. He glanced briefly at Ubbe, who was gazing around Ecbert’s study with his mouth hanging open slightly, and he cuffed him on the back of the head. “Don’t gawk,” he muttered. “Pay attention.”

Ubbe rubbed his head. “You know I don’t understand English, Father,” he said reproachfully.

“Pay attention anyway.” Ragnar leaned back in his chair and turned his focus to the Saxons with a smile. “King Ecbert. After I returned to Kattegat, certain information came to my attention about my son Ivar regarding his suitability for marriage to...to…” by the gods, what was the girl’s name? “—your granddaughter. Believe me, I proposed our agreement in good faith and had no intention to deceive you.”

Aethelwulf scoffed and turned to Ecbert, shaking his head. “My lord, you cannot take this heathen at his word.”

“Oh, can’t I? If my friend and ally Ragnar Lothbrok truly meant to deceive us, then why would he return now? Anyway, this confirms what the boy told me.” Ecbert said. He looked back at Ragnar. “Your timing is fortuitous. Just this morning, my granddaughter came to me to request an annulment, citing Ivar’s, ah, difficulty. It is a most unfortunate situation for everyone. If the marriage cannot be consummated, then it must be dissolved so Aldreda can be free to marry another, and Ivar is free to...well, free to do other things. This, sadly, also has implications for our trade agreement.”

“Of course,” Ragnar answered. He gestured to Ubbe. “Fortunately, my son Ubbe has a proposition. In order to maintain our agreement, Ubbe will marry your granddaughter and take Ivar’s place while Ivar returns with me to Kattegat. As you can see, Ubbe is handsome and in good health, and besides, he has many fine qualities.”

Aethelwulf raised an eyebrow. “Forgive my skepticism, but what fine qualities might your son possess? Because I seem to recall being told something similar the last time around.”

“Ah.” Ragnar scratched his head and regarded his son for a moment. “Well, I do not like to speak for him. In time, Ubbe will demonstrate to you his fine qualities. Of which he has many. I assure you.”

“No doubt,” Aethelwulf answered coldly, but Ecbert was already nodding and looking Ubbe up and down in approval.

“I find this to be a reasonable proposition,” Ecbert said at last.

Aethelwulf turned and looked at him in dismay. “Father, surely you cannot agree to this so hastily,” he protested. “Ivar and Aldreda have only been married for a little while, and though I understand your concerns, they are young and there is plenty of time for them to consummate the marriage. It would be less disruptive to simply wait, rather than rushing into things again.”

Ecbert let out a low chuckle. “Why, and here I thought you despised the boy!”

Aethelwulf reddened. “I admit I did not approve of this marriage at the beginning. But I believe Ivar means to do right by my daughter, and it is only fair to give him and Aldreda that chance.”

“Ivar attempted to run away,” Ecbert reminded him. “He suborned a priest and stole your late wife’s necklace in the process. This happened two nights ago.”

“Well, yes, but…”

Ragnar stared at both of them. “I’m sorry, Ivar did what?”

Ecbert waved his hand. “Oh, it’s a long story; I’ll tell you later. The boy was not harmed, I can assure you of that.” He stroked his beard thoughtfully for a moment. “But to return to your proposal, I must say that Aethelwulf has a point. The circumstances that led to my granddaughter’s marriage to your son Ivar were very rushed. I blame myself for this. We were simply carried away by our shared enthusiasm, and this regrettable situation might have been avoided if we had been more deliberate. But now we have the chance to do things properly.”

Ragnar glanced at Ubbe, who was looking back and forth between Ecbert and Aethelwulf with a confused look on his face. “They are agreeable for the most part; otherwise, we’d be sitting in chains in the dungeon right now,” he murmured in Norse to his son. He turned back to Ecbert and smiled. “Yes. Everything shall be done properly,” he agreed. “So long as it is done.”

Aethelwulf drummed his fingers on the table irritably. “I am still of the opinion that Aldreda and Ivar should have more time to work things out between them, but I know my opinion means little in this company. However, before things proceed further, I must insist that certain conditions be met.”

“Reasonable conditions, my son,” Ecbert murmured. “We are all reasonable men here.”

Aethelwulf glared at him. “Eminently reasonable. My lord king.” He turned back to Ragnar and Ubbe. “First, if your son Ubbe is to marry Aldreda, she must find him an acceptable match. I do not wish to see her dragged unwillingly to the altar for the second time in less than two months. My other condition is that I require Ubbe to be baptized before the marriage can proceed.”

Ragnar looked at Ubbe and sighed. “He says his daughter must agree to the match, and that he wishes for you to become a Christian,” he explained.

To his surprise, Ubbe shrugged. “That is an understandable request,” he said. “Tell them I am willing to do it.”

“You’d renounce the gods?” Ragnar asked. “Some might call you a traitor. You’ll never be allowed to return to Kattegat.”

“Well, you were baptized before, weren’t you? The gods haven’t struck you down yet. Anyway, we must demonstrate to the Saxons that we are serious about the alliance.”

Ragnar gave a little sarcastic laugh. “Ah, poor Ubbe. Sacrificing yourself in order to marry a princess.”

That earned him a look of irritation from his son. “Just tell them, Father. We came all this way for a reason. Let’s not throw this opportunity away.”

“As you wish.” He turned to Ecbert and Aethelwulf. “My son agrees.”

Aethelwulf stared at him in dismay. “He...he agrees?”

The stunned look on Aethelwulf’s face almost made the entire trip worth it. Ragnar grinned. “Wonderful. Now that we’ve got that out of the way, perhaps you might introduce Ubbe to your daughter? I’d like to discuss our trade agreement with my good friend and ally King Ecbert. There are a few details I wish to refine…”

#vikings #ivar the boneless #fanfiction #fic: strange things can happen

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kagrenacs · 4 years ago

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Tes Iceberg Explained #2

Once again i’m not covering everything, particularly not bothering with things such as Black Books/Naked Nords which are a main focus within the games. And not everything is covered in extensive detail, many of these things i could cover more thoroughly, but that would make this post very, very long. CW for brief discussion of Sexual Assault

N'Gasta! Kvata! Kvakis!: A book with a secret meaning you can find

here: https://www.imperial-library.info/content/mystery-ngasta-kvata-kvakis

Nords were Giants: A theory that Giants and Nords share atmoran ancestors

The Last Dragonborn is Talos: A theory that the Last Dragonborn who is a potential Shezzarine like Talos, and shares a title with him

Mutara is symbolism for a penis: A lot of people joke that Mutara is symbolism for a penis and that’s it, but MK has stated it’s an anagram for Trauma revolving around the encounter with Molag Bal (original post deleted along with a lot of his reddit content)

Briar-Heart Lorkhan reenactment: the Reachmen sometimes will give a chosen warrior a Briar-Heart in place of their human heart to better harness magical energy and power, this theory connects it with Lorkhan’s heart being torn from his chest during his death

Titus Mede is Thalmor: Didn’t find much on this, but i feel it’s rather self-explanatory

The Trial of Vivec: An obscure MK text, TW for Rape if you go looking for it

Reavers from the North: A class of bandits on Solstheim

World-Eating/ The Aldudagga: An interesting obscure MK text discussing Alduin’s role as worldender. The text states that ‘the Leper Demon King’ and Lorkhan made a compact/bargain of some sort to prevent this. Lorkhan tries to hide under Red Mountain, but it’s already eaten by Alduin so he ends up stuck between/within Kalpas, essentially out of time. LDK states he and Lorkhan hoard parts of the old world and add them to the new, so that it takes Alduin longer to eat the world the next time. Alduin calls him a stupid little fucker (not relevant, but i wanted to have this on record) and curses him with the name Mehrunes Dagon, essentially forcing him to oblivion and cursing him to stay there until he destroys everything. It also attributes to part of Saarthal’s destruction to Mehrunes Dagon worshipers/Dagon himself, tells of a tale of a Flying Whale and a Dirtbird making a deal with Molag Bal and explains the tradition of Nord’s cow painting as offers for giants. Many folks consider this noncanonical, including some die-hard lore fans.

Abagarlas: A Molag Bal worshiping Ayleid city, in conflict with Meridia worshipping cities

The Tri-angled Truth: possibly the Psijic Endeavor, but also shown to be the worship of The True Tribunal and belief in Mundus as a trial ground made by Lorkhan. (The two statements may be connected by Boethiah, who preached the Psijic Endeavor to the Velothi)

The Ooze: A bosmeri term for the primordial chaos of early nirn before the Earthbones stabilized it.

Prophecy writing: This might be a reference to several things, possibly the actions of the ‘Hero’ in each Elder Scroll to fulfill the prophecy and make their will a reality, possibly the Ancestor Moth Cult and their role of recording the prophecies they see.

The Eleven forces: Laws of magic described by the Psijic order, also a term used to describe their council

The Halls of Colossus: An ancient site of ruins, possibly dedicated to the worship of dragons, as ESO shows. Tiber Septim may have kept the Numidium here and it may have had adverse effects on the surrounding region

Mantling: The concept of becoming so similar to another being, you literally become them/take up their power.

Tiber’s Purges: Destruction of cities and royal families that did not agree with Tiber Septims rule, using the Numidium

House Ra’athim and Mora: House Mora was a minor Dunmer/Chimer house with human ancestry, before fading away and being absorbed by House Hlaalu. House Ra’athim was a powerful clan of nobility within House Mora that ruled Ebonheart and were loyal to the King of Morrowind. The Ra’athim were said to be miners and owned an extensive amount of ebony mines. Nerevar was also said to be originally from House Mora.

Talos is Lorkhan: A theory that Talos mantled the place of Lorkhan within the pantheon of the Divines.

An-Xileel: An argonian faction of anti-colonists, probably based in Lilmonth

Tamriel Technological Degeneration: A theory that states the technology of Tamriel is slowly declining, primarily sourcing the existence of Dwemer tech. Sometimes associated with a theory that Tamriel is experiencing a decline in magic, citing the streamlining of skill trees in Morrowind and Oblivion into the one seen in Skyrim

Wulf: An avatar of Tiber Septim, seen in Morrowind

Mannimarco is not the King of Worms: The theory that the Mannimarco seen in Oblivion is not Mannimarco the God, but an imposter or the remnants of the mortal Mannimarco

Sunbirds: Altmer airships, possibly designed with the intent to reach Aetherius, may or may not have been successful. Sources are primarily unlicensed works or vague mentions

House Dres Vampires: Garan Marethi , Volikhar vampire, states he was tired of the politics of House Dres. A Game at Dinner recounts the poisoning of a spy at a banquet King Helseth held, notably the anonymous author was stated to be Dres and desired to be relieved of his title. Dhaunayne, mentioned as this spy’s master, appears in Morrowind as head of the Aundae vampire clan.

Arkved’s Void: The nightmare of the wizard Arkved, who stole Vaermina’s orb in Oblivion

The Book of Hours: A teaching by Vivec focusing on the Dragon Breaks, Middle Dawn and the Blue Star Mnemoli

The Dreamsleeve: This is a bit difficult to explain as there are two meanings often attributed to the word. The first meaning is the collective consciousness/dream of everyone in existence, and a method to transmit information from person to person via dreams/unconscious thought, this is the explanation present in canon. In things considered more dubiously canon, it is the process of life/death/rebirth.

Pyandonea is Aldmeris: The theory that the home of the sea elves is actually the ancient continent of Aldmeris

Emperor Zero: Discussed in previous post, TL;DR, a cult established by Tiber Septim to honor his predecessor paving the way for his conquering of Tamriel

Infinitely Large Planetoids: A reference to a text by MK discussing the cosmology of TES. The planets of Mundus are the Eight Divines/the bodies of them, they are also the planes of the gods. They appear as planets in the sky because mortal minds can’t comprehend their true form. They are infinite, but also surrounded by oblivion, so the mortal mind comprehends them as planets.

Kalpas: The cycle of birth/death/rebirth the universe/aurbis goes through.

Satakal: The Yokudan God of Everything, the universe, a fusion of Anu/Padomay. Like Alduin, he eats his own tail/is reborn (see kalpas above). The Yokudan pantheon is made up of Gods who learned to survive this cycle.

Summerset Isles is part of Thras: The thought that originally the Sload may have called the Summerset Isles home, or part of their home. Supported by the fact the oldest structures in the isles is made of coral.

Aldmeris never existed: The thought that the myth of Aldmeris is just a myth

Wayrest Secret painting message: Part of the main quest of Daggerfall, a way for the Agent to discover Daggerfall agents killed King Lysandus

Anumidi Models: A reference to Vehk’s Teaching, a text by MK that describes the Psijic Endeavor and it’s relationship to CHIM and the Tower. To summarize, the Anumidi models (Numidium and presumably lesser models such as centurions) are a metaphor/representation of the Tower (The universe when you tilt your head to the side, or an I)

Cybiades: An island off the coast of Sentinel, populated with Vampires.

Yokudan Sidestepping: The theory that the Yokudans/their pantheon come from an alternate timeline/the past, and avoided the destruction of Yokuda by stepping into the current timeline.

The Red Templars: Lore from the Redguard Fourms, MK describes them as ‘psycho-crusaders who drank the blood of Talos to get short-term martial shouting powers’ The rest of the legion largely disliked them.

Two Tiber theory: The Theory that Tiber Septim was in fact two people, Tiber Septim the general/Hjalti Early-Beard and Zurin Arctus. Making him both a Nord and Breton like ingame texts suggest.

Magika=Energy of Existence: I discuss this a few times on this blog. The simple theory that magic is energy/life force, the equivalent to the real world’s laws of thermodynamics. Supported by the fact that Meridia is said to be the lady of infinite energies and hates the undead who disrupt the natural flow of magic/energy

Dro’Zira: A Khajiit folk hero present at the Battle of Red Mountain, Wulfharth may have used his thu’um to turn him and other Khajiit into Senche. Said to have defended Wulfarth from Dumac Dwarfking, and killed the monarch. Later confined to the Shivering isles and rescued by Wulfharth.

Stars 3D Skydome: Presumably a reference to the fact that stars are holes between oblivion and aetherius and act as a sort of dome between Nirn and Aetherius

Blades Secret Bloodlines: Didn’t find much on this, my guess is it’s a reference to the theory that the blades kept the bloodlines of the Septim emperors a secret, and multiple bastard heirs may have been produced through generations.

Arden Sul: the first Duke of the Shivering Isles, Mania and Dementia have opposing beliefs on his life. Mania knows him as the Artificer Superior, a skilled craftsman who consumed large amounts of Greenmote, his revelers and/or himself may have consumed so much, their hearts exploded and ‘lifeblood flowed from their chests’. Extremists of Mania believe he is the true god of the Shivering isles. Dementia regards him as a Dark Deceiver, who fed poisoned wine to his allies, suspecting a traitor and killing everyone, reading their lifeblood for the traitor. When he couldn’t find it, he tore his heart out in distress. Extremists of Dementia regard him as the mortal aspect of Sheogorath. Both sides consider his soul to be beyond oblivion, ready to pounce at any moment.

From the Many-Headed Talos: Hemskir’s speech, another MK text. Describes Talos removing the jungle from Cyrodiil.

Hist Biological Supercomputers: Self explanatory, the theory that the hivemind of the hist is equivalent to a biological supercomputer (unrelated to tes, but this reminds me of the concept of plant intelligence, memory and perception)

#Tes Iceberg #The Elder Scrolls #Kagrenacs Journal #long post

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babin-iiv · 3 years ago

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STAR WARS REBELS: THE GHOST'S SAGA CHAPTER 4

Here we are, once more, my friends. I hope people who are reading these, catch onto the little foreshadowing bits I'm doing. I hope you enjoy the rest of our journey. Now, enough chit chat. Let's see what's gonna happen to our little Mighty Mando.

Disclaimer: Alas, I am not the owner of the STAR WARS… I know, I know… I'm heartbroken too. All I can do is write my heart out for all of you and tell the story I'd want to see.

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Chapter 4: The Mighty Mando Enters Part 3

Sabine could feel herself being dragged. The darkness surrounded her vision. Is she safe? Is she on her way on an Imperial off-world prison? The possibilities were terrifying. Her brain was flooded with all sorts of different thoughts. What if she was going to be tortured? What if she was sentenced to death? No one would care about an ex-Imperial, Mandalorian traitor… She could feel her heart grasp at her veins. The life that she had lived was shorter than any of her kind. The only hope she had was that when she woke up, there would be a light at the end of her tunnel.

Hours passed. Maybe days. Weeks even? She felt nothing, floating in the emptiness of her unconscious mind. Sometimes, voices echoed in her head. Unknown and unfamiliar. Finally, after what seemed to be an eternity later, she slowly opened her eyes. As soon as she gained consciousness, she jerked up. Looking around at where she was situated, it was clear to her that it was by no means an Imperial facility. She scanned the room with her eyes. From what she could see, Sabine was in a room with a bunk bed. The injured girl was on the bottom bunk with some Bacta patches laying on the drawer next to her.

She rubbed her head and sides, feeling more patches attached to her body. The Mando girl slowly got into a sitting position, a sting striking up her ribs. Great, must've broken something under that wing. She grabbed her helmet and checked inside to see if anything was missing. Nothing was taken. Maybe, she wasn't in a hostile environment after all. Feeling around where her belt usually was, she was shocked to see her blasters still in place. As soon as the door slid open, she drew her blasters towards the center. There they stood. The same couple who she had seen and stole from in the alleyway.

"Good to see you're finally awake." A soft, almost motherly voice came from the doorway. The light outside, made it harder to see the faces of the two beings in front of her. "You know, if you had told us that you needed our stuff to give one to the Empire, we would've helped you out." The young man said with a smug grin on his face. "How are you feeling? Those explosions did a real number on your head and ribcage." The Twi'lek woman kindly exclaimed. "Why?" Was the only word that came out of Sabine's mouth. "Why did you help me out?" She slowly got up, her blasters still pointed at them.

"Anyone who's an enemy of the Empire, can be a potential ally in these times." The young man said with a serious tone in his voice. "What if I'm a secondary enemy?" Sabine said with bitterness in her voice, her past and sufferings made her a very pessimistic individual. "The fact that you haven't shot us both is proof enough. I've seen Mandalorians. They're not the kind of people who would think about shooting the people they perceive to be their enemies." Kanan said in response. "Plus, we couldn't just leave you there. You're just a kid." Hera said in a motherly tone that was heartbreaking to Sabine. Who were these people? How did he know about Mandalorians? "I'm not a kid." Sabine said with a bitter tone. Kanan looked at her with curiosity.

"Well, Mando, if you are interested in having some breakfast, we'd be happy to share." Kanan said with a grin on his face before they both left Sabine with her thoughts. The door slid close behind them and Sabine slowly holstered her guns. Seriously, who were these people?! They had helped her… Even after she stole their equipment… They nursed her back to health... And the Twi'lek called her dear… It had been a long and hellish time since she had an interaction as unhostile and innocent as this. This was highly unusual for the girl who had seen nothing but hardships in her life. She was as confused as a Wookie who had seen the HoloNet for the first time. Trauma was basically her middle name by now. She struggled with her thoughts for a few minutes, trying to weigh the situation in her head.

Finally, the Mandalorian had decided to go outside and eat breakfast with the others. She slowly walked through the door and looked all around. "Well, it is better than the wreck she crashed with here. A bit too dull… Could use a little color but hey, anything that wasn't an Imperial facility would be just fine." Sabine walked through another door before she arrived at the resting hall. Kanan swallowed his piece of flatcake before smirking and looking up at her. "Well well well, look who's finally decided to come out and socialize. Very uncharacteristic for a Mando."

Sabine rolled her eyes, sitting on the empty seat in front of them and responding with pride. "That's because I'm unique. Nayc Mando cuyir guuror ni." Saying the last part under her breath. "I think…" Before Kanan could say another word, Hera nudged him in the side and said. "Well, dear, I suggest you eat something. You need the energy. I'm Hera. This is Kanan." Kanan softly nodded and Sabine thought about her next step. Should she trust them? They seem like nice people… And she always said working with other people against the Empire is better. Fighting the Empire is easier when you're not the only one taking a stand. Without allies, she had as much chance as a Jawa would have against a Mandalorian. "Sabine…" The Mandalorian warrior said with a mere whisper. Kanan raised a brow and Hera let a soft smile form on her face.

"Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, dear." Hera said with genuine kindness in her voice. "Yeah, it's nice to see a Mandalorian fighting on the same side as us for a change." Kanan said with a smirk. Sabine looked at the two of them before saying. "I guess I owe you guys, huh?" Kanan and Hera replied at the same time. "You don't owe us anything…" Kanan cleared his throat and gave his voice a serious tone. "But IF you're interested, we wouldn't mind having a Mandalorian fighting by our side." Sabine smirked and said "I thought I was just a kid." Kanan looked at her and said "Don't get cocky, kid." He said with a shake of his head.

Sabine pondered her options before saying "I wouldn't mind joining this little cause. I have enough hate for the Empire to fuel me for all eternity." Hera poured a cup of caf for each of them. Sabine took off her helmet once more and took a sip, taking a deep breath before saying "thanks…" Her word was barely heard. Hera just gave her smile and nodded gently before Kanan gave a nod of his own. They finished their meal before Hera looked at Sabine and gave her a smile. "So, I'm correct in guessing the explosion was your little gift to the Empire?" Kanan came in with an untimely respond. "Of course it was her! She's a Mandalorian. Explosions are basically their addiction."

Sabine gave him a nasty look before saying. "Hey!... We’re much more than explosive addicts!" She pouted before Kanan tried to give her a compliment. "Well, your explosion wasn't anything ordinary. It was full of colors. You don't see THAT with other Mandos." Sabine let took a soft breath before saying "Well, otherwise, they would be dull. I like giving my miracles more personality." Kanan gave her a nod out of respect. Hera grabbed the dishes and walked out of the resting hall. "So, where are we anyways?" Sabine asked and Kanan answered. "We are hovering over Lothal for now. We were looking for some supplies."

"We did some recon on a few outposts. Even bugged some of them. Now, since you blew up one of those facilities sky high, we have to…" Before he could finish his explanation, an alarm was sounded from the cockpit. Kanan ran and disappeared behind a pair of doors. Sabine stood where she was, looking at him with a confused impression on her face. Before she could think about it, Kanan called out from the cockpit. "HERA!!! THERE'S A HUGE CALL TO ALL ARMS IN SECTOR 8! LOOKS LIKE THE IMPS HAVE THEIR HANDS FULL WITH A HIGH LEVEL THREAT! GET OVER HERE, WE GOTTA GET THERE ASAP!"

Hera ran towards the cockpit, faster than a speeder, slipping inside and manning the controls. "Okay, let's see what the Imps got themselves into this time." She said with a chuckle. "Looks like they've got their hands full this month!" Sabine suddenly realized, she had been knocked out for two weeks. Wow, it'd been pretty tough. She could hear Bucketheads talking over the comm. Not all of their words were clear to her, though. The doors coupled with Kanan and Hera's covo made it hard to understand. "HEEEELP!!! WE NEED SOME HEEELP!!! THERE'S A *Muffled* HERE!!! HE'S KILLING US!!! JUST GIVE US BACKUP!!! SEND *Muffled* UNITS!!!"

Kanan walked out of the cockpit with Hera looking at him from inside. "I thought they were… Extinct… How is this possible?" He shook his head and brought his head up and looked at Sabine dead serious. "Mando, are you ready for a fight? You gonna join us on this one?" Sabine nodded and quickly put her helmet on. "Hey, I gotta pay you off, somehow." Hera nodded at Kanan before yelling. "Settle down, people! We might get into a REAL intense situation! Kanan, gear up! Sabine, whatever you need, ask Kanan and he'll give it to you!" As they both went to get their equipment ready, the Ghost soured faster than ever to sector 5. It was time.

On the surface of the planet, troopers were being thrown around as if they were weightless. Shots were being fired, bodies were being pierced. Blood was spilt everywhere. "WE NEED HELP!!! HOW CAN ONE OF THESE THINGS KILL SO MANY OF US???" A trooper yelled before being pierced through the stomach, slammed into a wall and thrown on the ground. "You… You were supposed to be extinct… We saw to it… How can it be… You're not real…" The attacker gave a smirk before looking over his shoulder to look at the trooper. Flames were raging in his eyes; a planet could be turned to smoke with his gaze.

"I'm as real as the blood dripping down your little limp body. I will have revenge. For all my brothers and sisters." He said as he disappeared into the smoke.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

I know, I know, Rebels has become a bit more intense. Much more blood. I hope you don't mind. That was the story of how I hope Sabine had met the crew.

Ooooooo, interesting. Most interesting. Who can THIS be? Who can destroy troopers like they were nothing? We'll see, won't we? I hope you enjoyed this chapter and trust me, the next chapter will be filled with explosions and destruction.

MAY THE FORCE BE WITH YOU ALL!

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madhyanas · 4 years ago

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🍵 and the siege of Mandalore arc?❤❤❤

oh a serious question. well then. keep in mind i’m not great at applying critical thought to star wars so most of this is just gushing

imo contains some of the best scenes in the clone wars show as a whole. visually and thematically

maul stole the show of whatever scene he was in. as he tends to do

sam witwer KING once again delivering the sickest lines imaginable. “too late for what, for the republic to fall?” gets me in particular but his entire conversation with ahsoka pre-duel is immaculate. more maul saying weird philosophical stuff please i eat that shit up

ahsoka and maul’s duel was maaaad. i mean. wow. the choreography, dialogue, score. all of it was incredible, it’s probably the scene i go back to and rewatch the most.

i liked how ahsoka was so close to joining maul. the overlap of their ideologies and their dynamic as a whole is fascinating. wish we could have seen more of it in rebels

the animation is so CRISP. i don’t do art/animation so i’m no expert but i love the fluidity, especially in fight scenes and facial expressions. that being said i think they skimped on rex post-O66 a little i wanted more MELODRAMA thank you

mandos mandos mandos MANDOS. everyone looked slick as fuck 10/10

ms bo-katan kryze you might have earned your rights with that elevator scene. more jetpack focused strategy and battle choreography i NEED IT

i don’t even care about bo-katan that much or gar saxon at all but their whole chase/battle was dope

speaking of bkk i would like to see more of her relationship with ahsoka. mainly because the arc implied them to be allies and friends so how would that WORK lmao. even in mando s2 bkk’s got tabs on ahsoka’s whereabouts but is that a ‘friends help friends’ thing or just. strategy. hm.

listen i don’t even need to say it but the whole landing on mandalore sequence is phenomenal i think about ahsoka swooshing people out of the carriers every day

using lightsabers to slow your fall!!!!! leaving scorch marks in the metal!!!! happens in a few scenes and im in love every time

very VERY happy that ahsoka’s showdown with maul was preceded by handing jesse over to rex. it sets up the pre-duel conversation quite nicely, fits with maul’s character as he needs ahsoka to be open to discussion AND we get (unfortunately brief) jesse&rex interaction pre-O66. i don’t know that much about him but jesse’s s7 appearances are cool and they set up his post-O66 plot priority pretty well

body language in this arc is EXTREMELY nuanced. especially rex’s: the parallels between him first pulling his weapons on ahsoka a lá “find him (fives)” vs. shooting back in defence once his chip is removed,,, the same stance but mirrored,,,, good fucking food

after O66 is announced i think ahsoka’s strategising with the droids onboard the destroyer is a little... meh. i know it’s buildup to her removing rex’s chip but i didn’t get very invested in that sequence. seemed kinda s3-4 vibes if that makes sense? oh well

something @thecyndimistuff mentioned that stuck w me is how the entire arc is focused on showing how ahsoka’s such a good person for not killing the clones rather than rex dealing with O66. like i understand that ahsoka’s the closest thing tcw has to one singular protagonist but if there’s any media that would explore how a de-chipped clone feels about choosing one of his two families (i.e. the clones or ahsoka and by extension anakin) it should have been tcw. this show really should be more about the clones like that’s just false advertising

i can blame this on dbb’s voice acting but as much as i enjoyed what little we saw of rex’s emotional turmoil post-chip removal, it still fell somewhat flat. i think they could’ve gone further with it. like the whole “those men down there, my brothers” thing where ahsoka takes his helmet off is heart-wrenching yeah but... it felt like they were crescendoing to a point and just never reached it. probably because ahsoka’s response was deemed more important to the scene than what rex was feeling to prompt such an outburst in the first place

tldr; it’s a great arc and i really enjoyed it. but to be picky: just like with the show as a whole, it lacks in clones’ (specifically rex’s) characterisation

#off the top of my head that's everything #sw #sw: tcw #sw meta #ask game #ask #oloreaa #my meta

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retvenkos · 4 years ago

Text

he smiles // mordred

Merlin (BBC) - Mordred x Fem!Reader, fluff

A/N: 8.1k words!!! i didn’t think it was in me, but i clearly love mordred more than i should...

Summary: There had been time for them to bask in each other’s presence, to feel their souls intertwine as their paths converged onto the same road. For, in those days, few as they were, Mordred and (Y/n) shared a common destination and their fates were one.

brother, you could never understand the beauty in his eyes and the pain reflected there. i have found legends of the most desolate of places with the most gruesome of histories and none of them compare to the look in his eyes. he has been rubbed raw of everything he’s loved and has been chipped away of everything he once was.

but he is beautiful, brother, when the stars are resting in the black night of his hair and when the ivy climbs his skin like a statue of marble.

and when he smiles…

is there beauty that could compare?

ii.

Laughter, warmth, and wine filled the Banquet Hall. Knights celebrated, feasting and drinking to good fortune, speaking with one another in their usual, rowdy tones. Music played and merriment filled the hearts of every soldier and guest in the room.

Instead of sitting at the high table where his father had sat before him, King Arthur was amongst his people, Guinevere at his side, speaking to the man that was cause for celebration; Mordred. An old acquaintance and new ally, this young man was knighted earlier that day and the newest recruit was being honored the only way Camelot knew how.

Mordred was smiling, disbelief clinging to the edges of his mouth, hope blooming roses on his cheeks, underneath his skin. His joy was more subdued than that of those who surrounded him, but it seemed as though the happiness that clung to him was the most pure and full joy he had ever experienced in all his years on Earth.

(Y/n) had yet to meet Modred when Gwaine grabbed her arm and took her over to where his fellow knights were huddled together, in the center of the hall.

“Gwaine,” (Y/n) huffed, following her older brother, despite her initial reaction of refusing, “what is it, this time?”

“You haven’t greeted the King and Queen! Guinevere was wondering if you had gotten holed up in the library again, archiving histories no one’s ever going to read.” Gwaine’s voice bubbled with glee, the mead he had drunk already taking effect on his mood, making him even more playful than usual.

“Are you sure it wasn’t because you didn’t want me talking to the ladies at court? I heard a pretty blonde knows you better than I.”

Gwaine grabbed another drink from a nearby servant and took a swig of it. “If she knew me better than you, she wouldn’t have talked to me the way she did.”

(Y/n) scoffed. “Apparently she spends quite a lot of time in your chambers, as well.” (Y/n) raised an eyebrow and stole her brother's mead, taking a drink of it herself.

“We’ve been getting better acquainted.”

(Y/n) rolled her eyes and Gwaine laughed, taking his drink back, only to find it empty. He nudged her in the ribs with a playful scowl before letting go of her arm and nodding to the Queen. He disappeared into the crowd after that, leaving his younger sister to bow and exchange formalities.

“My Lady.”

“(Y/n),” Guinevere smiled, laughing at the title she now wore. Her spirits, too, had been lifted by the contents of her goblet, and the candle-lit hall seemed to be painted in rosy hues. “You know you can call me Gwen.”

“But that isn’t nearly as fun.”

(Y/n) bowed once more, her eyebrows raised in jest and Guinevere shook her head. “Have you met Sir Mordred?”

“No, I’ve not.”

“Well, then,” Guinevere led (Y/n) a few paces deeper into the throng of knights and very quickly found who she was looking for. She smiled triumphantly when she did and put a hand on the shoulder of a man turned away from her. “Sir Mordred, this is Lady (Y/n).”

The knight turned around, (Y/n)’s gaze met his, and the world around them slowed. Her heartbeat quickened and her breath caught as his blue eyes shook her to her core, seemingly looking right into her soul, finding the pure gold that lay at the heart of her very being. In that moment, which stretched into infinity for them but never left the stream of time for others, (Y/n) could see the most beautiful sky form in his eyes.

And she knew the poets to be right in their rambles of beauty and desire and all that fell in between.

“Sir Mordred,” (Y/n) bowed low, long lashes kissing her cheeks and allowing her a second of relief from his intoxicating gaze.

He breathed her name and it sounded like a forgotten memory; like something that was all at once fondly missed and discovered anew.

“I see you’ve met my sister!” Gwaine’s strong voice shattered the still moment efficiently. The knight clapped Mordred on the shoulder with a strength that could have made mountains crumble, but Modred did not move. “She works with Geoffrey of Monmouth in the Royal Library.”

“She’s the brain to his brawn,” Guinevere supplied with a grin, a twinkle in her eye.

“And the beauty,” (Y/n) teased, earning a laugh from Guinevere and a protest from Gwaine. Through the laughing, (Y/n) caught Mordred’s keen eye as it lingered on her.

iii.

brother, i cannot describe it, but there is a kindness in his bones. it is so deeply rooted in the fabric of his being that it cannot be separated without destroying him - picking him apart piece by piece, excavating his soul until it becomes a cavern, stripped of it’s jewels and metals.

the heavens treat him as though he is a part of them. the sun haloes around his head like a crown, like he is an angel on earth.

and, brother, when he smiles…

the skies above clear just for him.

iv.

(Y/n) walked through the castle, purpose quickening her step, her mind stuck in days gone by, those scholars called the Great Purge. She had been translating history texts written in languages that had died with the Old Religion, and had come across a mention of a sorceress she had not heard of in her many years of learning. Geoffrey of Monmouth, the keeper of the library, had told her to take the name to Gaius in search of more information.

“If the sorceress does, indeed, exist,” Geoffrey had told her, “then there is great reason to believe she did not perish in the Great Purge and the king must be warned.”

(Y/n) understood the danger that a sorceress could present to the kingdom, which fueled her haste in going to Gaius’ chambers, but hesitation pricked at the back of her mind, making her avert her eyes from those around her.

Was a sorceress inherently evil? It went against all her beliefs to concede to that idea. She had always been taught that evil was a thing to be cultivated, it was not the natural state of mankind. Then how could it be justified, slaughtering her before she has committed a crime? All men face hardships that poison them with the potential for great evil, yet they are not senselessly killed. But with times being what they were - with Morgana threatening everything Camelot stood for…

The sound of swords clanging disrupted her thoughts, and (Y/n) stopped to calm her mind.

The world was a hard place to navigate through and come out unscathed. There were times when (Y/n) thought it just might be impossible. Sometimes, it seemed that humans were made to bleed. Skin was made fragile for a reason, after all.

Swords clashed together once more, and (Y/n) turned to the source of the noise. The knights (just as she has suspected) were honing their sword fighting skills, the men engaged in one on one combat. Her eyes immediately found Gwaine, who was sparring with Percival, both of them clearly taunting the other. (Y/n) rolled her eyes at their antics, chuckling when Percival was able to get the jump on Gwaine, delivering a harsh blow that her brother was only just able to block, stumbling backward.

Her eyes drifted, then, to Mordred, who was sparring with Elyan. As she gazed at the pair, (Y/n) found herself under his spell once more. His brow was furrowed in concentration and his jaw was set; he looked lethal, like a dangerous poison had been unleashed in his bloodstream and was ready to consume everything in its path. (Y/n) looked deeper into his eyes, expecting a hurricane to be raging within but found no animosity there.

Mordred; like all men; like the sorceress who’s name she had on a scrap of paper, tight in her fist; had the capability to be cruel in this harsh world, but it was not in his nature. She could see that in his soul, and the fact that she could see it from such a distance was a testament to that goodness and beauty she had seen in the Banquet Hall, only a day prior.

King Arthur called for his men to cease their training. Swords no longer clashed. Mordred’s eyes locked with (Y/n)’s.

She smiled politely and he nodded to her, his own mouth curling upward, slightly; a look that was meant for her, and no one else. (Y/n)’s breath caught in her chest. The ache that lingered there was pleasant and bearable, when she remembered who had left it.

Gwaine saw his sister and called to her. (Y/n) snapped her attention to him and waved.

Then, with one last glance at the knight who had caught her attention, she continued on her path to Gaius’ chambers, her thoughts straying from the sorceress at hand, her cheeks warm and heart hammering.

brother, there is a knowledge in his voice that could drown the world in sorrows. he speaks and his words are heavy enough to bury us all alive. but that is not who he is. for, brother, when he looks at me with eyes like diamonds forged far beneath the ground, i see a light that he has created within.

it is warm and kind and believes in the world this one could become. how has he fallen in love with this world when it has come to him broken, already in shambles?

i do not know, but when he smiles…

could the world really be this way?

vi.

The gossip ladies shared while dining was, for the most part, colorful but frivolous. Most of the time it was rumors about a prince who couldn’t banish his feelings for a commoner or a princess who couldn’t hold her tongue while in the presence of men. It was spoken of in tones that made it sound more interesting than it was, and it was passed through the table like another dish they were being served.

(Y/n) listened and engaged with it at yet another banquet, thrown in the aftermath of yet another victory over sorcery. The music played energetically, and as the wine flowed, the painted lips of women loosened and their words came freely.

“That Sir Mordred,”—(Y/n)’s ears perked at the sound of his name—“he’s grown awfully close to the King, hasn’t he?”

The lady who spoke tilted her head and her friends urged her to continue - to finish the thought that was stewing inside her head.

She smiled wickedly, lowering her voice and leaning in, “I’ve heard nasty whispers about where he’s from - no one really knows, but some think he’s a slave-trader, and others…” she paused for affect, and when the music played loudly again, she divulged, “others say he might be a Druid.”

The ladies gasped and (Y/n) felt bile rise in her throat. Suddenly, she wished the gossip to stop - for the music to become so loud that the lady who sat across from her wouldn’t be able to finish the vile thought that she was already speaking.

“If he hadn’t saved King Arthur’s life… Well, we know where he would be.”

(Y/n) stood up in a flash, her jaw set, her eyes angry and frightened, her nerves a mess. The ladies startled and turned to her, but the rest of the celebration carried on. The music still played, the instruments now shrill and jarring, the voices of men suddenly harsh and cruel. (Y/n) was suddenly overwhelmed by the crowd - their fanged grins and ravenous eyes, the hate and anger that lay in their hearts.

“You should be ashamed of yourselves.” (Y/n)’s lips quivered, but her words rang true. The women at the table looked at her, their mouths working soundlessly.

With no further ceremony, (Y/n) left, walking through the castle, letting the sounds of the Banquet Hall fade behind her. Unsure of where she could clear her racing mind, (Y/n) let her legs take her where they pleased.

She stopped in the middle of the balcony corridor, the gentle wind calming her mind, the moon above reflecting a soft, steady light that played against the stone beneath her. The only sound here was her skirts grazing the floor. The stillness calmed her. She sighed and leaned against the stone wall, turning her face to the inky night sky.

What had angered her? She looked at the stars scattered across the sky and wondered at her own actions. Had it been the ladies questioning who Mordred was? No, people were always questioning from where people hailed. It was a way to understand a person without ever knowing them - it was an easy way to allow comfort when in the presence of a stranger. Had it been them accusing him of being a Druid? Perhaps. But, then again, it was not the Druids that had angered her. What had brought her to stand was the implication of what could befall him if he were, indeed, a part of them.

It was dangerous to be something more than just flesh and blood. For there to be rumors, there had to be doubt - and if there was the smallest ounce of doubt in the hearts of those most adamant in the war against magic…

It was not fair - none of it: the rumors, the fear, the suspicion, the deaths of innocents. There was no crime in being born. There was no evil in having been created with skills that few understood. Nothing was inherently wicked, so then how could magic be persecuted as such?

(Y/n) sighed. Perhaps she cared too much. What good could she do, at the end of the day? Being a magic sympathizer only passed suspicion on those you cared for. Was it wise, then, to speak the way she did, to let her feelings be known?

“(Y/n),” a voice called from the shadows, disturbing the silence that had given the woman peace of mind, only moments before. (Y/n) spun around, feeling guilty, her heart beating louder.

It was Mordred, dressed in a knight’s finest, his expression impassive in the moonlight. (Y/n) calmed when she saw it was him who had called for her, but heat rushed to her face.

“Mordred,” she smiled, despite herself, and the dim light played against the curve of her mouth. “I didn’t hear you come. Is the celebration over, already?”

“No,” he answered, walking over to stand beside her, a respectful distance between the two, “I doubt it’s going to end anytime soon.” (Y/n)’s hands itched to be nearer to his, and she folded them together to occupy them. “But what brought you out here?”

“Some of the women I dined with are not as kind in their hearts as they should be.” (Y/n) gazed into the never ending sky, wondering how the stars burned so bright in such a dark expanse. Did their warmth, too, come from within? Did they see Mordred below and feel the same heat fill them so completely? She couldn’t imagine feeling any other way, in his presence. “They may be at court, but they are not nearly as deserving as others.”

Mordred’s eyes twinkled with mirth, like tiny stars igniting in blue skies, although (Y/n) did not seem to notice, her gaze still searching the night around them. He looked at her admiringly, his eyes tracing the curves and dips of her profile - that serene face that drew him out of himself and towards her.

“None of them have any idea of what it’s like to be an outsider, but their judgements of others are swift and cruel.” She turned to him, hesitant to see his reaction.

(Y/n)’s words, so sincere, so carefully chosen, turned Mordred’s face into something softer - something (Y/n) had only seen once before, but felt like she knew more deeply than anything else. “Nobility knows nothing of the suffering they can inflict.” He held her gaze when he spoke, and his words were a melodious lament - almost a siren’s call, pulling (Y/n) deeper into his depths. He sighed, his eyes averting from her own. “But everyone pays for their soul, in the end.”

“Then let ours be pure of heart while we’re still here.” (Y/n) leaned heavier against the stone before her, her shoulders falling deeper, her forearms bearing her weight. She tilted her head to look at Mordred beside her, and he relaxed in a similar manner.

“This world needs more people with your ideals.” Mordred complimented her and heat flooded (Y/n)’s cheeks. He regarded her with a smile - small and conspiratorial, like a soft embrace.

“You can thank my brother for any beliefs I hold. He was the only man to teach me how to rise above what I am.”

The wind visited them once more, weaving through their hair, twisting Mordred’s cape and twirling (Y/n)’s skirts. (Y/n) leaned into its caress, her eyes closing for a brief moment, her entire being becoming one with the heavens above.

“You’re lucky to have each other. Being alone isn’t easily shaken.” A shadow came over Mordred’s eyes, heavy and dark.

(Y/n) turned to the man beside her, her lips parting as she moved to say something.

She was untimely interrupted by Gwaine calling for her. She held Mordred’s gaze for a moment longer, as though debating whether or not to stay and say something more, but when her brother called again, she obeyed.

vii.

brother, he lives with such gravity. every breath is a gust of wind, every step is a tremor in the earth. he is so heavy on this earthly plane, the world presses down on him as though he were made to carry it upon his shoulders.

and yet, when he is still and the world stops around him, he looks weightless, as though he could fly. and brother, when he soars above me he is an angel out of reach, a dream beyond imagining.

and then he smiles…

is there freedom such as this?

viii.

(Y/n) held her skirts in her hands, running through the castle’s corridors, taking the familiar path to Gaius’ chambers. Weaving in and out of people who were in her way, her mind raced faster than her legs. It was only by luck that the gossip of the servants reached her, and she hadn’t a moment to lose.

The King had gone on a patrol to the Black Mountains that morning, and when they had come back…

The servant’s weren’t clear in what had happened, but Mordred was wounded - carried into Gaius’ chambers by Arthur and Merlin.

To be wounded was one thing; but to be carried into the castle by the King, himself? (Y/n) didn’t know what to think, but she feared the worst. Her heart was beating faster than ever, a drum to which her anxieties chanted inside her skull.

Still running, her feet slapping the stone incessantly, she turned a corner and stumbled headlong into someone walking the opposite way. (Y/n) muttered an apology as she started to dodge the obstacle, but whoever it was moved in her path once more, grabbing her shoulders with a tight grip.

“(Y/n), what’s the matter?”

It was Gwaine, his brows furrowed in worry.

“It’s not me you need to worry about,” she all but snapped, her tone clipped from worry. “Were you with Mordred?”

“He’s with Gaius, now.” Gwaine’s worry started to melt away, seeing his sister unharmed by the day’s events, but (Y/n) shared none of his relief. “He’ll be fine,” Gwaine repeated, trying to reassure her by catching her eye.

“What happened?” Her voice and lower lip shook, her nerves frayed and unable to settle. “I - I heard rumors, and—”

“—And you won’t settle down until you see for yourself. I know.” A smile slowly grew on Gwaine’s face, and he wrapped an arm around (Y/n)’s shoulder, walking with her to Gaius’ chambers. In all their years together he had become the father his younger sister never had, and learned her better than any lesson he had been given in his entire life. Gwaine knew his sister, and he knew she wouldn’t be able to still without absolute confirmation.

He slowed her eager pace, trying to soothe her before she saw what lay within the physician’s chambers.

“So,” he began, a grin already plastered onto his face, “you’re that worried about Mordred?”

(Y/n) felt herself burn from embarrassment.

“Not not, Gwaine. He could by dying!”

Her brother laughed and allowed her to see the knight she fretted over. She rushed to his side, and the pallor in his cheeks made her stomach twist in knots. She brushed his raven hair off of his forehead, feeling his fever. She looked to see if his eyes moved behind his lids or if his chest rose as he breathed inward, but he didn’t seem to respond to life at all. She whispered a prayer under her breath before turning to Gaius, already questioning what was wrong and what could be done.

“There is old sorcery at work - knowledge beyond my understanding.” Gaius’ words were uncertain and he shook his head just slightly, as though he had already concluded the worst. “The Disir were said to be a most sacred court with power unimaginable.”

The Disir. (Y/n) knew their name from stories she had translated from dead languages to that which was spoken, now. If Mordred had been stuck by a force so revered and entrenched in the Old Religion...

“But there could be a cure?” (Y/n)’s tone was adamant in their desperate hope - far more so than her thoughts. Gaius looked at her as though he saw something deep inside her gaze, and eventually conceded.

“Perhaps… in the texts of the Old Religion…”

(Y/n) was out of the physician’s chambers and racing down the hall before he could finish. She had no practical skills in medicine, but she was an archivist. She knew languages and history, and due to her position, she had unlimited access to the Royal Library. If there was an answer between the pages Camelot stored, she would find it and use it to save him.

The candles in the Royal Library burned brighter than usual, lighting the shelves that lay in dark, unused corners. (Y/n) situated herself amongst the shelves she knew had to keep the secrets she so desired, choosing books from the rows. She lost herself in piles of ancient texts, her hands careful and precise as they skimmed down page after page, searching for an answer. Volume after volume was pulled from its resting pace, meticulously scoured, and replaced once more.

Geoffrey of Monmouth allowed the candles to be burned all night long, eventually retiring for the evening and leaving (Y/n) to her search, giving her a fond, supportive squeeze on the shoulder before shuffling away. Servants still gossipped out in the corridors, their voices drifting like ghosts to where she sat. Gwaine came to her before his nightly rounds of the castle began, and found her sitting on the floor, her skirts pooled around her as she continued her search. She was desperate for some kind of news, but Gwaine had none; Mordred’s condition was unchanged and dire, still. Tears threatened her eyes and he had taken the time to embrace her, rubbing her back soothingly, promising her things would be alright.

(Y/n) clung to his faith, feeling the crushing weight of gravity bearing down on her. How could people live with such pain?

She felt herself grow tired. She opened more books. She felt herself grow tired. She flipped more pages. She felt herself grow tired. She sought more answers, feeling them slip through her fingertips - elusive and intangible. She felt herself grow tired.

The candle burned lower until she could no longer feel it’s warmth - until she could no longer see it in her mind’s eye.

In her dreams, she could see pages before her, with drawings of three women in robes of black, with writing that was slanted and almost unable to be read. (Y/n) reached out to grab the page, hold it in her grasp and learn it’s secrets, but her body was heavy like stone, unable to move - unable to save him.

“(Y/n)...” Mordred’s voice called out to her, so full of life, so full of love. She stirred. “(Y/n)...” She moved.

(Y/n)’s eyes opened, and she was lying against a shelf, a volume open on her lap. Light from the morning sun spilled from the nearby window, and when she looked up, she had to blink to believe it was real.

Mordred smiled down at her, his cheeks pink and flushed with beauty, his eyes bright. He was something out of a dream, in that moment, the sun’s rays casting the shadows away from him, bathing him in golden light.

His name slipped from her lips in wonder, and she repeated it once more, euphoria filling her tone with something akin to a song.

“I was told I could find you here.”

Her cheeks burned with embarrassment, but she couldn’t bring herself to look away from him long enough to hide it.

ix.

we could never see it, brother, with our lives painted in such rosy tones, but his world is drenched in stormy, blue waters. it is salt rubbed into wounds and waves battering stone until they erode away. it was not a crucible that forged him, but an ocean that drowned him and left him washed on shore, gasping for breath. brother, his story is one that we whisper at night, voices low in fear of giving those wayward souls power over us all. if he so desired, we could be crushed and left. the crows would pick us clean.

but he looks at me and his ocean eyes cradle me, rocking me back and forth with the tide. and i am safe, in his embrace. i am loved, wrapped in his arms.

and when he smiles…

our story has yet to unfold.

(Y/n) looked at the wares of different vendors, strolling through the streets with no real destination in mind. The day was beautiful, with the sun partially covered with thick clouds, the heat emanating from it just enough to be comfortable and without chill. The people around her were happy, for the most part, their worries few and their good fortune abundant.

There was peace in Camelot, and (Y/n) wished - foolishly, perhaps - that it would last.

Stopping to search for coins to buy a loaf of bread, (Y/n) readjusted the basket she held and a book she had been carrying fell out. Before she could lean down to grab it, the book was already in someone else’s hands, being wiped clean. “I’m sorry about that.” (Y/n) looked up to see who had helped her and found Mordred before her. He had a grin on his face, lopsided and pulled to the left, his teeth just visible beneath his lips.

His sharp eyes were on the small volume before him, reading the title with interest (Y/n) had not thought she would find.

Mordred shrugged off her apology, instead turning his interest to that which he had recovered. “Poetry?” (Y/n) shifted under his teasing gaze. “Is it for the King, perhaps?”

(Y/n) scoffed, well aware of the joke that had been floating through the palace - Merlin and King Arthur learning poetry by candlelight. Was the Queen impressed with her husband’s talents? Leon had been given extra training for two weeks when word of it reached Arthur.

“The King and I have very different tastes in poetry, I believe. He’s more of a romantic.”

Mordred snorted, flipping through the worn pages. “These poems…” Mordred’s eyes flashed with something unreadable, his tone still gentle when he spoke, but his countenance changed nonetheless. “They’re about magic.”

(Y/n) bowed her head, training her eyes at her skirts brushing the ground below.

She had been caught.

It was just literature, and she didn’t believe there was any harm in it. Poetry could not teach her sorcery. The knowledge that lay in those poems were not spells that she could wield against Camelot and those she loved, and yet, she knew, deep down, that such things would not matter to those who would wish to persecute her for harboring such knowledge and allowing it into her home.

“They’re just poems. Just stories written in beautiful languages. There’s no harm in it, only understanding.” (Y/n)’s words were low but spoken with conviction and heart. “I only wish to understand that which I am to fear.”

“And I admire you all the more for it.”

(Y/n) looked up into Mordred’s eyes where she held his tender gaze. Her worries were put to ease by his serenity, and she idly wondered why she has ever been nervous in the first place. Even now, she could look into his gaze and see the kindness that lay deep within his heart. Within those blue eyes, she could see his sympathy for magic, not dissimilar from her own, but more deeply sown. She could see, deep in his soul, that there was something he knew and had not shared.

She wished to tell him she wouldn’t tell a soul. (Y/n) wished to hold Mordred and whisper in his ear that he could bare his entire soul to her and she would regard him the same. She wished to let him know that she knew him deeply and irrevocably, that in those still moments when they walked with one another or locked eyes from across the room, she felt their souls were one and she could not distinguish where one began and the other ended.

“Would you like to hear some?” (Y/n) put her hand on the book lightly, her fingers brushing his, warmth igniting where they touched. “The old way of speaking… it’s beautiful.”

Mordred smiled and she slipped the book out of his hands, starting to leaf through the pages, searching for the right sentiment she was looking for.

He spoke, then, his words soft and with a lyrical lilt, whispered between the two of them. (Y/n) gazed up at him, and it took her a moment to realize that he was reciting a poem - a variation of one of the poems inside the book she had in her hands. She listened to him, allowing his language to captivate her senses and pluck at her heartstrings. The poetry spoke of magic - it’s ubiquitous power and intentionless existence - and how the world, whether it wanted to be or not, was gifted with it.

When he finished, (Y/n) realized that the warmth that had spread through her body had made her lips pull into an expression of awed wonder. She tried to regain control over her features, but Mordred had already seen her beauty and wouldn’t forget it for all his days.

Mordred took (Y/n)’s hands in his and closed the poetry book, placing it back in her basket. “Keep that safe,” he said. “It’s not wise to have poetry about magic in Camelot.”

(Y/n) started to grin, staring up at him challengingly. “And to have it committed to memory? Is that just as guilty?”

Mordred chuckled, but after a moment, his face turned grave. “In Camelot, I believe so.”

“Then Camelot is too harsh with matters of magic.”

Mordred did nothing but nod.

xi.

there is a ferocity deep within him, brother. it has the strength of a bear and the loyalty wolf; baring its teeth and tearing out throats. he keeps it deep within himself, burrowed beneath the ground, hidden amongst the trees.

it is strong, brother, but he is it’s master. he has run with the wolves and become one with the pack. he has faced the bear and made peace with its power. he has a strength inside of him that cannot be changed, and it protects this world from what he could be. and i stare at him, in awe of the power which he possesses within.

and when he smiles…

he is nothing i could not love.

xii.

The forest around them teemed with life - birds singing from the treetops, the undergrowth shaking from the movement of small animals, and the nearby brook babbling. (Y/n) breathed in deeply, the smell of the fresh air clearing her mind and filling her senses with a feeling of calm. Absentmindedly, she fiddled with the bad slung around her shoulder, the books inside of it slapping against her thighs as she rode her horse forward. Mordred, riding alongside her, looked at her from the corner of his eye, but she did not notice his gaze through her pleasant sigh.

They were riding to Carleon - Sir Mordred escorting the Royal Archivist - to meet with the genealogist that worked for Queen Annis. Geoffrey of Monmouth found a discrepancy in their bookkeeping of the old, noble families and needed to compare his records with the other kingdom, but at his age he was far too old to undertake such an adventure - especially at such a critical time in Camelot’s history. (Y/n) had been sent in his place, her expertise growing with every day that passed, the old librarian sharing his knowledge and legacy with the woman so that she might one day succeed him.

It was to be a fairly safe journey. Carleon was an ally of Camelot, and the two kingdoms were not far from one another. King Arthur had allowed Mordred to escort the woman, his warnings minimal - only that Mordred not forget his duty while protecting (Y/n).

Gwaine had been there to see the pair off, teasing (Y/n) of her feelings for the young knight.

“I believe your love life is the one we need to keep an eye on, Gwaine.” Her brother had laughed at that, and she told him to behave while she was gone. The last thing she needed was to worry about him while traveling to another kingdom.

Their journey so far had been a peaceful one. The two had time to talk about all that had happened in Camelot - from the gossip of what happened in the lower towns to the battles that the knights had waged in the name of the King. After that, there had been time to talk about the histories she had been translating and scribing; the worlds that she learned about on weathered pages were vibrant in their age and charming in their customs and habits - all of which had betweitched her, ensnaring her attention.

Mordred had deep interest in what had come before him - those millenia in which magic reigned, free - and (Y/n) was happy to share her passion with someone who listened and cared.

There had been time for them to bask in each other’s presence, to feel their souls intertwine as their paths converged onto the same road. For, in those days, few as they were, Mordred and (Y/n) shared a common destination and their fates were one.

Now, there was less than a two hour ride left, and with the end in sight, (Y/n)’s anxieties started to claw their way into her heart. She closed her eyes and focused on the world in front of her, this forest of bright yellows and deep greens, this sanctuary where she and Mordred were together, close enough to get lost in each other’s eyes for eternity.

“How much do you think Gwaine has worried while we’ve been gone?” (Y/n) smiled at the knight who rode beside her, her tone fighting to be as light and cheerful as the words she spoke. “I saw him talking to you before we left. What did he—”

A high-pitched scream that was not their own erupted into the sky. With a flash of metal, Mordred had unsheathed his sword and was riding for where the sound originated. (Y/n) followed, and when they burst into a clearing, they found it to be full of bandits surrounding an elderly man and his daughter. Without a second thought, Mordred sprung into action.

(Y/n) grabbed a sword from one of the bandits that Mordred felled and joined him in battle, her strikes proper and effective, although unceremonious and without the craft of a true swordsman. Mordred spared her an impressed glance before engaging with the rest of the marauders.

Surprise was their biggest advantage, and the two of them were able to dispose of four of the bandits quickly. The rest of the men ran, reasoning that the spoils weren’t worth the risk involved, now that a knight of Camelot was among them.

After the last of the men disappeared into the trees, (Y/n) dropped the sword she had been using, looking over the scrapes and minor flesh wounds she had received. Mordred walked over to her, his own eyes scanning her for injury, and she reassured him she was fine, her eyes moving to search him.

“Where did you learn to use a sword?”

(Y/n) scoffed, the adrenaline still buzzing through her veins. “Gwaine. Who else would arm a young girl against her will? He said I would need to one day.” A grin tugged at her lips. “I suppose he was right.”

Mordred smiled briefly and the two of them turned to the people who had cried out for help. The elderly man thanked them, taking their young hands in his own and blessing them good fortune for days to come.

“Such kindness is lacking in the world, today, when it is most needed.”

“We are just glad we could be of assistance to you and your daughter.” Mordred dipped his head low, and his voice echoed with past transgressions - moments of his past where he was a victim to circumstance, just as they were. “No one deserves such violence and pain.”

The old man peered at Mordred with years of wisdom, and he squeezed his shoulder like a father would. “You have such good souls”—he looked at (Y/n), as well, with a kind twinkle in his eye—“both of you.”

“Good souls are hard to come by.” (Y/n) agreed, gently. “They’re a rare treasure, indeed.”

Mordred looked at her, his eyes like the sky on a cloudless day. She regarded their bright brilliance with a warm glance and roses of the most vibrant pinks blossomed beneath his cheeks.

Later, after the travelers had gone on their way, and the two were riding for Carleon once more, (Y/n) found the courage to speak something that she had been thinking on for a while, but had only articulated just then.

“Mordred, when we were fighting those bandits…” her words trailed off, but Mordred was patient as he waited for them. “I know we’re only human - average and simple - but when I’m at your side, I feel stronger than that - better, even. It’s almost like…”

Silence didn’t stay between them, long.

“Like you have magic.”

xiii.

brother, we live such violent lives and meet such violent ends, but his life is precious in it’s softness and should never die on the end of a blade. this world has rubbed his edges with stone to sharpen them to fine points, but he wraps himself in soft down and refuses to be changed.

this life he lives deserves to be full, brother, with none of the emptiness that has surrounded him for so long. so much has been taken from him, so much of what he owns has been displaced. and so he holds me as though i am already gone.

but when i am resolute beside him, he smiles…

could the world bear to tear us apart?

xiv.

“All I’m saying is that Mordred is a lucky man to have caught my little sister’s eye.” Gwaine held up his hands in mock defeat as the two of you walked down the castle steps and into the Citadel. “How many people have you turned down over the years? I vividly remember at least three…”

(Y/n) rolled her eyes at her brother’s teasing, quickly shooting back, “And for every person I turn down, you lead another to your chambers.”

Gwaine feigned hurt, but a grin grew on his lips all the same. “I have more honor than that, (N/n).”

“More tact, you mean. If Arthur were to see you—” Gwaine nudged (Y/n) in the side and she laughed good-naturedly, elbowing him right back.

“But, truly, (Y/n). Mordred is a fine knight and if the two of you—”

“Gwaine...” (Y/n)’s face was hot with embarrassment and her brother smiled down at her, affection in his gaze.

“I would be happy, is all” —he tilted his head, then, his lips pulled into a thoughtful frown— “and a bit proud.”

(Y/n) rolled her eyes. “Exactly what I always wanted.” The two laughed, and once the moment sobered, (Y/n) turned to Gwaine, her expression genuine and earnest. “But really, thank you.”

Gwaine put a tender hand on her shoulder, squeezing it strongly. He opened his mouth to say something, but the clapping sound of horse hooves hitting stone caught his attention, and both siblings turned to see who was approaching.

An entire patrol of soldiers burst into the Citadel, many of them leaning over, their expressions drawn in pain and suffering. (Y/n)’s eyes searched frantically until they settled on Mordred, his expression grim and worried, but the rest of him seemingly okay. Gwaine walked over to him and he dismounted, both Knights meeting each other half-way.

“What happened?”

“We were attacked.” Mordred’s blue eyes flashed dangerously. “It was Morgana.”

“And you got away?” (Y/n) walked over to them, her eyes scanning over the injuries that the patrol had sustained. Almost all of them had a bruise or two, some of them with gashes on the head or sides. What had she done?

“It’s the King she wants,” Mordred sighed. “She’s just trying to draw him out.”

Gwaine nodded deftly, his brow furrowing as his entire disposition changed. “I’ll let Arthur know,” he assured Mordred, putting a hand on his arm before leaving.

(Y/n) watched as Mordred turned back to the men behind him, checking their wounds and sending them to Gaius if necessary. She watched his face contort with worry as he passed over each man, his eyes filled with care and legitimate attentiveness to each of their circumstances. The soldiers smiled gratefully at him, as though thanking Mordred for showing them that they were seen. In such a large military, it was easy to get lost in the sea of hundreds; people stopped becoming human and were just another sword in combat, just another body left on the battlefield. But here, under Mordred’s worried gaze, they were human. Bleeding, battered, and bruised people with hearts that were broken and minds that were screaming in the silence.

The love that resided within Mordred was quiet, but (Y/n) could see it from any distance and behind any facade.

When the last soldier was tended to, Mordred made his way over to (Y/n) and she looked at him deeply, with a soft care that made him feel entirely known and wholly loved. “Are you alright?” Her voice was low and pleading, careful but firm. “Morgana didn’t hurt you?”

“I’m alright.”

(Y/n) looked at him, her eyebrows still furrowed as she searched his expression for something to tell her the contrary. Finding nothing, she sighed and reached out to embrace him, holding Modred close to her beating chest.

He melted against her slowly, then all at once. His arms moved to wrap around her more securely and she responded to his touch, her hand getting lost in his hair. The pair stayed like that, enveloped in each other’s arms, until their hearts synced together and beat as one.

“Things happen so quickly Mordred,” she spoke without pulling away, her breath hot against his ear, “I don’t want you to be someone that passes by without me ever telling you how much you mean to me.”

Mordred hugged her tighter, until he felt he couldn’t breathe from her love. “Nothing can happen to me while I have you to live for.”

(Y/n) pulled away slowly, her eyes questioning whether or not he meant what he said. Mordred’s smile was in full bloom, adoration and love pouring out from him with no end in sight. She stared into his deep, blue eyes and her question died before ever making its way to her lips.

xv.

brother, you could never understand how the world has wronged us all and the poets exist only to make amends, but when i feel his heart against mine, i know it to be true. this existence is strife and heartache and nails tearing into flesh, but there is consolation in the arms of a lover and there is peace in their kiss.

and, brother, you may not understand his depths, but my lover is good. despite how he bleeds and breaks, he is whole when he lays beside me, his hands lacing with mine, his features carved by the artist we know as Time.

and when he smiles…

is there love that could rival mine?

xvi.

His lips were rough against her own, hot and wanting, pushing all thoughts that weren’t of him to the recesses of her mind. His arms were steady as he held her, one hand cradling the back of her head, the other planted firmly on her waist, pressing her against him. She kissed him back with equal fervor, her hands trailing up his chest as they reached for his dark hair, thick and soft beneath her fingertips.

She kissed him deeply once more before parting to take a breath, her forehead resting on his, their noses bumping together, gently. Mordred’s eyes fluttered open and the world was extended to (Y/n), begging her to take it in her soft hands and make something beautiful from it’s fraying edges and tattered bits.

She didn’t know how to tell the world that it was already beautiful, when she looked through his eyes and saw its glory reflected there. If everything could be crafted in his mind’s eye this existence could be a much softer way of living.

“I love you,” she breathed the words, and even though they were her own, they made her heart race in her chest. She could feel his speed up as well, and placed a hand over his chainmail, where she knew his heart lay beneath.

Mordred sighed, “And I love you.” Their lips connected for one sweet, brief moment, and when their eyes met once more, he was smiling, his iris’ twinkling with the light of the sun. “I could love you for the rest of my days and it wouldn’t be enough.”

(Y/n) giggled at his charming words, unable to contain the love that filled her so completely. He kissed her again and it felt like a cloud - downy and warm, like what she imagined heaven to be like. For a fraction of a moment, his lips hovered over her own, and it was she who chased after them, her lips divine as they pressed against his.

A knock at the door pulled them apart, and Mordred looked at her with sympathy, unwilling to pull away from her embrace, not wanting to venture into the night when all of his world was right here, in front of him.

(Y/n) put a hand to his cheek, rubbing the smooth skin with her thumb. “Be careful out there, Mordred.” Her voice was still ragged, her breathing slowly finding its normal state, and the sound of it pushed on his resolve, begging him to stay.

“I promise.” He kissed her once more, and when he walked out the door, sword in hand and a smile on his face, she believed him.

xvii.

and when the sun has not yet come up and he is wrapped in my embrace, he is mine.

#merlin bbc #merlin #mordred #mordred merlin #bbc mordred #x reader #reader insert #imagine #one shot #fic #long fic #fem!reader #fluff

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iliumheightnights · 4 years ago

Text

We have a jedi [7] | Peter Parker x M!Stark Reader

Fandom: Star wars and Marvel

Pairing: Peter Parker x Male!Reader, Tony Stark x Son!Reader

Summary: (M/N) receives a warning from a new ally.

Read from beginning

(M/N) stood on the terrace overlooking the city. Night had overtaken the sky and even with all the destruction, the lights of the city shone bright. Many of the smoke plumes and fires had been put out and peace had somewhat returned to the city. It didn’t matter though. No matter how many fires you put out or walls you rebuild, the people wouldn’t forget about what happened here. That was the price of war. It always leaves scars.

During dinner, he and Janai talked with his father and the other avengers. They all introduced themselves and their stories. Each had an interesting past to say the least. In return he told them about himself and the war across the galaxy. They were surprised that not only did life exist outside their own planet, but also that a galaxy wide war was going on. One which Tony’s son was a part of, even at a young age. The only one who wasn’t surprised seemed to be Thor, who hailed from Asgard so it was no surprise to him. The entire time (M/N) noticed how his father never stopped smiling while looking at him, it was nice.

He was staying in the tower in a guest room. His father was able to move their ship to a warehouse for it to be repaired, which is where Janai was staying. She said it was to give him space and to make sure no one messed with the ship. He had stepped outside to get some fresh air, it was difficult for him to sleep.

“Can’t sleep?” He didn’t have to turn around to know it was his dad.

“No. I don’t know why, I just couldn’t. I’m guessing you can’t either?”

“Yeah…” Tony stood next to him and looked out on the horizon with (M/N). “It doesn’t look like there was an alien invasion today. It looks the same as any other night.”

“Maybe. But the people are still scared. I can feel the unease...it’s strong.”

“Have you always been able to do that? You know...the feeling thing.”

(M/N) let out a chuckle. “Yes and no. It’s the force calling out. Every jedi can feel it, but some are stronger than others. Mother says I’m stronger in the force than any other jedi she’s seen.” He shrugs. “I don’t know if it’s true or not.”

“Huh, Isn’t that something?” The two stood in silence for a bit before Tony spoke again. “So apparently there was going to be a missile that was supposed to go off in the city.” (M/N) turned and looked at his dad in confusion. “Fury stopped it. Apparently the council, whoever they are thought we wouldn’t be able to stop them so they were going to bomb the city.” (M/N)’s face turned dark. “They would destroy an entire city and kill everyone for nothing? It’s not like it would have stopped anything. All it would have done was kill your own people.” His father placed a hand on his shoulder to steady him. “Hey, it’s okay bud. It was stopped. It didn’t happen.” (M/N) turned back to the city. “But it almost did. Apparently war is always the same no matter where you go.”

Tony’s grip on his shoulder tightened a bit before it loosened back up. “W-what’s it like, fighting in the war? You’re so young, you shouldn’t have to be a part of it.” (M/N) laid his hand on top of Tony’s and squeezed it a bit. “It’s not easy. I wish we didn’t have to fight. I’ve seen so much death and destruction. When I was running through the streets earlier during the fighting...it barely affected me anymore. I’ve become so used to it. I just want the fighting to stop, not for any side to win...but so the people will be safe. I’ve seen entire planets...reduced to ashes.” Tony patted his shoulder. “You know, you really are avengers material kid. You have a good heart. I’m proud of you.” The two of them turned around and began walking back inside. “Thanks...dad. Man, that’s still a little awkward.” Tony laughed. “Yeah. But I like it.”

Tony and (M/N) had bid each other good night before returning to their rooms. (M/N) still wasn’t tired enough to fall asleep, but he wasn’t sure what else to do. Moving over to the desk, he opened the drawer and pulled out the stone. He could feel the power it held just by holding it in his hand. He had never felt anything like it before. Sitting on the ground, he placed the stone in front of him and began to meditate. He could sense how the stone was lifted by the force. “You are strong in the light side, yet you are also strong in the dark.” Opening his eyes, (M/N) discovered he was no longer in the room in the tower. He seemed to be in space, he was in a ring made of white symbols he had never seen before.

He stood up and looked around. “Where am I?” Suddenly, a small flash of light appeared and when it disappeared a man was standing there. The man however seemed to be glowing, a ghost. “You are in a place outside of time and space. A world between worlds.” (M/N) looked around once more, that...honestly made some sort of sense. Looking back at the man, he couldn’t help but feel familiar. “Who are you.”

“My name is Revan and you are one of my descendants.” The man began circling him. “I was once a Jedi like yourself, but then I was turned to the dark side by the sith emperor. I was able to return to the light, but when I went back to face the emperor I was killed. But that is a story for another time.” Revan stood in front of him. “I have come to warn you. The sith lord that you have fought. His name is Darth Kren. The artifact he stole today, the tesseract, holds an infinity stone. The space stone to be exact. With that stone he will be able to launch multiple campaigns on occupied worlds. There is no doubt he already prepares his forces. You must stop him before it is too late.”

“How?”

“You have a strong connection to the force, like I have. Focus your mind, with the mind stone you will be able to know where he plans to strike.”

Folding his arms he began to concentrate, Revan doing the same. He focused on his breathing and on the energy surrounding him. Soon he felt his mind begin to move and before he knew it he saw the view of a planet. “Kuat. I would know those rings anywhere. He plans to attack Kuat and stop the production of more ships for the republic.”

“Yes. But not yet. He still needs to gather his forces, but so should you. You must face him and retake the stone. But you must first prepare.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you have faced him twice already, and each time you have barely held on. If you are to face him head on you must train harder. Your lightsaber alone isn’t enough. You should craft another. When you fought him with two sabers, you were equal. You will need that if you have any chance of stopping him.” Revan turned around and began walking back into open space. “Our time here is finishing. But we will talk again. Be mindful of your emotions, you will affect the fate of the galaxy whether it is on the light side...or the dark.”

Before (M/N) could ask him any more the man had disappeared. Blinking he once again found himself back in the room in the tower. The mind stone in front of him. “Huh.”

…

The next day, (M/N) exited the room to the smell of food. Walking towards where the smell was coming from he found his dad trying to make food. Trying the key word there. When Tony spotted him he smiled. “Morning (M/N), I was trying to make us food.” (M/N) smiled at him. “I can see that. Need any help?” His dad waved him off with a spatula. “No,no I got it. I wanted to make this for you. Go sit down.” (M/N) threw his hands up in mock surrender and sat down in a chair at the counter. “So what are your plans for today?” he asked his dad. Tony had finished making the food and sat the plate down in front of him. “Rebuilding. I have to rebuild the tower for the parts that were destroyed. Was thinking of making it into a building for the avengers.” (M/N) nodded at that, it was a smart idea. This world’s mightiest heroes needed a place for themselves. “What about you? You have anything planned for today? If not you can always spend stay with me, we can blow off rebuilding for now and go do something else.” (M/N) chuckled and shook his head. He remembered the events of the night before. “I have to talk with mom. Talk to her about that guy and what’s going to happen now.”

(M/N) noticed the way his father’s face faltered a bit. Any time there had been a mention of (M/N) or Janai leaving, Tony seemed to fall back a bit. If (M/N) was correct it was because he didn’t want to lose his son again. Honestly (M/N) didn’t want to leave his father either, but there was still a war going on and he needed to be out there to help people. “I-I know you’re happy I’m here and so am I. But I’ll have to go back out there.” His father only nodded before looking back at him with a smile. “Then let’s spend as much time together as we can before you do.” Tony’s phone went off and he checked it, his face turning into a frown. “Shit. There’s some government crap that needs my attention. I can have happy drive you to your mom.” (M/N) tilted his head in confusion. “Happy? Like the emotion?” Tony laughed at that before shaking his head. “No. He’s a friend and assistant of mine. He can drive you.”

Tony walked him down to a car. “Happy, you remember (M/N). (M/N) here needs you to take him to warehouse 11. Okay gotta run. I’ll see you later.” He hugged (M/N) before heading back up the tower. (M/N) turned back to the other man. “Hello.” The man looked at him with a confused look. “(M/N)? Like little baby, son of Tony (M/N)?” He nodded at the man. “That’s correct. Well minus the baby part now.” The man laughed. “You really are your father’s son. Climb in kid.”

Happy drove them to the warehouse. The drive was difficult with so many roads closed still thanks to the debris. It was mostly silent, neither really knowing what to say. “I don’t know if you remember me, but I used to watch you sometimes. You were really tiny then.” The man seemed really happy to be talking with him and reflecting on the memories. (M/N) wished he could remember that but he couldn’t. “Sorry, I can’t really remember anything about my time here.” The man didn’t seem defeated. He continued to focus on the road. “So where have you been kid? I know your mom took you, but where?” (M/N) smirked. “Let’s just say it’s a long story. We never really stay in one place.” Happy didn’t respond to that and only nodded.

Pulling up to the warehouse, the two discovered many workers entering the building. “Huh, these aren’t normal Stark workers.” (M/N) turned to the man. “What do you mean?” Happy nodded at a person. “See that logo there. That’s the logo for S.H.I.E.L.D. The organization the avengers are a part of.” That made a little bit more sense for (M/N). Of course shield would want to get their hands on their ship. Opening the door, he stepped out of the car and turned back to the man. “Thanks for the ride.” The man smiled. “Wait. Let me give you my number for your phone. You can call or text me if you need me.” (M/N) looked at him again. “What’s a phone?” Happy laughed at him. “Good one kid, what’s a phone. Here’s my number.” He handed him a card with his name and numbers on it. “Thanks Happy.”

Entering the warehouse he saw the ship he and Janai arrived in being worked on. “Hey kid! This is a closed site scram!” He turned and watched as a big muscular guy walked up to him. “I’m supposed to be here. I’m here to see my mother.” The man didn’t look convinced. “Yeah sure you are. Now get out of here before I throw you out.” (M/N) was starting to lose his patience. He wasn’t afraid of this man, and gave him plenty of warning. “I’m not going anywhere. I suggest you step aside.” The man let out a growl before roughly grabbing him by the shoulders. “That’s it. Time to go.” Big mistake. Lifting his foot, he stomped on the man’s foot slipping out of his grasp. Turning he slid under the man swiping his leg, causing him to fall. Bringing his fist up, he slammed it down onto the man's head, knocking him out. Standing up he got into another fighting stance. “Who’s next?” Other people in the warehouse began to charge at him before a voice called out. “Enough!” He spotted a man in a dark trench coat with an eye patch walk towards him. He looked...eerily similar to Master Windu. Had he and his mother been found out? The man stopped in front of him, he looked at the knocked out man before looking at (M/N). “Impressive. You barely broke a sweat.” “He didn’t give me much choice.” The man nodded. “I’m director Fury. You must be (M/N) Stark.” (M/N) nodded, he remembered his father and the other avengers talk about him. “So you’re the one that stopped the bomb?” The man nodded. “I think we have a lot to talk about.”

#star wars #marvel #mcu #tony stark #peter parker #marvel imagines #marvel x male reader #tony stark x male reader #tony stark x male!reader #tony stark x stark!reader #tony stark x stark reader #tony stark x son reader #tony stark x son!reader #peter parker x male reader #peter parker x male!reader #peter parker x stark reader #peter parker x stark!reader #tony stark x reader #peter parker x reader

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