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scentedpepper · 8 months ago

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Missions, Malaise and Migas Pt. V | Leon Kennedy

Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3 Pt. 4 Pt. 6 Pt. 7 Final Part

Fandom: Resident Evil

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x Male Reader

Summary: Leon and Y/N have some underlying issues. Ones they tried to warn DSO about.

Content Warnings: None

Other Pairings: Luis Sera x Reader

Author Note(s): whoop whoop part five

Ada thinks it'll be fun.

It'll give her something to do besides be in and out of planes and cars and boats and a bar full of horny men and wasted women.

In her eyes, it will also be therapeutic for two love-scorned people who seem to be grappling and grinding on each other because of their own moronic emotions and stubborn attitudes.

What would it hurt?

She's already gathered the obvious.

–The obvious being Leon, that is. She could practically read it in the way he held his gun, the way his eyes twitched and how they looked at you. His gaze, a flash, but his behavior told her so many, many things.

The way his hands fiddled with it, the tapping of his left foot, the biting of his tongue. And you were oblivious. Moreso a side effect of you disliking the man than anything else. Because she knew you, she could see the skill in every wrinkle of your body. You were just a hardened, distrustful shell, and it was so cute. Two angry, headstrong people ready to bite the necks of anyone who entered their personal space. She was so giddy.

Pure bliss.

Excitement over cracking her dear Leon open like an egg.

All for you.

Her eyes flicker to you, then him, repeating, comparing. Analyzing and prying until finally, she rests back in the chair beside Luis and she's content, having already placed the seed of her diabolical plan.

"Luis. " She's almost gushing. "You got a map on the computer or something?"

He glances at her, and a broad smile comes across his face.

"Sí. Whatever you need. "

"Good. I have to go fetch something. "

She sees your eyebrow quirk towards her in curiousity. But you don't say much about it, your mouth occupied by a large bite of the sandwhich.

Before she heads out, she turns towards you and the words that escape her mouth cause the twitching of Leons trigger finger.

"I want you to come with me. "

"We have to go. " His tone is sharp and immediate, he doesn't allow room between her words and his. His eyes flicker quickly to yours. "I mean it, Y/N. "

Luis is shaking his head and you don't need words to tell Leon how you feel.

"We need to secure the area. If they aren't gonna find us, we have to try and find them. Otherwise, we're just waiting. "

"Then we wait. “

The words fly from your mouth like ninja stars.

"You expect to stay here longer than you have to?" Leon is aghast. "You got your rest. You've even ate. " He gestures to the plate. "Now let's go. "

"You want to walk back into the storm outside and spend the night out there when we have this?" Your arms spread outward. "What's the logic there, Leon? I mean, really, " you scoff, "what are we going to accomplish?"

"This isn't up for a vote, " Leon spits back, his head working, his tongue fumbling with how to explain to you that you're idiotic plan won't work. "We aren't waiting here to become dog food. “

"So sleeping in the woods solves that problem?"

"There isn't a better option. If they're aware of our presence and know we're with Luis, " he adds, "they're going to come hunting. "

"They haven't come yet, not even with everything, " a thumb rubs at a broken section of the thick wooden table. "Whatevers left of his crew is preoccupied trying to deal with the virus. "

"The calmer route will be to wait here. "

The sound of a new voice washes over you both.

Ada is about to take a step closer when Luis steps between her and you two, raising his hands, palms up, eyes wide. "Yo amigos, do you mind telling me what exactly is going on here?”

You both look at the taller man and his furrowed brow, attentive gaze. Ada has a bit of a smirk on her face, enjoying the dynamics.

It's only when Luis clicks his tongue and urges your attention do you answer.

"There's too much risk, with a lot of things. It's best we stay here. "

"Absolutely not. "

Leon talks almost immediately after you do, his words curt, and flat. Directly over yours.

Like you hadn't said anything to begin with.

"You do whatever the hell you want to, but we're not staying here to get gobbled up while you and Luis pal around, then use me as your shield when things go south. "

"You're so full of shit. " You spit back, your nerves crackling with energy.

His eyes are cool. "This isn't a democracy. “

"Neither is working for the fucking US government. "

Ada frowns a little bit at the outburst and her voice remains even.

"Try to relax. All of you. "

"Try this. " You gesture with a hand between yourself and Leon. "Assigning two people to bring back evidence of a potential new Bioweapon, and putting it on both of us is hard enough when you factor in all the shit trying to eat and kill us, " your hand is still up. "But the fact that one of these individuals is a glorified agent that's known for all but trying to get the drop on their partner isn't all that reassuring. “

Ada sees it. She sees it from Leon now. A crumbling, slowly as a boat losing its control over the waves in the ocean. The tightening of his lips, the firm set of his jaw, the quaking of his eyebrows.

And she sees you.

Recollecting. Repenting for one second as the heat radiates, scorching you alive from the inside out. You're embarrassed, hurt and even guilt is in there somewhere.

But it's not long.

Because your face is out of her view when you make headway for the door.

Ada's eyes widen ever-so slightly and the way Leon moves when you turn away. Like he's connected to you with a string and if he wants to let you go, he's gonna have to un-string himself first. It's in sync with Luis who gets up from his seat in an instant, his mouth opening to make verbal protests, to defuse.

But Adas hands are up, putting them both in pause like the press of a remote control button.

"Let him go. "

There's a mutual crease of foreheads and slack jaws.

"Ada. " The displeasure in Leon's voice is thick. Almost like smoke that fills the room and seems to get heavier and darker the longer time goes on.

She doesn't let him continue. "I'll go. Make sure he's safe. But you two– sit. "

Luis lowers himself first, without an ounce of fight, and Leon stays. His blue eyes pierce hers.

"He's volatile. " His tone is sharp.

She thinks about it a moment, how much truth to his statement. How far could you push him? How much shit could you feed to him until he really broke.

"He's not. " Ada admits. "Have you ever really spoken to your partner?" Her head tilts in a way that isn't a challenge, but curiosity, giving the impression that she wants him to think. "There's obviously a lot of information that has never been shared. "

"Didn't see you offering therapy sessions. " Leon spits.

Ada stares. Luis watches carefully, unsure how to react and unwilling to move.

Ada swallows like her throat is coated with tar, hardening her resolve. The expression she makes afterwards is one that almost physically sickens Leon.

It's patronizing.

Merciful.

She's looking at him like he's a child having a tantrum and not a man who had made hard choices since 1998.

"Oh, Leon. " Ada breathes the words out. She gives a slight shake of her head before moving on with her plan, feeling more confident in it as she gives Leon one last sympathetic look.

She hopes he can see the deeper meaning behind her look. How her eyes dip in sorrow, the way her features remain cool, untouched and not judgemental.

"It's not my job to play therapist. But if you'll allow, " she folds her hands neatly infront of her, "I'll see if I can not just secure him, but allow for a cooling off period between the two of you. "

"I don't care. "

"Sure you don't. " She gives him a quick wink before turning around, the sound of her footsteps against the tile becoming fainter and fainter.

He felt himself starting to get emotional, and suddenly, just as quickly as she appeared, she vanished again, going outside to fix a problem between two children with the capabilities to take down a large city.

#resident evil #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x male reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #luis sera x reader #luis sera x you #male reader #ada wong

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fangedjustice · 2 years ago

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🎭 MASKS - do they act differently around certain people? what's different between the way they act around friends, family, strangers, etc.?

Absolutely!

Lloyd is, by nature, a very reserved creature. He enjoys being around others most of the time, but not entirely being involved with them. He also puts a lot of weight into respect and acting accordingly towards people he gives it to.

When it comes to the upper echelon of the Black Fang, Lloyd is all professional. Regardless of his personal feelings towards someone, good or bad, he will uphold cooperation and functionality over his own comfort around said person. Despite his distrust of Sonia, and the blatant insults she throws at him in front of both his family and allies, Lloyd remains as level and respectful as he can in the conversation – he quickly cuts Linus off from defending him, even. Whether this can be attributed to the morph's subtle abilities or not, I think it shows that he's more keen on maintaining the balance than causing more problems, even if it doesn't feel right.

I'm sure there are much better, fancier ways to say it, but I'll call it pack mentality basically. Conflict and a lack of cooperation within a pack is Not Good; this is why you'll sometimes see dogs breaking up a fight, even if it's another species of animal entirely. If at least one of those animals is viewed as a packmate, there's a desire to resolve the fighting or problem so that functionality returns to the group as a whole.

This also extends to the people that he commands, the men and women he knows but is not on incredibly close terms with. To him, it's beneficial that he knows overall strengths and weaknesses, but he maintains that personal distance. They are comrades, but they are not close friends outside of this camaraderie.

Where his more clean cut and professional mask is swapped out is when he's around family or extremely close individuals. He'll joke around and act the harassing older brother with Linus, he'll dote on Nino and allow himself to be wholeheartedly vulnerable around her. He has an intense kinship with Uhai; Lloyd trusts him most out of anyone not related to him by blood, as it's the mere mention of Uhai that gets Lloyd to fully back down against Eliwood in the face of what failure means in the Black Fang. Legault affords him the rare moment to actually act his age, to feel young and frivolous and do something exciting and stupid and dance away from the consequences.

I think, funny enough, where Lloyd most wears a mask is in regards to his father. Lloyd has an intense love and respect for Brendan – he is willing to kill and die, to do things that otherwise do not always sit right in his heart, for the ideals that his father believes so rock steady in. He is the first son, the responsible son, the son that will carry everything on when Brendan cannot because that is his duty. And it is something Lloyd would do without complaint, without falter, because he loves his father. We see this when he voices his doubts about the Lycians right to Eliwood's face, but goes forward with the assination attempt anyways.

I think, despite the obvious love and closeness that the Reeds share, there is ultimately a slight disconnect between father and sons. They walk the same path, but they are several steps off from each other. There is love and loyalty there, deeply entrenched, but it comes at the cost of some personal freedoms and sense of self.

#[ answered ask ]#[i apologize in advance if none of these end up making sense i Ramble & then forget my point]

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venusstadt · 5 years ago

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Lana, Don't Use Black Women To Make Your Point.

(DISCLAIMER: This article was originally published 5/21/20 on Medium.com, prior to the creation of venustadt.com. As such, my opinions may or may not have altered since the text below was originally written. This article has been re-published here to track my growth as a writer.)

Alternative singer-songwriter Lana Del Rey, the artist behind albums “Born to Die,” “Ultraviolence” and most recently the critically-acclaimed “Norman Fucking Rockwell!”, released a statement on Instagram Thursday lashing out at critics of her music. Lana specifically referenced “the female writers and alt singers” that bash her for “glamorizing abuse.” She received praise from her fans and other celebrities for her post; however, she also got a lot of well-deserved criticism.

Lana Del Rey isn’t the first person to express distaste with their critics. Nor have these critics been very nice to Lana. Back in September 2019, NPR writer Ann Powers penned a review that, though positive overall, seemed to be riddled with backhanded compliments about Lana’s lyrics, aesthetics and feminism.

The problem with Lana’s statement wasn’t her takedown of critics or expression of her experiences with “the culture” that she is questioning. It was her invocation of popular black artists, as well as her implication that there is no place for women who look and act like her within the current sphere of feminism, that had many people, particularly black women, scratching their heads.

Lana starts her statement by name-dropping several popular female artists: Doja Cat, Ariana Grande, Camila Cabello, Cardi B, Kehlani, Nicki Minaj and Beyonce, in that order. She goes on to say that, since these mainstream women are allowed to sing about “being sexy, wearing no clothes, fucking, cheating, etc.,” she should be allowed to sing about what she calls “being embodied, feeling beautiful by being in love even if the relationship is not perfect, or dancing money” without “being crucified” or being accused of setting the feminist movement back.

“Let’s be clear, I’m not not a feminist,” Lana goes on to write, “but there has to a place in feminism who look and act like me — the kind of women who says no but men hear yes – the kind of women who are slated mercilessly for being their authentic, delicate selves, The kind of women who get their own voices and stories taken away from them by stronger women or by men who hate women.”

Lana’s desire to share her experiences through her art is fair. All women should be able to sing about what they desire without undue hatred or malicious critique. But the implication that the artists she chose to name drop—all black women, except for Ariana and Camila—have not received similar, if not worse, hatred and criticism was not the way to make that point.

Black women as a whole often face criticism for their expressions of their sexuality and have been for decades. These critiques are often rooted in misogyny and anti-black racism, which merge to form misogynoir, or the “specific hatred, dislike, distrust, and prejudice toward black women.”

The black women named in Lana’s statement are no different. Beyonce has been criticized many for being too sexual or pandering to the male gaze. She has also faced gendered insults and racist boycotts due to her alignment with issues like Black Lives Matter. Nicki Minaj has been attacked for being a bad role model and allegedly promoting the message that women are only worth their bodies. Cardi B, who has been quite open about her former job as a stripper and its influence on her music, has been criticized for rapping about “dancing for money,” a critique that her and Lana, according to Lana’s IG statement, apparently have in common.

What’s worse is that Lana implies that there is no room in modern feminism for a woman like her: an “authentic, delicate” white woman who croons about toxic heterosexual relationships, the apparent antithesis to the “stronger” black women listed above who she feels overshadow her.

I’ve been listening to Lana for years and enjoy most of her songs, especially those from the “Born to Die” and “Paradise” eras she is most likely referencing in her statement. But to pretend like the current wave of feminism uplifts black women while pushing white women like Lana Del Rey to the side is a blatant reversal of the truth.

As stated previously, many of these critiques against the black women Lana mentions come from a place of supposed feminism that centers white women and applies double standards to black women (double standards that Lana so desperately disregards and even attempts to appropriate to get her point across). No matter how intersectional it claims to be, mainstream feminism is largely built by white women for white women and has been since the beginnings of the US women’s suffrage movement in the late 1800s.

Many of the early suffragettes were violently racist, and these attitudes trickled down into second-wave feminists and the feminists of today. It’s why you have people like Bette Midler believing that it’s perfectly fine to invoke the infamous John Lennon and Yoko Ono song “Women is the N***** of the World” and making excuses when they rightfully received backlash, or why a popular YA author can lead an attack against a black college student for an innocent comment on a book.

In spaces like these, black women are often forced to choose between their race and their gender in a way that white women are not. And when black women point out the racism in feminist spaces, they are accused of being “angry” and “divisive,” much like those criticizing Lana’s statement currently are. If anything, Lana is a perfect addition to the assortment of neoliberal, individualist white feminists who prop themselves up at the expense of others, especially women of color.

It’s fine for Lana Del Rey to fight back against critics. But when she throws black women under the bus and ignores their struggles, she proves that she’s just as much a problem as those she speaks out against.

#lana del rey #racism #misogynoir

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wasabi-gail · 2 years ago

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My Ex Texted Me after a Year of No Contact and I Responded

I know this is a controversial subject but there's something about taking a controversial topic and bringing it into the forefront to be talked about again.

As you may know, the things I post are revolving around my fears and expressing them for all to see so let's get to expressing shall we.

He texted me, I responded with frazzled confusion and launched my weight of boundaries. Now you may be asking, "wasabi-gail, why would you entertain such a conversation?". Well reader, the answer would be simple, I love to challenge myself and place myself in new situations that test my limits. Let's get to the thick of it now. Initially, I was terrified of allowing this person to even text me. I felt all of the healing work I have been practicing shake. And it gave me the space to remind myself of my current boundaries and trust myself to stand strong. Emotions aside, my goals are priority. Last year I decided two things: I do not wish to be in a relationship, and secondly, I am not interested in cultivating male friendships at this time. A firm foundation to stand on. With these strong boundaries, I still continue to feel past emotions that resurface. My sadness at the separation, yet my accepting of something different. Although I will not be giving him the access to me he once received, I still feel this strong fear of men, a kind of distrust I had been unable to process once before. This deep-rooted belief that men will hurt me, that they will betray me. A sort of idealization if you will. Because of my ex's once prominent place in my life, I had to reject a deep idealization I felt towards him. I had believed that he was the one man that would respect me and love me. A very harmful concept looking back on it. Today, I am still sitting with this painful belief rooted in childhood. Today, I have yet to meet a man that I can honestly challenge this belief.

What helps me challenge this notion?

(I'm not talking about my ex anymore)

Thanks to the internet, we as humans have access to loads of information. Information that will agree with us, and information that will challenge us. It has come to my attention that rather than seeing humans as one species, I have divided them into two: men and women. A way for me to grasp my trauma and compartmentalize them into thought forms. Yet, the thing is as simple as: bad-intentioned people exist as do good-intentioned people. For me to label/generalize a group of people -due to my singular experiences as a young 25 year old women- is unfair to rest of the collective.

The point of all of this is to point a light at my pain and look at it, really look at it for what it is rather than the shadows that I try to create stories from. My ex and everyone else that comes into your life will hold up a mirror for you to look at, and see yourself through. I refuse to look at a familiar/forgotten/new mirror and throw it in the trash or break it's pieces. My life purpose is to evolve and grow, and to that I solemnly commit myself -in all its ugliness, messiness, and truth. So here are some mantras I will share to aid myself and anyone else going through something similar:

I stand strong in my individuality.

I am open to people that are in my highest good, and I will disconnect from people who are not.

I trust myself fully.

I am able to establish boundaries that prioritize my needs and safety.

I have confidence in my intuition.

I am worthy of trust.

I believe most people have good intentions.

Life is an ocean current that brings things in, and takes things out. Allow detachment to spring, and find the treasure in impermanence.

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sexhaver · 1 year ago

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to answer your first question, if you click on the little link i helpfully provided and read the rest of the post, you will notice this section:

this one screenshot rests so many bad assumptions that we could sit here unpacking them for hours, but the biggest one is that the default state of all people everywhere is to be religious (specifically Christian, lol), and you can only opt out of this if you're a minority or an abuse survivor. straight white men, on the other hand, arrive at their atheism via "intellectual and rational superiority complexes". remember, you're not allowed to be dismissive of someone's religious views, that would be bigoted of you (even if the religion has admittedly harmed people)! literally calling atheists "far right fascists" a few paragraphs later (in my original screenshot) is fine though.

also, i feel the need to point this out because it's so patently ridiculous: saying that the only people allowed to distrust Christianity in particular are "women, people of color, lgbt+ people" and "abuse survivors" would seem to necessarily imply that these abuse survivors can be straight white men, but the literal next sentence directly counteracts that. now, let's all think reeeeally hard and put our heads together - can YOU think of any straight white men who may have been abused by Christianity? [pause for a beat] that's right, great job!

i'm mainly reblogging this because your second reblog serves as a perfect snapshot of the exact attitude towards religion that i'm mocking here:

the idea that atheists are only allowed to critique Christianity (because obviously all atheists started as Christians and that's the only religion they would know of)

the idea that atheists are obligated to walk on eggshells around religious people to avoid offending them while the inverse is never even considered

the idea that you should Stay In Your Lane and never critique any part of any culture you don't personally belong to, and should instead Listen To [demographic] Voices (only the ones that already agree with the position you've determined is correct, obviously)

forgetting that Islam is the second largest religion on earth with literal billions of followers

the idea that an atheist stating their lack of religious beliefs directly harms religious people Jews and Muslims who dislike Christians [EDITOR'S NOTE: whoops, almost forgot Christians are evil again for this part, my bad]

also, like,

Of course Jews and Muslims, whose safety has been threatened by Christianity, wouldn't have any faith in the Christian God. But this apparently isn't good enough for atheists on this site. It's gotta be all of the religions.

lol

it's so cool to see you being openly atheist because i remember for a while back in the 2010s other "social justice" posters could get Weird about that. did you ever come across that one post with tons of notes claiming the only valid reason for atheism was religious trauma

you mean this little chestnut?

not only have i "come across" it, i have critiqued that post specifically multiple times, and every time i do, someone who wasn't on here at the time accuses me of paraphrasing it or even lying about its existence entirely. that post and "Culture is about identity, community and family. It’s about tradition. It is not and has never been about “sharing”" are really the poster children for tumblr discourse: flagrant right-wing/reactionary ideology wrapped up in socially conscious language getting 6-digit notes with 0 pushback

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mummersblade · 2 years ago

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the unwritten tragedy of what happens to Gendry's character between his last appearance in ASOS before Arya is kidnapped by the Hound and his reappearance in AFFC through Brienne's POV personally drives me insane. Like in ASOS he finally thinks he's found a place to belong, where he can have brothers and fight for justice after he's witnessed the cruelty towards the smallfolk in the WOT5K. He is not just a bastard anymore, he's a knight.

"At the hollow hill, what you said about being King Robert's men, and brothers, I liked that. I liked that you gave the Hound a trial. Lord Bolton just hanged folk or took off their heads, and Lord Tywin and Ser Armory were the same. I'd sooner smith for you." ... "Gendry, do you swear before the eyes of gods and men to defend those who cannot defend themselves, to protect all women and children, to obey your captains, your liege lord, and your king, to fight bravely when needed and do such other tasks as are laid upon you, however hard or humble or dangerous they may be." "I do, m'lord." The Marcher lord moved the sword from the right shoulder to the left, and said, "Arise Ser Gendry, knight of the hollow hill, and be welcome to our brotherhood." (Arya VII ASOS)

He has this idealized version of the Brotherhood that (like most idealized things in ASOIAF) is subverted, though all of this happens outside the core narrative, so we don't get the full details of how Gendry reacts to Lady Stoneheart becoming their leader, just that he follows her in the end; we don't know how long he's been at the crossroads or what he might've done before in the name of the Brotherhood. When we jump back in with Gendry, who Brienne immediately identifies for his Baratheon looks, all her descriptions of him emphasize his simmering anger and distrust.

And though his eyes had been the same deep blue, Lord Renly's eyes had always been warm and welcoming, full of laughter, whereas this boy's eyes brimmed with anger and suspicion. (Brienne VII AFFC)

Gendry was at his forge, bare-chested beneath his leather apron. He was beating a sword as if he wished it were a foe, his sweat-soaked hair falling across his brow. (Brienne VII AFFC)

The Gendry we've seen with Arya in the previous books certainly has a temper and is moody (Arya loves her angsty bastards huh), but something about AFFC Gendry feels especially haunted.

His appreciation for fair trials is gone by the time a POV character encounters him again. Brienne nearly dies protecting the children of the inn, ever playing the truest noble knight of the series, but Gendry still hands her over to Lady Stoneheart, knowing exactly what kind of trial is waiting for her.

"It's not allowed. You're to stay bound, till..." "...till you stand before m'lady." Renly stood behind the girl, pushing his black hair out of his eyes. Not Renly. Gendry. "M'lady means for you to answer for your crimes." "M'lady." The wine was making her head spin. It was hard to think. "Stoneheart. Is that who you mean?" Lord Randyll had spoken of her, back at Maidenpool. "Lady Stoneheart." "Some call her that. Some call her other things. The Silent Sister. Mother Merciless. The Hangwoman." The Hangwoman. (Brienne VIII AFFC)

He joined the Brotherhood because of how they administered justice, only to end up in the service of Mother Merciless--the Hangwoman. Like what has happened that we didn't see to get him to stay? His oaths to Beric, promising to protect children and fulfill any demand made of him by his liege lord (lady, now)? His knowledge that Stoneheart is searching for Arya? His exhaustion from being on the run for years? Whatever it is, this is certainly not what he had in mind when he was knighted by the Brotherhood.

And what's crazier is that it's unintentionally ARYA who changes his character's trajectory by warging into Nymeria to pull her mother out of the river to be found by Beric. With Lady Stoneheart as the Brotherhood's leader, their objective changes from protecting the smallfolk to avenging the Red Wedding. And Gendry is a tertiary character just subjected to this all. AND!! AND!! the fact he's always the one pushing Arya to face the fact that Northmen and her brother's bannerman are not all good people, who needlessly slaughter and torture people and ruin entire towns BUT he ends up in service of the North anyway (because Stoneheart is avenging the event that ended the Northern faction of the WOT5K). like his LAST interaction with Arya before she runs away is:

"Who did it, then?" asked Gendry. "Hoster Tully." Notch was a stooped thin grey-haired man, born in these parts. "This was Lord Goodbrook's village. When Riverrun declared for Robert, Goodbrook stayed loyal to the king, so Lord Tully came down on him with fire and sword. After the Trident, Goodbrook's son made his peace with Robert and Lord Hoster, but that didn't help the dead none." A silence fell. Gendry gave Arya a queer look, then turned away to brush his horse. (Arya VIII ASOS)

it simply drives me crazy to think on what we all missed out from his story before AFFC.

#I didn't intend to ramble as much as I did but it just kills me #gendry #arya stark #lady stoneheart #asoiaf

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stackslip · 2 years ago

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its so interesting and sad that even after the events of part 1 denji is extremely distrustful and even scornful towards men. i mean it makes sense–his father was horribly abusive, the yakuza who used him as a dog and tormented him were adult men, and like. i think apart from pochita, until he met makima, the only times he was ever touched was through adult men beating him up, taking out his organs, etc. hell when he met aki, aki proceeded to beat the living shit out of him. it took so long for denji to learn to trust aki and not recoil from him.... and like when he finally did, he was forced to kill him soon after.

its not just mistrust too–i genuinely think denji has an extremely hard time having any kind of empathy for men. theres obviously the fact that its so much easier for him to trust women to the point of naiveté, but he lets power get physically close to him very fast. in contrast even touching a mans hand is enough to make him recoil in disgust. its not Big Heterosexuality–he saves only girls as chainsaw man, and its not. something horny. hes just genuinely far more likely to prioritize women. he talks about how hes afraid of not having feelings anymore, but we see his internal thoughts! even when he is hurt by women, he can immediately empathize with them and relate to their experiences. he sees himself in power when he loses meowy, he urges that kid in chapter 2 to run away with him, he asks reze for them to escape being tools, hell he's able to figure out how makima always saw him. and his big revelation at the end of part 1 comes with understanding kobeni.

aki.... denji grows to love aki. i dont think he ever empathizes with akis own experiences though. he gets used to aki, then grows to trust and rely on him, to want to make him feel better, but doesnt connect to akis own past experiences and trauma. and then he kills him, and it feels like hes killed the only man who ever took care of him and loved him. part of the pain there is that i dont think they ever truly managed to understand one another–at least we never saw that in canon. they grew to appreciate each other as they are, and its in large part because they lived together. if they hadnt, i dont think they could have ever even become friends. its what makes it all the more tragic! denji reluctantly, painstakingly allowed himself to trust an adult man to not harm him–the most he could manage at this point of his life–and then was forced to kill him as aki *attacked him*. power and denji had a final conversation, an opportunity to show love to each other. aki just left one day, and came back a shambling corpse whose last actions were to attempt to murder denji.

its like. no wonder denji has no interest in forming any kind of amicable relationships with another man. he longs for intimacy and companionship, a mutual understanding and love. how could a *man* offer him that? the only one who ever could was never on his wavelength but loved him anyway, and denji still ended up (shattering a bottle over his head in self defence) killing him to protect others.

#csm #eli talks

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the-infamous-coat-of-baron-zemo · 4 years ago

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Fall Into You | Laszlo Kreizler x Reader

Alright my friends. Here is my latest piece of insanity.

It is completely raw and unedited. So, if there are a ton of mistakes, I apologize in advance.

What a whirlwind thing this was. I literally only planned to write the last little bit at the end, that was the entire premise and then 7000 more words came along with it.

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This is a partial crossover fic.

TFATWS | The Alienist | Dr. Strange | Loki | universe all mushed together in bits and pieces.

But mostly The Alienist.

Hopefully the characterizations feel okay. Dr. Kreizler and John Moore can be a bit tricky to write and I've never written them before. So, please bear with me on this.

Buckle up. It's going to be a doozy. Kinda.

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Word Count: 6,900 - ish

What happens when you wind up 124 years into the past and meet a relative of Baron Helmut Zemo's?

A lot.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

It was early evening and you were perched on one of Dr. Kreizler's fine couches, in front of the fireplace, reading a book.

You were waiting for Stevie to drop by and drag you to some musical street performance not terribly far from Dr. Kreizler's residence. Normally, you would have stayed hidden indoors, but you took a liking to the kid when you first met him, and decided you couldn't let him down.

Hopefully Stevie wouldn't drag you out too long, otherwise Dr. Kreizler would start to worry. Although, he would never outright admit to it, but it was the subtle things he did that indicated his concern. Or perhaps it was annoyance. That wouldn't surprise you either. You were loud and very talkative. He'd probably grateful to have to leave his house; so he can finally get some peace and quiet.

Dr. Kreizler always kept to himself and rarely made a display of his feelings to anyone, but you were a good friend of his in the short time you had come to know him. So, you got little peeks into what lay hidden away.

He was gracious enough to allow you stay in his home until you could figure out a way to get back to your own time. One minute you were talking to Wong inside Dr. Strange's sanctum in New York, and the next a portal opened up underneath you and you were falling.

After travelling through an empty void that seemed to go on forever, you finally exited through the other side, which landed you in front of a police precinct. You had looked around after picking yourself up and realized you were in quite the pickle. It didn't take a genius to figure out that this was not your New York.

People were starting to stare at as you took in your surroundings. You initially thought it was because you had randomly fallen out of the sky, but realization had dawned on you; it was because of your clothing.

Ah, yes. You suppose compared to what all the other women were wearing, you were a sight to behold. Jeans, a forest green blouse, and short brown leather jacket, would draw some attention, when all the other women were dressed so conservatively in dresses. You laughed nervously backing away from the small crowd on the sidewalk. You calmly but quickly darted over to a newsie holding up a paper for sale.

You paid the kid a dollar and snatched the paper out of his hand. Not paying attention in the least to his shouts of joy on making so much off of one measly paper, but you were too focused on finding out what time period you were in.

You caught the date at the top of the newspaper: April 1st, 1897.

April Fool's Day.

Typical, something like this would happen to you. Joke's on them, as someone is going to have a hell of time trying to figure out where you went. You're quite sure Wong was trying to sort through what happened and had already calling Strange.

Well, you hope he had.

You put down the paper and tried to think of what to do, but a small crowd of people were still stopped and whispering to each other, pointing in your general direction.

One man was gesturing in your direction and started shouting, but not at you.

"Hey Kreizler, this one looks like a crazy. Should probably haul her off to Bellevue!"

You raised your eyebrow at the man, but didn't say anything, instead choosing to turn and see who he was yelling at.

A very well dressed man wearing a bowler hat was walking down the steps of the police precinct in a rushed sort of manner. He had a cane with him, and it appeared his right arm was tucked against his body as if protecting it. A few steps behind him there was another man darting to catch up with him, also well dressed and carrying what seemed to be a sketchbook.

The guy on the street had yelled at the gentleman in the bowler hat again, which you had assumed at this point was Dr. Kreizler. As the two men reached the bottom of the steps and were about to step into their carriage, the incessant yelling had managed to grab Kreizler's attention. At least it seemed so, because the man with the cane had paused and turned his attention towards the direction of the yelling.

You could see from his body language he wasn't all that interested, but when his eye-line landed on you, he backed away from getting inside.

The other gentleman that was accompanying him, the one with the sketchbook, said something to him, but Dr. Kreizler just waved him off as he started to walk over to you.

Great.

You look over to the rude gentleman that had now drawn even more attention to you and gave him an unappreciative stare.

You steeled yourself, ready for whatever this stranger was going to say to you, but your guard had dropped slightly upon getting a better look at his face.

No way.

This was not possible.

The man that had come over to you was the spitting image of one genius, criminal mastermind and general pain in your ass, you knew all too well. One who's currently locked up in The Raft.

If it wasn't for the beard, you'd swear you were looking at Baron Helmut Zemo.

As Dr. Kreizler stopped a few feet from you, he tilted his head to the side and eyed you warily, but not unkindly.

That head tilt, a family trait for sure. Zemo had to be some distant relative of this man in some way, there's no chance they aren't with how closely the two resemble each other. She'd have to make a trip to The Raft and ask him about it sometime, if she ever got back home.

"My dear, you seem out of sorts. Are you alright?" the man inquired, gazing at the small gathering of people and then back to you.

"I kinda stick out like a sore thumb, yeah?" You laughed as you answer his question, peering down at your outfit.

"Quite," he replied.

You saw while he may be cautious around you, you've seem to grab his interest with the scrutiny and intensity of his gaze.

"If I may introduce myself, my name is Doctor Laszlo Kreizler," the gentleman stated.

Ah, so this was indeed the man who was being called out from the street. You noticed he didn't extend his hand in greeting, but then again perhaps it wasn't a pertinent gesture for the time period either. So, you didn't take offense to it.

Your eyeline moved behind Dr. Kreizler and could see his friend at the carriage watching with interest, but also growing impatience.

You gave a kind smile as you introduced yourself and added, "Thank you for humoring the nosy man over there, but I'm not in need of a doctor. I'm terribly sorry for interrupting your day."

"Not in the least. And I may be a doctor, but I am an alienist more specifically," Kreizler explained.

Your eyebrows shot into your forehead and then contemplated his title. An alienist? Where had you heard that before? If you remembered correctly, an alienist was someone who assessed individuals for competence?

Oh.

The shouty man had mentioned Bellevue. Okay, now you understood.

"An alienist! That term is...." you paused trying to think of a better way to phrase you response. "The term is outdated where I'm from. Instead we simply acknowledge your specific doctorate profession as psychologists, since the very definition of what you do is to study the mind and behavior of individuals," you answered, satisfied with your explanation.

"Outdated. How intriguing. Perhaps we could continue this conversation away from prying eyes and gossipy busy-bodies?" Kreizler asked.

You wouldn't be able to read it on his face, but you can tell you've piqued his interest even more so now with his body language. And his eyes had this sparkle in them as you spoke of his profession so specifically.

Though you felt you could trust this man, you couldn't take the chance that he might, in fact, lure you into his carriage and ship you off to the nearest mental institution, such as Bellevue Hospital.

You'd be lying if you weren't equally intrigued by this enigma of a man standing before you. The resemblance to Baron Zemo was uncanny, and that alone made you want to find out more about him; however, Zemo was not to be trusted as far as you could throw him. Though he did have his moments. You'd give him some credit. Doesn't mean distrustful behavior runs in the family, but it also could. It was a difficult decision.

Your eyes narrowed assessing Dr. Kreizler as you came to decision.

"Shouldn't you give me a mental health assessment test before asking a complete stranger to travel off to who knows where with you? Why shouldn't I be suspicious you aren't going to drop me off at the nearest institute? No offense," you replied warily.

"Thank you!" the man with the sketchbook at the carriage shouted at both you and Dr. Kreizler, clearly in agreement with your answer.

You snickered at his sarcastic reply, but attempted to cover your ever growing smile by coughing.

The corner of Dr. Kreizler's mouth ticked up in a smile as well.

"No my dear, if anything you've just proven you're at least slightly more sane than my counterpart, Mr. John Moore," Dr. Kreizler shook his head and jutted his thumb behind him.

"Heard that Laszlo!" Moore responded with indignation.

"That was the point John," Dr. Kreizler answered back with dry wit.

Yeah, she liked him already.

"Shall we?" Kreizler turned slightly to gesture to his carriage.

You sighed internally. Why the hell not? You had nothing better to do and no idea what your next move should be trying to get home. Dr. Kreizler would no doubt be curious about your attire and that alone with most likely bring up a slew of never ending questions. You'd have to be careful how to explain your situation and make sure what you revealed was limited, but truthful. You wanted to tell him the truth about where you were from, but you needed to word it in a way that doesn't make you out to be a crazy person, but present the information with facts and evidence that Dr. Kreizler could not refute. Luckily you had some tech with you that could prove your point rather efficiently should the need arise you convince him of what time period you come from in the future. 124 years it a length period of time. It would be difficult for anyone to accept your explanation, but Dr. Kreizler seemed to be different. Let's hope you aren't wrong about him.

"I accept your offer Dr. Kreizler, thank you," you spoke kindly.

You were formally introduced to Mr. Moore and to Stevie before getting in the carriage. Mr. Moore seemed uneasy, but went along with Dr. Kreizler's acceptance of you. He was a trusting friend of his, you could tell right away. And something told you, Dr. Kreizler was a tough nut to crack and didn't seem to be the type of person who might have very many. Only a close few.

"What made you decide to take Dr. Kreizler up on his offer so quickly," Moore asked standing outside the carriage as Stevie was getting the horses ready.

Dr. Kreizler had held the door open for you and waited patiently.

You looked at Dr. Kreizler before turning back to Mr. Moore, "You mean besides his sparkling personality?" you winked and got in the carriage.

John leaned into Kreizler before adjusting his hold on his sketchbook and climbing into the carriage himself.

"Oh, well I like her already Laszlo," he grinned incessantly and gave Kreizler a clap on the back.

You saw Dr. Kreizler bend his head down in amused exasperation as a small huff of laughter sounded with the movement. He sighed somewhat dramatically before getting in the carriage and closing the door.

"You know, I've never actually ridden in one of these before," you say slightly awed.

Both Moore and Kreizler gave you confusing looks before Dr. Kreizler used his cane to tap on the rear enclosure signaling Stevie to head home.

Home. Well, this should be interesting indeed.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

You closed your book with a snap and slumped into the couch you were perched on. It had been six months, since that day. Six months, you've been trapped in this pocket of 1897.

You had reflected back on how well John and Dr. Kreizler had taken the explanation you were from the future. As you told your story, your only requirement was that they wait until the very end before asking any questions. That gave you the chance to be very methodical about how you explained the future and how it was you ended up in 1897, which to be fair, you don't know exactly how that portal opened still, but magic was involved to say the very least.

It was oddly reminiscent of when Loki used the space stone, which gave her pause. All the infinity stones had been destroyed, and yet you knew that there was an errant 2012 Loki running around the universe with one. It is plausible, he could factor into this, but how or why you, you have no idea.

After you had explained your fanatical circumstance, to help prove you weren't absolutely off your rocker and have Dr. Kreizler change his mind about you, you showed them your phone.

Yes, there may not be any service available, but you could still access all your photos and videos and holographic imagery, etc. That was what allowed John and Dr. Kreizler to accept your story; paired with your unique clothes; they had a surprisingly open mind. John had gaped like a fish for a good 10 minutes before Dr. Kreizler told him to get over it already. John was somewhat outraged that he wasn't more shocked by your existence. But like all things, Dr. Kreizler took everything in stride, which was quite a relief to you. He was incredibly understanding and offered a room in his home to you until you were able to get back to your own time. You made a promise to Dr. Kreizler that you would never lie to him, about anything. It was the least you could do since he opened up his home and essentially part of his life to you.

You understood why he was an expert in his field. His patience and intellect allowed him to be open-minded and grasp concepts others word merely scoff at. However, there was another side to that coin; he was also closed off, and could at times, be calculating and manipulative. Though, none of these traits were used in any nefarious manners, they were there all the same.

He reminded you of Zemo to be sure in this regard. Some personality traits apparently do get passed down through the generations. In some ways, after meeting Dr. Kreizler, you felt you knew Helmut Zemo a bit better. And somehow, you missed him. Not that you were ever particularly close to him, but the time you spent with him in Latvia with Sam and Bucky forever altered your opinion of him.

So while you've been living at Dr. Kreizler's residence, in your spare time, you had been working different avenues of how to achieve ways to get home. You couldn't just solely rely on your friends to get you out of this mess. So, while Dr. Kreizler was at work, you enlisted the help of Stevie to run down leads of potential scientist and gathering of general information of the time period to help you put together some sort of road map. None had turned out to be very promising.

You had, over time, gotten more acclimated to living in 1897, though you mostly refused to wear the clothing of the time period. John Moore would always comment about how you would draw attention in the public eye, should you dare to go out. But you refused to give in most of the time, saying that 1897 would just have to catch up to your fashion sense, and you weren't about to apologize for it. If you were going to be stuck here, you were going to be stuck here, comfortably. You fondly remember Dr. Kreizler's reaction. He seemed pleased, possibly proud of you in that moment. Probably because you had refused to conform to the times, and set your own rules to live by. Not giving in to anyone.

The question lingered, how exactly did you get away with living in this time without having to dress in the clothing of the period? Well, a friend of yours, Scott Lang, had gifted you a device that allowed you to chose one object to shrink and return to it's normal size. So, of course, since you traveled so often with the Sam, Bucky and the other Avengers, you chose your wardrobe. You were just thankful you had it on you already when you got dumped into that portal. So, essentially you had all your clothes with you, making things a bit easier.

Life was not fast paced here, which made things a bit difficult for you. You were used to always being on the go, another crisis to fight through, another area of the world that needed help. But here, here everything was, for the most part, quiet.

It drove you nuts sometimes. Made you antsy. You managed to weasel your way into helping John, Sara and Dr. Kreizler on one of their serial killer cases recently to pass the time. Dr. Kreizler was unhappy at first. You were able to prove your usefulness though with advanced techniques and theories on how to potentially catch the killer in question. Be that as it may, Dr. Kreizler still seemed grumpy, if that were the correct word to use, about you working on the case. You confronted him about it one evening, but he glossed over the whole thing. He was holding back, but what that was, you weren't sure. Maybe he still didn't fully trust you yet. It was a fair assumption, but he was always so hard to read. Though you've managed to get a few good laughs out of him from time to time. Those were the days that really made you smile. Seeing him happy, as most of the time he was always so guarded. It made you feel like you and Dr. Kreizler shared this little secret when no one else was around.

Dr. Kreizler let himself relax ever so slightly around you, but it was far and fleeting. On rare occasions. You savored all those memories and tucked them away. Everyone was so refined and conservative in their mannerisms. You missed just wanting to hug someone. You craved some sort of physical affection, and it was hard, realizing just how different the times were from the future. They weren't terrible by any means, but the social norms of the times had been trying on you, to say the very least. Dr. Kreizler, ever astute, had picked up on this.

He had been gracious enough to offer himself if you ever needed to hug someone. This had been roughly 4 months into your stay at Dr. Kreizler's. You both had gotten more comfortable around the other, and even had a routine of sorts. You had thanked him for his offer, and told him you would not abuse the privilege he had bestowed on you.

Something told her there was more to it, but you hadn't dwelled on it, you were simply appreciative of his friendship.

However more recently, it was more than just friendship you felt. You kept squashing your feelings down, telling yourself this was the worst possible time to develop feelings for someone. Especially someone like Dr. Kreizler. There would never be a happy ending. At some point, you would return home, and that would be that. But there was that nagging sensation in the back of your mind, reminding you, you might not ever get back home. You tried to reason to yourself that you were possibly transferring some of your fondness of Zemo to Dr. Kreizler because of how he reminds you of him. But then you were just lying to yourself. Dr. Kreizler was a person all on his own and one of a kind. You knew better, you were just fighting yourself tooth and nail to live in denial a bit longer.

Footsteps from the kitchen were headed in your direction knocking you out of your musings.

You twisted on the couch to see Dr. Kreizler had returned home from his institute.

"Dr. Kreizler! Good evening," you voiced into the low lit parlor room.

"Good evening to you as well, I trust your day was fruitful?" Dr. Kreizler inquired, coming to rest on the opposite end of the couch.

"It was, thank you. I was somewhat restless earlier, so I took it upon myself to work on the cryptogram the killer left his last victim, with the hopes of figuring out his next location before he strikes," you sheepishly stated.

Dr. Kreizler ruefully smiled at you and shook his head. At one time, he might have gotten upset, but he had been taking your antics more in stride, and you managed to be helpful providing much needed information. So, he'd act unhappy, but silently was thrilled.

"And did you uncover anything useful?" Kreizler queried, he got up from his seat and walked over to the chalk board.

"Not completely, I believe I've broken the code word and the book that the killer has been using to write his cryptograms, but I have yet to comb through all the evidence to gather the page numbers, line and word number to crack the full message. I planned on working on it when I got back with Stevie later this evening," you happily expressed while fidgeting with the watch on your wrist.

"Impressive work. And what book has our killer been using?" Kreizler asked, eyes still going over the work on the board.

"Mary Shelley's Frankenstein. You'd think we could have figured that one out sooner given our killer's eclectic methods of murdering people," you answered sarcastically.

Dr. Kreizler bent his knees in utter annoyance, "Of course it is. Of course. How ridiculous to have missed such an obvious choice."

You smiled knowingly. He was irritated he hadn't figured it out sooner.

A companionable silence continued for a few minutes after his outburst.

Dr. Kreizler was still staring at the board with mild interest when he spoke next, "May I ask you a personal question?"

You had just reached over to place the book on the coffee table next to you when he asked his question and you froze mid motion.

Dr. Kreizler generally didn't push too much into your personal life, so this was somewhat out of left field for him. Never-the-less, you recovered after a beat and placed the book on the table.

"Of-of course Dr. Kreizler. I told you I would always be truthful with you regarding anything. Please, go ahead," you answered, motioning for him to continue.

"Why do you always regard me as Dr. Kreizler and not by my first name?" he questioned softly, almost hesitantly.

This was not the question you thought he would ask. There were a million questions he could have chose, but it was this one he went with.

This really was personal.

You glanced down at your hands sitting in your lap as you pondered how to answer his questions. You could lie about it, and he'd be none the wiser, but it's not who you are. And you promised.

Dr. Kreizler went on to further express his inquiry with a bit more confidence, "You call John Moore by his first name and the same with Ms. Howard, including our other friends we work with, but not me. Why?"

You opened your mouth to answer him when the front door slammed open and Stevie came barging in.

"You ready?" he exclaimed loudly. Stevie was clearly excited at the prospect of showing off his musical talent. "Oh, excuse me Dr. Kreizler, I didn't realize you'd gotten home yet. Thought you were working late," Stevie took off his hat and looked sheepish as he apologized for the disruption in his home.

You sighed. This was your saving grace. You could probably make an excuse and make a run for it with Stevie. You mulled over what to do, battling with the decision.

"Hey Stevie. Nice to see you too! Go on outside, I'll be right there. I just need to put my coat on," you laugh at his enthusiasm.

He nodded at you and dashed back down the hallway and out the door. You could hear one last shout as he exited, "Okay, but don't be too long, we're going to be late!"

Dr. Kreizler gave a look of displeasure at Stevie's unrefined outburst, but didn't say anything as he knows his antics all too well from over the years.

You stood up grabbing Dr. Kreizler's attention.

"Walk me to the door?" you ask, jutting your head in the direction of where your coat hangs.

"Do you plan on providing me with an answer?" he kindly jabbed as he nodded his agreement to follow you out.

You outwardly sighed, trying to figure out how to best answer his question. As you both walked to the front door, you start to answer him.

"Okay, so I address you as Dr. Kreizler 33% of the time, because you deserve the respect that comes with that title. You went to school for many years, and you earned it. So, it's only fair to address you as such," you tell him confidently.

A completely reasonable and partial explanation, you thought.

You both reached the front door, and you grabbed your jacket. Dr. Kreizler, the gentleman that he is, assisted you in putting your coat on. You gave yourself a once over in the mirror, making sure you looked okay before heading out.

You caught Dr. Kreizler staring at you in the mirror as you adjusted a stray hair that had fallen onto your face.

"You look lovely," he quietly voiced.

You turned to face him as he had opened the door for you and stepped outside.

"Thank you," you said, a bit bashful by his sudden compliment.

His expression had gotten softer and his eyes were glowing in the evening lit night.

Your resolve was crumbling even more so now.

"And the other 67%?" Kreizler softly spoke, head cocked to the side.

"Hey - Miss! We need to be going!" Stevie cried.

You turned to Stevie and hollered, "One mo, Stevie! Don't lose your head!"

"I'm sorry I have to go otherwise Stevie is going to have a coronary," you apologized to Dr. Kreizler.

You walked down a few steps, but stopped. You couldn't not answer him.

You go up a step but not completely back to where you where standing in front of Dr. Kreizler. You inhaled a deep breath and exhaled before continuing, looking up to see Dr. Kreizler eyeing you with slight confusion and anticipation with your hesitance to answer his question in full.

"And the other 67% of the time, I call you Dr. Kreizler because..because," you drifted off closing your eyes. You open them again with quiet resolve shining through, finding your confidence. You take another step up to now stand just a foot away from where Dr. Kreizler was.

"Because, I love you Laszlo. And I use your professional title as a barrier, to - to remind myself I have boundaries. It's just easier to separate you this way or well, to keep myself living in denial," you quietly and defeatedly said, laying it all out for him.

You wanted to open your mouth to say something else to him, to let him know it was okay he didn't feel the same way, but you could never quite form the words that needed to come out.

The shock was written clearly on his face. You had completely gob-smacked this man. His eyes had widened considerably and his jaw had gone slack from your answer.

But he never said anything back. You weren't expecting him to.

So instead, you did what you did best. Ran.

"You've got your answer. I-I really have to go now, I'll see you later," you stuttered out, suddenly drained from your revelation.

You took one last glance at Dr. Kreizler before making a mad dash for it with Stevie.

You were gone before Dr. Kreizler recovered from what just happened. And you never got to see the expression on his face after.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

#the alienist #laszlo kreizler #laszlo kreizler x reader #helmut zemo x reader #tfatws #helmut zemo #mcu fic #crossover #my writing

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airinsand · 1 year ago

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I stumbled upon this randomly, and I could never miss an opportunity to talk about my OCs (I don't really have any self inserts because I'm not self-aware lol)

1. Lyra & Elissa Stark. They're the twin cousins of Ned Stark. Their father was the younger brother of Ned's father. Their mother died shortly after giving birth to them, and their father and older brother's all died during Robert's Rebellion, so they were basically raised by Ned and Catelyn alongised the Stark kids (I imagine them to bet around Theon's age, probably a bit older). They're the typical opposite twins, with Lyra being more tomboy-ish and Elissa fitting more into the ideal image of a Westerosi lady.

Lyra grew up training swords fighting alongside Robb, Jon and Theon, basically because once she picked up a sword for the first time, no one could manage to get her so stop obsessing about it (and Ned and Cat REALLY tried to). Robb and Jon even sometimes say that they feel like she goes easy on them and is actually a better swordsman than she appears. Of course, due to all of this, Arya really looks up to her, but since Lyra is older, she manages to present a "ladylike" behavior when required of her, unlike Arya (because she's a child), so Lyra often finds herself looking after her little cousin. She's very vocal about how she considers northerner culture and values to be much above those of the south, to the point where when Robert and his family visited Winterfell, she would spend most of her time in the Godswood because she was so sick of the southerners (even though she did have a bit of a crush/admiration for Jaime Lannister, but she'll never admit it). Lyra is very straightforward forward to those she knows well but very quiet and distrustful towards strangers.

Elissa, on the other hand, is much more content with her life as a lady. She enjoys spending time with Catelyn, Sansa, and looking after the young Stark boys, and she definitely would've looked after Bran after his "fall" if she had been in Winterfell at the time. She's very patient and appears to be more open-minded when it comes to southern culture, but only to learn about it, she wouldn't trade her life for anything, she's a northerner and a stark through and through. Theon used to flirt with her all the time, but obviously, she never gave him the time of day, but she still treated him nicer than Lyra did. She's very sought after for betrothal in the North because of her beauty, manners, and, of course, her house. And unlike Lyra, most men aren't intimated or emasculated by her, so she has double the suitors her sister has (Lyra considers it a blessing).

Even though the twins are very different, they spend a lot of time together and love each other more than anything. They spend most of the story separated and, of course, trying to get back to Winterfell and to their remaining family, but mostly to each other. After Robert visits Winterfell, Elissa goes South with Ned, Arya and Sansa, because Sansa wants her to be her lady in waiting when she becomes Joffrey's queen, and Elissa also felt her cousin could use the help to look after his daughters. She went there somewhat reluctantly, and her sister didn't want her to go, but she didn't like the idea of Sansa ending up alone in King's Landing with Ned busy most of the time and Arya off doing her own thing. Lyra stayed in Winterfell, until Robb decided to march south, so she went with him. They didn't want to let her go, but she justified that of the Mormont women who could fight were allowed to go, she should be too. So Lyra's story follows, at least initially, Robb's campaign, and Elissa's story happens mostly as she is held hostage in King's Landing.

In the current point in the story, Elissa managed to escape King's Landing with Sansa (with Littlefinger's help) and is currently in the Vale, and is hiding under a false identity just like Sansa (Elissa looks VERY Stark, but since most people in the Vale haven't met a Stark in person, no one suspects her or anything. The only person who actually knew who she was was Lysa, and we all know how that went... down). Lyra is a "guest" (cof cof hostage cof) of Roose Bolton because Lyra was sent to escort Jaime back to KL alongside Brienne, but after Roose caught them in Harrenhall, and let Jaime and Brienne leave, he decided to keep Lyra with him becuse 1- the red wedding was gonna happen, 2- it would be useful to keep a Stark woman alive in case she could be useful. So she's back in the North with in, in Winterfell taken by the Boltons, where she is kept in her quarters and very rarely allowed to leave.

So I talked so much just about these two OCs and now I'm two tired to talk about the others haha Maybe some other day I will (seriously I have a lot of asoiaf ocs, not to mention the ones from the house I've created and all my Targaryen ones from fire and blood). I just love talking about my OCs too much TT

Who are y’alls ASOIAF OCs and embarrassing self inserts I’ll go first

1. Magda Baratheon. She’s the youngest Baratheon sibling and yes you have to change around the timeline for it to work but idrc. I think the Baratheon family could be even more unstable with a sister and also I like to project. She’s never had a father figure, Robert was like a distant fun uncle, Renly was her teenage older brother, and Stannis was the closest thing she had to a dad but ofc it wasn’t enough bc he’s Stannis. I think she is a combo of all the brothers good traits (boldness, charisma, loyalty, and quick wit) but also their shitty ones (stubborn, impulsive, proud). I think that after Renly dies she goes over to Stannis’ side and he takes her north probably hoping to secure a marriage alliance or something. She becomes friends with the Wall Squad bc I said so. And I ship her with Meera and they are happy girlfriends

2. Betha Bolton. She is Roose’s youngest child and his only surviving legitimate one, having the same mother as Domeric. And she is such a Freak a real manic pixie dream girl. She’s this soft spoken gentle oddball who doesn’t seem “all there” and no one can really believe this Weird Little Girl is from The Flaying House. Also she’s a seer 🔮 she is tha Cassandra of the ASOIAF-verse. She isn’t really in control of it but whenever she speaks Roose listens bc he knows that whatever she says comes true in some way. Also in the ASOIAF I have in my head he is a good dad to her :) and Ramsay doesn’t like her but is kinda freaked out by his little psychic half sister so he leaves her alone. AND she has a pet Little Valyrian that some rich lord got her as a gift when she read his fortune. Probably foresaw the Red Wedding and was scarred by the Terrors that occurred when it actually happened

#asoiaf #asoiaf ocs #my baby girls #the wolf twins

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meta-enthusiasm · 3 years ago

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You know what I am really fucking tired of seeing in popular media?

The "evil, hysterical woman in power" trope. The clichè that potrays women who are in a position of power as overzealous, unhinged, power hungry maniacs who are a ticking time bomb waiting to explode.

Female leaders are shown as less resonable and down to earth as their male counterparts, and are often villainized by either the fandom or the narrative of the story itself. They are doomed to fail because of their womanliness and need to be taken down before they enact their evil plans, preferably by a man, or a woman who performs the 'right' kind of femininity.

This trope relies on the sexist misconception that women are more fragile than men, more emotionally unstable and unpredictable.

"Women aren't cut out to be leaders, they should be nurturing and supportive and tend to their families. Having higher aspirations is against their nature and will eventually break them and drive them crazy."

That type of bullshit that was designed to keep women out of leadership positions and keep oppressing us. To keep us quiet and submissive.

Here are a few examples to further explain this stereotype:

Daenerys Targaryen is one of the most well known characters to fall victim to this trope. She is an abuse and rape victim, seeking to change the current social and political systems of the world because she knows how many people suffer under its injustice. ("Crush the wheel.")

For all her compassion and charity she has shown over the series, the writers decided that it would be reasonable for her to go crazy at the end of the show and, despite promising she wouldn't inflict more damage than necessary, kill thousands of innocent people whose government had already surrendered to her.

And guess who had to kill her in the end? Yup, another man. Her love interest, who was "forced" to betray her.

Next, we have:

Morgana Pendragon, from "Merlin". To remind you, she is an abuse victim who had to endure her father's controlling behavior and bigoted attitude towards people with magic abilities which, suprise suprise, she turned out to have. She had to watch as her father murdered and oppressed people just like herself, and when she challenged that behavior, he would come down hard with punishment. (Going so far as to actually throwing her in the dungeons for a couple days.)

Eventually, she rebelled against the corrupt system and had her genocidal father killed. She led a rebellion against Camelot after Uther's son (Arthur) continued to oppress magicians under his reign, and sought to create a better future for herself and her people.

So far so good, right? Well, no. The problem here is that she is the antagonist of the story. She is portrayed as being in the wrong for not quietly taking the injustice and watching it happen.

Halfway through the show, she becomes obsessed with power and status and desperately chases after the throne of Camelot. She is extremly vindictive, manipulative and cruel to others to archieve her goals. She is a "hysterical woman" who is out of control, emotionally unstable, challenges the patriarchy, and therefore needs to be defeated.

Her death was portrayed as tragic, yet absolutely necessary.

(Of course it had to be a man who killed her.)

Azula is the epitome of this horrid, misogynistic trope. She is a fierce, ambitious leader and highly skilled fire bender, respected and feared among her people. She is highly driven and succeeds at almost everything she sets her mind to.

Ever since she came into this world, she was better at everything than Zuko. She was a better fighter than him, a better bender, better strategist, better child. And that is precisely the reason why she had to lose in the end.

Despite coming from the exact same circumstances as Zuko, the story and the fandom at large see Azula as way less redemable and likable than him. Even though she is an abuse victim whose own mother hated her and is a literal child soldier, she doesn't get any sympathy from the protagonists of the story. The otherwise so understanding and wise Iroh even calls her "crazy", (which is, if you've done some basic research into misogynistic expressions, really fucking problematic.) and tells Zuko that there is no saving her. Why? He doesn't tell, but it's obvious that the writers made him say this because of their own internalized sexist beliefs. She isn't offered a way out of her toxic environment like Zuko was. She didn't get the support from Iroh because he had already given up on her.

To top it off, she has a nervous breakdown near the end and loses her remaining sanity. Because, you know, "She's craaaazy!! And SO unstable!! Typical woman." (Not to mention how this further stigmatizes mental illness and portrays it as something only evil people get.)

She was supposed to become the next fire lord, a position that carries utmost power and influence. Of course, such authority could not be given to a woman. That's why Zuko, a man, gets to be the next fire lord, and we are left assuming Azula will be spending the rest of her days in prison.

The writers assume the audience detests Azula and wants her to suffer. She doesn't deserve a happy ending, or the love and support that Zuko got.

Why? Because she poses a threat to the status quo, the patriarchy. She challenged the belief that men had to be the best and most efficient at everything they do, that women could indeed be better leaders and be happy with having a career and not be nurturing, motherly figures to the men in their lives. And for that transgression, for breaking gender stereotypes, Azula was punished.

(It's also why Katara, someone who performs the "right" kind of femininity by being nurturing, motherly, supportive, healing, doting, and is the care taker of the group, ends up taking Azula, the evil and perverted form of femininity, down. I believe @batboyblog has made a similar post about this.)

This is Carmilla from the popular Netflix show "Castlevania", and if you've payed attention to my previous points, it should be pretty obvious what her character represents and how her story ends.

Note that she is also an abuse and rape survivor who is represented as evil and cruel for being angry at what was done to her.

To top it off, she is also an example of the man hating woman stereotype, whose anger at the misogyny and sexism of the world is portrayed as an "overreaction" and as "too much".

At the end of the story, she had to be taken down by another man (Isaac) so that the status quo could be preserved, and the reign of a crazy bitch like her could be stopped. Horay, the day is saved from yet another unstable, selfish woman who would have brought suffering and pain over her country if allowed to rule. Hysterical women with their demand for equality.

Conclusion:

In all these examples, we can see female abuse victims thriving for power and status, for respect, being represented as something negative and something to avoid. Trying to fundamentally change a system that is rigged against women/female representing people is a fruitless endevour that will eventually fail and drive us crazy, because our minds aren't strong enough to handle this type of responsibility and status.

Holding on to anger and bitterness over what was done to us is the sign of a bad person, and the only morally acceptable path is to forgive/ignore our abusers and let the injustice continue to happen.

Strangely enough though, that same gaslighting, victim blaming mentality gets almost never applied to male characters. Men who seek vengeance are never portrayed as weak or crazy for giving in to the wish of changing a corrupt system/killing bad people. (Batman, the Punisher, Hawkeye, John Wick, Jason Todd, Erin, Scar from FMAB, Iron Man, and so on)

The reason why these stereotypes almost never apply to men but almost always to women is sexism. There is no other explanation for this. These tropes were specifically designed to make society believe that women aren't cut out for leadership positions and are happiest with domestic, easy tasks like watching after our children and taking care of the household.

Women who are angry, women who are dominant are to be feared and distrusted. They are represented as a danger to the general public and need to be taken down before they enact their evil plans.

Feel free to add further examples.

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everlarkficexchange · 4 years ago

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Magic as Always

Written by: @alliswell21

Prompt 71: Magic of Ordinary Days AU: 1940s, Katniss is a single pregnant girl. Desperate for her daughter not to have a child out of wedlock, Mrs Everdeen contacts a priest who in turn knows a young man who just may be willing to help. Sweet, kind and shy Peeta stayed home to take care of the family farm when his beloved brother went to war to never come back. He’s always wanted a family but rural small town life gives little chance to court. He hears of Katniss’ plight and graciously offers to marry her and raise the child as his own. He does everything he can think of to make a home for Katniss and the baby. How does Katniss take it? How does their relationship develop? Will they fall in love? [submitted by anonymous]

Rating: this chapter is rated Teens and Up

Tags: Historical!AU; WWII; 1940’s Era views on marriage, sexism, pregnancy, etc; Katniss/Marvel relationship; Non-graphic Unprotected Sex; Unplanned Pregnancy; Arrange Marriage; Miscellaneous Religious views; Grief/Mourning; Canon Characters Death; OOC!Mrs.Everdeen; Somewhat OOC!Katniss; Everlark is Endgame; Other tags to be added.

Notes: Thank you Anon for this prompt. I must confess, I’ve never seen the movie ‘The Magic of Ordinary Days’ or read the book the movie is based on. I did a quick skimming on the plot of the movie and then dug up all kinds of reviews on the book, most of my plot points come from a combination of movie and book (which apparently differ only in a few parts), besides what the prompter asked for. I just really loved this prompt, and see the potential of this story, which will be a few chapters long, cross posted to AO3 and I already have a good chunk written ;) The rating will be adjusted too, because there will be explicit Everlark smut in the following chapters. Anon, I hope I don’t disappoint you, this story will be only loosely based on the source material, and adapted to fit THG characters in the narrative, I will try to stick to the main plot points as much as I can, but I’m also taking several liberties with the story. I hope you still like it though.

KPKPKPKPKPKPKPKP

Prim died on a Tuesday, after a very long, strenuous battle with poliomyelitis. My sweet little sister’s face looked as fresh as a dew drop even in death.

“Come now, Katniss,” my mother calls from the open door of the mortuary hall, where visitation took place an hour ago.

The mortician has arranged for the coffin to be taken to the cemetery and put in the ground this afternoon. There will be no graveside mourning. It’s all we could pay for, but then again the war has left everyone penniless nowadays.

A big, rotund man comes to close the coffin, and offers a curt nod.

That’s it then. The very last time I’ll ever set eyes on Primrose’s sweet face.

“Katniss,” Mother whispers, insistently. It’s probably all she can muster before breaking down in tears.

I look on at the box my sister’s body lies in, numb and heartsick. I bring my 3 middle fingers to my lips and then rise them in the air. My last salute to my beloved Little Duck. I step away from the coffin and shuffle towards mother.

Up close, I can see the deep, dark bruises under my mother’s eyes. She used to be beautiful in her youth— according to friends and old photographs— but now she just looks tired and defeated. I guess having to bury first her husband and then her 15 year old daughter, in less than a year, would have that effect on anyone.

Prim would’ve looked like our mother, with their soft blonde locks, almond shaped blue eyes and alabaster skin. She had a softer spirit though, she enjoyed music and loved animals. She always said that if she was older, she would’ve joined the Red Cross and signed up to serve as a nurse to our boys in the Pacific, like Father did… Father wasn’t a nurse though, he was a chaplain.

It’s funny to think that I inherited so much of my father, like my dark hair, gray eyes and olive skin. We both also share the same aversion to human pain and blood that moves my mother and Prim to action; but unlike Prim, my father’s calling to help the soldiers in their worst situations, passed me and went directly to my baby sister.

I sigh… Prim would’ve made a terrific army nurse, if only she hadn’t wasted in bed with that odious disease! If she had been given the chance to live, I’m sure Prim would’ve had so many boys trailing after her. She would marry at some point and have a beautiful full life.

I don’t plan on marrying and having a family. If the acute pain in my own chest wasn’t enough warning, watching my mother walk silently from the funeral home to our apartment, with her head bowed and listening to her quiet sobs at night would be enough evidence that there’s too much sorrow in losing one’s husband and children.

I think my efforts will be better spent in cultivating my mind, and getting my degree in botany, like my father always dreamed, anyway… plus, I’m not much of a looker… not like Prim at any rate.

We finally arrived at our modest home. Mother drifts ghost-like into the door, and then we both shuffle quietly into our separate bedrooms. There won’t be a meal at the table tonight, but I make sure Prim’s old tomcat gets fed and watered, and after he meows in distress at my sister’s door, I open mine, and let him strut inside my bedroom and hop into my bed. The hideous fur ball and I distrust each other, but he understands his mistress is never coming back, and he’s the last thing I have from her… so he lets me pet him and he cuddles close to my chest as I fall asleep, crying.

——————————-

Mother and I walk slowly through the busy streets of town, mostly ignoring the bustle and disarray around us. People shout, cars honk horns, a baby cries in the distance, and the few young men rush back and forth in the busy sidewalks, like they’re being lashed by invisible whips.

“We should stop by the grocer and see if we can pick up some eggs.” Says my mother, pulling her “Sugar Book” out of her handbag.

Because of the war, everything is being rationed, from sugar to shoes.

I could care less about food and clothing, though. But I still go into the shop, dutifully.

I’m so immersed in my own thoughts, I don’t see the lanky man walking towards me with his arms full of vittles.

We collide. The man’s groceries fly up in every direction, raining over me, as I sit on my rump on the floor.

My mother is nowhere to be seen. Typical.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there!” Says the man, pulling a packet of oatmeal from the floor, while extending his other hand to help me up.

“No… it’s alright, I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Well, let’s agree that we’re both klutzes, and leave it at that?” The man offers.

I’m on my feet, dusting my skirt off and righting my blouse, “Sure, let’s do that.” I scowl at the skew state of my clothes and finally look up at the man.

He’s smiling down at me, and I must admit, his smile is dazzling. He’s got short brown hair, greenish-brown eyes, and a smattering of freckles over his nose. He also towers above me.

“My stars! If it isn’t Katniss Everdeen!” The young man says, unexpectedly excited.

I blink owlishly at him, and try to place his face, but I’m horrible at remembering people. Or their names.

“Marvel Quaid,” he offers genially, unfazed by my lack of response, “we went to grade school together?” He prompts, “My pa used to sell luxury goods in District One?”

“Oh, I think it’s coming back now,” I say smiling for the first time in what feels like months. “You used to throw sticks, pretending they were spears or something,” I tell him, showing that indeed, I do remember him.

Marvel scrunches his nose, “Javelins, actually. I was pretending I threw javelins. I saw a fellow doing it for the Olympics in a film, and then he won a medal for it. I thought to myself that making a victory lap with the good old American flag flapping after oneself looked like fun; well, I wanted to be a victor too!” He chuckles, then deflates. “But as everything, those dreams are gone now, crushed to dust under the weight of the war.”

As is the norm, once the war gets brought up, gloominess settles on, dampening the cheeriest of spirits.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m all too familiar with the sentiment.”

Marvel nods, grimly.

“We lost Father in France.” I’m not sure why I said it. “We put my sister in the ground last week, too.” I avert my eyes.

“Aww, geez, Kit… that’s truly awful. I’m so sorry for your loss,”

I’m mildly surprised I don’t immediately recoil at his little pet name. I guess the fact that he doesn’t sound condescending while delivering his condolences, helps.

“Oh, well, as my father would’ve said, at least their toils in this world are over. They can finally rest in peace.”

After a moment of heavy silence, Marvel shares, “I’m being shipped out tomorrow morning.”

I scowl, “Oh,” I bite the inside of my cheek, wondering how he’d manage to evade the draft for this long? Marvel is my age, 19 going on 20… boys get sent to the front lines at 18. “I… I could write to you… if you wanted?” I offer shyly.

Isn’t that what young women are being told to do, in order to keep our boys’ morale from plummeting?

Marvel grins, showing slightly crooked teeth, “That would be swell, Kit!” He stares at me for a long moment, then sighs, “I should go back to my shopping, before they miss me at home. Lord knows when will I have the chance of doing something as mundane as picking up my mother’s weekly grocery allowance.”

These days it is not only uncommon seeing men doing grocery runs, but simply seeing young, able-body men around, period. All of our boys are either in Europe or the Pacific, fighting to keep the devastation of the World war from reaching our shores.

“Well, for what is worth, I hope you get to return home safely… you know, so you can do all the boring tasks your mother tells you to do. And when I say safe, I mean, I hope you don’t run anymore into spaced out girls, like me,” I smirk.

“Oh, Kit, if only you knew how much I’ve enjoyed our accidental skirmish. It’s like a gift from above, seeing you after all these years. Your smile and the color of your eyes will forever be branded in my mind, to give me a reason to fight. To have a dream,”

I’m momentarily floored by Marvel’s florid little speech. Nobody has ever said anything nearly as sweet and gallant as that to me, and for a moment, I forget all about my dead sister and father, the war, and my own sorrow.

I avert my eyes, bashfully, as he finishes picking up his vittles off the floor.

“That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me,” I lean over to pick up a can of milk, and put it on top of his pile.

“I only speak the truth,” he smiles brightly.

My mother chooses to interrupt at the exact moment I bat my lashes at him, “Katniss, there you are! I’ve been waiting for you by the counter.” She shakes her head.

Marvel wobbles on his feet, rearranging his load, and then greets my mother, warmly, “Mrs. Everdeen, how nice to see you again,”

My mother eyes him, unimpressed. “Good afternoon, young man,” she answers.

“Ma’am… pardon my forwardness, but, would it be too troublesome to ask Miss Katniss to accompany a soldier about to be shipped out, to supper in the town?”

My mother narrows her eyes, distrust dripping from her voice as she speaks, “I’m not so sure that’s a good idea. My daughter and I are in mourning, you see,”

“Oh, this won’t be an untoward celebration of any kind, ma’am. With the war raging on, we’re all in mourning. All I ask for is one last night of normalcy, a chance to reconnect with an old grade-school mate,” he smiles, hopefully, “For old times sake?”

I’m watching my mother’s face closely, with bated breath.

“Very well,” Mother sighs, “You may ask Katniss out to dinner. But have her home by 9 sharp!”

I don’t hesitate to step up and give him directions to my apartment building in District 12.

I spend the rest of my day giddy and nervous, pressing my best Sunday suit, the gray one with the matching jacket, and polishing my only pair of leather shoes. There isn’t much I can do about my hair… the thing can’t be fashioned into the favored waves, not even putting it in curlers overnight, so I let it be.

I briefly wonder if this was all Prim’s doing? Meeting Marvel and mother’s somewhat easy aquiciscent. Prim hated seeing me sad, and constantly talked about how she’d love to help me get ready for dates with a beau. She couldn’t wait to be of courting age and date a strapping, young man herself… but of course, that would never happen for her, but she would probably still want to see me have those things.

Maybe Marvel is right, and our serendipitous encounter is a gift from above, to heal our wounds… at least for the night.

————————-

Marvel arrives at my house in his father’s car at 5:45. Riding is now such a luxury, with gasoline being rationed and all. He takes me to a quaint little dinner in the middle of town. We share malts, a greasy burger, and a small portion of fries and onion rings.

We talk about baseball:

“You’d look good in a baseball uniform, Kit! Can you still run as fast as you did in school?”

I laugh. “I’m not much for sports,” I demure, “but I’ve heard playing in one of the new teams pays alright. Anyway, I’m gonna be starting my second year of college soon. I put my studies on hold while Prim was at her worst, but now that it’s only just me and mother… I’m anxious to go back to study.”

“Wow, beautiful and smart!”

We talk about cars:

“I loved driving… but Mother sold our car when my sister took a turn for the worse. She didn’t want to at first, saying that Father saved up to buy it, and it held sentimental value to her, but I had to push to sell it. We needed the money and gas was a nightmare to come by, anyway,”

“The only reason we still have ours,” says Marvel, “is because Pa is too stubborn to let go of the things that still made him feel wealthy.” He scowls, “He’s trying to get into the ice business now, since it’s pretty much the only thing one where the raw material is plenty and relatively cheap, and there’s guarantee that people will buy the product… everyone still needs ice for their ice boxes, right?”

No one can afford luxuries anymore with every penny going out to support our boys in the battlefields.

We talk about many other subjects: his sister’s wedding; my father’s unit getting pinned and killed by Germans… We didn’t get a body to bury, but I got a medal on his behalf as his eldest child.

Marvel lets me sniffle against his chest, and then kisses my lips slowly.

I’ve never been kissed on the lips, and I feel my face heat up.

“Would you… like to take a drive with me, Kit?”

We drive all the way to the city limit. It’s exhilarating to be in a car again, and sitting at the overlook, at twilight, alone with a handsome boy, feels positively forbidden!

I’ve never done anything remotely injudicious all my life, and this whole moment feels… magical… exciting!

Tentatively, I initiated our next kiss, but he takes over in a rush of caresses and flitting touches.

“Beautiful, graceful, Kit. You have no match!”

“Marvel…” I kiss him again, not knowing how to answer his sentiments with words.

His hands are restless, groping my shoulders and elbows. “I wished he had more time! I would’ve loved to marry you before departing. I would’ve show you so much passion and love!”

“You still can show me, Marvel… you absolutely can!”

It’s all the permission he needs to dive into a frenzy. He doesn’t stop until the deed is done, and we’re a sweaty, tangled mess of limbs in the back seat of the car, only partially clothed.

A deep feeling of lethargy pours over me. My muscles are sore and heavy, and wished I could fall asleep in here.

“I intend on coming back to marry you, Katniss,” Marvel says, stretching his lanky, long legs to zip up his pants.

I sit up and start finger-combing my ruined hair, hoping my mother won’t notice the strands are extra frizzy. “Um… I guess we should after this,” I say shyly, gesturing between us.

“You could still go to college while I’m away,” he offers with magnanimity.

“You… wouldn’t mind that?” I ask incredulous, college women are so rare, unless they’re trying to become nurses or teachers. Most girls start courting right after high school and get married in the span of one to two years, and their husbands don’t normally encourage an education beyond what their wives came into the marriage with; so to hear Marvel say that wouldn’t mi d me stay in college is just about the greatest thing possible!

“My darling, Kit, I don’t want you to be one of those girls pining and wasting away for her beau. I’ll be busy at war, it’ll be unfair to keep you from occupying your own time while you wait fir my return. Go to college, my clever girl!”

I smile indulgently at him, leaning closer to slip his necktie around the collar of his shirt, “You are truly a generous, loving man,” I say.

Marvel beams, circling my waist with his arms pulling me against his body. “It’s all inspired by you, sugar plum!”

I giggle, kissing his cheek, “I’ll write to you every day!” I promise.

“That’s nice… but just so you know, I might not be able to write back right away. It’ll be a while before I get settled enough to write. But you’ll be in my thoughts every minute of every day, and that’s the honest truth! I’m serious about marrying you when I return, Kit,” he kisses me again. And then, he looks at his watch, sighing. “It’s 8:32. We should get on going, gotta keep in my future mother-in-law’s good graces!”

We share a carefree laugh, and finish tidying ourselves up to drive back to my house.

He walks me to the door, takes me in his arms, and kisses me passionately before promising he’d be back to officially ask for my hand in marriage, and for my part, I swear I’ll write to him every day until he returns home safe and sound.

But neither of us keeps our promises in the end, although I tried.

————————-

Three weeks go by and I keep my word of writing daily letters. I receive no word in return from Marvel, but think nothing of it… Europe is far and traveling by sea is tedious and time consuming; Marvel will get in touch once he’s settled down.

Another week goes by, still without news from my would-be fiancé. I still don’t worry. I’ve been busy with university, and the few other girls attending school with me keep me busy, but my heavier workload is starting to get to me.

I’m usually so tired and moody after school that socializing with my classmates becomes a chore. I barely eat supper before I’m passing out in bed, and my letters to Marvel start to get shorter and simpler with every passing day.

I skip writing one afternoon altogether, and take a long nap. Buttercup— Prim’s ugly cat— perches on my bed like a sentinel to watch me sleep. I believe he’s worried about me… stupid, clingy cat thinks I’m sick.

But the feline’s intuition proves right, because just two days later, I shoot out of bed and run into the washroom to spill every last ounce of last night supper into the toilet. I must’ve caught a bug or something!

I feel queasy and lightheaded every morning after. My appetite wanes and it seems my delicate stomach can only tolerate pears, and broth.

I visit the post office to place out my letters to Marvel almost everyday; Every time I come, the nice old mailman comments on how sweet it is to see all the young-uns holding romance strong. Marvel has yet to respond to one of my letters, so I just smile tightly and demure.

I’ve been thinking though; the longer I go without news of my supposed future husband, and despite the whirlwind night of romance with him, I start questioning my actions, my promises. I never wanted to marry before, and suddenly I was okay getting a hasty, unofficial engagement with a virtual stranger, I barely remember from grade school… maybe it’s better if Marvel never writes.

My plans on earning a college degree and finding a well paying job will go unencumbered— I’m aware women in prominent working professions are as rare as snow in July, but women’s presence in the working forces keep growing as industries need laborers to keep up producing while the men fight in the war. Educated women are almost becoming less rare.

At the two month mark since I last saw Marvel, I become weepier than usual… is to be expected in my opinion; Prim’s been gone for a little over two months and she was the only person I knew I loved. But now I’m worrying about my health on top of everything.

One morning, while I’m kneeling on the cold, hard floor in front of the toilet, feeling miserable and tired, my mother calls my name from the open door.

“Katniss, I think it’s time to get a test.” She states evenly, and then enters the room to fetch a damp washcloth to wipe my face clean. “I hope I’m wrong, but I’m afraid you may be with child,” she sighs.

I squirm. “No,” I gasp. “I— I can’t be with child. I just can’t!” But the thought has crossed my mind a few times already. “It’s not supposed to be this way!”

“I know, child,” My mother pats my head, “there’s only one way to know. Get dressed for the day, I will call the most discreet physician I know, and have him pay us a visit.”

————————-

Doctor Aurelius— a physician my mother has helped deliver babies and treat maladies with— confirms the pregnancy with a grim face.

I sit at my kitchen table numb and despondent. My mother writes a check to the doctor for his services, while talking in no so hush tones in the other room. I listen to their whole conversation, as if submerged in water.

“I blame myself for this, doctor. I should have kept a closer eye on her,”

“Don’t blame yourself Ms. Everdeen, it’s that war business bringing out all sorts of evil into the world! It’s unfortunate the rise of these cases in our community. Young ladies— from good families!— engaging in acts ought to be saved for marriage. Youth do things without thinking, guided by fear. Our boys fear they may not return from that senseless, awful war, and settle down properly, and I don’t blame them one little bit.”

“The only solace I have right now, is that my poor husband is not here to see the shame that’s fallen over our family,”

“I understand the sentiment, ma’am. There’s no telling how Preacher Everdeen would’ve taken this blow. But I’m sure things will work out as soon as young Katniss hears from the father…”

I dissolve into silent tears then. My mother escorts the doctor to the door and then there’s silence.

My pinky finger curls into the soft fabric of the table cloth, and I try to ignore the urge to vomit boiling in my stomach. There’s one thought circling mi mind: my college days are over.

——————————-

“Ah! Miss Everdeen, I have something for you.” Says the mailman as soon as I reach the desk. He smiles, but rather sadly, like he’s about to give me bad news.

I’ve come to the post office with urgent letters every day for 6 days, and he’s never looked at me this way.

The old man digs around for a moment and almost reluctantly, passes a parcel tied up in twine. An envelope is attached to the top of the parcel, and with a sinking feeling, I realized it’s a stack of my own letters.

“It came in today, miss.” Says the man, voice laced with pity. “Sorry for your loss.” He says.

At first I don’t understand what he could possibly mean by that; he’s offered his sympathies fir my dead father and sister already; it makes absolutely no sense to repeat himself randomly after so long.

Then it hits me like a ton of bricks.

I gasp, and press the parcel to my chest. “Oh no! Marvel!” I whisper. I give the man a hasty wave, thanking him, and rush out of the post office like mad.

Tears run down my cheeks, while I dash home, imagining the worst. “Poor, Marvel!” Is all I can think.

“Katniss, what’s wrong?” My mother calls, alarmed, when I rush to my bedroom, sobbing. She follows me in, and watches me tear into the envelope at the top of the stack.

I frown in confusion when I’m met with handwritten, chicken-scratch scrawl, instead of a formal missive typed in official US military stationary.

My scowl deepens as my eyes rove over the flowery vocabulary, and then I screech, “What?!”

“Katniss, what’s going on?”

I ignore my mother when she approaches to read over my shoulder; I step around her, shaking the piece of paper in my hands and stand by the window, as if sunlight will make the words change their meaning.

I smooth the creases and folds on the page over, and read out loud, “Dearest Kit, sorry it took so long to write, it’s been a wild time since we arrived and finding time to correspond with everyone back home it’s been hard.

“At times, your letters have been the sole source of light and hope in the darkness of this conflict. Is for that reason, and with a heavy heart, that I must come clean to you now. I truly meant it when I swore to come back and make you my wife, but as the Good Book says, the Lord works in mysterious ways, and love has sprouted out the most unlikely place! Kit, I’ve fallen in love and married a lovely gal here in England…”

I stop reading. He goes on talking about the why and how, but I sincerely don’t care.

“That good for nothing, virtue dasher, future crushing… liar!” My mother bleats to the ceiling, raising her palms over her head, dramatically.

I’m angry too, of course. I feel used and disposed of like a dirty rag, but my mother’s reaction is borderline hilarious. Except, it isn’t.

I’m pregnant, unmarried, and soon— once my still flat stomach starts rounding— I’ll be socially ostracized for my condition. My only saving grace was the promise of marriage that bastard Marvel had given me. But that’s gone now.

“I knew that boy was bad news the second I laid eyes on him! He never even introduced himself to me, the little weasel! This is my fault. My fault! I should’ve never allowed you to run amok with the likes of him…”

“Mother, will you please?” I nearly growl, gesturing at the open bedroom door.

She stares at me uncomprehendingly for a moment, before pursing her lips in disapproval, and stalking out of the room muttering her aggravation under her breath.

I sink into my bed with Marvel’s stupid letter crumpling in my fist. A single, hot, angry tear rolls down my face, and for the first time since finding out of its existence, I hug my midsection and address my child, “I’m so sorry for dragging you into this mess. I know you didn’t ask for a mother like me, but I’m all you got now, little one. I promise we will be alright… I’ll try not to let you down.”

———————-

My mother has been unbearable for the last two days. She cries in her room worse than when Prim died, and when she sees me, she starts lamenting my poor choice, like I’m not even standing there… as if I don’t feel discouraged enough.

I keep myself busy with my education. I will need to earn this diploma now more than ever before, and I need to do as much as I can before the baby arrives and my studies get put on hold.

In the meantime, I scout the newspapers for possible work options to sustain me and my mother. Our savings keep diminishing and the small stipend my mother got from the Army since my father passed away is becoming more insufficient by the day.

There’s a knock on the front door, and I push out my chair unhappy by the interruption.

“Afternoon Miss Katniss! Would you let your mother know she’s got a telephone call down in the lobby?” Says the building’s doorkeeper.

“Of course, thank you. She’ll be right down!”

Telephones are yet another luxury we had to give up when moved to this small place after losing my father.

I go back to my job hunt, and my mother descends to the lobby, quickly.

She returns after only 10 minutes, almost running through the door, excitedly calling my name. Tears wet her face, but her smile is so blinding, even without knowing what sort of news she’s heard to cause her such joy, I stand from the table with nervous anticipation.

“Oh, Katniss! Katniss my dear daughter, you’re saved!” She exclaims, hugging me tightly.

I’m confused. I step away from her embrace, “What do you mean?”

“It’s the best thing possible ever, I tell you! The Lord has answered all of my prayers!”

“This is all so exciting and all, mother, but… could you please share this great news already?”

My mother cups my face in her hands, and beams at me, “You need to pack your things, darling! Your father’s good friend, Reverend Undersee, has found a husband, and you are to wed, in three days time!”

—————————

Reverend Undersee and his daughter, Madge, meet me and my mother at the rinky dink bus station, in the equally tiny town my mother has banished me to.

“Katniss! How long has it been?” Says Madge, hugging me enthusiastically.

I bite my tongue to keep the acidic retort of “not long enough!” to leave my mouth.

“Welcome to Panem,” says the reverend, soberly, shaking my mother’s hand in greeting.

“Thank you, revered. We appreciate your hospitality and your understanding,” my mother responds, then gives me a pointed look and a wordless command.

I nod and mutter, “Thank you, sir. Madge,”

I scowl at a crack in the pavement, not feeling an iota of gratefulness for this charade!

Any man agreeing to this questionable union has to either be desperate, or be hiding terrible, ulterior motives to go along with all of this. Nobody in their right mind would willingly marry a girl pregnant with another man’s baby, and be happy about it… unless that’s the reason!

I shudder at the thought.

But it is a very real possibility that my intended is a simpleton, who can’t find a wife otherwise… or worse! It could be a man very advanced in age, looking for a supple, young body to leech off. Gross!

My mother had been too excited about the news that a man offered to marry me (as if I asked for, or even wanted a husband!) to bother to ask his name.

Reverend Undersee coughs daintily, clears his throat, and starts, like he’s giving a lecture at the university. “It is our Christian duty to lend a helping hand to widows and orphans in their time of needs. Same way it’s our duty to keep the memory and honor of an old friend from being dragged into the mud.”

I wince at the harsh words, and let my face fall lower, if that’s even possible.

“Well, it’s a good thing that we are all recipients of the abundant grace of the Lord, which covers multitude of faults, and it’s never hard to reach,” a deep, velvety, masculine voice cuts into my embarrassment.

I lift my eyes from the ground, to find a man striding confidently in our direction. He smiles kindly at me, his eyes fixed on my own, like I’m the only person still standing in the station.

He finally cedes our staring contest, to take in the rest of the group.

A knot forms in the pit of my stomach, because I recognize him from years past when my family used to visit this town, and I’m afraid I know exactly why he’s here.

“Good afternoon, all. I apologize for my tardiness, I had a last second detail to take care of before leaving the house,” he nods in our general direction, taking his hat off; a riot of ashy blonde curls falls onto his forehead, before bending forward to shake my mother’s hand, “I’m Peeta Mellark, at your service, ma’am. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Likewise, mister Mellark,” says my mother, her lips twitch tersely, “Widow Everdeen, and this here is my daughter Katniss… your bride.”

Peeta Mellark’s baby blue eyes slip back to mine, and the left side corner of lips curls into a shy, earnest smile. “Welcome to Panem, Katniss, I’ll sure do my best, so you’d like it here.”

#alliswell21 #prompt 71 #Springtime Edition 2021 #submission

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believinghurts · 4 years ago

Text

Their Daughter Pt 2

Warnings: Yelling, self doubt?

Requested: No

MUST READ PART ONE FIRST

This hasn’t been proofread so I’m sorry in advance!

Part One The following weeks after Sirius arrived at Grimmauld Place were good. He spent some time with Ali although they ever spent much time with just the two of them at her request to her Uncles. She had agreed to spending time with Sirius, but didn’t want to be by herself with him; not that she feared he would harm, but that she didn’t want things to be awkward or for her to say the wrong thing. Regulus or Remus was always home with the two since Sirius wasn’t allowed to leave the house. Ali learned that like Regulus Sirius could play piano and also speak French. She also noticed that Sirius was restless. He always was moving or doing something to occupy his mind. They played Wizards Chess, Ali always won, or Exploding Snaps, Sirius won as well as watched a few Muggle movies.

Sirius enjoyed spending time with his daughter learning all the things he should have known if it weren’t for him being in Azkaban. He learned that her favorite color was green, that she loved to read anything she could get her hands on, and that she could speak some French as well as Bulgarian. She didn’t play Qudditch, but enjoyed watching it and was a fan of the Bulgarian team since she was friends with Viktor Krum. When Viktor was mentioned Sirius learned from Remus that the boy had had a crush on her, but Ali only saw him as a friend. True to Remus’s word Ali really was a light. The old house he was forced to stay in seemed brighter now that there was so much life in it.

Although he enjoyed the time he got to spend with Ali, he was slightly agitated that he didn’t get to have one on one time with her. He knew that she didn’t fully trust him yet, but he wasn’t going to hurt her. On top of spending time with Ali, he always got to build his relationship with Remus back up. It was strained before he was arrested and it still was. He thought Remus was the traitor so he avoided him the last couple of days of the first war. He loved Remus as a brother though he used to think that it was more than that. Now that Remus spent so much time at Grimmauld Place their relationship was as strong as before. Regulus and Sirius still got on each other's nerves and it was bluntly obvious most times. Regulus tried to maintain his temper mainly for Ali because he knew she didn’t like yelling. Try as he might they still had a yelling match that Ali had overheard while Remus was out.

It was the Tuesday after Sirius had arrived, and Ali had been in the living room on the couch reading a book. It was the first time Remus had left in a couple days and he was out to get groceries. Regulus had been reading with Ali when Sirius came in and asked to speak with him privately. Ali had acted like she was paying attention when the men left the room. She heard the door to the study shut, she quietly went through the trap door in the hallway that led into the wall of the study. She sat on her heels listening to the conversation that was about her.

“Why is Ali hanging out with the Malfoy’s? I thought you were done with all the Death Eater business, Regulus,” Sirius accused.

Regulus rolled his eyes, “because they are friends? Isn’t that what friends do? I thought you of all people would know that.”

“Friends? Seriously? You KNOW that Lucius was a Death Eater and he would never change his ways. And you just let her be friends with their kid?! Are you insane?,” Sirius yelled making Ali flinch.

“Yes. they are friends. Ali has a hard time making friends if you must know. She’s a Black and your child. You were sent to Azkaban, it’s public knowledge. No one trusts her no matter how many times she proved herself. She hangs out with Draco and his friends. He watches out for her. He always has.” Regulus’s voice was firm. He wasn’t going to let Sirius ruin the few relationships Ali had outside of the house. He knew that Sirius wouldn’t trust the Malfoy’s but he did. They helped him with ali when he needed something the was grateful for. Sirius would never understand what it’s like for Ali. “Sirius, I will not be discussing this again with you. Her friends are her friends. She trust them. Get over it. You have no right to say anything about it. Leave it alone, Sirius. I suggest you come to term with it.”

Regulus had left Sirius stewing over his words. Sirius didn’t want his daughter hanging out with the Malfoys and she was not going to. Alianova was his daughter, not Regulus’s. If he didn’t want her hanging out with them, she wouldn’t.

Sirius hadn’t spent a lot of time with Ali since that day. She had overheard from Remus that Harry and some others were to be joining us at Grimmauld Place, something that she's not looking forward to. Her and Harry didn’t get along mainly due to the fact that she was there when Draco made fun of Harry's friend choice in First Year. Admittedly Ali was the reason that Draco had stopped with tormenting so many people, but he hadn’t stopped completely and Harry just got on his nerves to no end. It didn’t help matters that the Weasley twins had played many pranks on her. Draco wouldn’t stand for anyone making fun of or bullying Ali. Draco saw her as a little sister even though they were only 3 months apart.

When Harry had found out that Sirius was his Godfather while believing that he was the cause of his parents death, he had taken it out on Alianova. Calling her many names, blaming her for her fathers actions, and going as far as saying she was as vile as those that followed Voldermort. Though Harry blamed her father for what had happened he didn’t know that it was her father; he believed it was her Uncle. Even after he learned the truth he had never apologized to Ali or even looked her way for that matter. Ali was pretty sure that Herimone didn’t have much of an opinion on her since that had never had problems nor talked. Ron put her in the same category as Draco since she hung out with him and other Slytherins. She was also there when Draco called Hermione a Mudblood, what Ron didn’t know was that after the incident Ali gave Draco a tongue lashing and didn’t speak to him for three days till he was basically crying, begging her to talk to him. So Ali knew that when Harry arrived it wasn’t going to be pleasant for her.

Her Uncles were aware of the fact that she didn’t get along with the Golden Trio, and were seemingly preparing for the worst. Severus dropped off a new set of books she had been wanting so that she could keep busy if she was going to hide out in her room. Remus had talked to her about it, explaining that he knew Ali never did anything to make Harry act like he did towards her, as well as making sure she had her favorite tea and extra chocolate chip cookies in the cupboard. Regulus was silently preparing for a battle to break out when Harry did arrive. He had a feeling that it wasn’t going to go over well when he saw how the duo couldn't stand one another. Sirius would think that Harry and Ali would be best friends because him and James were. Regulus had never actually talked to the Potter boy unlike Severus and Remus. Ali never talked about him, but he had heard a few things from Draco about how Potter perched for equality though treated Slytherins like dirt Ali being included.

The couple days leading up to Harry's arrival with the Weasley’s Ali started going in on herself; spending even more time alone, not talking a lot during meals, or going to bed earlier than normal. Sirius noticed her odd behavior but just thought it was a teenage girl thing. He was excited for Harry to get there. He felt bad that he wasn’t there for him all these years and was planning on making it up to him in any way that he could. It was all that came out of Sirius’s mouth the last couple of days and Regulus was fuming over it. Sirius hadn’t even been this excited when he was going to meet his own daughter for crying out loud.

Ali was sitting in the kitchen when she heard a commotion coming from the front door. Thinking it was just Remus coming back she brushed it off going back to reading her book till she heard voices coming towards her. She looked up seeing Sirius walking in with Harry under his arm while an army of Redheads followed. Great. I’m trapped in here with them, she thought to herself. Truthfully she was nervous that Harry was going to say something that could ruin what little relationship she had with her father. Ali didn’t do well with a lot of people she didn’t know and while she went to school with all these kids she didn’t know them besides their bullying towards her. Glancing back up from her book she saw that Ron was glaring at her, Harry was looking at her with what could be described as distrust, and Sirius was looking at her confused while the others looked at her with curiosity minus the twins who couldn't care less.

“Ali, get off the counter and come say hello to our new house guest,” Sirius demanded while motioning her forward. She hopped off the counter trying to fight off the blush that was rising to get reprimanded for something she did all the time, and offering a little wave towards the crowd, “Hi, I’m Alianova, but you can call me Ali.”

None of the children said anything, but the redheaded adults looked at her oddly. The women who Ali knew to be the Weasley mother looked at Sirius, “You didn’t tell us that Regulus had a daughter Sirius.”

Ali’s mouth dropped. He hadn't ever mentioned her to anyone? She felt her heart shatter in her chest. Tears burned in her eyes as she felt like a dirty little secret. She cleared her throat hoping to get rid of the egg carton she had swallowed not wanting to cry in front of them.

“As much as I would love to take claim for this princess, I cannot. Isn’t that right, Sirius?” Regulus ultimately appeared out of thin air next to Ali wrapping an arm around her shoulders. He knew that Molly meant no harm with her comment, but it hurt Ali still. Regulus couldn't help but smirk a little when he noticed Sirius was flustered a bit at Molly's comment. Sirius oblivious wasn’t expecting someone to rung up the fact that he had a daughter that he didn’t tell anyone about. The humor was swiped out of the situation when Regulus noticed the tears gathered in his nieces eyes. Regulus wished that Ali was all his and not Sirius’s. Sirius didn’t deserve someone so pure, and time would tell if Sirius deserved someone at all.

Everyone looked shocked staring at Sirius, “Then whose is she?,” Harry asked.

Sirius rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly looking down at his feet, “Harry, this is my daughter Alianova Black.”

“What?!”

“Your daughter?”

“She’s a snake!”

Various voices rang out through the room as the information was taken in. Ali subconsciously stepped closer to Regulus clutching her book to her chest, not enjoying the loud noise nor the stares that were now coming her way. Molly had hushed her children before stepping forward to meet the girl.

“Hello, dear. I’m Molly Weasley.” Ali looked at the women nervous. She uncurled her hand from around her book and shook the older womens hand. She smiled slightly at her and her kindness, thanking Merlin that at least one of the Weasley’s seemed nice. Molly started to point to the others in the room, “That’s Arthur, my husband, ‘ Pointing to the man that gave her a enthusic wave before looking around the house again. “Bill and Fleur,” A long haired redhead with a fang earring stepped forward with a girl Ali recognized as Fleur Delocur under his arm. Fleur smiled brightly when she saw it was Ali everyone was talking about. They had talked some while Fleur was at Hogwarts, and she was looking forward to speaking with the young girl again. “That’s Charlie. He won’t be here a lot since he goes back and forth to his job in Romania,” A man with long hair who was slightly shorter than Bill, but broader smiled at her nodding his head before turning back to his older brother. “And of course you know the others from school, right dear?”

Ali nodded her head avoiding looking at the younger of the bunch. Harry spoke up once again looking at Ali, “You never told me he was your dad.”

“You never asked, Potter,” Ali summoned all the confidence she had in her body to help her look him in the eye. “And obviously it wasn’t important enough for Sirius to mention it either.”

The tension was thick in the room. Most looking between Ali and Sirius wondering what was going to happen next. When Sirius noticed no one was going to come to his aid he stepped up, “I didn’t mention it because it just never came up. I wasn’t sure where you were Alianova so I didn’t know if they knew you or not. Maybe now that all of you,” he paused looking at the trio then me, “will be living in the same house where you can be friends.”

Ali silently rolled her eyes knowing that nothing would make them want to be friends with her. Ron scoffed, “Yeah right. She’s a bloody slytherin.”

His comment earned him a whack upside the head from his mother. “It doesn't matter what she is or not. You will be nice, do you understand me?” She sent pointed looks to Ginny, Ron, Fred, and George who all looked down at the floor nodding. Ali noticed the pleading look she got from the twins, but she couldn’t tell if it was asking her to forgive them or for her not to tell all the horrid things that they had done to her and her friends.

Ali decided it was time to correct something. Even though they had all been sorted together it was evident the trio had not paid enough attention to know what house she was in. “Actually, I’m a Ravenclaw.”

Regulus beamed down at his niece freaking his older brother out. He was proud that ALi stood up for herself. She was Black, but did not have the temper of one. She often preferred to ignore confrontation at all cost. Ali lit out a quiet giggle at the look of shock on their faces. She figured at least Hermione knew that she was a ravenclaw.

“But you are always with the Slytherins,” Harry stated

“Yeah, they're my friends?”

“But you're a Ravenclaw, why hang out with the snakes?” Ron seemingly finished Harry's thoughts for him and Ali wondered if it was because they shared a brian cell.

“I just get along with them..Draco is family anyway. So we’ve always been close. I don't understand what the problem is? Just because I’m from one house I cant be friends with people in another?” Ali crossed her arms over her chest while Harry glared at her through narrowed eyes.

Noticing that things were going to get south quickly Regulus stepped in. “Um, Molly, Kreacher has prepared some of the rooms you lot. The doors that are open are the ones that are ready. I can have Kreacher show you if you like.”

“No it's okay, dear.” with that Molly Weasley set off, ordering her children to a room and to whom they would share with. Herimone and Ginny, and Fred and George took the rooms on the top floor, Harry and Ron on the floor above Ali with Molly and Arthur, while Charlie took the room beside Ali’s and Bill and Fleur took the room across from her. Ali was excited that Fleur would be so close to her. Although the girl was much old she had taken a liking to Ali and the two bonded through French and their love for anything sweet. Fleur was one of the many girls and boys that Ali had bonded with when the other two schools were staying at Hogwarts. Viktor was someone Ali had known from a young age and he had introduced her to many of his Balharian friends whereas she met Fleur on accident and became close with ehr and the other french girls. Before leaving the room Fleur had shocked everyone by pulling Bill and Charlie with her to hug the girl close and whispering that she was glad to see her again. Fleur introduced her to the older Weasleys more privately making sure Ali knew that they wouldn’t judge her like the others did since Fleur knew all about her struggles in school.

Charlie was shocked when he saw the book about Dragons in Ali’s hands. “You read about Dragons?” Causing Bill to roll his eyes at his brother.

“You only just met the girl ten seconds ago and you are already starting about dragons?” Fleur and Ali let out a little giggle at Bill’s comment while Regulus watched from the corner of the room happy that someone was being kind to his Ali.

“It’s okay, Bill. Um, yeah, my uncle Sev got me this book. I like to learn about different creatures. I already read all I can about Hippogriffs so I’m onto dragons. You work in romania right? The dragon sanctuary there?” Ali felt kind of odd to be talking with people about something she liked who didn;t know her very well. Every Draco got bored of her ‘learning talk’ as he called it.

“Yeah I do. How’d you know?” Bill was stunned to see Charlie talking freely without being awkward. Charlie was not well with people which was why he worked so close with as many non human things as he could.

“Your mum mentioned Romania and you have on Dragon skin boots. So I put two and two together.”

“Watch out, boys, she’s observant. She’ll know all your secrets before you can even count to ten.” Fleur laughed, hugging Ali once more promising to catch up later before dragging the boy to unpack.

Ali stood awkwardly watching Sirius fawn over Harry. It was as if Sirius was Harry’s father instead of hers. He had spent a little bit of time with Ali over the past couple of weeks, but he never acted like that. Maybe that was why she had a hard time calling him Dad. It would go back and forth between Sirius and dad. Remus had explained to her that she didn’t have to do anything that she didn’t want to from a young age, so sometimes when she felt like he was acting like her father he was dad, but others he was just Sirius.

Air of awkwardness around Ali broke Regulus’s heart as he followed her gaze to Sirius and Harry. SIrius was talking with Harry about school and Quidditch while essentially ignoring his own flesh and blood. Regulus knew exactly how ALi felt in that moment because he felt it too when Sirius would push him away in favor of James. When Regulus looked at Sirius and Harry that’s what he saw. The boy hadn’t been here an hour and Sirius was already forgetting those around him like he did in school.

Regulus was about to walk up to Ali when he heard a pecking noise coming from the window. He recognized it as the Malfoys owl and from the look on Ali’s face she did too. Regulus opened the window letting Ember sit on the still before taking the letters out of its beak. The letters were addressed to Ali and from the handwriting it looked to be Narcissa’s on one and Draco’s on the other. “Here you go Al,” he gave the owl a few treats before sending her home.

Ali tore open Narcissa’s letter first knowing that all the important information would be in there. She was excited as this was the first time she would get to talk to her other family in weeks seeing as they were gone to France for a trip, one that Ali was invited on, but turned away in favor of hanging out with Regulus.

Dear Alianova,

I hope that you are having a good summer so far. I am so sorry that it has taken me so long to write, but it was incredibly busy taking care of your uncle and cousin while in France. We were meant to be home last week, but Lucius wanted to stay a tad bit longer. You know how he is for French coffee. Anyway I heard through Andromeda that Sirius was now staying with you and Regulus. How is that going, darling? I know that you were nervous when he first got out of Azkaban.

I know that Regulus has allied himself with the Order as we are trying to stay neutral to it all. Lucius has taken a bit more convincing, but after telling him what you told me about He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named being a half-blood he started to listen more. He still doesn’t like it very much, but does not wish to put myself, Draco, or you in harm's way after what happened last year.

Draco is looking over my shoulder trying to get me to get to what he thinks is the important stuff. The reason I am writing is because I was wondering if you would like to come stay with us for a week or so at the Manor? I know that being around so many people bothers you and Draco tells me you and Potter don’t get along.

So how about it, darling? We could go shopping for school supplies and anything else you could want. Lucius even said he missed your wits the other day at dinner. Let me know when you decide. If you would rather spend time with your father I understand as does the others. Completely up to you.

All my love,

Aunt Cissa

While Ali was reading her letter Remus had come home from a meeting with Nymphadora. He saw the smile grow on Ali’s face as she read the parchment in her hands. Regulus had given him a pointed look before nodding at Sirius when he entered the room and he instantly knew what he thought would happen had happened. Remus was Sirius and James' friend yes, but he knew how it felt to be the outsider looking in on the duo much like Ali was to Sirius and Harry.

Once Ali finished her letter and was sticking it back in the envelope Remus approached her. “Hey Nova.” He gave her a hug before leaning on the counter looking at her. “Whose got you all excited?”

Sirius turned his attention to Ali waiting on her response. He saw her get the letter, but wasn’t sure who they were from. He watched with envy as Ali talked with Regulus and Remus freely. She didn’t act like that towards sirius. Ali was his daughter, much like Harry was his son. He was incredibly grateful to have Harry back in his life, wanting to know the boy as much as possible. Sirius felt his blood start to burn when he heard Ali’s response to Remus’s question.

“It’s from Cissa. They just got back from France a couple of days ago and wanted to know if I could come stay with them for a week or so,” Ali smiled happily at the thought of spending time with her Aunts. She didn’t know Bellatrix, not that she wanted to, according to Regulus Bellatrix was mean and an avid follower to the Dark Lord. He had placed wards all around the house when the news of her getting out of Azkaban broke out just as Lucius and Ted Tonks did to their houses as well. Andromeda and Narcissa were closer after the Malfoy family stopped following the Dark Lord which led to Ali getting to spend time with her two cousins and her older one falling in love with her uncle Rem even if he denies it. “So can I go? Please?,” she looked back and forth between her two uncles.

“I don’t have a problem with it, do you Regulus?,” Remus chuckled when he saw Ali bounce lightly on her toes knowing that Regulus wouldn’t say no.

Regulus opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted, “No, you cannot go. Are you insane? Bellatrix just broke out of prison and you are wanting to spend time with the Malfoys? For all you know Bella could be there!” Sirius practically shouted at the girl who flinched backwards making Regulus scowl at his brother.

“Yes Ali, you may go. But you have to write to me at least twice, and promise not to get into too much trouble with Draco.” Regulus ignored his brother's huffs focusing on Ali. “When do you leave?”

“Cissa didn’t say. Just to write back my reply,” Ali started reading the letter to make sure she hadn’t missed it.

“Well, why don’t you reply and tell her that I can drop you off at Andromedas tomorrow evening when I go pick up Dora,” Remus said fighting the blush from the looks his friend and niece were giving him.

“Got a date uncle rem?” Ali giggled as Remus’s mouth opened and shut like a fish, “I’ll go write her back. Thank you both.” She kissed them on the cheek before heading to her room. As she climbed the stairs the last thing she heard was the yell of Sirius Black.

“Are you both fucking insane?! You’re letting her go and STAY at the Malfoy Manor? For a week? It’s no wonder her and Harry don’t get along! She’s just like them! A snake! You have ruined my daughter!”

Ali’s heart broke again hearing her fathers words about her. Tears ran down her face as she shut her door silently thanking whoever was listening that she was getting out of this house for a little while.

#sirius black x reader #sirius black x daughter!reader #regulus black #Remus Lupin #remus lupin x niece!reader #regulus black x Niece!reader #daughter!reader #narcissa malfoy #harry potter and the goblet of fire

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sillyguyhotline · 4 years ago

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How YTTD Challenges Conventional Norms of Emotional Strength

Hello! I’ve been thinking a lot recently about how emotional vulnerability is present throughout YTTD’s characters, particularly how Nankidai contrasts more feminine coping mechanisms with more traditionally masculine coping mechanisms. I’ve touched on this topic before (albeit less directly) when I’ve discussed why I think Nao and Kanna are criminally underrated by the fandom, but I’ve never really talked about it in detail. However, when I was talking about the misogyny in Danganronpa last night, there was always a thought in the back of my mind that YTTD was different, fundamentally better in its portrayal of female characters and femininity as a whole. And as I thought about it more, I realized that the reason I think this way is because of how well it portrays and handles emotional vulnerability of its characters.

I think, first, that it’s most important to establish how emotional vulnerability in the context of gender is most commonly portrayed. Men are typically not allowed to show emotion or to cry, and their strength is determined by their lack of emotion. Conversely, the perception that women are the weaker gender is often characterized by their increased freedom to show emotion, and any “strong female character” is simply an excessively masculine woman who’s cruel and emotionless. In fact, the version of Reko we see as a doll, the Reko before Alice’s death, is actually a perfect example of the common “strong female character.” She barely cares about her brother, she’s rude, she exhibits little to no compassion, and she lashes out at the people around her. But this is not the Reko we know and love, and in fact it is the Reko whose cruelty is exhibited by her willingness to kill a version of herself. She isn’t introduced as a good character, she’s introduced as the person Reko no longer is, the person Reko has grown past, and that is a good thing.

I also find it very interesting that the two men who are physically the strongest (Keiji and Q-taro) and who assert themselves as the most masculine leaders from the beginning actually turn out to be some of the most weak and cowardly characters in the game. Q-taro has a lot of confidence in himself and his abilities; in Russian Roulette he is proud and boastful, claiming that he is strong and experienced enough to shoot the gun. However, in the first Main Game he is scared enough of dying that he nominates the children to be killed off so he doesn’t die, he has an ending where his cowardice gets the best of him and he sacrifices everyone else in order to escape, and in one of the endings to the arbitration room attraction he is too scared to push the button. His character arc doesn’t come about because he becomes stronger or more resilient, it comes about because he realizes that his life is not the only valuable one and that compassion to the rest of the group is crucial. Keiji, too, suffers from incredible emotional weakness. Though he is incredibly muscular and centers himself as one of the group’s leaders immediately, one of his biggest flaws is his inability to deal with his own emotions. Though he’s aware of how atrocious his actions have been, he’s far more willing to hide from his problems, avoid confrontation, and take advantage of his selfishness than he is to actually make steps towards change. And this undoubtedly a flaw of his!

Then, on the other hand, you take the third “buff” character, but the one who doesn’t immediately aim to set himself up as a strong leader. While Keiji’s first goal is to take charge of the group and Q-taro’s first goal is to establish himself as the strong one, Alice is immediately set up as a coward. Sure, when we first meet him in the locker he’s sort of intimidating, but as soon as we interview him we realize that he’s sort of an idiot and doesn’t pose much of a threat. The interesting thing, though, is that Alice is really the most emotionally mature out of all of the buff men in the game. Like Keiji, he has committed a terrible crime and has come to terms with the consequences for what he’s done, but unlike Keiji, he’s willing to take actions and make reparations. He lets himself be a more compassionate person, becoming a protector over Kanna of sorts, and he never prioritizes his own well-being over that of the people he cares for. He is a fully-fledged, unapologetically emotional character who doesn’t try to bury his problems in the hopes that they won’t come back to haunt him. Out of all of the “strong” male characters, his approach to his issues is a rather feminine one, but it ends up being the one that cements him as a better person than the others.

Now, I set this up while talking about Keiji’s lack of emotional vulnerability, but I believe that one of the biggest components playing into it is how trust is such a huge factor in the game. And this begins to involve Shin, too. It becomes clear throughout the course of the game that one of the only reasons Sara has made it this far is because she harbors the ability to put her trust in others and because they put their trust in her. We see, then, that Shin becomes an enemy to the group because he refuses to trust any of them and mocks all of them for being so willing to trust the others. Our biggest point of contention with Keiji, as well, is when he refuses to share his Me-Tokens with us out of fear that we could learn something about his backstory. Both men have terrible experiences with vulnerability, and they loathe the prospect of putting their trust into anyone else for fear of what could happen with it. However… the game sets this up as a very bad thing. Lack of vulnerability turns Shin into a villain, and the only way that he manages to redeem himself is by utilizing his compassion for Kanna and sacrificing himself. Keiji, similarly, loses his credibility as a person because he refuses to be vulnerable, and his distrust of himself and avoidance of his problems are what make Midori’s attacks hit so hard in 3-1A. Our villain characters exist because they cannot trust anyone, because they cannot be vulnerable, and in the same way we see Sara turning into a villain as she loses her trust in the rest of the group.

To tie this all together, I think that this is why Nao and Kanna are undoubtedly the strongest characters in the game- because they are female characters who are allowed to show emotion, because they are allowed to show their trauma, and they’re allowed to grow past that. When we’re introduced to Nao, she’s already someone who appears very weak in a feminine sense, panicking and freaking out in response to the situation. Kanna is the same; her sister is dead, and this has left her as a weeping, emotional mess. Nao’s condition only gets worse as the game goes on; she loses the mentor who’s most important to her, and in a blind panic she ends up causing a lot of harm and concern to her fellow participants. In any other game, this would probably have been where the characters of these two would have stopped, or even how they would have ended. They’re women, they’re not supposed to be strong, they already have weak and emotional coping mechanisms for their problems. However, Nankidai lets the two of them grow past this point while still letting them retain their more emotional components. Nao lets herself retain her memory and affection for Mishima, but she makes the conscious decision to abandon the AI and work with Shin to combat the evil one. Kanna retains her friendship with Shin, but she does so carefully, displaying enough kindness to him to make him change his heart. Even when she tearfully pleads for Sara to let her die, it comes from a point of what she considers emotional wisdom and her own evaluation of her usefulness to the group. If she’s left alive, her character comes full-circle and she realizes that she does, in fact, have value to the group, which gives her the will to live on. Both of these women have well-developed character arcs that allow them to feel vulnerability and emotion. They become stronger and wiser people without fundamentally changing who they are, and their femininity doesn’t have to be compromised or belittled for them to become better people. Though they are physically the weakest characters and have some of the biggest low points of the game, they are in fact well-developed and emotionally mature. Their vulnerability is what gives them this opportunity, and it truly wraps together how well Nankidai portrays femininity and vulnerability in his story.

#here i am #writing a gay little meta #enjoy #i thought about this to some degree #yttd #your turn to die #yttd meta #nao egokoro #kanna kizuchi #keiji shinogi #kimi ga shine #depressobean rambles

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maxwell-grant · 3 years ago

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So, we've talked about teaming up The Shadow with Superman, and with Batman. How would a team-up with Wonder Woman work?

I've sat on this ask for a while to catch up on the character and talked a bit with @jcogginsa about it to get some thoughts in order, although if anyone else would like to chime in feel free to do so. So here goes: I think a team up between The Shadow and Wonder Woman has a lot of ways it could go wrong for fans of either character, but if done right, I think it could be perhaps a much more substantial story than crossing over The Shadow with Superman or Batman again.

You'd be hard pressed to pair two characters as diametrically opposite to each other visually as The Shadow and Wonder Woman, a very casual viewer might even be confused as to why the hell is Wonder Woman standing next to this Freddy Krueger looking weirdo. Much of what I said about the immediate contrasts between Superman and The Shadow are applied more so here, because here we have two characters who dig back further than the superhero in their domains. Wonder Woman is a superhero, but she is rooted in a realm of folklore and myth and fairy tales, archetypal and dream-like and with strongly defined morals, with Diana as the classic heroine who takes all of the male fears of powerful women present in the old Amazon stories, and subverts them into a powerful feminist statement and a mission of love and peace minded towards a progressive future. The Shadow's stories, as I've argued in turn, were less hard-hitting crime tales and more urban fairy tales told in an urban setting, where the streets of New York City replacing the dark forests of yore and everything's gone so topsy-turvy that the Big Bad Wolf has to become the one to save us from those that would oppress and destroy us. Dracula meets King Arthur, as his creator described him, here to fight to protect us for little reason other than he can and it's the right thing to do, by turning the tools of evil against itself.

Sadly, the two of them also have a long, long and miserable history of being misrepresented and mischaracterized past their initial eras.

I've remarked often enough on The Shadow's downfall, how the clever, thoughtful, compassionate, even humorous and outright friendly (if theatrical about it) Shadow of the pulps, has been so far removed from those traits over decades of adaptations, that I have to link posts where I point out that these traits used to be there in the first place, because they've all been eclipsed by the image of a trigger-happy butcher if not outright barking fascist. And it's worse for Wonder Woman, because her main defining trait was her pacifism and kindness and loving diplomacy, the lasso as a tool for careful and non-violent submission when necessary, whose very first story goes to such lengths to describe the contrast between the Amazons and Mars, the stupid and brutish god of war who points a sword at the world where Aphrodite would point a finger proclaiming love, and now, The Sword has become an irrevocable part of Wonder Woman's image, as is the jokes about her being the member of the Justice League willing to snap necks and rip spines if necessary, the most direct anti-thesis of everything that defined her initially.

Perhaps you could tell a story about the conciliation of these traits, the how and why these have become such commonplace for the two. They may still be heroes and agents of justice and good and whatnot, but something has clearly been missing from them for decades, a spark of humanity and imagination and care that's made the two of them so, so much worse off for the lack of it.

Perhaps there could be a story about the two helping each other find it again. Perhaps no one knows better the dangers of getting lost in the darkness of man's world than The Shadow, and perhaps there's no DC hero that could cut through the darkness to pull it back moreso than Wonder Woman. Idealism and reality, light and dark, the way things are vs the way they could be, and most of all, Knowledge and Truth coming together in the fight for a better world that the two have been immersed in for so long.

There are some better opportunities for the two to meet compared to Superman and Batman, as Wonder Woman has usually been grounded in real life events around The Shadow's time period. The movie has placed her debut during The Great War, and several stories have been told about Wonder Woman fighting during World War 2, two conflicts that The Shadow lived through, the first of which being a highly integral part of his characterization. Little adjustments would be necessary to explain their intrusions into each other's worlds. Past the initial distrust and a conciliation of their differences? I could see the two getting along better actually than The Shadow might with Superman and Batman, or Wonder Woman with other pulp heroes. They are soldiers who chose to pick their battles, who only found their true calling once they've exhausted all other options as to what they could be, and who take on a myriad of roles for the sake of their missions. They confront the darkest aspects of the world in their own ways as they are both shaped by it, and they affect the world in their own ways, one far more discreetly than the other

So yeah I actually think there's a lot you could do with crossing these two, maybe more so even than crossing over The Shadow with Batman or Superman again. I was surprised over the course of researching for this ask at just how much I find myself liking Wonder Woman even better than the other two, and frustrated at the sheer mishandling of the character. I'd like these two to meet, maybe punch some Nazis together, maybe help each other reconnect with their original missions.

Or alternative, @jcogginsa pitched me the idea of Wonder Woman just taking The Shadow on a vacation to get him to chill out a little. Probably not on Themyscira, even if they let men in, the Amazons would be asking Diana why is she letting this unholy ghost from Tartarus or servant of Hades anywhere near the island, but somewhere where she knows how to set up a good party. I love when Diana's allowed to have fun, and she might be the only superhero strong enough to successfully force The Shadow to loosen up a bit, let him interact with the world on less controlling terms for a change.

Also I desperately want a crossover between The Holiday Girls and The Agents. I want Etta Candy and Margo to go shopping or shoot some Nazis together, either way works but I will not accept any crossover between The Shadow and Wonder Woman that doesn't let their long-neglected supporting casts shine.

#replies tag #the shadow #wonder woman #pulp heroes #comic books #margo lane #etta candy #diana prince #lamont cranston

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