#they’re VERY different…. The Terror seems to go better with both of them individually than they do with each other | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

strawberrylemonz · 4 years ago

Text

A Lovely Encounter

Part 5

Part 6 [CURRENT]

Part 7

(DT: @applepie1000 @petrichormeraki @jump-in-the-cadillac )

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“I’ll be okay, they’re already waiting for me in the Hub.”

“What if I just walk you to-”

“Grian, I’ll be okay!”

Tommy huffed for the fifth time in a row as Grian tried to follow him around. Chat was fawning over Grian’s protectiveness over Tommy, something that annoyed the younger boy big time. Kristin, happily settle in her new house, laughed as Tommy griped at his brother. Finally feeling tired from all the laughing, put a hand on Grian’s arm as she messed with Tommy’s hair.

“Let Tommy be on his way. You don’t want him to deal with angry ladies, trust me.”

Grateful, Tommy ducked under Grian’s hand and thanked Kristin. Before Grian could utter another word, he ran towards the Hub portal. Opening his inventory, he made sure that he had everything he needed. Letting out a sigh of relief, he climbed into the portal without a single thought. Stepping out into the portal station, Tommy couldn’t help but smile as the chattering of other people filled the air. Humming a familiar tune, the made his way to the center. He felt a light, cold hand grab his shoulder, squeezing it slightly. Peering over, he saw one of the individual spirits, swaggerrsouls_, peering down to him while floating above everyone else. Giving a blank smile, the spirit pointed behind Tommy.

“The girls are approaching from behind”

Nodding a thanks to the spirit, he turned around, smiling. He let out a laugh as Drista groaned, playfully stomping her foot. Lani just laughed as she pushed Drista and waved at Tommy. Drista pulled the girl back and ran up to Tommy, giving him a nudge.

“How dare you catch us before we could jumpscare you.”

“You can’t scare me, I’m fucking badass. Now, let’s go see Tubbo.”

Lani happily interjected as soon as those words left Tommy’s mouth.

“Oh! About my brother, he kinda, maybe, doesn’t know you’re coming.”

“What?!”

Panic settled into Tommy’s stomach. Tubbo didn’t know he was coming? What was going to happen? Would Tubbo turn him away? Yell at him? Did he not want to see him?

“Don’t worry! You’re a surprise! He’s been doing well, but he’s been missing you very much! Drista and I figured that you would surprise him with a visit?”

Huffing, Tommy crossed his arms with annoyance. Sighing, he nodded his head at the girls, who shared a high five.

“Just let me know this shit beforehand. Nearly panicked while working myself up to greeting him upon entering. Now I’ve gotta quickly work myself up to surprising him.”

As the girls apologized, waving off the boy, the pulled him over to a portal. Rolling his eyes, he peered up at the sign of the portal.

Stampy’s Lovely World

Lovely? Tommy couldn’t help but smile at that. Out of everyone he knew, Tubbo was one of the few that deserved to thrive in a peaceful place. Nearly toppling over as he was pulled forward by the eager girls, Tommy entered the portal to the new world.

--------

It truly was lovely. After exchanging a nervously polite greeting to the admin, Stampy, who was getting ready to board his hot air balloon, he set off with the girls as they walked through the magnificent world. He was honestly blown away with the creativity, love, care and dedication put in it all. Going through the amazing, colorful builds, the girls slowed down as they approached a cozy section, one that was easy on the eyes after all the color they walked through. Three cottages with different designs sat peacefully by each other. Bees were buzzing around in peace, pollinating the random flowers strewn around the ground. A small pond full of fish sat in between the center of the three cottages, each fish swimming in peace. Lani nodded before turning to the other two.

“Okay, here’s the plan, so listen up. I’ll go and get Tubbo and blindfold him, telling him that Drista and I got him a gift. Meanwhile, Drista, you hide Tommy in the present box we got-”

“Wait, I’m gonna be in a fucking box-”

“-and wait until I bring him over. Then, most likely confused by the size of the box, my brother will open it cautiously. Then, BAM!!! TOMMY’S HERE!!!”

“Sounds good to me!”

“Use a knife to get him to move faster.”

Lani laughed before bidding adieu, heading towards one of the houses. Once she was out of sight, Drista pulled a nervous Tommy over towards the back of the houses.

“Alright, get in the box, nerd.”

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The box was tiring to stand in for Tommy. Why couldn’t the girls pick a wider box? At least, then, he could lay down while he waited. Doing his best not to make a single noise or move that could give him away, Tommy tried to entertain himself as he stood there, ignoring the way his knees began to buckle. Just as he was about to groan, a familiar voice caused him to freeze.

“Where are you taking me? If you push me into the pond, Lani, I will pull you in with me.”

“I’m not pushing you in the pond! Stop being so paranoid!”

Tommy sucked in a nervous breath as he heard the footsteps stop. After a few seconds, the speaking began.

“A box?”

“Open it! Your present is inside!”

“It’s the best gift you’ll ever receive, guaranteed. Lani and I really popped off this time.”

“Really? Even better than the-”

“Absolutely, even better than the bees.”

Tommy prepared himself as he heard the wrapping paper being torn away. He heard nervous laughing as the box was being opened. A beam of sunlight caused him to shield his face from being blinded. Once he adjusted, he put down his hand, coming face to face with Tubbo, who looked as if he was seeing a ghost. Giving a nervous chuckle, Tommy opened his arms with hesitation.

“Hey, Tub- OOF”

Tommy didn’t even get to finish as he fell back, falling to the ground. Propping himself up with one arm, he peered down at the sobbing mess in his arms. His sobbing mess of a best friend. His Tubbo. Feeling the tears well up in his own eyes, Tommy engulfed Tubbo in a firm, desperate hug. Together, the two boys embraced each other in relieved tears as Drista and Lani shared a fist bump, smiling brightly at the scene before them.

“We’re awesome”

“Oh, absolutely, no questioning it”

--------

“So the same portal we both fell in took us to different servers? That’s strange”

“Totally. Need some help with that honey?”

The girls had left to play mini games much earlier, leaving the two boys to catch up in peace. They filled each other in with that they had been up to prior to that day. Tubbo was quite shocked to see that Tommy was much calmer than he remembered, more mellow. He was even more shocked to find out about his family.

“What? You have another brother? And a mother?”

“I know, right? Nearly had a breakdown about Grian. Finding Kristin was hilarious, though.”

The two boys exchanged stories and adventures with each other, not wanted to leave anything out from their time spent apart. They didn’t even notice when the girls came back, announcing that it was time for Tommy to head back.

“I swear, he’s overreacting! I mean, I know why he’s adding a curfew, but I’m an adult now!”

The girls teased Tommy about his brother, who, according to him, was reading too much into Tommy spending too much time outside of the server. As annoyed as he was at it, Tommy understood his reasonings. Kristin hasn’t been told the whole story, but he just knew that she’d be the same way once she found out about what he’s gone through. Holding onto Tubbo’s hand, the four of them headed towards the portal to Hub. Once they arrived, Tommy let out a shaky breath as he squeezed his best friend’s hand.

“I’ll be back, okay? Not only do I need to bless you lot with my presence, I’ve gotta take proper measurements to make you guys your outfits for the gala. VIP and shit, that’s what you guys are! Custom made, just for you. Be safe, I’ll see you guys soon.”

Drista was the first to throw herself in for a hug. But, as predicted, she was also the first to pull away after Tommy hugged back for more than two seconds. Giving him a soft punch, she reminded him to pick a good color for her. Lani was next to embrace him, thanking him for taking the time to come to the server. Letting him know that she trusted his choices regarding her outfit, she let go with a smile. Tubbo didn’t even get the chance to move in for a hug, mainly due to Tommy wordlessly pulling him into one. The two stayed like that for a while, holding each other, scared to let go. As he pulled away, however, Tommy pulled something out of his inventory. Smiling at Tubbo, he gently placed it into his hand.

“I’ll see you soon, Tubbo. Be safe.”

The three watched, waved, as Tommy disappeared through the portal. Peering down, Tubbo examined the gift. It was a replica of the green bandana from the Dream SMP. The only difference, however, was the little bees sewn on the end of it. Holding it close, Tubbo smiled as he walked back home, his sister and sister figure following behind, laughing amongst themselves.

Everything would be okay.

--------

Too much in a good mood to be bothered, Tommy paid no mind to the people who pushed past him in the Hub. Humming to himself, he almost missed the sound of soft whimpering. Stopping in his tracks, he listened closely, hearing it again. Frowning, he followed the noise to the source.

It was a small child, a little girl. She was a bit scuffled and was crying in front of a dark colored portal. Frowning, he looked up to see the name of the portal that she appeared to have come out of.

2b2t

He had heard tales of the server from Phil, who spoke of the terrors that the anarchist server held. Blood running cold, he carefully bent down in front of the girl, carefully watching his tone.

“Are you alright?”

She seemed frightened and hurt, reeling back from him and into the solid blocks of the portal. Doing his best not to scare her off, he offered a kind smile and a flower, to which she accepted after a moments hesitation. Seeing this as a promising sign, he tried again.

“Are you alright?”

The girl, who appeared to be no older than two, shook her head. Ignoring her own small injuries, she held up a torn stuffed bear. The sound of her small, soft, raspy voice caught him off guard.

“Broken...”

Humming, he looked around the crowd, searching for anyone who may have been looking for a child. Frowning, he bent back down to the child, who was looking at him with newfound hope.

“Where’s your parent’s? Maybe they can fix up your bear for you. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

The young girl looked down at her scraped hands. Shaking her head, she Tommy’s pointed gaze to the 2b2t portal beside her. Her small voice spoke up, breaking the young adult’s heart.

“Broken”

#memories in the stars au #memories in the stars #hermit!tommy au #lovely!tubbo au #lovely!drista au #lovely!lani au #lanusky #drista

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wastelandlovingscenarios · 4 years ago

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Romanced!companions react to their precious fem!sole survivor getting slapped or strikes by an npc right in front of them? Can we categorize this; who would be the violent/threatening/just angry group? >:^0

omg, i’m pretty sure none of them would be remotely calm if that happened... but damn imagine the outcome of that poor npc. they lived a good life. this was a short request while i work on like 7 other ones, LOL.

thank you for requesting and please enjoy!

the next request i’m posting is gonna be a react that turned out a little longer than i expected so buckle up. 🤠

Danse:

violent/threatening

danse would for sure fall under the violent criteria of this situation. he already has one foot in the door once someone dares to go too close to sole, but hit her? that’s a totally different story for another day. that person better be praying to some god out there to give them mercy cause danse knows he won’t. the minute he hears that slap on soles face, it will trigger him to attack without a word. and to answer the question; does danse need a gun to do the job? absolutely not. those muscles are not just for show after all. no matter how many people hold him back, he will always fight his way through the crowd of people and beat the living fuck out of the person, even if they’re begging for him to stop. he won’t even realize the damage he’s done until after and won’t regret it either way, knowing that it was well deserved on their case. now if it was a situation where it was shoving or showing signs of starting a fight with his beloved, he’d step right in front of them and stare them down angrily with the biggest scowl ever. in some cases, that’s more than enough to scare most people off towards the other direction but in a few, he’s forced to threaten them. “i advise you step away unless you desire for this situation to escalate into something that involves solely you and i.” no one will ever be a threat to sole on his watch and he will make sure that nothing will stop him from protecting her.

Deacon:

threatening mixed with violence (depending the intensity of the situation)

deacons nice. he’s really laid back in most situations and is more than willing to let things go if he feels like it’s not worth the trouble. following that, deacons nice to a certain point and if you cross that point? consider yourself on his hitlist for the rest of your life. the intensity of the situation will determine how he’ll react towards it. if the person were to do as simple as shove sole, he’d keep an eye on them and say something within the lines of, “woah, woah, take it easy.” now if it was something like a slap or a punch, he wouldn’t even let it happen, not while he’s around. deacon would have fast enough reflexes to catch their wrist and he’d grip it enough to leave a mark, a displeased expression on his face. he’d even go as far as making jokes with an evil smile, such as, “oops my hand slipped,” or “oh you dropped this,” and proceed to deck the person as hard as he can with his free hand, not caring whether or not he knocks them unconscious. after that incident, he’d constantly terrorize the poor individual, often pulling pranks on them without any breaks. sometimes, he’d even go near them and speak in a happy tone while patting their back in a manner where it seemed a little too friendly.

Maccready:

threatening

mac is aware he’s not muscular nor is he made for fighting, which is why he sticks with guns during most situations. hes a lanky man and gets intimidated a little easier than most people, knowing that many of them could take him down with something as simple as a punch. it’s easier to say he’s more confident with a gun in his hand in these instances. despite his weaknesses, he would not hesitate to step up, knowing that hes unable to control his anger. he’d immediately point the gun at the persons temple and cock it just for intimidation purposes, but knows that he’s more than willing to pull the trigger if he needs to. it benefits him and the commonwealth more than damages it, seeing that this world needs one less asshole living it in, so who is he to care if this person dies or not? he’d slowly press it harder against the persons head, angrily speaking, “back away now.” if the person does so, he’ll gladly let them walk away without an injury and instead tend to sole. he wouldn’t let them go without some snarky comment like, “yeah keep walking and please let the door hit you on the way out.” if they refuse to move away from sole though, he’d gladly take the butt of his gun and smack it against their temple within seconds, completely ignoring the persons body knocked out on the floor. mac would get sole up and out of there as soon as he can, complaining under his breath about how much of that guy was an asshole and how he shouldve shot him.

Hancock:

violent group

consider one thing; that this person who fucked over his lover is beyond dead in his eyes. no one touches his sunshine, and if they dared to? theyll be wishing they hadn’t. hancock can quickly become someone’s friend, but the same can be said if it were an enemy. if he’s willing to stab someone for getting even a little too chummy and touchy with sole, imagine what he’d do if they dared to inflict pain on them. depending on where they are, like a bar for instance, he’d grab a glass bottle and crack it on the guys head, pushing him down on the floor without another word. using his shotgun, he’d make sure he’d put a few bullets through his body before he decides he’s completely satisfied with the new makeover he’s given them. now if he was in a more violent mood and was definitely not having it, he’d want to have their blood on his hands and wouldn’t care if it stained his clothes or not. he wants to send the message to everyone watching that if anyone dares to fucking cross his line, they’re gonna learn it the hard way and he will make it very known how the outcome of the situation will be. for example, he has a knife and what better way to use it than to stab the fuck out of someone for pissing him off? in some cases (depending on the severity of the situation), he’ll shank them in a place where he knows it’ll hurt the most and leave them there to suffer so they’ll get the idea that if they fuck with the people he treasures, they have another thing coming.

Nick Valentine:

mix of threatening and just angry.

honestly, nick is very civil about most cases and he won’t get violent unless absolutely necessary. he will definitely be beyond angry and give the person so much fucking shit for their actions. nick almost never yells but in this case, he’d yell so loud, it would fill up the silence of the room. nick also uses a lot of profanities when doing so, unable to maintain his professional attitude and his usual cool. “now what the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” he’d even go as far as shoving them back, keeping a distance between sole and the person who deemed themselves as a threat to her presence. he’d try to minimize the possibility of violence arising, knowing that both him and sole are not as replaceable as they seem. he’d sneer at the person who striked sole, talking in the most irritated tone possible, “if i wasn’t here controlling her anger, you would’ve been dead on the pavement just a few minutes back, pal. consider yourself lucky that you were spared.” regardless if the person continued talking or not, nick would casually take soles hand and pull her away from the scene as he let out a remark loud enough for them to hear; “we don’t have time for the likes of you anyway, so take your trouble elsewhere.” nick has like zero shame when it comes to back talking or insulting someone he’s not fond of, so you best believe he won’t shut up until you both are out of sight.

Preston:

honestly, just angry.

preston will avoid violence at all costs, considering he doesn’t favor the idea and as much as he hates seeing sole get hurt, he doesn’t want to risk starting another issue. sole has a reputation amongst the commonwealth and the last thing he wants is to taint it or fuck it up, so he lets sole decide whether or not violence should be pursued. also considering that she has more than enough on her plate, he doesn’t want to add on to the list of problems she already has. so unless this guy is literally on the verge of gravely injuring his other half, he won’t do much besides step in front of sole to protect her from any further hits. he’d rather take the hits than to let someone as important as her take them firsthand. he wouldn’t forgive himself if such a thing happened. even if sole did most of the work in the end, he’d still send them the dirtiest look he’s ever given anyone and his hand would already be on the trigger of his laser musket, ready to fire at the guy anytime just in case. before officially leaving the person to do their own thing and bidding them goodbye, he’d get a little up close and personal, talking in the most threatening tone possible (even if he’s not the greatest at it); “once you mess with the general, you mess with the minutemen. i’d suggest you choose your battles a little better next time around.”

Sturges:

just angry

we all know by now sturges is a huge pacifist and will refuse to resort to violence unless he has no absolute choice but to do so. sturges is a very kind man and just like deacon, he’s willing to let most cases go but he respects sole too much to let violent situations like this slide. even if he’s very afraid to get into a violent situation head on, he’ll try to keep it as calm as possible, not wanting to escalate the situation more. being the considerate lover he is, he will ask sole to stay back and keep away from the person as much as possible as he tries to handle the situation himself. even if sturges doesn’t show it, he does get very angry in these instances and will not allow it to happen regardless of the reason. he’ll probably talk to the person with a firm tone and an irate expression but do nothing further than that unless the individual wants blood spilled, which in this case, sole is brought back into the situation. knowing sturges, he’d probably tell the person something like, “hey buddy, i really don’t appreciate what ya just did to my girl. ya need to quit it cause it ain’t right.” or, “if we got a problem, you can always just come to me instead of strikin’ that beautiful lady of mine. i’m willin’ to fix it with ya and if not, then i’m willin’ to take the hit.. though i’m sure my girl wouldn’ appreciate such a motive.” he knew she really wouldn’t. sole would shoot them down before he could let out a soft, “told ya so.”

Gage:

the ceo of violent

even if the raider life consists of injuries, blood, dirty work, and violence, he will never allow sole to get hurt under his watch. even if he tells her to toughen up and get used to it, he truly wants to protect her from the world and anything that could run as a potential hazard. that being said, he doesn’t care who the fuck strikes sole- it could be a man, woman, the highest and most royal person in the planet and it’d still have the same result in the end. gage wouldn’t even give them a chance to explain themselves and would simply let out a small, “oh fuck no, you ain’t.” and shoot them down himself before sole could give him an order. he would take the situation into his own hands with or without soles persmission, knowing that they crossed gages line of comfort. if he’s not satisfied with that or feels as if that’s too much of an easy way out, he’ll shoot their leg and come closer to them to step on their chest to block any chance of escaping. “wanna act tough, huh? show me how tough ya are, why dontcha? be my guest and apologize to the overboss. i’ll let her decide if it’s good enough to let ya go.” if sole were to deny every apology, he’d continue to shoot them limb by limb until he decides to put them down completely. now if sole decides their apology is more than enough, he’ll willfully let them go but let her decide their fate on whether they should be put down or not. in the end, if he had his way with that bastard, they wouldn’t be seeing the light for a long while.

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vvitchering · 4 years ago

Text

Witchers of the Wolf School travel in packs. There’s strength in numbers and plenty of coin to be had for the bigger contracts they can handle as a team. The Path is less harsh, less painful, with brothers at their backs.

Wolves lack the ferocity of their Bear and Griffin cousins. Which isn’t to say an individual wolf isn’t dangerous, they certainly could manage on their own. But their true strength lies in their bonds with each other; in their ability to coordinate and work together.

Occasionally there are times when the blood lust is needed. The beast is too large or too powerful, or simply requires more than the wolves can muster. There’s another reason they travel together. A pack is needed to monitor the potential use of more...extreme decoctions.

The recipe for Bloodmoon isn’t written down in any field guide or alchemy collection. It’s passed from master to initiate in hushed, solemn tones. All wolves know it and all equally fear the knowledge. It strips away the humanity they cling to, leaving behind something raw. It trades sanity and reason for unchecked power and feral instinct.

It’s a last resort for instances where death is assured, but the fight must be won, regardless of the cost.

Geralt isn’t sure what they’re hunting. It’s big, it’s wiped out entire herds of livestock on its own, and it’s left the whole surrounding area scared to death to leave their homes. It’s much too dangerous a contact for a witcher to take on alone. Thankfully, he is very seldom alone.

Eskel thinks it could be a mutated fiend. The tracks seem similar enough and the behavior matches, but they’re hundreds of miles from fiend territory and the sheer size of the creature makes Geralt reasonably sure they’re not dealing with a simple freak of nature. Lambert watches them bicker, thrilled that, for once, he’s not the cause of the tension in the group.

Jaskier ignores them all and focuses intently on tuning his lute. His job came post-hunt, when it was safe for him to poke and prod around the beast’s corpse and create exciting stories about its demise while the witchers claimed their trophy and harvested any parts of value.

He looks up from the tuning pegs when Geralt throws up his hands and storms out of the camp, muttering something about finding the damn thing himself since Eskel is so keen on sitting around theorizing instead.

Jaskier has siblings so he’s quite familiar with the look of exasperation on Eskel’s face as he watches his brother stomp away into the woods.

“Not gonna go after him?” Lambert asks.

Eskel sighs.

“Nah, let him walk it off. He’s too damn prideful about that bestiary he calls a brain sometimes.”

Afternoon turns to dusk and Geralt doesn’t return. They eat a meal of rabbits and wild mushrooms and still Geralt doesn’t reappear. It’s not like the white wolf to wander off alone for so long and Jaskier becomes increasingly concerned as the evening creeps in. Geralt knows better than to stray too far from his pack, especially when there’s an unknown threat waiting somewhere out there.

The frogs are just beginning to sing when the tranquility of the evening is marred by a rumbling and deeply unsettling roar. It rattles around in Jaskier’s bones and makes something deep inside him cower in instinctual terror. It’s like nothing he’s ever heard before and he almost feels frozen on the spot, like a deer in the presence of a hunter.

Eskel and Lambert are on their feet even before the roar has finished reverberating around their little camp. Lambert immediately takes off in the direction the horrible sound came from while Eskel turns to face Jaskier long enough to say,

“Do not follow us, Bard.”

And then he’s gone as well.

Jaskier likes to think he’s an easy traveling companion. He’s delightful company, pulls his own weight, pays his own way, and polishes the reputations of witchers everywhere with his music. He does admit to one shortcoming, however, which is his inability to sit still when he knows there’s a grand battle unfolding, the likes of which is just begging to be immortalized in song.

It’s for science, for history, for precious posterity, even, that Jaskier leaps to his feet, checks his boot for his hidden dagger, and jogs determinedly into the brush.

It’s properly dark by the time Jaskier finally catches the sounds of a fight close by. He can hear indistinct yelling, the clang of swords, and the roar of what he assumes must be the creature they’re after, just as deeply disturbing as the first time. Oddly, he can also see light up ahead, though he’s very deep in uninhabited forest. As he draws closer, he realizes the light is coming from several small fires in the tops of the surrounding trees. Either the beast breathes fire or someone has let loose with Igni. Neither option bodes well.

Abruptly, he’s hit with a wave of fear. Geralt never came back to camp. What if he’d encountered the beast on his own? Would he have been able to hold out against it long enough for Eskel and Lambert to arrive? Ice cold dread drips throughout Jaskier’s body.

He crouches behind a bush and reaches out to comb his way through the foliage to get a glimpse of the battlefield. More fires dot the trees around the small clearing. He immediately spots Eskel and Lambert, who both look exhausted and injured. Lambert is favoring his right leg while Eskel has one hand on his sword and the other clamped tight over a painful looking burn on his neck. They look broken and haunted in ways Jaskier has never seen them before.

His eyes dart to the opposite side of the battlefield, hoping to catch a glimpse of the dreaded beast before he’s forced to retreat. What he sees makes his heart seem to stop dead in his chest.

Geralt stands beside the corpse of what must be the beast, breathing like a horse run ragged. The flickering light of the fires reveals he’s covered in black spider-webbed veins that show through his pale skin. His eyes are black like tar. At the sight of his friend alive and whole, Jaskier breathes a sigh of relief. Geralt must hear the exhale and turns his head slightly in search of the sound.

Jaskier has seen Geralt under the influence of potions before. He’s no stranger to the veins and the eerily blank black eyes. But this feels fundamentally different, somehow. Geralt’s gaze is cold and more than slightly unhinged, without a single hint of recognition or warmth. Jaskier has never looked at Geralt and felt any type of fear in his heart until now.

Geralt lifts his face slightly, inhaling noisily, scenting the air. Zeroing in on Jaskier. Another bloodcurdling bestial roar has the bard sinking to his knees in all consuming terror and sudden understanding. It hasn’t been the creature producing that terrible inhuman sound.

It’s Geralt.

(tbc!)

[EDIT] You can now read the whole completed fic on my ao3!

#my fic #the witcher #wolf school witchers run in packs because I say so #yeah I don't really know what this is either but it grabbed me by the throat and made me write it #witcher au #mine #no beta no editing we die like witchers

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the-darklings · 4 years ago

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Not gonna lie, Lucien grabbed me by the throat since the first attack on V and then my heart by the sewers scene ;; if you have time, could you mayhabs give us Luci stans a lil something with V? 👀

nature of doubt.

⤫ notes: so this is actually based in that original world I keep alluding to post-coa and uh,, Lucien and V actually have a very different relationship here (tho this piece isn’t considered entirely canon for them, either) and you’re getting a backseat into that relationship. Lucien/Reader is established here - more or less, considering how he is.

⤫ pairing: lucien x f!reader (+clara (oc!v)

⤫ word count: 4.4k+

“You can’t keep doing this.”

Your feet halt sharply at the sound of those words, startled into an acute silence.

The night hums around you, and you lean against the side of the greenhouse, peering through the blur of the glass. Humid heat keeps you warm from the night chill and you slow your breaths in order to hear better. You’ve come up to the terrace because you couldn’t sleep for the life of you, caught in your turbulent thoughts as you were.

Lucien being back should make you happy but something is different this time. You’ve kissed him and hugged the moment he came close enough to touch, and that might have led to a long and strenuous session in your shared bed. Bites and kisses and nails against the skin—just him, raw and passionate, and…

He always comes back from his disappearances with an appetite of a starved man—cruel, dangerous, prowling thing. Always dancing on that line of pain and pleasure. Never pushing more than you ask but there had been a strange detachment this time, a drift you know he felt as well.

Something, this time, felt emptier than usual. For both of you.

Coming up here so late has been more about getting some fresh air to clear your mind and get rid of that gnawing, traitorous whisper of soft brown hair. Hazel eyes and shoulder against yours when you replanted one of hundred plants in her greenhouse.

And it’s because of that, that you recognise the owner of that low, smooth feminine voice that speaks.

“Doing what?”

Of course, it’s him. Of course, the two most nocturnal members of the Pit of Vipers are the ones you have managed to stumble upon.

Instincts scream at once. They’re beyond dangerous individually much less together, and if they caught you spying they might be angry. Disappointed. That thought sits like curdled milk inside your stomach, tart and bitter.

Still. There is something that moves your body. Some need, a draw.

Leaning over the edge of the greenhouse, you spot the shadowed figures of Clara and Lucien. The latter stands with his back to you, his wispy blonde hair loose in the wind, a mess from your running your fingers through it earlier. Hungry. You had been just as hungry and just as needy for his touch.

Yet for some reason it…

It hadn’t been the same.

You love him so much, you do, and you think that maybe—just maybe—there is something inside his chest too. A small, fond thing you so rarely catch glimpses of but know is there.

Clara, on other hand, stands with her arms crossed over her chest, one side of her face bathed with terrace lights. It cuts a terrible, steely line—one dark, one light; and you suppose that’s only right too.

She’s tense though, her stare set as she drills holes into the side of Lucien’s pale head.

You know full well that is a terrifying position to be in. Her stare is downright chilling on a good day. Even more so when she’s angry. It’s made worse, you think, by the fact that she has a face that looks like it should be smiling. It’s a face made for kindness.

She hasn’t smiled once since you’ve met her. It stings more because you know she used to. Noah told you as much once; a sad, thoughtful expression crumpling his sharp, friendly features with sorrow.

Not since him.

The one no one speaks of openly, and certainly not Clara herself. A man with glaciers in his eyes, and tar-black heart.

“Disappearing like you do,” she says flatly, a fine lace of irritation in her voice.

Lucien clicks his tongue, shaking his head in amusement. “It’s what I’ve always done,” he returns dismissively. And you know that it’s an answer that will not go down well. He disappeared for so long you were starting to doubt he would ever return. Clara, since then, had been even more solitary and distant. You’ve always thought that Lucien needed her more than she needed him but this disappearance has proven different. “How is this time any different?”

She doesn't respond right away. It’s as if considering his question, wondering if he actually means those words and you swallow.

You shouldn't be here.

This is a private conversation and yet…

You’ve been just as disappointed by his actions. And you know that if you asked he would not answer.

He answers to no one but her—his leader, the only one he trusts and has chosen—and perhaps that’s the only way for you to get a glimpse into him as well. Find out where his head is at.

It was not so long ago that their bond used to make you jealous and insecure. A tiny part of you still has doubts—it’s hard not to, not with the looks they share, the mute acceptance between them, the way you sometimes just find them sitting together, shoulder to shoulder—but ever since Lucien’s last disappearance something has changed.

“You were gone for months,” she states briskly, her voice icy, and a shiver races down your spine hearing it. She doesn’t raise her voice. It’s smooth, controlled; a pleasant, ordinary string of words. She stands there, and simply looks at him, and it’s terrible somehow. “Even Step couldn’t find you. I couldn’t find you,” she adds after a slight pause, the tiniest of catches in her voice.

You’ve heard that catch a handful of times in the past. Mostly in the shadowed greenery of her greenhouse. Where you sometimes found the viper curled up and resting, hiding away from the world. You’ve tried sitting by her like Lucien sometimes does. It made you feel special, near euphoric the first time she allowed you to hold her hand in silent comfort. The first time she leaned her head on your shoulder.

The way she had sagged against you—atlas on her shoulders, expression fragile, soft—had stuck with you for a long time. So long, you can’t help but see it now.

This is the first fracture you’ve seen in her demeanour in weeks though. She’s so controlled for how Lucien is untamed. But demons that stir under the Viper’s skin might be worse than his and somehow…

That thought is as thrilling as it is terrifying.

The blonde doesn’t take much note of her words. Still staring out towards the twinkling New York streets. “Yes, I imagine it was rather annoying for him,” he says, deliberately avoiding her softer admission, an open fear. “Such a pity.”

It's wrong to say. Right now when every muscle in Clara’s body seems to have gone so taut with tension she bristles. Then, follows fire.

It thickens the air and even some distance away, hugged and hidden away by the shadows, you can feel something volatile bubbling in the air between them. It becomes near suffocating the longer Lucien remains impassive and disinterested in their conversation.

You’ve never seen him show fear, but perhaps, this once, he’s aiming for someone who can remind him of the feeling.

He knows it, too, you conclude when his head finally turns in her direction.

“I do it for you,” he snarls lowly, practically spitting the words, his grip on the railing tightening. “If I didn’t leave, I would skin your loyal little snakies and give you their skins as a present. By the time I came back to myself, it would already be too late, and you would hate me for taking them away from you. You would kill me for it, and maybe I would let you.”

Your heart slams into your throat at his calm, chillingly logical explanation.

You knew—to some degree—that him leaving was about protecting others as much as it was about allowing Lucien that room to roam. It’s hard to feel trapped, tied down, to something when you’ve spent years being treated as no better than an animal.

It makes you value that freedom just that much more.

Your lungs burn yet you feel too afraid to inhale lest you miss her reply.

The woman is silent for a leaden, disturbing moment and you feel your heartbeat accelerate the longer she remains quiet.

“Do you really think you mean so little to me?” comes her chilling whisper of a question and goosebumps tickle across the length of your arms. “That I would kill you?”

She laughs but it’s an unpleasant, cold thing that makes you think of a viper circling her prey and Lucien’s chin tilts at the challenge, at the mocking tilt of her inquiry. “You may act like you don’t care for them but could you really kill them? Just like that?” she demands, her tone sharpening as if she’s wielding one of her blades. “Kill her?”

Your heart thuds; once, twice.

You’re not sure what you feel more surprised at.

The fact that she’s pushing or that she sounds so furious at the mere prospect.

It’s them, you remind yourself hurriedly, ignoring the flush of heat you feel in response to the honeyed, poisonous edge you catch in her words, not what she’s saying.

Yet it feels like a weak argument even in your own mind.

Lucien pushes back from the railing, clenching his fingers experimentally, humming lightly under his breath before offering his verdict, “I won’t even hesitate.”

“You’re lying.”

It’s sharp, and immediate dismissal. So knowing that you don’t even doubt the call out because she knows him better than anyone. They’re two beasts snapping jaws and snarling and it makes for a beautiful sight. Captivating despite the danger.

The terror you should feel around them doesn’t come. That should probably concern you more. You’re not helpless but getting even more tangled with these people is a death sentence.

Lucien steps closer to the leader of the Vipers, and it’s only then that you notice that his white shirt is still unbuttoned. His skin often feels cold to the touch but he’s never once complained about it. The pale canvas of his flesh is marred by scars and faint bruises alike. You’ve tasted them, traced them with your tongue just a few hours ago—so even though you can’t see them clearly, you know they’re there.

“Funny thing. Lies. Like you lie to yourself daily, I imagine, hm?” Lucien’s voice slices through the night air, fills it, stretches it into something even tenser. “You walk around like you want to destroy everything in your path yet you still hold yourself back,” he spits knowingly, his voice slipping into harshness, and his eyes narrow, inspecting the woman before him intently. “He still clings to you and you let him. Still love him.”

He spits the word love out so hatefully you nearly flinch. Like no bigger crime could be committed against him.

His throat grows tense, tendons trembling, and in that moment he looks near feral. Livid.

Because she’s in pain, you think sadly, and he wasn’t there for her, and now she carries it.

It saddens you.

“You have no right,” it’s a warning, a hiss of a statement.

Lucien comes undone in a span of a second.

His arm snaps out, locking behind the slim curve of her neck, his fingers sinking into the nape. He doesn’t drag her forward, he drags himself to her. She lets him, and that surprises you more. She watches him from beneath her heavy, quietly furious brow, silent.

“I have every right!” he fires back, his stare brimming, and he briefly presses their foreheads together but his next words are cruel, “When we crawled out of that filth it was you and me. And then you let some fucker steal you. Do this to you.”

She rips out of his grip with speed that’s a blur, her teeth flashing, “Then maybe you shouldn’t have abandoned me!”

Pain in her voice is like a whip against your skin and heart. They rip into you, linger under your skin. Is that how she felt? All this time. Alone. With no one to turn to.

It...

“You know that’s rich, Lucien,” she continues, her voice a low growl. “You really think I don’t see how you are with (Name)? Did you really assume you could hide something like that from me?”

Your gut coils at her tone. She sounds...small.

And then her words…

Oh.

She must think…

Does she feel like Lucien is replacing her with you? It’s true that you have bonded and grown closer together but…

God, doesn’t she realise no one could come even close to her for Lucien? You’ve accepted their bond long ago though it took time and a lot of battling insecurities that still crop up to do so.

It’s startling to realise that she has even more of those. That beneath a woman who has carved her way into power with such ruthless efficiency is still, at the end of the day, just human. Capable of wounds and bleeding. Doubts and diffidence. It gives her a different light, a human light, one that makes you want to hold her hand again. Feel the fold of her long fingers around yours.

“Ah, my pretty girl,” Lucien begins, sighing softly, his voice silky with tendrils of desire, hunger. So he’s concluded the same, then. Based on his sudden change in topic. “She’s a greedy thing. I see how she watches you, too. A heart so eager and big she doesn’t know what to do with it. So eager to give...and take,” he purrs, his tongue wetting his lips, and you choke down a breath at the memory of that searing tongue on your body. “At least I can say that about her. Can you say the same about your spider?”

You suck in a breath, holding it in your lungs, wide-eyed and unsteady.

Why is he goading her like this? Does this truly get under his skin so much? No—you know it does. Lucien has a greediness of a child who never got toys or enough food growing up. Eager hands and darker eyes. Constantly clawing for more, claiming everything he touches and hoarding it, ready to bite and snarl at any hand that tries to take his things away from him.

He’s considered her his own long before he even knew you. That same silent burn of mine, mine, mine rages in his gaze every time he looks at either of you.

“Do not speak of him, Lucien,” this time her voice is soft, deceptively so, a fragment of a warning that’s the last second of stillness before a viper strikes. “This is the only warning I will give you,” she adds.

Lucien’s head shakes. “Wipe him away,” he warns in return, his voice ice. “Do it, Clara, because if he destroys you, I will scatter his remains across this Earth. He will know agony long before I grant him death. Let her in.”

This time your heart jumps straight to your throat and stays there, beating and trembling, trying to flutter away.

“She’s not a thing for you to decide what to do with.”

There’s an edge to her voice, to her stance. They’re both tense, their shoulders taut as they glare at one another.

You’ve never seen them fight before. Not once. The fact that you’re the topic of their conversation…

Lucien snorts, shaking his head back and forth. “I’m only stating what you noticed long ago,” he says knowingly. “What my pretty girl wants even if she won’t admit it to herself yet,” a pause, and he licks his lips again, his head turning to stare right into the darkness, into the spot where you’re standing, “Isn’t that right, my brave foolish girl?”

Your muscles stiffen with shock. Your flee instincts scream at you to get away but you only stare at them numbly.

Clara doesn’t look surprised by his words, either. Did she know too? This whole time? Then why let you listen to this. Why—

“Don’t be shy,” he coaxes, his voice beguiling and gentle; a dangerous purr. “Come on out.”

You shouldn’t.

They’re…

Too much, too dangerous—you called them a death sentence only minutes prior, and you know you’re right.

Yet you step onto the terrace and straight into the jaws of two awaiting snakes who watch your every step with rapt intensity.

It’s an effort to keep your steps steady and spine straight. Under their stares, you become intimately aware of every stitch of clothing on you. Namely the fact that you’re in nothing but loose V-shirt and worn sweatpants, having pulled on the first thing on hand before departing your room in restless haste.

The intensity of their regard makes you feel like you’re naked, however.

Gulping a quiet breath you try to ignore the way Lucien traces the dip of your collarbone where a love bite is still visible. He sucked on the skin relentlessly, following that with a scattering of open-mouthed kisses, soothing the twinge of the ache.

“I…” you try and sigh. “Sorry. It was rude of me to listen. I…”

Your voice fades when Lucien steps towards you, his footsteps inaudible but purposeful. Same hunched shouldered, tense prowl of a gait, his arm encircling your waist the moment he’s close enough. You lean into his touch despite your wariness, your breath tickling against his exposed skin but over his narrow shoulder, you can’t help but watch Clara.

Dark jumper, messy braid over her shoulder, and sunken cheeks. Tired smudges sit under her eyes, her stare empty, and she looks…

Sad.

There is no particular expression on her face—she’s not that obvious, and he taught her well, you suppose—but the air around her seems to be teeming with some melancholic ache.

Lucien’s mouth brushes over your ear, nipping once, and you expect a shiver of shame or embarrassment to flood through you but it doesn’t. It doesn’t feel wrong to have her witness these things, to watch Lucien’s rare show of intimacy so closely.

The argument between them seems to be forgotten, for now, all of you caught in your own spells. Lucien’s mouth drags downwards, his teeth scraping against the hollow of your throat and you gasp softly.

The sound seems to snap Clara out of her daze, and her expression tightens in a blink. You still can’t get over how pale and tired she looks. Worn. Everything about her seems to be muted today. It’s then that you also recall that you haven’t seen her the whole day. When you asked Hector he had only barked a harsh she’s busy and you had retreated after that, noting his foul mood—more so than usual.

Why?

You try to think if this day holds some sort of significance and—

Oh, oh, oh.

It must be today.

Your stomach sinks at the realisation. So hard and suddenly the sensation of Lucien’s mouth fades just for a second. Because just like that the man’s return also makes sense. He returned so he would be here just in case she needs him.

Two years since the night she was taken in Tokyo.

There must be so much turmoil in her today. No wonder you haven’t seen her out and about and now, out here, in the private space between them, her guard has worn far quicker than usual.

Lucien presses you flush against him and hums a pleased sound when you sigh at the feeling of his lips skimming over your jaw. His head tilts then, staring at Clara over his shoulder.

“You’ve made your point,” she snips the moment he does, her voice throaty.

She stalks past you both, her jaw set and lips pressed to a hard line. Your actions are instinct alone.

Your fingers wrap around her wrist, partially jerking from Lucien’s hold to catch her in your grip. Last time you’ve done something like this she flinched and yanked her arm away with a heated glare. This time she freezes, tensing, but doesn’t pull out of your hold. Her steady, strong pulse beats against your palm and you inhale at the contact.

Last time you touched her had been when she told you her real name.

Clara, Clara, Clara.

With her hands knuckle deep in a pot, a smear of dirt across the freckled nose, and near content look in her eyes. You know she never demands. Yet each member chooses to cement their loyalty to the Pit in their own time and on their own terms. Once the snake tattoo marks their skin, it’s forever. In return, Clara gives them her own name—the ultimate sign of acceptance.

You don’t have a snake tattoo. Yet she had given you her name still. She had noted your startled expression before it morphed and bloomed into a bright grin. That seemed to have startled her more.

When you had hugged her—breathing her in, absorbing her warmth, and savouring the comfort that comes with such simple affection—she had stood there, not moving. It took her several minutes to fully relax, melt into you with a sigh so gentle you barely felt it.

Now, your hand is on her skin again, even if circumstances are so different.

“Don’t go,” you say, fighting back the urge to tug her towards you. “Stay.”

Lucien shifts around you—another snake coiling—but he’s waiting and watching. Almost vibrating with energy you have no name for. Arm around your waist, hand resting lightly on your lower stomach, but you feel his stare digging into her.

He’s eager to see how she will react.

This. This feels right.

Lucien at your side and you holding onto her. A unit, a chain of energy. A thrill rushes through your hand and right to your heart at that conclusion; hot and fierce.

Those dark eyes peer at you, and there is something in her gaze—maybe longing, maybe regret—but it blows out like a candle in a stiff breeze.

Her stare goes to Lucien briefly and she tugs her wrist free. Your expression falls the moment cool night air kisses your palm instead.

Clara turns and disappears down the staircase. Her room is on this floor, just below the terrace and you listen to her fading footsteps. The disappointment you feel stings, bubbles in your chest and you pull your hand back, folding your fingers into a loose fist.

Lucien hisses under his breath, displeased, muttering something in French. His nails scratch against your stomach as he pulls his hand away.

“Why did you do that?” you demand quietly.

A soft breath and quick, hard kiss against your head, his fingers sinking into your shoulder.

“Because I will not let her run anymore,” he mutters coldly, and it carries through the night air, making you shiver.

Turning in his hold, you stare at him.

“Have you two ever…”

He reads into your meaning without you having to force the words out. You’re immensely grateful for it.

“No.”

Your throat aches but you still wonder, “Kissed?”

“Yes. Once,” blunt and straightforward as always. For once, you find yourself appreciating that. “We both thought we were going to die, and neither of us wanted our last memory to be of rotting in pain and alone. Our humanity stripped away.”

You step out of his embrace, mulling that over. You can’t even begin to imagine what that would be like. Feeling that level of desperation. That lack of hope and despair. That kiss had nothing to do with desire and everything to do with comfort, with a need to cling to something so ordinary yet human in what they perceived to be their last moments alive.

“It’s today, isn’t it?” you finally ask, your words soft, thoughtful. “When she was taken. That’s why you came back. Because you knew she would need you,” you add knowingly, staring up at him.

Lucien stares back at you wordlessly. He doesn’t need to waste his breath and verbalize it for you to know you’re right.

“She needs us both,” he concludes and there is no room for argument in that statement—for him, it's an absolute, a known fact. “She’s just too wrapped up in him to realise that.”

Him. It always comes back to him.

The seething rage lingers in Lucien’s soft words, practically spat, certainly damning. Yet you never expected him to be as accepting of this as he has been.

“Why aren’t you mad?” you wonder, watching his profile, the dips of his skin illuminated by the artificial lights. In this moment he’s a wraith, a spirit, a restless ghost. “At the thought that I might…”

Do feel something for a woman you shouldn’t. Did that make you selfish? You often felt selfish for simply wanting Lucien. For hoping that one day he will be able to make peace with his demons and stay with you.

You can’t help but wonder if the woman who reminds you of a beautiful, haunted house could ever, possibly, let her demons go too.

Could...could she feel the same?

Your blood warms at the thought, your mind cycling through every moment shared with her over these last several months. Combing them for any signs and...

“Why would I be, pretty girl?” he retorts with a tsk and a cutting glance. He reaches out, fingers caressing the length of your chin. “I have no intention of choosing, you’re capable of loving us both I know that, and she needs to learn happiness again.”

You lean into his touch, your eyes fluttering shut, savouring the contact. There is that greediness in his hold when he drags you to him. You follow. This time there is new conflict but the energy between you seems to be back, settled. Pressing your forehead against his bare collar, you shiver at how cold he feels to the touch but feel happy at this return.

The missing piece finally has a name.

“What did he do to her?” you mumble against his skin, so desperate to understand what no one is willing to share with you.

You want Clara to tell you herself, one day, but until she’s ready, if ever...

Lucien's voice is dark and low, barely audible when he answers, “He made her love him.”

You doubt anyone can make someone love another person. Not really. But now can’t help but wonder if Lucien feels like that man stole the Clara he knew—Clara that smiled—away from him and that’s what boils his blood. Something that he considered his own was taken from him and he was powerless to stop it.

“And did he love her back?”

He was a fool if he didn’t.

Lucien is quiet for a long, long time after that question, and you feel him staring out towards the twinkling skyline.

“There is a reason why he’s still alive.”

. . .

an: yeah, little to no context and I don’t really expect anyone to read this or care but if you did and happen to enjoy it thank you very much for giving it a chance! love you guys lots. this was written a solid month back so discord gang this is familiar to you lot *wiggles eyebrows*

#oc x reader #oc writing #original writing #reader insert #c: lucien #c: clara #s: we are bound #v: npfh #i said reader is here for both and what of it? also yeah oc!v/clara is bi too so (blows kisses)#anon #asks

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gretavanfanfic · 4 years ago

Text

Thin Line

Pairing: Sam Kiszka x (F) Reader

Word Count: 5600ish

Warnings: Attempted sexual assault, language.

Summary: You and Sam share all the same friends, but he hates you...or so you think.

Note: This was inspired by #5 on this prompt list.

Sam Kiszka hates you. You’re sure of it. You don’t quite know what his reason is for disliking you, but you can feel his disdain for you every time you’re in the same room together. Which is pretty awkward, considering you’ve been in the same friend group since the beginning of college.

When a mutual friend first introduced you to Sam and his brothers during your freshman year, you instantly felt comfortable around Jake and Josh and became fast friends. You even connected with and became close with Sam’s best friend, Danny, in a short period of time. But despite putting in what you felt was a significant effort to get to know Sam as well, he was totally uninterested in getting to know you.

At first you thought maybe he was just slow to come out of his shell, but to this day, Sam has never seemed to warm up to you. There’s just something in the way he treats you that’s different from how he treats your other friends. He’s colder, almost as if he resents you. Where he greets everyone else with smiles and hugs, you receive chilly stares and uninterested waves. Where he makes conversation and engages with everyone else, you receive minimal responses in a flat, bored tone. While you and Sam each hang out individually with all of your other friends, the two of you have never spent time together one on one.

You’ve tried your best not to let his behavior upset you, but truthfully, it does hurt your feelings. Because, in spite of his chilly attitude towards you, you quite like Sam. He’s loud and opinionated; goofy and incredibly intelligent. He’s talented, hard-working, and driven; quirky in an endearing way. Not to mention, he is extremely beautiful, with his long, wavy locks, chiseled features, and brilliant smile. Throughout the time you’ve known each other, you’ve wished for nothing more than for him to give you a chance, but you’ve resigned yourself to the fact that there are just some people in the world who will never like you. And Sam Kiszka was apparently someone who would never like you.

Sam’s contempt for you has seemed to go unnoticed by the rest of your friends, and you feel no need to mention it to any of them. Bringing it up would just make everything even more awkward. You’ve decided that you would much rather continue to feel comfortable around your other friends with some mild unease when Sam is there, than isolate yourself from the group by throwing accusations around haphazardly.

Ever since you came to the conclusion that Sam hates you, you’ve been a bit preoccupied with him. Now, as you sit on a couch in a stranger’s packed living room chatting with Jake over the sound of blaring music, you can’t stop yourself from glancing over at Sam periodically. He’s leaning against a wall across the room, having an animated conversation with Danny, a smile bright on his face, head tipping back with laughter every now and again. Your friend, Erin, joins them and Sam welcomes her into the discussion enthusiastically. You feel an unmistakable spark of jealousy in that moment, wondering what it is that Erin has and you lack that allows her to connect with Sam.

You must have let your stare linger for a little too long, because suddenly, Sam’s eyes flick up to meet yours. You panic and flash him a timid smile, hoping you come off as friendly. However, he just studies you for a brief moment and you see his lips pulling down into a frown. Then, just as quickly as this little moment between the two of you began, it ends as he turns his focus back to his conversation with Danny and Erin. You too return your attention to Jake and try not to read too much into what just occurred.

A little later, you leave your spot on the couch with Jake to find a drink in the kitchen. You drove to the party, so you can’t drink much, but you figure one cocktail can’t hurt. You’re in the middle of mixing a rum and Coke when you’re approached by a guy you don’t know. He’s cute, but he seems sleazy. You know all he wants is to hook up, and you’re not the type of person to sleep with just anyone.

He introduces himself as Drew, and then, as you predicted, immediately asks you if you want to go somewhere more quiet to, “talk.” Uninterested, you mutter a quick, “No, thank you,” pick up your drink, and proceed to leave the kitchen in search of a bathroom.

Much to your dismay, he does not take the hint and follows you into the hallway you’ve just entered. Noticing his presence, you speed up your pace, but are pulled to a halt when he reaches forward and takes hold of your wrist. Your fight or flight response kicks in instantly, heart rate accelerating and the hair at the back of your neck standing on end. Wrenching your wrist free, you spin around and glare at him.

“Can I help you?” you spit, venom in your voice. It’s at this moment that you realize that you’ve ventured into a mostly empty area of the house. Only a few people are around, but they’re too wrapped up in themselves to notice the conflict occurring just a couple of feet away. You cautiously take a few steps back, trying to distance yourself from this man who has suddenly become threatening.

Drew laughs and continues moving toward you. You try to inch even further backward, but your back hits the wall, making it sink in that you’ve been cornered. With his much larger frame, he boxes you in by putting both his palms on the wall on either side of your head.

Bending down, he smirks and says, “Come on, baby, don’t be like that. I just wanted to talk, get to know you a little better.”

Truly panicking now, you try to keep your voice steady when you counter, “And I declined. Now let me go.” You attempt to dip down and slide out from under his arm, but he’s too quick, shoving your shoulder back against the wall. Your drink slips out of your hand at this point, hitting the ground and splashing all over the carpet, walls, and your pants.

Leering at you with the same creepy smile on his face, he runs his fingers down the entire length of your arm, causing you to shiver. Stepping even closer, you feel his hot breath on your face as he taunts, “I’m just being nice, baby. Maybe you should learn to be a little more polite.”

You try to formulate a plan to escape this dilemma, but you’re so scared that your mind is blank. His hand has wandered to your back and settled on your ass, and you feel tears forming in your eyes. You try to look around for someone, anyone that may be able to help you, but the barricade he’s created with his arms has made that impossible. The only thing you can think of to do is scream, and you’re about to do it when you hear someone shout from behind his large body.

“Hey man, what the fuck are you doing? Get off of her!”

The voice sounds familiar, but you don’t register who it belongs to due to the overload of adrenaline coursing through your system. Your brain will not allow you to focus on anything for more than a millisecond, the feeling of terror consuming you. Trying to direct any of your brain power to identifying the person attempting to help you isn’t even an option.

Despite the unknown person’s protest, your assailant does not move an inch, continuing to hold you against your will. You attempt to wiggle out of his hold again, to no avail. Closing your eyes, you try to center yourself and prevent your breathing from increasing to the point of hyperventilation.

And then, he’s gone. The weight leaning up against you disappears and the air around you becomes cooler. It should be easier to breathe, but you still feel like you’re suffocating.

Eyes snapping open, you’re greeted by the sight of someone’s back. Sam Kiszka’s back, you quickly determine, given the long brown hair and slim frame. He has somehow shoved his way between you and your attacker, and is now shielding you with his body. Even though he is much smaller than Drew, you instantly feel safer, and very, very grateful that he intervened.

Drew’s face portrays his anger at Sam for preventing him from getting what he wanted from you. “You should mind your own fucking business, man!” he practically screams, trying to glare a hole through Sam.

“You don’t get to fucking touch her without her permission, you son of a bitch!” Sam growls, not backing down.

You don’t hang around to hear anything else. You desperately need some fresh air and to be out of this dark hallway.

Slipping out from behind Sam’s body, you speed walk away as fast as you can, only turning to look back at the scene once you reach the end of the hall. Drew and Sam, still exchanging anger-laced words, do not notice your exit, and for that, you are grateful. You hastily find your way back to the living room and out the front door, not bothering to even stop and tell your other friends that you’re leaving.

Once you step foot outside, you greedily suck in the cool Autumn air, a stark contrast to the warm stuffiness you felt as Drew was holding you against the wall. The whole encounter lasted maybe two minutes, but it felt like you were being held underwater for an hour and are just now surfacing.

Wiping the tears that you realize are still flowing down your cheeks, you dig your car keys out of the pocket of your jeans and locate your vehicle parked on the street. You feel a little bad for abandoning Erin since you drove her here, but you know she’ll find a ride back to her dorm with one of your other friends.

Speaking of your other friends, your phone vibrates in your pocket right before you put the car in drive, and you pull it out to see a text from Jake.

everything okay? saw you leave…

Apologizing to him for not saying goodbye, you come up with a ridiculous lie about getting your period and carefully pull out onto the street to begin your short journey home. Your phone buzzes again, but you don’t bother to check it.

The car ride passes by in a blur of sniffling and wiping tears, and soon you’re in your bathroom, cleaning off the little bit of make-up left on your face and taking a shower to try to clear your head. You stand under the hot stream of water for longer than usual, processing everything that happened and calming yourself down.

When you finally emerge several minutes later and dress yourself in your comfiest pajamas, you feel a little better, but still not exactly okay. To distract yourself, you pour a bowl of cereal and turn a mindless comedy on the TV in hopes of cheering yourself up.

Instead of paying attention, however, you find yourself staring blankly at the screen, consumed by your thoughts. The encounter has shaken you to your core. And while it ended before Drew could cause you any actual physical harm, you know that it will take some time for you to recover from the emotional and mental damage that he has caused you. He had no right to lay his hands on you, and the fear you felt when he did is not something that is easy to forget. You remind yourself that you are not overreacting, and that your feelings are perfectly valid.

And then there’s Sam. You feel incredibly thankful for him, but also a little surprised that he was the one who stepped in. You’re not sure why you’re surprised though. At his core, Sam is a good person. Even though the two of you have your differences, you know he would never stand by while someone else was being hurt. Including you. You sincerely hope nothing else transpired between him and Drew after you left. You would feel terrible if he ended up in harm’s way for trying to protect you.

Realizing that you will do nothing but obsess over the incident if you continue to stay awake, you make the decision to crawl into bed and try to get some sleep. Even though it takes a bit for your mind to stop racing, exhaustion eventually sets in and you’re able to get a much needed break from your thoughts.

⏭

The following Saturday, your friends send a group text making plans to go to another party that night. Normally, you would be happy to join them, but now, a party is the absolute last place you want to be. You know that if you just tell them that you don’t want to go, they’ll ask questions. You’d managed to avoid any sort of interrogation about your abrupt disappearance last weekend up until now, and you don’t really feel like reliving the experience by having to tell the story.

So, you don’t even think twice before texting them that you’re sick and are planning on staying home all weekend. You get texts back from everyone but Sam telling you to feel better, and then mute the thread when they continue planning their evening.

Over the past week, you’ve felt a little better everyday. Your anxiety has lessened and you’re able to concentrate on things that don’t involve Drew. Still, you’re definitely not ready to be in a house full of crowded people, some of which may have questionable intentions.

Since you don’t have much else to do, you decide to be productive and spend your time catching up on school work. You have quite a bit of reading to do for an exam in one of your classes next week. Surprising yourself, you get into the zone and read without interruption until close to 8 PM, when your stomach reminds you that you haven’t eaten anything since the peanut butter and jelly sandwich you made yourself around 11:30 AM.

Not in the mood to cook dinner, you pull up Uber Eats on your phone and scroll through the endless options, trying to choose between a local soup and salad place and your favorite pizza joint. You’re just about to place your order when there’s a knock on the front door of your apartment. You have no idea who it could be, since you gathered from your friends messages that they had made dinner plans for before the party and would more than likely be eating right now.

Skeptical, you rise from your seat at your kitchen island and check yourself in the mirror, making sure your hair isn’t too messy before making your way to the door. You really wish the doors in your apartment building had peep holes so you could vet your unexpected visitors before showing yourself, but alas, you’re forced to open it if you wish to know the identity of the person on the other side.

Curiosity getting the best of you, you undo the latch and swing the door open, the sight that greets you making your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Sam Kiszka, clad in a white t-shirt, the tiniest blue shorts you’ve ever seen, and Birkenstocks, stands on your welcome mat, bottom lip pulled between his teeth. His hair falls to his shoulders in perfect waves, and he is holding a round Tupperware container in his hands. He startles a bit when your form appears in front of him.

“Hi?” you say, more of a question than a statement. Why is he here? I didn’t even know that he knew where I lived...

Releasing his lower lip from his teeth, he clears his throat and responds, “Hey. Can I come in?” There’s a small, barely there smile on his face, and the only reason you notice it is because you’re so used to the cold stare that he’s usually giving you.

Wordlessly backing up, you open the door wider and allow him entrance. When he steps through the door frame, he kicks off his Birkenstocks and glaces around, getting his first look at the place you call home.

Unsure of what to make of his surprise appearance, you cautiously ask, “What are you doing here? I thought you would be out with everyone else right now.”

Sam contemplates your query for a moment, then thrusts the Tupperware container towards you. You reach out to take it from him, and when it touches the skin of your palms, you discover that the contents inside are still hot.

“I uh- I got your message that you weren’t feeling well, so I made you some soup. Loaded baked potato. Then I realized that you’re probably not like, sick, sick, that you may just not feel comfortable going out after what happened last weekend. And I figured if that was the case, then soup may still help you feel better, so I thought I’d stop by…” he trails off and gives a tiny shrug.

You’re touched by his thoughtfulness, so you give him a small smile of appreciation. “I was literally just about to order some soup. And loaded baked potato is my favorite. Thank you.”

His lips pull up at the corners even more and he sounds almost bashful when he says, “Yeah, no problem.”

The two of you stand in your small entryway, looking each other over for a second before you turn your back and walk into the kitchen, getting a spoon out from the silverware drawer. You feel his eyes watching your movements the whole time. Once you retrieve the utensil, you walk past him to your sofa, then offer, “Do you want to sit down?”

Sam doesn’t respond, just follows you into the living room and sits on the opposite end of the couch as you.

Removing the lid from the container in your hands, your nose is instantly met with the delicious aroma of the soup inside. Sticking your spoon in the bowl, you comment, “I hope you don’t mind if I eat this now, I’m starving.”

Turning to face you, Sam pulls his long, lanky legs onto the couch so his knees are practically to his chin, then wraps his arms around them. The position doesn’t look comfortable at all, and you let out a little giggle before taking your first taste of the soup.

“I don’t mind,” Sam acknowledges.

The two of you sit in silence for a few moments, you eating soup and him watching you. What’s weird about it is that it isn’t uncomfortable at all. You’re not sure you’ve ever been alone with Sam before, but you always imagined if you were, it would be awkward.

Your thoughts are interrupted by Sam breaking the silence. “So…are you okay?” There is concern evident in his tone, and it shouldn’t catch you off guard since you’re sitting here eating soup (delicious soup, by the way) that he cooked to make you feel better, but it does.

You shovel more soup into your mouth as you consider how to answer his question. You swallow, and decide it’s best to just be honest. He’s the only person who really knows what happened, so if you can’t tell him how you’re feeling, who can you tell?

“Well, I’m not like, sick, sick,” you start, “But I wouldn’t say I’m okay. I feel a little better every day, but I’m definitely not ready to go to a party.”

He nods at your answer, then sympathizes, “That’s understandable.”

Pausing for a moment, you decide this is a good time to express your gratitude to him. You’ve been meaning to text or call him all week, but chickened out each time, figuring he wouldn’t want to talk to you.

“Thank you, by the way. For what you did. I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t been there. I just- I really appreciate it.”

At your words, Sam recoils and his face scrunches up in dismay. Voice slightly elevated, he fumes, “You don’t have to thank me! That fucking asshole shouldn’t have put his fucking hands on you! He’s lucky I didn’t beat the shit out of him…”

His face is red in anger by the time he finishes his rant, and you’re shocked at how heated he became by you thanking him. You’re also shocked that he was upset enough by what happened to you that he wanted to cause someone actual physical harm. You never would have thought that Sam Kiszka would go that far to defend you.

Choosing your words carefully, you reply, “I know that you’re not the kind of guy to just stand by and let something like that happen, it’s just- I realize that we haven’t exactly gotten along super well in the past and I just wanted to make sure you know that I’m really grateful that you helped me in spite of that. And it was really nice of you to make me this soup. You didn’t have to do that.”

Sam looks genuinely perplexed by your assertion. He has a habit of clearly displaying his emotions with his facial expressions, you’ve noticed. Eyebrows furrowed, he asks, “What do you mean we haven’t gotten along in the past?”

Now it’s your brows that are furrowing in confusion. Is he kidding? How can he not know what I mean?

Peering at him nervously, you say, “Sam. Come on...we’ve had the same friends for a couple of years now and I don’t think we’ve ever talked this much. Everything between us has always just felt so...uncomfortable. Honestly, sometimes I wonder if you even like me...it sure feels like you hate me sometimes.”

Sam balks at your answer and lets out a humorless laugh. He bows his head and shakes it back and forth a few times, then gazes up at you with a pained look on his face. “You think I hate you?” he questions, voice unsteady.

You’re taken aback by how devastated he sounds. For years now, you’ve been living under the assumption that Sam hates you. That you had done or said something or acted in a certain way that made him not want to be your friend. But he’s looking at you like he has no idea what you’re talking about. Did I misinterpret his cold stares and lack of interest in interacting with me? Did I imagine it all?

“Well…” you hesitantly begin explaining your point of view. “It’s just that, you act differently around me than you do around everyone else. You don’t- you don’t talk to me or even acknowledge anything that I say when we’re all together. You’re so nice to everyone else and it seems like you just barely tolerate my presence. And sometimes it feels like you look at me like you actually want to kill me. So I don’t know, I guess it was just hard for me to come up with any other reason for it besides you hating me…”

You wish they hadn’t, but tears have formed in your eyes during the course of your little speech. You didn’t expect to get so emotional airing out your long-held beliefs regarding Sam’s feelings towards you, but here you are, trying to prevent the watery drops from falling down your cheeks. You didn’t realize how strongly your strained relationship with Sam has impacted you until now. Embarrassment makes you avoid looking at him for his reaction.

Though you’re staring at the bowl of soup in your hands instead of him, you know Sam moves closer to you because you feel the cushion next to you dip down with his body weight. “Y/N,” he says, trying to get your attention. When you look up at him, you catch him anxiously running his hand through his hair.

“I- I don’t hate you. I don’t hate you at all. God, I- I’m sorry I made you feel that way,” he stutters, shaking his head again in shame. “It’s just, I uh-“ The tension in the room is palpable as he stops and gazes at you with a conflicted look on his face, obviously having an internal debate with himself on if he wants to continue his sentence.

He must decide that the pros of vocalizing his thoughts outweigh the cons, because he stammers, “It’s just that I- I’ve been in love with you for awhile now and I guess I just didn’t know how to deal with it? You make me nervous…”

Nothing could have prepared you for the bombshell Sam just dropped on you. By the time he finishes speaking, your jaw is nearly touching the floor and your eyes are wide. He could have told you he was a werewolf and you would have been less shocked than you are right now. The thought of Sam having any positive feelings towards you at all seems unlikely, but love? Never in a million years would you have imagined that Sam Kiszka loves you.

Your heart in your throat and your palms sweaty, all you manage to sputter is, “You love me?”

Sam scratches his nose a few times, which you’ve learned is a nervous habit of his, and chuckles tensely. “Yeah...I um- I started liking you when we were in that class together Freshman year and it just kind of spiraled from there.” He blushes as he carries on with his explanation. “I really wasn’t trying to be an asshole to you, I swear. I just, I kind of had this idea in my head that you liked Jake and I didn’t want to make things weird, so I just started avoiding you. I thought maybe if I distanced myself from you, it would go away, but so far, that hasn’t worked…”

As hard as you try, your mind cannot process everything Sam is revealing to you as he says it. You feel like you’re just gaping at him blankly for an hour before it clicks that he’s been putting on a facade to hide his feelings for you. And it worked, because it never once occurred to you that his attitude may have been a mask to prevent himself from being hurt by you, intentionally or unintentionally.

What Sam doesn’t know is that you have no romantic interest in Jake. In fact, you’ve been so hung up on overanalyzing Sam’s behavior, that you haven’t paid attention to any other guys at all. You realize now that the reason for this is because you’ve had your own crush on Sam for as long as you can remember. Before tonight, he was always so unattainable. You always thought that you just craved for him to treat you the same way he treats everyone else, but really, you wanted even more than that. You never wanted to admit to yourself just how much you liked him, because you thought you would just be setting yourself up for heartbreak. But now that he’s bared his soul to you, his closeness is making your face feel hot and causing goosebumps to appear on your arms, both telltale signs of your epiphany.

Sam’s watching you intently, waiting for any sort of reaction whatsoever. He looks more and more dejected with every second that passes by and you have not broken your silence.

Feeling guilty for invoking so much anxiety, you end his misery by simply stating, “I don’t like Jake.”

Sam frowns and croaks, “Oh.”

He again runs his hand through his wavy tresses and his eyes shift around the room.

“To be honest,” you confess, setting your soup on the coffee table in front of you, “You’re the only guy I ever really pay any attention to. I’ve kind of been obsessed with trying to figure out where I stand with you for a long time now. Because even though I thought that you literally couldn’t stand me, I um, I’ve always really liked you. I think I was actually a little jealous of everyone else because you’ve always gotten along so well with literally everyone but me…”

Head hung low, Sam peers up at you and apologizes. “I’m sorry…I feel like such a fucking idiot…”

Hesitantly, you take hold of one of his hands and find that his palms are just as clammy as yours. “No, no I- I get it,” you comfort him. “We all deal with feelings differently.”

He nods and squeezes your hand, appreciating your understanding, but then insists again, “Yeah, but that was no excuse for being such an asshole to you. You were nothing but nice to me all the time and I cared too much about myself to even realize I was hurting your feelings. God I’m such a dick, I’m-”

Having heard enough of him tearing himself down, you cut him off before he can say anything else. “Sam, stop. I forgive you. Maybe...maybe we should try to forget about how things have been in the past and just, like, start over. Things were weird before, but they don’t have to be now.”

Sam thinks over your suggestion for only a second, a shy smile forming on his lips. “I think that’s a good idea,” he agrees, then playfully reaches out to shake your hand, both to seal the deal and to symbolize your reintroduction.

You laugh softly at the gesture, but instead of accepting his outstretched hand, you throw your arms around his neck and pull him into a hug. Almost immediately, his arms wrap around you in return and he gives your body a tight squeeze, pouring all of his emotion into the embrace.

You’ve always had a feeling that Sam is an amazing hugger, and he’s proving you correct right now. His body is warm and he smells faintly like spicy cologne and his hair is silky against your skin. And the soothing motion of his hand rubbing up and down your back has you feeling more relaxed than you have since what happened last weekend. Truth be told, you could cling onto him like this forever and be content.

Unfortunately for you, Sam attempts to break the embrace far more quickly than you would have liked. You feel his hands drop from your back and the heat of his chest dissipating and you know you need to stop him from moving too far away from you.

Clutching onto his shoulders, you pull back until you’re face to face with him, foreheads almost touching. The tension in the room is palpable as you stare at each other, wordlessly daring the other to make a move. You’re not sure what you’re hoping to happen, but you aren’t mad when his palms find the side of your neck and he presses his forehead to yours.

Looking directly into your eyes, you see him gulp before he admits, “I really want to kiss you right now.”

Your pulse hammering at what feels like a million beats a minute, you smile shyly at him and whisper, “Me too.”

That’s all that he needs to hear before he touches his lips to yours. Right away, you feel a spark that you haven’t felt with any other boy you’ve kissed before. Even though the kiss is chaste, sweet and quick with no tongue involved, it makes you feel more feelings than you would have ever thought possible. At the forefront is happiness, causing a huge grin to form on your lips and your eyes to sparkle as you both pull away. An identical grin is on Sam’s lips and he leans in to plant another light kiss on your cheek before settling back on the couch next to you.

Your stomach rumbling reminds you that there is still a nearly full container of soup sitting in front of you, so you pick it up and take a bite, then propose, “Do you want to stay and watch a movie?” You’re not ready for him to leave.

Sam readily agrees, so you give him the remote to select a film while you resume eating. He finds one, but before he presses play, he asks, “Hey, would you maybe want to go out to dinner with me sometime?”

Deciding to tease him a little, you respond, “I don’t know, Sam...this is some of the best soup I’ve ever had. I think I’d much rather have you cook for me than go out anywhere.”

Sam’s face lights up and he nods rapidly, clearly overjoyed that you think he’s a good cook. “Yeah, for sure! Are you free tomorrow?”

He looks so excited, and it makes butterflies flutter in your stomach. “Yeah, tomorrow works for me,” you answer, probably looking equally as excited.

Satisfied with your response, Sam presses play on the movie, then leans back into the sofa and gets comfortable. You think to yourself that you could get used to the sight of him in your living room.

Unable to resist, you quickly finish your soup and rid yourself of the bowl so you can scoot closer to Sam and curl up into his side. His arm instantly comes up to rest on your shoulders, and you’re delighted when his fingers start playing with your hair.

At the beginning of this day, you never would have expected to be finishing the night cuddled up to Sam Kiszka. If someone had told you that the guy who you thought hated you was going to bring you homemade soup and confess that he actually loves you, you would have thought they were crazy. But sometimes life works in mysterious ways, and you’re looking forward to seeing where it takes you and Sam next.

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howtowhumpyourhiccup · 4 years ago

Note

70 : Hiccup, Viggo, tiny

YYEEEEE, HERE IT IS! I had so much fun writing this one! And thank you for requesting the son! <3 <3 <3

Prompt: I’ll carry it.

Warning: implied/referenced threats of rape/non-con

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"I'll carry it."

Viggo's words make Hiccup halt in his tracks and Viggo, who is walking beside him, stops as well.

"Excuse me?" Hiccup asks, wearing an offended look.

Viggo either doesn't catch on or doesn't care to catch on to what offends him so. He raises an eyebrow.

"The boy. I imagine you must be tired, so perhaps, I can take over from you." He offers, referring to the baby boy, named Vigi, strapped to Hiccup's chest in a deeply red sling made of a soft cloth.

Maybe he thinks he's being helpful and overwhelmingly generous, but the lead Dragon Rider looks quite angry for someone who has been made such an offer. Brows low, his lips are pressed into a thin line and his jaw is tense.

The Hunters and Flyers around them stare, some attempting to do so subtly while others forego all subtlety and openly stare. The Dragon Riders aren't loved, but Hiccup and Viggo's interactions always spark some interest, even if it's just interesting gossip.

Besides, it's strange that Viggo would even offer to help him out. And with a baby, no less! This man has a bastard or two running around and not even them are given as much attention as Vigi here.

But then, Viggo has some strange affections for Hiccup, who is both the leader of the enemy and the first person he has ever shown such affection for.

"Am I supposed to know what that look is for?" Viggo asks, so he really hasn't figured it out.

"You called him an it." Hiccup tells him, offended on his young son's behalf. The boy turned three-months-old just a day or two ago.

Vigi looks up to Viggo, a curled-up fist in his mouth as he blinks curiously. At his age, he can't sit up yet and that's about as far as his knowledge of babies goes. But he's a lot more aware than last time Viggo saw him and noticeably bigger, too. That voluminous mess of red hair has thinned out significantly, however. Babies can bald, too, apparently, but Hiccup doesn't seem concerned with this.

"Yes, well, my bad." It's strange that Viggo would even admit to something being his fault and Hiccup raises an eyebrow in question this time. The other continues on.

The flat of a sword on his back pushes him forward, a wordless order to follow Viggo. While questioning the kind of audacity it would take to push someone holding a baby, Hiccup listens and follows after the former Hunter leader.

Viggo is taking him to his cell and he doesn't know where they put Toothless as they've been separated ever since their capture. Hiccup can't imagine how worried the Night Fury must be and hopes that he's okay.

With most of the Dragon Riders gone on a mission, Hiccup and Tiny should've still been protected by Toothless and all the other dragons on that island, namely the Night Terrors standing guard on their posts.

Though the Edge's dragons have always counted on the human-dragon duos to keep them safe, they've been returning the favor ever since Tiny's birth three months prior.

Their enemies must know because they waited until Hiccup and Toothless were away from the island to down them. And since the baby was with them at the time, the two hadn't put up much of a fight.

As a matter of fact, there hadn't been a battle at all. Some ballistas and a net flew and Toothless landed on the nearest island, a tiny one that could barely sustain any life.

The Edge was in the far, far distance on the horizon, they hadn't gone far from home on their leisure flight and were still in their own waters.

But considering their recently changed familial situation at the moment, the Dragon Riders are jumpier than usual. Hiccup hopes this means that they're well on their way already.

Hiccup doesn't believe any of these men necessarily capable of hurting an infant, but they've surprised him before and he isn't willing to find out if they'll surprise him again.

He's especially wary of Krogan, the man who seems to have a particularly sadistic side to him and whom Hiccup believes responsible for the state Garff was found in. The poor child was found nearly tortured to death.

Hiccup growls just thinking about it. And part of the bad taste it left them all with? This was a Deathson they've cared for before they found him a home with an adult individual. However brief their time together had been before Garff's adoption, they had all come to love him. Seeing him in that kind of state was horrible, they thought he was going to die.

So on his way, Hiccup holds his own son closer, Vigi laying his head on his collarbone. It's time for his nap anyway.

Garff is doing much, much better now and lives with them again on Dragon's Edge so long as his parent remains missing. But if something that unthinkable were to ever happen to Tiny... No, Hiccup would pretty much rather die than ever let it happen.

The boy has already been through too much as it is.

"We're here." As they reach the dragon cages that make for cells in their base, Hiccup is pulled from his thoughts by Viggo as he speaks. He opens the door and steps aside to let Hiccup in.

"Toothless!" But Hiccup doesn't quite go in yet, spotting his dragon muzzle in a different cage.

The Night Fury has already pressed himself against the metal, having heard his Rider's approaching voice and recognizable footsteps.

He croons, wondering if they're both unharmed.

"We're okay, Bud! We're-" Hiccup comes over, hand outstretched to touch his nose, but Viggo grabs him by the arm. There's a lot of manhandling done to someone very clearly holding an infant to his chest.

"Unless you want to risk harm coming to either one of you, I suggest going inside the cell." He tells Hiccup and Toothless' protest is instant.

"I'm still okay, Bud. We're both okay, don't you worry about us." Rider reassures Dragon and he quietens down, sagging in his cage. Hiccup lets himself be dragged away.

"You better hope that boy ends up smarter than you," Viggo mutters under his breath as he pulls Hiccup inside his cell and closes to then lock the door.

Due to their close proximity, Hiccup hears him.

"Wow, petty insults now, Viggo?" He asks while the door is locked and he can't figure out who Viggo has insulted more.

"It's merely an observation combined with a hope, Hiccup." He tells and Hiccup leans on the door, suddenly realizing the other hasn't referred to him as "my dear" once. And not just today, but ever since he's found out about Hiccup's son.

A peculiar thing...

"An observation?" But Hiccup moves that realization to the back of his mind and focuses on their conversation instead.

"The dragons on your island have become more proactive and without a doubt that has everything to do with the two of you. But instead of staying where it is safe, you took your infant son and ventured from your island." While Viggo elaborates, Hiccup rolls his eyes at that.

Vigi is his son and he's perfectly safe with Hiccup and Toothless in the sky. Besides, this way he's going to grow up used to being in the sky.

And what does Viggo know of childrearing? He has a bastard here and there, of this Hiccup is certain as well, but he cares little for them. Hiccup wonders if he even knows their names. Hiccup does.

"Now you've been captured, together with you infant, and instead of following along nicely, you talk back and try to run." Hiccup is taken aback by both of these "observations" that Viggo claims he has seen. Because how is correcting Viggo that his baby isn't an "it" talking back and when is checking up on Toothless trying to run away?

No, Viggo has been acting strange ever since he's been captured. It almost seems like he's been judging Hiccup on everything he does, says, or seems to be thinking. Even with the Riders, who he couldn't care less for, aren't as judged as Hiccup's been since his most recent capture.

If he were a friend or an ally, Hiccup would've just shrugged it off. Maybe it's because Viggo is an enemy that he has a hard time doing so, or maybe it's because his judging for Hiccup is so out of character of him, or maybe it's because some of these judgments have to do with his son. Because Viggo always has something to say either to him or about him, but nothing about things so trivial.

"But it would appear to me that making foolish decisions is simply something Hiccup Haddock does, isn't it?" Viggo states, his gaze going down to little Vigi and lingering.

Hiccup follows his eyes, looking down at his son, who now has a fistful of his dad's tunic and which he happily salivates. His little fist and the sleeve of his little tunic are both soaked.

Hiccup looks back up at Viggo and their eyes briefly meet before the latter turns and walks away.

Why was Viggo staring at his son like that? Did he just call him a mistake?

And then it all clicks in place, Hiccup makes another sudden realization. He's not really surprised by this one.

"You're jealous, aren't you?" He asks confidently and Viggo stops in his tracks.

Hiccup can't see his eyes widening, a crack appearing in his façade. When Viggo turns to face him, finds him leaning with an elbow on the door of the cage, the look of surprise is gone.

"Excuse me?" He asks.

"Viggo, Viggo Grimborn. I've taken you for many things, but a jealous man? No wait, I did take you for that, too." Hiccup is so confident that he allows himself to sass, which honestly doesn't take much.

The former Hunter chief approaches again, Hiccup's demeanor not changing a bit.

"And what exactly would I be jealous for?" He asks, almost challenging him to tell.

"For not being the one to father my son. You're angry that Vigi isn't yours." So Hiccup does and when Viggo growls lowly instead of denying it, he knows he's right.

"You've always looked down on my Riders and thought of them less than you while almost pretending like our confrontations alone were dates. Treated me like an equal, well, treated me like an equal most of the time. You've challenged me, played with me, tried to seduce me?" Hiccup makes a list.

"And then you found out about Vigi, figured out that only one of the Riders could've put him in me, and you don't like that it wasn't you, do you? As a matter of fact, I think you even hate it." He is so self-assured, so confident, in his belief that he's figured Viggo's strange behavior out. And maybe there's also a false sense of safety, the assumption that his foe wouldn't stoop as low as to harm him, not with Vigi with him.

Toothless has been listening in quietly, watching the two cautiously. He would've preferred Hiccup keep all of this to himself, but it's out now and he can only watch what will unfold before him now.

Because like stormclouds suddenly appearing on a sunny day does Viggo's expression darken. Clearly, he doesn't like being called out like this, especially when Hiccup is right.

Grabbing the bars, he leans closer to Hiccup, invading his personal space even through the cage. He stands so closely the younger man can feel his warm breath.

"Congratulations, you've figured me out once again." Viggo starts and that is only the beginning of what he has to say now. He looms over Hiccup threateningly.

"But, my Dear, do you also realize that, if I had known all along what you have underneath your clothes, that you would indeed be holding my son instead of whoever you let fuck you?" Viggo tells him, Hiccup's self-assurance melting like snow before the sun.

He stares at the larger man wordlessly, wide-eyed and mouth agape. It's been a while since anyone has made him feel this small.

"Let that sink in and think before you speak next time. You may not like what your reckless words can cause you to hear." Viggo warns him and Hiccup can't come up with a suitable response. He can no longer respond at all, too disturbed by what Viggo means to imply with his claim.

Hiccup successfully silenced and Toothless growling in warning through his muzzle, Viggo is satisfied. He turns and leaves again.

Ever since his defeat at the hands of Hiccup, Viggo was fully prepared to just let their war be.

He had enough, his empire was destroyed, his face scarred, and the sight in one of his eyes lost. It was time to admit his defeat and quietly stay out of Hiccup's way, he thought. That is, until Krogan and his Flyers found him.

But, indeed, if he had known Hiccup capable of having his heir, their war would've gone quite differently. Maybe it still would've ended in Hiccup's victory, but at least one minor detail would've been different.

Hiccup's firstborn would've been his. Of that, Viggo would've made sure.

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iturbide · 4 years ago

Text

More Crest Control Edelgard in Heroes

(CheeseAndCake here) I just want to let you know that the CC!Edargard art is amazing, and it works as both a thank you and a bribe. Here is the accepted bribe’s payment! More Crest Control Edelgard in Heroes snippets have been delivered! Enjoy!

(Also, Me? Shamelessly inserting my headcanon that Almyra uses non-gendered language? It’s more likely than you think.)

_______________________________________________________________

It’s only after a long, tense, chat with the Crèche Guardians that Edelgard allows herself to relax on the bench in the dining room, and return her dagger to its hiding place. She left it on the table where both parties could see- and neither could easily grab- as a sign of good will, which for the most part seems to have worked.

The previous conversation wasn’t pleasant in the slightest, but it was something she needed to hear, and the distrust is warranted, since her past- and alternative- selves are here as well.

Considering what they might have done, she’s surprised she wasn’t set on fire the moment she entered.

Most of the castle is empty by now, aside from the occasional hero on patrol, which suits her fine. The silence gives her room to think.

She doesn’t know how long she sits on the bench to process the meaning of the words said- each of them have their own cultures, their own beliefs, so many reject the title of god, some find it holding a different meaning, some- the dragonkin aren’t one collective unit- which isn’t surprising, but somehow still hard to grasp- they’re people.

And Edelgard refuses to leave this dining hall until she finds the idea at least slightly easier to understand.

If it takes a while, and the Guardians are willing to talk again while she’s still processing, the least she can do is make sure the conversation’s on neutral grounds so it doesn’t feel like an invasion.

She must have fallen asleep at some point, because when she wakes up, the sun is just starting to rise over the horizon, which is surprising, since she usually has night terrors, but Askr apparently has heroes that can control dreams, so it might not be that strange.

She’s just glad she removed most of her armour before approaching the Crèche, and that this place is apparently safe enough to fall asleep without armour.

It’s only when she feels a small tug on her dress and looks down that she realises she’s not alone.

She looks down, and sees a very sleepy child with pink hair under the table. The child holds her hands out, and makes what she assumes to be an ‘up’ gesture.

Slowly, carefully, she picks up the child and paces her on the bench, and the child’s face scrunches before she moves onto Edelgard’s lap.

It’s only when the child looks directly at her face and cheerfully says “I’m Fae!” That Edelgard see’s the young girl’s forehead, remembers her visit to the Crèche, and realises she has a dragon child sitting on her lap.

For a moment, she swears her heart skips a few beats. Even now, despite everything, the word “dragon” in her mind still conjures an image of a fairy-tale creature, and not a… person.

She shoves that disgusting line of thinking to the side, and forces herself to think of anything else. No bad thoughts around the child. Second thoughts are more important than the first.

The Grima’s were going to kill her.

Think. She talked to Claude about this in Fodlan, didn’t she? Humanising comes from learning about the individuals. You are sitting in a room holding a- an adorable, tired, child with pink hair. Ask the child something. Anything. What’s a good thing to ask a child?

“So, Fae-“ Calm, casual, voice. Gentle, good, “What’s your… favourite colour?”

She really needs to learn how to talk to children.

If Claude ever found out about this, she’s going to strange him with his own sash. She could practically hear him saying “It’s a learning experience, Edelgard!” In the back of her mind.

Fae blinks a few times and smiles up at her. “Purple!”

“Oh, because of your hair? You have very pretty hair.” She didn’t make a move to ruffle the girl’s hair, but she shifted into what she hoped would be more comfortable for the little one.

“No! It’s the colour of mama and papa’s wings!”

“That sounds-“ don’t panic, don’t panic, “- lovely. Did you get your wings from them?” -don’t panic. This is a small, fragile child, if you panic, she will cry. Think you your younger- don’t think of that, it will make you panic-

“Nope! Fae’s wings are-“ Fae yawns and stretches, before curling up against Edelgard’s chest, “-white! But! Fae still has feathers, like them!”

“They must be very beautiful.” This time, Edelgard makes sure to pat Fae on the head since she’s giving Edelgard the same look cats give her when they want affection. “Fae, did you stay up late to spy on your parents?”

Because if there’s one thing all children do, no matter what their backgrounds, it’s staying up late to listen in on your parents.

“Hmmm…” Fae blinks slowly, and wriggles to get herself in a more comfortable position. “Yep!”

And then Fae falls asleep.

Edelgard has no idea how to move without waking up the child, and she’s pretty sure at this rate, no matter what, the entire Crèche is definitely going to kill her.

“You look uncomfortable.” A new voice rings out, and instinctively, her right hand goes to her dagger and she tightens her grip on the child in her arms.

Edelgard glances at the man with long red hair, relaxing as she realises he’s one of the Crèche’s caretakers. “I have no idea how to talk to children.”

The man lets out a small, relieved smile, and sits next to her.

“Give it time. It will come.” He says casually. Then, he leans over the child in her arms, holds his hand out, and whispers, “Fae, come on, your mama and papa are going to panic if they realise you’re missing.”

Just like that, the small, half asleep, child practically falls into the man’s arms, and whispers “Warm.”

The man lets out a soft laugh and says, “I’ll be returning the little one to her parents. Thank you for looking after her. My name is Arvis.”

“It’s no problem. My name is Edelgard, though I’m guessing you’ve already ment several versions of me.” She nods in response as the man- Arvis- leaves the hall with Fae in his arms.

—————————————

The next Crèche Caretaker she meets is named Lyon, a soft-spoken man with purple hair and kind eyes, who volunteered to talk to her about the Crèche’s activities after he saw her listening to Emmeryn. Apparently, that was what convinced him she was serious about wanting to understand the dragonkin and change.

The conversation was mostly natural, talking about the children’s’ favourite fairy tales, their favourite games, so on and so forth, until Lyon spoke about his fallen self.

Because Lyon- and the entire Crèche, apparently- use future tenses for his fallen self, but the guilt she can see in his eyes is an entirely different type.

“You’re lying.” She says it softly with a sigh, but perhaps it comes out blunter than intended. It needs to be said, because if what that implies is true, then she needs to know. No, she doesn’t need to know, but it’s something that will haunt her if she doesn’t at least ask.

“Pardon?” Thankfully, he doesn’t sound offended, only cautious and curious.

“You don’t have the eyes of someone trying to fight their fate.” She explains, keeping her voice low, in case the former prince wants to keep it a secret, “Or someone resigned to it. You’re not from before you’re fallen self, you’re from after, aren’t you?”

Just for a moment, she sees a shadow pass over his face, and his eyes seem to become so much older and wiser. “…Yes.”

Hope is a dangerous, terrifying thing. It’s not something that Edelgrad believes in, but in that moment, it crawls through her stomach and into her mouth, and she can’t help asking, “Did death bring you peace from the Demon King?”

“I don’t know. I don’t remember, but…” He smiles, sadly as he looks at her. He doesn’t comment on the question. He doesn’t need to, “I can hope.”

—————————————

It’s rare to see Claude- and of the Claudes- on his own, since she usually sees him with the Crèche- who she’s giving space to approach her, no matter how hard the waiting is- with the Grimas’ twins and the other tacticians, or with his Golden Deer, which she knows to stay away from, since most give her death glares she approaches.

So, when she sees one of the older ones alone, she decides to ask him for a game. His strategies are always interesting and versatile, and she finds herself missing the matches they would play in their spare time.

“Sun’s light warm you and wyverns’ sing, Claude, High Ruler. Would you be willing for a game of Shatranj?” She asks, giving her usual greeting as she approaches him. He’s standing next to an empty table big enough to fit the board on, and she knows he always carries a small set with him when he can.

for just a second when the words leave her lips, Claude’s expression perfectly matches a deer’s when it sees a hunter, and he slowly sits on the chair. His expression becomes a calm mask and doesn’t change, and that’s how she knows she surprised him.

Claude. Surprised. She doesn’t know what to do with the information.

“I should let you know, I’m not king yet,” Claude corrects, somewhat stained and somewhat gentle, as if he hasn’t completely thought his words though, “Brave me has that honour.”

Oh. Oh, that’s embarrassment burning in her gut, but she can’t take back her words. Ruthlessly she shoves it down. There are better times for shame, and this isn’t one of them.

“Oh? I never did learn how to greet a prince.” Do it. Ask. Implications give nothing. Shame in asking is worthless. Somehow, the idea that she would have been too ashamed to ask before gives her what she needs to push on, “Would you be willing to teach me?”

“Sure, it’s: ‘Heir of High Ruler’ if you want to be super formal about it, but most people just use ‘Heir’ for any child of a governing family.” She can tell Claude’s been caught off guard, but now that he knows where the conversation is going, he has it under control. “‘Wyverns’ sing’ is also only used after the person’s Rite of Challenge.”

“Ya-kessh?” She repeats, butchering the pronunciation.

“No, Heir.” It rolls off his tongue naturally, and Edelgard bites the inside of her lip to stop her frustration and embarrassment from rising. Not the time, not the place.

“Heir-ch?” She says, forcing herself to try again. She can do this.

“Heir.”

“There you go.” Claude responds with an easy smile. It’s not perfect, but Edelgard can practice later.

Edelgard rolls her eyes. She’s worked for Claude often enough to know that type of smile isn’t completely real. “The offer for Shatranj is still there, Claude, Heir, do you accept?”

“With joy, Edelgard, Ruler of Land and People.”

“I lost that title years ago, Edelgard, Commander, is as formal as I’m going to allow you to go.”

Claude’s smile becomes sharper as he places his pieces, and Edelgard allows herself to smile in return. This was going to be fun.

In the end, she loses, again, which really isn’t surprising. Against someone like Claude, it doesn’t sting that much.

______________________________________________________________

[AN: yes, Edelgard did 100% refer to the Robins as “the Grimas’ twins,” since she doesn’t really know their history.]

[On another note, how do you think the Bad End cast would react to CC!Edelgard? I’m not going to write anything for that, I’m just really curious.]

______________________________________________________________

#submission #cheeseandcake #fire emblem: three houses #fire emblem: heroes #dragon creche #crest control #i've read this so many times now #i really wanted to finish the duo hero art before clearing out my inbox #just to make sure i didn't lose momentum #but i keep going back to this and reading it #and i absolutely love how cc!edelgard is clearly still working on things #she's in the process of unlearning bad habits #and has to remind herself about the good ones that she's trying to replace them with #because yeah changing that kind of mindset is really hard #this kind of growth is incredible and i absolutely love all of it #from her pushing herself to ask claude about how to address a prince #instead of shutting down because she feels she embarrassed herself #or talking herself through interacting with a tiny dragon child #when she still hears 'dragon' and thinks 'inhuman monster'#it's just such good character writing and i love every bit of it #this is an absolute gift #so i'm definitely going to write some bad end interactions to cc!edelgard for you

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jyndor · 4 years ago

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(Imperialism etc anon) Ok I get where you're coming from! Thank you for being understanding. While Zutara is obviously not inherently racist or anything there are zutara interpretations that *are* racist (example: fire lady katara which I can get into) and it does need to be acknowledged that Zuko's status as fire nation royalty does create a power imbalance between him and Katara. Now, this is a conversation that has a lot of nuance to it but it seems like the people harassing you are (1/2)

(2/2) just repeating some genuine critique they saw without understanding what it means just to say that they're right, harassing people in the process. I did not have that context when sending that first ask and I apologize, since anons harassing you and others are clearly doing it out of bad faith. I just didn't like the leveraging of concepts that really matter in real life (colonialism, etc), ykwim? But I get what you were trying to do.

hey anon I’m finally getting to you after 84 years XD

so first off, I want to be careful about how I approach this because I understand that as a white person (even if my ancestors experienced imperialism) in the US I absolutely benefit from imperialism and don’t want to like, idk, whitesplain XD so if anyone gets annoyed with any way I say anything, just lmk and I’ll rework it. and I also do understand that these are real world issues that are far more consequential than messaging in media (although I do think it’s very important that we challenge messages in media because of media’s influence on our thinking and politics).

but before I talk about zuko and his relationship to fire nation imperialism, and then later fire lady katara and why it isn’t INHERENTLY racist but definitely can be, I want to talk about the atla fandom and how we got here. like, why I assume that most anons who come at zutara shippers are asshats acting in bad faith. if you already know fandom history, skip this section.

1. atla and the fandom has always been kind of shitty and racist

so IDK if everyone is familiar with the history of the ship war in atla fandom, but it’s regarded as one of the nastiest ship wars in fandom history which I agree lol. atla’s creators were some of the first to interact with the fandom the way they did - back then it wasn’t all that common for creators to get into twitter feuds with fans and boundaries were respected more than they are now imo. but for better or worse, and it is a mixed bag, bryke interacted with fandom a lot. certainly at cons but also on social media.

but honestly things really got extra mean in fan spaces when bryke made a “joke” atla season 4 slideshow out of fan art (some of which was really sexual in nature and totally inappropriate) that mocked fans’ creations, but especially zutara fanart and zutara itself. it was pretty tasteless especially considering how most zutara fans were teen girls, and featured some art of sokka saying that if you think zuko and katara would be good together, you’re doomed to have failed relationships. that’s where the whole “dark and mysterious” bs came from, which does describe some zutara fic but not even most of it lol. I actually do respect bryke a lot despite my criticism of them, but I don’t think I’ll ever get over that shit. like even if you hate zutara, even if it’s a joke, we were kids. and they were adults, and the whole thing was nasty.

however, the ship war was chaotic and messy, but it does feel worse now. maybe it’s because back then the fandom was MOSTLY teens and kids, and I don’t think that’s true now. we were all trying to prove our ship was best with like, content from the show and theories and all that, and now it’s like... whose ship is ~problematic lol it’s a show by white us americans appropriating from various cultures impacted negatively by us/british imperialism that they then profited off of, of course it’s racist. that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t talk about that, and in fact many poc have been saying this shit for years - that atla is racist and colorist at many times (guru pathik anyone?) and no one really listened.

if fans are complaining only about zutara, then I’m automatically writing them off as being insincere or ignorant. and since most of these people are anonymous, I have no idea if they are having substantive discourse about colorism in avatar or cultural appropriation (even if it is mostly appreciative). if you are on anon, I have no context about what you actually think except for what you give me. and that definitely is how I view anons in general but especially within the atla fandom because for all 13-ish years I’ve been in it, it’s been messy. that’s why zutara fans have isolated ourselves from the rest of fandom, because the rest of fandom has been really nasty to us. like did we give back some nastiness? absolutely.

but I would hazard a guess that most anti-zutara shippers don’t know about the conversations we have had in this community to make it safer for people of color, conversations that centered poc and woc especially. hey, that’s okay - not to compare zutara to r*ylo because eurgh but like, idk what discourse the r*ylos have about their community. no idea, I don’t go looking for it. and I don’t go to the tags and harass r*ylos - even though they harass the fuck out of everyone else.

2. so zuko and his privilege

undoubtedly zuko as fire lord is in a fairly privileged position LMFAO. but during the show zuko is very clearly exiled - he holds very little political power in the fire nation EXCEPT for during the first season when he is in command of a ship that ozai gave him on a punishment quest lol like yeah he does terrible things and he of all people would not excuse his actions even if he was a traumatized kid, that’s the point of his arc - that he got some exposure to the rest of the world and worked to be better. and the only reason he was exiled at all was because he cares about people - he didn’t question fire nation supremacy at 13, but he sure did question the morality of his people being lead to slaughter.

but after zuko and iroh defect from the fire nation and stop hunting aang, he has next to no power, in any kind of way. like the guy is a political refugee. and yes, he goes back to the fire nation for like five minutes before realizing that he hates everything about fire nation hegemony and that he wants to end his father’s reign of terror, like that isn’t exactly someone who is going to be well esteemed by the powerful elites when he returns and takes the throne.

and I disregard the comics because they suck lol but zuko does have power as the fire lord, but he limits his power. like compared to ozai, phoenix asshole? azula? for the rest of the world, zuko is kind of an ideal leader for a former colonizing/imperialistic nation to have - someone who worked to end that tyranny, who is anti-imperialist, who believes in justice and equality, who wants to make things right for the peoples who his family oppressed.

I do think it is important to talk about power dynamics and imbalances in relationships - for instance, one could argue that mai is at a significant disadvantage in her relationship with zuko. sure she is from a powerful family but not as powerful as zuko’s. sokka? hah forget it. he’s just as disadvantaged as katara is politically speaking. toph? well, she’s definitely not as powerful politically as zuko - her family tried to silence her for years because of her disability. and oh, she’s disabled so it might be ableist for zuko to strike up a relationship with her when they’re both adults. forgetting of course that toph and sokka and katara and suki and mai are not going to be shy about their wants and needs, that these relationships are not likely to be coercive by nature of the show they’re in and the characters they involve. this is not bill clinton with monica creepiness. like, you’d have to write the relationship that way.

the only person who arguably has more political power than zuko is aang. I guess zuko can’t ever be in a relationship with anyone other than aang. and zuko’s family massacred aang’s people so I guess we can’t ship zukaang. now I know you’re not saying that, context matters. power dynamics are important. but you can’t take away the agency of characters - katara, who is essentially a princess, has agency and can choose who she wants to be with. strictly speaking, aang is more powerful than anyone in terms of political power - he’s the avatar - and of course the dynamic is different by nature of aang not being from a line of oppressors, but there still is a power imbalance in their relationship. and I don’t know how many k/ataang shippers have discourse~ on that. not that I really feel like they NEED to, um idk what they talk about lol I’m not in those circles.

3. fire lady katara is in the eye of the beholder

so fire lady katara is not inherently bad or racist, it’s essentially like saying michelle obama shouldn’t have been first lady of the us (now I get that like the obamas being in power didn’t mean black people are not marginalized lol). you can have conversations about whether or not individual versions of fire lady katara are fucked up, and I’m superrrr open to that because I’ve seen it be kinda shitty before. i’m just gonna leave this link to @shewhotellsstories and her post on this.

but often times katara as fire lady is very dominant in global/fire nation/water tribe politics, she’s a game changer ambassador (that is probably the most popular headcanon I see), she holds on to her culture (and many fans have designed her being in her wt colors, zuko is respectful af to her, she and zuko spend extended periods in the swt, etc. like... it just depends on the way it’s written.

also leaving this response by @avatarnerdkiller to the idea of katara being a prize figurehead.

anyway, thanks for your patience anon and I am curious to see if you see this or even feel like responding after all this time XD

#atla #petty fandom drama #zutara fandom #zutara #fire lady katara #discourse sigh #racism #fandom racism #asks #anonymous

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emisfritish · 4 years ago

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So as someone who claims to be one of @yihwa closest friends and is all buddy-buddy with her, are you going to address the bulluying she's been doing to other blogs or are you going to stay silent and keep reblogging posts about shows no one cares about but you ? You usually love mansplaining and patronizing others in your posts, why silent now ?

Oh anon, anon, my dear anon.

I was trying SO BAD to keep my 2021 resolution of focusing on positivity and only interacting with people I genuinely like and respect on this website, why must you bring me back kicking and screaming with the most random ask I’ve received in a while ? Why would you do something so brave (as brave as sending an anon can be anyway), yet so stupid ? You realize I’m a pretty small blog right ? So what do you hope to accomplish by this, exactly ?

But you know... Fine, I guess. I’ll answer.

First off let’s get this out of the way, because it’s going to bother me the entire response if I don’t. Mansplaining ?

Like a+ for efforts on shading me, but please look up the meaning of the word.

Realistically, I probably do many things that are too much and/or annoy people (I speak way too much for one, I’ll admit that). But mansplaining isn’t one of them since, you know I... lack key equipment to even be able to mansplain, what with me not being a man and all...

But anyway, I think I got what you meant, so let’s move on from this.

I’ll admit I’m mega confused as to why I’m receiving such an ask seeing as :

I have purposefully stayed away from this whole thing even when it was actually hurting a person I adore, specefically because I didn’t want the feeling of ‘being ganged up on’ to grow even deeper for some people involved.

Axelle and I aren’t close by any means, but as two of the french people in this fandom, we have spoken on occasion and I would hope that if she had some issue with me or wanted to talk about all of this, she would have come directly to me. I know I certainly would have with her, in any case.

You are right about one thing though, anon. @yihwas and I are very close friends (and please if you people are going to keep dragging her name, can you at least spell it right ? Between you not spelling her url correctly and the people calling her Sophie, I’m losing it here). Sophia’s a queen, I love her and we talk every day.

Me staying out of this until now in spite of everything that was being said about her and how protective I can be of my friends was entirely out of me trying to be considerate for other people’s feelings (especially when said feelings appear to be so hurt already that the person is fully delving into conspiracy theories and imagining evil plots against her), and because I didn’t believe that constructive conversation could go on under such circumstances. I was genuinely trying to be kind and as non-judgemental as possible.

With you dragging me into this in the most random way though, I’ll bite.

I’ve stayed silent up until now, but I do actually agree with most of the criticism that’s been made. I wasn’t about to pile on to what was already going on and worsen the situation and hurt feelings, but I do. Had I believed that talking about those issues in this moment could have led to self-reflection and an open conversation, I would have definitely done so long ago by talking directly to the person involved, because I do believe that some of the things mentioned in all the posts that have gone around can genuinely be seen as problematic.

More importantly though ? It doesn’t really matter what I personally believe.

@teh-ohaew said it way better than I could, so please feel free to go and read this post. To sum it up though ? It doesn’t really matter what was intended or not in those posts/tags, it doesn’t matter if you’re the best ally there is : If several people in a community (no matter which one) are telling you that some things you said/did could be seen as offensive, then the only decent thing to really do in this situation is to listen, think it over, and try to reflect before apologizing if necessary.

It’s important, we’ve all had to do it at some point in our lives with the different people we interact with, and it’s how we evolve and grow as people.

This leads to something else, which is something that deeply bothered me by reading some of the posts going around : there seems to be a misconception that what is being perceived as offensive/problematic is an opinion only shared by Sophia, Shannon and Morgan, and that they’re somewhat leading or pushing other people into sending messages (either on anon or not). Do you guys realize how patronizing and offensive this sounds ?

People are not sheep ready to be led by whoever screams the loudest, has the most followers, or whatever other reason you may have come up with. People can think for themselves and decide of their actions by themselves. God knows I hate how mob-mentality works on tumblr sometimes, but that is not what’s at play here. What’s at play is several different people who may have never interacted before thinking the same thing, and deciding to address the issue.

Sophia and I are indeed great friends, but one of the things I love the most about our friendship is that we can disagree on things (and have in the past), discuss them like the adults we are and move on from there, with both of us coming out of the discussion with a maybe different perspective than the one we had before talking to each other about the issue. In fact when all of this started, Sophia and I did talk about one of the posts in particular and I didn’t necessarily see everything the same way she did, and guess what ? She still loves me ;)

If that’s the case for me, why wouldn’t it be the case for Shannon and Morgan ? @yihwas @1akorn and @minghao-ah are all different people, with different experiences and different thoughts, as are all the people that have spoken out about this issue. Can we stop pretending like they share one brain and aren’t capable of critical thinking by themselves ? Can we stop pretending that sophia is the big bad wolf sending people over to terrorize others, like it was implied in some posts ?

So to answer your question anon, and before anyone goes on thinking that I’ve been brainwashed or am putting this out there only to defend my friend or whatever other theory you may come up with : No, I wasn’t going to say anything about the situation. Not only because there is no bulluying going around, but also because Sophia is Sophia and I am me. I’ve never needed anyone to think for me and neither has Sophia, and we can each behave how we please on our own blogs.

As you were trying to point out with your frankly hilarious misuse of the word mansplaining, I have no issues expressing my thoughts through posts and neither does Sophia. Both of us (and every one now involved in this) are individuals fully capable of thinking for ourselves, and pretending that three people are causing many others to speak out (and therefore ignoring the initial message being spoken out) is doing a disservice to everyone involved in this issue.

I’ll finish with one last point, because it’s almost 2:30 AM, I have to work tomorrow and I am tired and frustrated at having been dragged into this when I was trying to be considerate by not saying anything : can we please stop using the words bullying and harrassment out of context and throwing them out there whenever we feel like it ? That’s incredibly harmful to the people actually suffering from those issues, and it’s behaviour like this one which allows those words to lose their meaning and become normalized.

There isn’t an evil plot at play to try to drive people off of tumblr or whatever else some of you may be thinking, so please let’s come back down to earth and try to talk about all of this like adults.

Now if you don’t mind anon, it’s getting pretty late and I’m pretty tired after writing this novel. So I’ll just go back to trying to keep my blog a positive place like I’ve been doing for the past couple of months, and reblogging posts about shows no one cares about but me, as you’ve perfectly said :)

I hope you have a good day/night, a good week to come, and a good life. Please let’s never interact again !

#Anonymous #emi answers #ask and you shall receive #seriously though how did you even find me ?#the only way you'd know sophia and I are friends is if you follow either one of us and like...#if you hate her / me so much what are you doing here ?#please let's not do this again and never interact I'm tired of people right now #I'm so pissed that I was genuinely trying to be kind and understanding by not speaking out about this and yet...#here it is #it's late I have a migraine and frankly I low key hate people right now so can I go back to running a mediocre blog in peace now ?

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pensivetense · 4 years ago

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*vague high pitched noises in the direction of you OG!Elias hot takes*

I love them, if you have any more pls share.

Also; OG!Elias & Jonah friendship/relationship any more thoughts on that???

Ahhh thank you very much!! I Am Not Immune To The Inherent Intimacy Of Bodysharing. I’ve rambled a bit about them here but I always have more thoughts :)

(Okay this took me FOREVER to get to I’m so sorry—the sleep deficit I’ve been running on the week has been insane and the words just didn’t want to word.)

I have a whole backstory for ogElias that lives in my head, and is completely not based in anything canonical, but anyway:

I know that Jonah probably just picks who’s most convenient at the time but Elias accidentally had to go and embody one of my deepest fears and I can’t just let that go so In My Head Jonah picks Elias initially because he’s perfectly suited to the Eye. He’s from a large old family that Jonah actually looks into carefully just in case they’re secretly Lukas-adjacent because they’re just kind of awful. (He might court the Lonely but he’s careful not to invite it in too far—he knows he’s not invulnerable to it.)

But no, the Bouchards are just what they appear to be—a family with too much money and self-importance and history to make up for what they lack in character, and who have as a result become obsessed with public optics, to the detriment of their children. Pulling off the semblance of being a stable, socially presentable family is far more important to them than actual connections, and so Elias and his siblings grow up under the oppressive eye of their parents, who are always scrutinizing how they act, speak, dress, etc. to preserve their public image. Predictably this is hell on everyone involved, but where Elias’s siblings manage to scrape together either the will to pretend or actually absorbing the philosophy, Elias is the family disappointment. Okay so in my head he’s trans, but really there are any number of things that would earn the disappointment of a family obsessed w/ optics. I imagine them as being the unfortunately gaslighty kinds of people who are always going on about how he should just act the way they want him to because ‘they know who he really is better than he does’ or some awfulness like that.

So from this he’s had to actually cultivate a very strongly self-protective sense of identity. He’s going to be him, and he’ll fight to the death to preserve his individuality against a lot of pressure to conform. But on the flipside of that, he’s actually not in a very good place because while he’s cultivated a very definitive self image, he’s terrified of letting anyone actually get close enough to see the real him through the image because the constant judgement has worn on him to the point that he doesn’t want to let anyone have the leverage of being able to dismiss or attack his sense of self.

So this is the perfect combination of traits for Jonah’s purposes—Elias is isolated, terrified of being seen because that makes him vulnerable and equally terrified of not being seen/having his selfhood acknowledged.

What Jonah utterly fails to take into account is just how well they’re suited to each other. Because both of them are incredibly self-protective people but in different directions—Jonah’s willing to sacrifice his identity in order to preserve his life, and Elias is the sort of person who would wouldn’t care about dying if he could be guaranteed an honest eulogy. So in a certain sense they share enough of a personality type and sort of survivalist mentality to fundamentally understand each other, even when they hate each other. Furthermore, Elias is so used to having to defend himself against assaults on his basic sense of self that he’s actually quite resilient in that regard, and though watching his life be stolen without anyone even noticing is literally his most primal terror, Jonah can’t just shove him to the back of their headspace and forget about him, or whatever he’s done with previous hosts. In a sense, Elias has the one rebellion left to him of choosing to remain himself after all of the rest of his choices are taken from him, and this is also partially why he ‘forgets’ to be angry at Jonah—because in a certain sense it’s an assertion of his personality to purposefully maintain all of the parts of himself, and not just what’s filtered through his fear and anger.

Usually when Jonah monologues at his hosts it’s for the purpose of torturing them, but unfortunately he finds that he actually? Enjoys Elias’s company when Elias is forgetting to be angry? And it’s about the most secure relationship he can possibly cultivate because he has total control of the situation, so he lets himself start to like Elias, in the same sort of resigned way that Elias starts to like him. For Elias, his choices have suddenly been narrowed down to nearly none, so he may as well make the best of an objectively awful situation. For Jonah, Elias is absolutely ‘safe’ because he’s powerless to affect the world in any meaningful way, so Jonah may as well indulge himself in all of the socialization he’s missed since his original body. (He has such a wide network of friends and acquaintances in the 1800s that he must be a people person.)

I think that under the right circumstances they could influence each other in positive ways—Elias could make Jonah a little less self-destructive, and having Jonah’s attention and regard would allow Elias to relax his guardedness. So in a sense they both make each other care a little more about the aspects of life that they’ve decided are disposable/unimportant to their survival by seeing those aspects through the other’s eyes, so to speak. This allows them both to actually start enjoying more things about life—Elias wants to know who Jonah is as a person and is disappointed when he finds out that Jonah doesn’t seem to put much thought or effort into himself, and Jonah’s adamant desire to not die starts to infect Elias a little with a willingness to adapt in order to survive, at which point he really starts to examine what he wants out of this relationship.

Unfortunately, this is where the inherent power imbalance rears its head, because if Jonah genuinely starts to care about Elias as a person he’s going to realise just how permanently he fucked their relationship from the start. Quite apart from the whole body-snatching thing, they can’t get the space from each other or the autonomy that a partnership of equals demands, and of course they can’t have a partnership of equals because Jonah’s got literal supernatural powers and centuries of age on Elias and is also effectively his jailer. Whether he can or cannot cede any physical autonomy to Elias if he wants, he also has to choose how much influence he allows Elias to have over him as a person and in terms of decisions.

I think by this point Elias knows absolutely everything about the Mass Ritual, because Jonah overshares because he’s socially starved and also because the Eye likes it, so the way I see it is on one extreme, Elias takes a definitive moral stand and they end up in a really yearn-y relationship where they’re always together but can’t really be together, or on the other he just says fuck it and decides to be evil, too, partially as a way of asserting control over his situation, and they end up being extremely codependent. (And of course any mixture of the two.)

But in particular, because I’m a massive fan of Elias killing Jonah, I like the former scenario because he’d do it if he got the opportunity but it would hurt, but he’d have to because I think that no matter what, if Jonah had complete control, he’d never give that up or turn aside from his immortality quest, in love or not.

More miscellany:

-I like the idea of Elias being the one who’s got the methodical/logical way of thinking, vs Jonah as the imaginative/intuitive one. Jonah’s got his moments of high drama despite the bland bureaucrat persona, and I like the idea of Elias as working as a file clerk on purpose because he likes paperwork and organisation and he could not care less about the degree that his family made him go and get.

(Original post of takes here )

#wow I’m so sorry this took so long!#(also forgive the run-on sentences and the blatant projecting)#long post #og!elias

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thelordofdarkreunion · 4 years ago

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Magnificent Scoundrels- Similarities

So, I found that the British marching song “Over the Hills and Far Away” is in several of these universes. What a coincidence. Therefore, I decided to write a shorter, more heartwarming story. At least I hope that is the reaction, but you shall be the judge of that. As usual, I own no one except Drake. Enjoy the story.

The stars were out that night. Not the sort of stars that one saw amongst city pollution or in areas that had been civilized for far too long, but the type of stars one saw in the wild and untamed regions. They formed a massive sparkling curtain over everything, and those on the ground could clearly see the length and breadth of the entire galaxy laid bare before them, framed by the pitch black midnight sky.

The night itself was cold. Not the type of cold that cuts through clothing to the very bone itself, leaving one gasping for breath, and not the type that perpetuates throughout the air, leaving one to huddle within the great masses of a coat for warmth, but the type of crisp cold that seems to invigorate the body and mind, leaving a happier and more lifelike person in its midst.

Throughout a wide valley, the sickly green grass shadowed in the dark, sat encamped the various forces of the Scoundrels. It had been decided that they should stay on the small planet they had recently defended against a slave raid, and so they were all camped in the rolling plains, a fair sized town within sight, and more importantly, within range.

Fires studded the night, with the various forces of their respective commanders camped around them. The smells of cooking wafted through the air around the fires, but not to where the solitary rock, far from all else, where Thomas Drake sat in his dark coat. Three figures walked towards him, their footsteps soft in the grass. Unborthered, he continued to stare peacefully at the night sky.

“Drake. We want to know. Why did you want to kill the prisoners?” Without turning, Drake smiled.

“Ah, yes. Kirk, Vir, and Shepard. My three most moral companions. Everything has more than one meaning, and my actions had several. First, they are murdering, torturing, slavers, and thus deserve no pity or remorse, and secondly, I wanted to see what you would do. You did not crack. You stood by what you believed in. I like that.”

“So you killed someone over a test?”

“Correct.” The three frowned at each other in the darkness.

“And was it a test for Cain, too?” This elicited a low chuckle from Drake, who had still yet to turn around.

“The reasons remain the same.”

“But you knew he would do it,” snapped Kirk.

“No. I did not. That’s why I did it in the first place,” replied Drake placidly.

“They treat all of us with disgust. I read your damn briefing, Drake, and one of the mottos of their precious Imperium is “suffer not the xeno to live”. That is ridiculous. We can’t serve along people who on a fundamental level want to kill us all,” said Shepard.

“They’re getting better. They’re getting better,” said Drake. “The thing is, though, your three realities are somewhat similar. A galactic government of all species, dedicated to the concept of peace.” He stood slowly and gestured to the stars with a gloved hand. “Now look up. Tell me what you see.”

“That one’s Polaris, that’s Sirius, Vega, Antares...that wasn’t what you were looking for, was it?” replied Vir, slightly sheepishly.

“Not quite. But I appreciate the astronomy lesson. I suppose...what do all those stars, what does that infinite black mean to you?”

“Freedom.” The response was instantaneous. Shepard and Vir looked approvingly at Kirk.

“Good answer. Couldn’t think of a better one.” Drake chuckled again.

“Yes, I rather thought so. You are all in agreement. But to them,” he gestured in the direction of the Imperial camp, “Where they come from, that infinite void means nothing but existential terror.” He smiled in an odd, knowing fashion. “Their universe is quite different.” It seemed as if someone was going to say something, to interrupt, but suddenly Drake held up a hand for silence. “Listen,” he commanded.

A sound wafted through the air, the wavering singing of a single sentry from the Imperial camp.

“When duty calls me I must go,

To stand and purge another foe,

But part of me will always stay,

Through the Warp and far away.

Through the Warp, to near and far,

To Tallarn, Krieg and Ultramar,

The Emperor points and we obey,

Through the Warp and far away.”

It was not particularly good, but it had a feeling of loneliness, of homeliness, of nostalgia to it. Then, something quite strange, and quite wonderful happened. Another voice, this time from Drake’s camp, replied in kind.

“Over the hills and o’er the main,

To Flanders Portugal and Spain,

Queen Anne commands and we’ll obey

Over the hills and far away

All gentlemen who have a mind,

To serve the queen both good and kind

Come list and enter into pay

Then over the hills and far away.”

Drake smiled in the darkness.

“Recognize that song?” he asked the three men standing near him. In response, Shepard’s voice, slightly hoarse in the night air, sang through the night.

“40 shillings on the drum,

For those who volunteer to come,

With shirts and clothes and pleasant pay,

Over the hills and far away.”

He smiled. “Not much of a singer, I’m afraid. But, yeah. I know the song.” Kirk pursed his lips.

“I’ve never heard it before. You?” Vir shook his head negatively.

“No. Never.”

“It’s an old, old, British marching song. The Imperials apparently picked it up from somewhere. The other version is from the War of Spanish Succession,” said Drake.

“When was the War of Spanish Succession?” asked Vir.

“You know the names of all those stars but you don’t know when the War of Spanish Succession was?” replied Drake.

“Hey, well, it’s-” “Relax. I’m teasing you.” They all turned around as an unidentified voice shouted into the night.

“Hey! Give us another verse!” A reply came almost instantly from the Imperial encampment, with several more voices joining the unidentified guard.

“If I should fall and rise no more,

As many guardsmen did before,

Then ask the pipes and drums to play,

Through the Warp and far away.

Through the Warp, to near and far,

To Tallarn, Krieg and Ultramar,

The Emperor points and we obey,

Through the Warp and far away.”

And in response, Drake sang back.

“Then fall in lads behind the drum,

With colors blazing like the sun,

Along the road and come what may,

Over the hills and far away.

Over the hills and o’er the main,

Through Flanders Portugal and Spain,

King George commands and we’ll obey,

Over the hills and far away.”

He smiled. “And that version is the one from the Peninsular War.” He had a beautiful tenor voice that carried clearly through the crisp night air.

“Pretty good.”

“Thank you.” This was accompanied by a small theatrical bow. There was a small rustle, and a dark shape appeared.

“So. What’s happening? We having a sing-along up here or something?” asked Peter Quill.

“I would not be adverse to such an idea,” replied Drake.

“Alright. What should we sing?” asked Vir.

“Hmm. I have noticed that human history remains the same in all of our universes until roughly the year 2000. So, should we want to sing something that all of us know, it would have to be either an insane coincidence or something from before that year.” He frowned. “Exactly how well versed in really goddamn old music are all of you?”

“Know it all,” said Quill.

“That’s kind of my specialty,” grinned Vir.

“Pretty well,” said Kirk.

“Yeah,” replied Shepard.

“Well. What a coincidence,” drawled Drake. “What song then?”

And so, the various crew members and soldiers in the different camps were regaled with song. It lasted ridiculously long as shouts for more echoed through the still air. Beautiful harmonies, surprisingly well executed, simples songs, several loud, long, and rowdy songs, everything they could think of, and several other requests. It was, interestingly, rather good, and even a few villagers from the nearby town gathered to listen despite the late night.

Under the sharp blanket of stars, in altogether different and isolated positions, sat Cooper and John-117, and though they did not join in, they both heard.

Cain and Solo had both gone to bed. When later told of what had happened, they both shrugged indifferently and moved on.

And, in three separate spots in three different encampments, three different individuals shook their heads.

“Humans,” muttered Kril, Mordin Solus, and Spock at the same time as they heard their commanders singing.

If you have any questions, comments, concerns, criticisms, or request, please, feel free to ask.

#magnificent scoundrels #crossover #story #writing #fanfic

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brightbeautifulthings · 4 years ago

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Complete Tales & Poems by Edgar Allan Poe

"'For the love of God, Montresor!' 'Yes,' I said, 'for the love of God!'"

Year Read: 2020

Rating: 2/5

Context: Starting two years ago, I’ve picked an intimidatingly long classic to read over the course of a year. I have a problem with trying to read books as fast as I possibly can, so if I set myself a thousand page novel, I’ll try to pound it in a week, and it will just be a miserable experience all around. So, a year is a nice compromise. I’ve hit the major Poe horror stories in the past, and I’ve been thinking about rereading them, but I couldn’t decide where to start. Reread my favorites? Read the ones I’ve heard of? What if I’m missing something awesome? As usual, my go-to answer is to read them ALL. For more thoughts on individual stories, see my monthly blog posts. Trigger warnings: character death, torture, live burial, cannibalism, decapitation, animal abuse, injury, severe illness, racism/xenophobia, anti-Semitism, ableism, slurs, mental illness, bitter ranting from the reviewer.

Thoughts: My edition, with an introduction by Wilbur S. Scott, is probably not the edition I would have picked, since I prefer more notes or even essays to help me out with books that are 100+ years old. Context is helpful. Somehow though, my dad and I ended up with the same edition, so we decided to read it together. My dad loves all things horror (I come by it naturally), and we’re both longtime Poe fans, especially if you happen to put Vincent Price in one of his film adaptations. Scott’s introduction is particularly pretentious for a book we probably found in the bargain bin, and he manages to criticize the horror genre for not being “literary enough”. This is an Edgar Allan Poe collection, right? Way to alienate 90% of your audience right from the start. You can’t snub an entire genre and then attempt to explain why people like it. Like a lot of critical writing, it tells us more about Scott than it does about Poe, and I was circling his typos to entertain myself by the end of the introduction.

It did not get better. In short, I actively hated so much of this collection, and it's my most arduous and least enjoyed year-long read to date. To be even shorter, the only stories I found worth reading for pleasure were the horror ones I had already read and loved, and I'm afraid to examine too closely whether that has more to do with nostalgia and pop culture than the stories themselves. Poe has a way of lingering on pointless descriptions and belaboring a point to its absolute death, alongside an aggressively pretentious tone that suggests the narrator (and, by extension, Poe himself), knows everything there is to know about everything and you're an idiot for even asking. His true talent may not be horror, but in turning what might have been a good story into an intellectual soapbox and hammering it the point of absurdity. It would be different if the stories actually were intelligent instead of ridiculous. I’m happy to talk Aristotelian ethics, but the point is never to intellectually engage the reader–-it’s to show how clever the writer is.

On the whole, it seems like Poe struggles with telling a straightforward story, and I can’t tell if it’s because the short story genre has changed so much since then or because he’s so busy trying to show readers how smart he is that he forgets that stories have very specific components like suspense, exposition, or rising action (or endings). Most of them consist of some narrator speaking the entire time (I have all kinds of problems with this, from, “You just ruined the twist of your own story” to “No human talks for thirty uninterrupted minutes unless some idiot gave them a microphone.”), and few of them have anything resembling action, plot/character development, strong themes, or closure. There’s an essay-like quality to some of them (“The Imp of the Perverse”, “The Premature Burial”) where he seems to be trying to tease out a concept on an intellectual level, sometimes for pages and pages, before he remembers that he’s telling a story with characters and what could loosely be called a plot. I could do without all the intellectualizing, verbal grandstanding, and narrative cartwheels; just tell a good story, please.

And he does, sometimes. It's clear why Poe remains an essential part of the horror canon because those are easily the best stories in the collection, and I don't think that's just because I'm a horror fan. Horror seems to age better than some other genres because certain things remain consistently scary over decades or even centuries--being buried alive, for example. “The Fall of the House of Usher” is permeated by a feeling of bleak foreboding, culminating in some truly terrifying images, and “The Tell-tale Heart” is one of the better examples of Poe’s rambling narrator who thinks a lot of his own intelligence and slowly unravels over guilt. Both scared me to death when I was a kid, and I’m happy to see that they still maintain a high creep factor as an adult. (I also had the Great Illustrated Classics Tales of Mystery and Terror as a kid, because all a story about being buried alive needs is an illustration!) “The Cask of Amontillado” has long been one of my favorites (because there is something deeply wrong with me, probably), and “The Pit and the Pendulum” and “The Masque of the Red Death” are both top-notch horrifying, the latter a classic plague story that's a little *too* relevant to the times just now (but, you know, also one of my favorites). The clock symbolism is some of the best in the entire collection. Why, pray tell, would you be afraid of time?

The tolerable stories are the detective ones and the adventure ones, in that order. I can see why Poe’s detective stories like “The Gold Bug” and “The Murders in the Rue Morgue” spawned a genre. I was getting clear Sherlock Holmes vibes from his character, Dupin. However, it reaffirms that something is a classic because of its effects on literature as a whole and not because it’s still all that accessible. Just because something is the first of its kind doesn’t mean it’s the best of its kind; in fact, it usually isn’t because that was only a starting place. I can’t help feeling “Murders” would have been more compelling as a horror story than a detective story. Murdering gorillas are cool; listening to someone talk about murdering gorillas, much less cool. I was extremely irritated by his hot air balloon stories ("The Balloon Hoax", "The Unparalleled Adventure of One Hans Pfaall"), but apparently Jules Verne loved them, which makes a lot of sense. I was getting a lot of Verne vibes from things like "A Descent Into the Maelstrom" and even the utterly long, boring, and racist "Narrative of A. Gordon Pym." It's clear they had influence on other writers, even if they're not the best examples of their genres.

Which brings us back around to the bad. It's not worth my time or yours to list all the terrible stories in this collection, but I can briefly summarize what I found so terrible about them. First, Poe is tragically, emphatically unfunny. The things he seems to find humorous are either in very poor taste now (his tasteless descriptions of mental patients in “The System of Doctor Tarr and Professor Fether”), or they’re outright ridiculous, almost slapstick, like the woman who gets her head stuck in a clock and is subsequently decapitated by it in “A Predicament,” which is an odd sequel to “How to Write a Blackwood Article.” I’m sensing that Poe is making fun of intellectuals or would-be intellectuals here, but with so much time and cultural distance, it’s hard to tell. In any case, it led to a running joke (“I’m going out for groceries!” “Don’t stick your head in any clocks!”). Somehow, I doubt this is the major takeaway Poe was hoping for.

Worst of all, they don't age well on representation either. Poe seems at pains to offend every single minority he possibly can throughout his oeuvre. There are a lot of horribly racist depictions of African Americans, snide comments about Jewish people (or the much more obvious anti-Semitism in “Four Beasts In One” where a mad king has a thousand Jews killed--really?), and blatant ableism (“Hop-Frog”). It's at its worst in "Narrative of A. Gordon Pym," a novella that spans over a hundred pages, that is basically a tedious, xenophobic setup to paint the native population of an island as the most horrific and duplicitous monsters imaginable. (The narrator previously ate one of his shipmates, so can he really afford to throw stones here?) For inexplicable reasons, that story isn't finished, and by that point, I was grateful.

Poe's poetry is a little easier to work through than his prose. I love "The Raven" with its lilting rhymes and dark message, and "Annabel Lee" is very pretty, both ubiquitous in popular culture. I also liked "Dream-Land," "Al Aaraaf" (where Ligeia makes another appearance), and "Alone." Most of the poetry has pretty simple rhyme schemes, the subjects mainly love and loss. There's an excerpt of an unfinished play, "Politian," included as well, but it didn't make much of an impression on me. TL;DR: I stand by my initial opinion, which is to read his horror stories for pleasure and, possibly, his detective and adventure stories for genre purposes, and to skip the rest. I'll probably be looking for a smaller edition of the stories I like. This one is a massive hardcover, more like a book you put on your coffee table to look impressive than a book you actually read (but I don’t have a coffee table, so it’s actually just taking up more room on the shelf than any one book has a right to).

#book review #complete tales and poems #Edgar Allan Poe #horror fiction #poe readalong #2/5 #rating: 2/5 #2020 #bookoween

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akechicrimes · 5 years ago

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I'm a brand new goroboy and have questions if you don't mind answering any of them 1. Was everything that Akechi said about the PTs being unjust a part of his detective act or did he really believe that changing hearts was bad prior to the engine room? 2. When did he first suspect the PTs? Did he figure them out immediately at the TV station or did he just become interested in Joker cuz he's gay and figured it out afterwards lol. Basically who sussed who out first? (1/2)

hello welcome!!!!!! we are happy to have u!!!!!!!!

unfortunately we dont have concrete answers to a lot of these, but i will do my best!!!! these are some really excellent questions so i want to do them justice. and by do them justice, i mean theyre under a cut because it got really long lmfao.

thanks for the ask–this was really fun to write, instead of doing literally any of the work that i was supposed to.

1. Was everything that Akechi said about the PTs being unjust a part of his detective act or did he really believe that changing hearts was bad prior to the engine room?

SHORT ANSWER: we don’t know.

SLIGHTLY LONGER ANSWER: we can’t say for sure but there’s strong evidence that he was probably telling the truth, actually.

VERY LONG ANSWER: there’s strong evidence he both is and isn’t telling the truth in the TV studio scene, but with the qualifiers that (1) he never necessarily says theyre unjust, he says they’re dangerous. (2) he probably thinks the phantom thieves change hearts in the same way that he makes people go psychotic. (3) his sense of justice is basically entirely based on righting wrongs that have been committed against individuals, not what the law says. (also, when i say “individuals,” i mean himself.)

to the extent that he’s lying–he does say that they’re operating outside the law, and that they have unknown and apparently very effective power that cannot be stopped by traditional law enforcement. traditional justice says that if you operate outside the law, that makes you automatically bad. akechi is playing the part of someone who’s lawful good, so when he says, “they’re dangerous and operating outside the law,” he has to say, “that makes them unjust.”

to the extent that he’s telling the truth, that’s basically everything else he says. i do think those viewpoints are his own for a lot of reasons.

when he talks about the changes of heart, he makes it sound like it’s a thing that could just happen to anyone–even people who’ve done no wrong. when akira voices support for the PT, akechi argues back against akira to say “If [Ryuji’s] heart suddenly changed, wouldn’t you think it was the work of the Phantom Thieves?” like it could just happen to any random joe schmoe. he’s acting like someone could just one day change their entire attitude–possibly for the worse–resulting in terror amongst the population.

we have to keep in mind that at this point in time, akechi has no idea that you can steal treasure to change a person’s heart. he doesn’t even know treasure is a thing, let alone that you have to send a calling card to make it manifest. morgana is the person who knew all that stuff, and akechi definitely didnt have access to morgana when he started his hitman career.

so with the way that he’s talking about the changes of heart, i dont think he assumes that changes of heart always change the person for the better. he has no idea that it’s literally removing a person’s distorted desires. i’m like NINETY-FIVE PERCENT SURE that he thinks changes of heart operate in the same way that his psychotic abilities work: you cast a persona spell, and a person goes apeshit.

from his point of view, that’s kind of what’s happening. when akechi casts call of chaos, a person starts behaving in a way they never would under ordinary circumstances in the real world. the changes of heart really look exactly the same way to an outsider’s POV. and to akechi’s understanding, call of chaos can be cast on even good people. from the phantom thieves’ POV, only people who’re mega-dicks can have their hearts changed in the first place, because the requisite to have a palace is a certain level of distortion. (futaba, of course, proving that you don’t have to be a mega-dick to have a distortion, but the TV studio scene happens before futaba.)

akechi’s argument is that leaving that sort of power in just anyone’s hands is dangerous. because that’s a LOT of power for one person to have. akechi would know, considering that he’s in the same position. he’s wary of the fact that there’s no guarantee that that person will use it for good.

that, of course, brings us to the question of “well, what does akechi think ‘using power for good’ is in the first place?” does he think that the phantom thieves are using their powers for good? does he think he’s using his powers for good?

when asked why he seeks justice, akechi says: “Because of sickening human beings… Yes, my contempt for such people drives my sense of justice. It isn’t some grand reason like society’s sake or some lofty ideal. It’s simply an absurd grudge… and extremely personal.”

the traditional, lawful-good way of thinking about justice is that if you operate outside the law, you’re automatically bad. but akechi’s sense of justice seems to be driven primarily from the hurts he’s suffered, the grudges he still bears, and his conviction that wrongs personally done against individuals should be righted. it’s an end-goal oriented sense of justice.

if wrong-doers are punished and the grudges are appeased, then justice is delivered. how that happens does not necessarily constitute justice. my best guess at this time is that he’d qualify a lot as “the ends justify the means,” since his concept of justice is end-goal oriented.

of course, i think akechi definitely shows throughout the game that he knows that how you achieve those ends is… not irrelevant. i think his black mask outfit (and a bunch of other things he says) implies that he feels like he is a “villain” of sorts. he demonstrates feeling a type of way about killing okumura. he definitely knows that his actions are morally wrong under particular lenses. take a look at this section:

Akechi: Who cares? My targets were all doing the same damn thing in this eat or be eaten world. [referencing that all his victims were dicks who kind of deserved to get glocked]

Akechi: How is that any different from the Phantom Thieves?

Ann: We’re not murderers!

Akechi: (now looking kind of pissed) So what?! [launches into speil about how it’ll all be worth it when he exacts revenge on Shido]

obviously he knows that murder is morally indefensible. but i think he’s justified it to himself as either not so bad because he killed primarily corrupt people, and/or that it’d be worth it if he achieves revenge on shido. he’s doing some kind of weird karma cosmic-scale balancing of “how much can i get away with and still be able to call it justifiable and justice,” and it looks like his answer is “quite a fucking lot.”

ironically, this makes his views on justice fairly practical. rather than idealistically committed to some platonic edition of justice, he’s more of a “what do i need to do to get the goals i want achieved? what needs to happen to make sure that asshole abusers get what’s coming to them? what needs to happen to make sure that i get emotional closure?” the biggest issue with that is the danger of a Pyrrhic victory–the moment where the means so go far that the ends no longer justify them.

all of this is to say: when akechi is talking about the phantom thieves as potentially unjust, i dont think he has a problem with their methods. “methods” are like a knife–it’s about how you use it, and for what.

i think he knows that changing hearts, and turning people psychotic, is morally skeevy if your sense of justice is very puritanical, but his sense of justice isn’t puritanical. i think he’s wary of what they might be using their methods for. again: his big argument in the studio scene isnt necessarily that theyre unjust, only that they’re dangerous.

seriously, though–changing hearts is potentially a recipe for societal collapse if used the wrong way. imagine if the PT were more self-centered and they went the light yagami route with their new supernatural powers, maintaining peace and order through authoritarian fear. that is, actually, the entire premise of the P5 Vanilla Bad End, in which the PT enforce peace through relentlessly changing hearts and making people too terrified to keep committing crime.

since his views on justice seem to be defined by what the end goal is, he’d have to know what those goals are before understanding if they’re “just” or “unjust”–which is probably why he keeps hounding akira for akira’s viewpoints on justice, tbh. the phantom thieves are only unjust if their end goal is unjust, not necessarily because of their methods. (see answer to question 2 for related/continued discussion.)

2. When did he first suspect the PTs? Did he figure them out immediately at the TV station or did he just become interested in Joker cuz he’s gay and figured it out afterwards lol. Basically who sussed who out first?

SHORT ANSWER: i pretty sure atlus expects us to believe that he figured it from even before the TV showing–he figured it out when he overheard ryuji saying “It’s not easy being phantom thieves” when they were in the hallway. it’s the same time and place where akechi did his famous pancake fuck-up.

SLIGHTLY LONGER ANSWER: the idea that akechi was just super horny for the guy who gave him shit on live TV and then realized that akira was a phantom thief later as a neat bonus is fuckign SENDING me.

VERY LONG ANSWER: because of the scene with ryuji, i’m pretty sure he knew that akira was a phantom thief, and also i’m half-convinced that he somehow got the TV host to specifically choose akira during the “ask the audience” portion of the show. it’s really too much of a coincidence.

because of that, i think the other implication of the scene is that he wanted to see what akira was made of when he invited akira for a debate on live television, and was pleasantly surprised when akira had something very interesting to say on the topic of grey morality and achieving justice outside the law.

what’s interesting about that scene is that akechi becomes interested in akira regardless of what akira says about the phantom thieves. akira’s options are “They’re justice itself,” “They’re necessary,” and “They do more than the cops”–so it’s not like akira ever says that he dislikes the phantom thieves, but the level of support ranges and two of these imply a justification/reasoning for it. and then akechi fucking argues back on live television like this is some kind of debate, instead of a daytime talk show meant to distract bored housewives.

like. akechi gets INTO it. justice is his THING. and here’s akira, who seems to be not only a metaverse user operating outside the law like akechi himself, but also has some pretty grey morality thoughts on what justice is and could be, also like akechi himself.

taking it as a given that he knows for a fact that akira is a phantom thief from the get-go, from even before the TV scene ever even happened, then akechi probably keeps hounding him because akechi’s interested in hearing akira’s reasons. he’s not fishing for evidence, since he already knows. this is very speculative, now, but my best guess is that he keeps hounding akira ever after this scene because he wants to compare notes, one vigilante to another, to hear how akira rationalizes his vigilante work as a type of justice. very possibly, he’s seeking reassurance to himself that his own actions are justifiable. (he certainly seems that way in P5R, especially when he wonders about if a “justice nobody wants” is really a true justice at all, or just someone being self-centered.)

so re: “did akechi figure him out or was he just gay,” the answer is. yes. akechi did figure him out, and also akira made him so intellectually horny on live television that he hounded the man down in public for follow-up dates.

what a king.

3. Does Akechi have a Velvet Room? Does he experience rank ups with Joker and the game over stuff too?

SHORT ANSWER: we don’t know. no, seriously, we have no idea.

SLIGHTLY LONGER ANSWER: i’ve seen compelling takes on him having his own velvet room, and i think it’s thematically very fascinating if akechi is quite literally akira’s counterpart in terms of cosmic chess pieces, but i would be surprised if he did. but again, seriously, since there’s no confirmation on the matter, i say akechi’s potential velvet room is fair game.

VERY LONG ANSWER: lore-wise, i’m betting no. akechi was yaldabaoth’s piece, while akira was philemon’s (if i’m remembering my lore correctly). philemon provides the velvet room to aid the people he chooses–yaldabaoth has no such deal. the only reason why yaldo was in the velvet room in the first place was because he wanted to fuck over philemon’s chosen trickster.

it’s the same logic for why someone like adachi wouldn’t have a velvet room: while souji/yu, namatame, and adachi were all given the power to go into the tv world by izanami, only souji/yu was selected by philemon to save the world from ruin, and was accordingly given the resources and aid to do so.

secondary bonus: the psychotic ability/call of chaos just removes a person’s bonds in their heart, which makes them behave as if they were crazy. it’s the exact opposite of joker’s ability to create bonds. yaldabaoth’s one gift to his chosen chess piece was to essentially undo the very social links that make akira strong. so again, i’d be shocked if akechi experiences things like ranking up, or any sort of velvet room/persona fusing mechanic.

personally i think the loki/robin hood divide just happened because he awoke to a persona twice. awakening to your persona just happens at moments of rebellion and strong resolve, and canonically even other persona-users “awaken” (sorta) twice when you max their social link. i’m betting that he just had two moments of resolve: one in which he wanted to be a hero of justice, and one in which he decided he was going to tear shido to the ground no matter how far into villainy he had to go.

but as always, it’s not like there’s a hard consensus on the matter.

4. How did he kill the shadows of people who don’t have a palace? Does *everyone* have a shadow in mementos?

SHORT ANSWER: he probably kills them in mementos, and also i think we’re expected to believe that literally everyone has a shadow in mementos.

SLIGHTLY LONGER ANSWER: i’m almost certain that the mementos depths section of the game confirms that basically everyone’s shadows are in there somewhere, even if they’re just your average joe with no significant distortions. the palace ruler for that section is “the public,” and also we do see the shadows of palace rulers who’ve had their hearts changed in the mementos depths. so even if you’ve had your heart changed and are supposedly a perfectly good human being now, this evidently doesnt disqualify you for having a shadow in mementos.

VERY LONG ANSWER: morgana says that mementos is the collective distortion of everyone in the area, but not a lot more concretely than that. morgana also says that reality is fairly plastic and that reality is somewhat determined by how we perceive the world, so i think that we’re expected to believe that everyone has, to some degree, some level of distortion.

i could say that jungian theory, which is the theory that the persona series is based off of, says that everyone without exception has a shadow. but this seems a little bit of a doylist explanation. instead i’ll point to persona 3, in which people without shadows literally become comatose and apathetic husks of themselves. this is because having a shadow is actually a fairly important part of a person’s psyche, and not having one doesnt make you a good and perfect person, it makes you a nonfunctional vegetable incapable of cognitive thought.

so yeah, i’m pretty sure EVERYONE is in mementos. with the exception of the phantom thieves, because… i think we’re expected to believe that their personas are in some ways their shadows? but also their personas are like, real-life kinning mythological/fictional characters so hard that you bind them to your soul? frankly i’ve been confused about how shadows work ever since persona 5 had people’s eyes turn yellow when they go through their awakenings, since perosna 4 used to use that as a sign that the person was a shadow, so… maybe i have no idea what the fuck im talking about. LMFAO.

#mine #meta #Anonymous

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horizondawn · 4 years ago

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I got so much more from my experience playing The Last of Us Part II than "revenge is bad". It's something I've literally and heavily been dealing with just this past month. I have a lot of deep thoughts here, so here we go. This isn’t saying you’re horrible if you didn’t like the game, but after sitting on it for a while after finishing, these are my thoughts of the series from my perspective through my real life experiences and own personal morals/beliefs and how I try to grow as a person. Key word: Try.

I have a family member who was murdered over 3 decades ago, and it still haunts me and my family to this day. I've had night terrors similar to the ones Ellie had in the game, even if I didn’t see the actual act, so I can only imagine how traumatizing it is for her. The murderer has been locked up and on death row ever since, and for a while I was set on going to the eventual execution. My anger fueled me for an awfully long time, but it wasn't until a few years ago I realized that is not me. Killing him (or in my case wanting satisfaction by watching a live execution) won't bring that family member back, and I would lose a part of myself if I actually went through with what I intended and held onto those feelings. And that was identical to what was happening to Ellie. I didn't want her to lose herself, because going down that destructive path means you come out in the worse possible way. Even worse than the ending we got. I was frustrated with Ellie because I understand her pain to an extent even if the situations are nothing alike, and that is the reason why I bonded, cared, and loved her even more, and I didn't think that was possible. The killing we committed as Joel didn't bother me as much in the first game because they were a bunch of hunters we never really understood. The one time I sat there unable to pull the trigger for a good while was when I was forced to shoot the surgeon, who was later revealed to be Abby’s father. I didn’t want to do it, but I had to in order to finish the game. In Part II we saw so many perspectives on top of knowing Ellie was losing it by deliberately going after these groups of people. The further on I played, even before getting to Abby's perspective when I hated her, I still didn't want Ellie to go through with it. From the very beginning, even though it was going to be brutal, I absolutely did not want Ellie to accomplish this goal. That’s mainly because I know the feeling, and it really does consume you.

It fucking hurt and I was so frustrated with Ellie when she left Dina, JJ, and their life together, but it was because I care so much for her and desperately wanted her to let her anger go rather than the actual writing. I felt for her as a real person rather than just a character who was written. Even if she has lost everything she ever had though, Ellie didn't lose herself or her humanity and ability to care in the end, and that sliver of hope made me feel relieved. The symbolism of her leaving the guitar Joel gifted her, that she could no longer play properly, was a sign of her forgiving him, and letting go.

And that's only from Ellie's perspective. I had to stop playing for a bit the moment I had to start playing as Abby, the biggest emotional whiplash ever. Holy hell though did my perspective change and I eventually loved her as a character. Even if I still hated her I love getting to see different perspectives. Seeing Abby’s story as well contributed to why that final fight made me sob. I stopped controlling Ellie and had her just standing there on the beach because I knew what was about to happen, and I did not want that. I really didn’t know if Ellie was actually going to kill Abby or not. And I cannot describe how many of the tears that were shed were from relief when she didn’t. I would literally love to play a game just focused on Abby and Lev though and see where they go as their dynamic was absolutely amazing and I will fight anyone who hates on Lev; he is such a treasure. And even though I will never forgive Abby for what she did, I’m tired of hanging onto that kind of anger, even if it’s for a fictional character. I want to understand everyone better in reality, because we are all human, and that makes things so very complicated. Add a fallen society after a world wide pandemic that has wiped out most of humanity and it makes it even more complicated. The human experience is insane and no one will ever be able to understand everyone else’s experiences and pain, and that’s what makes individual lives so vast and important.

I didn’t know any of the spoilers aside from Abby killing Joel, but I didn’t know the specifics, and I didn’t see a single screenshot spoiler. I still have no idea what the spoilers were beyond that. The moment it was announced a sequel was coming out I had a very big feeling Joel was going to die though, so I was okay with that if it happened from a narrative perspective. And you know why? Because the world of The Last of Us is cruel, and people are taken from Ellie in the blink of an eye. One moment Ellie confessed her love to Riley while sharing a sweet kiss and dancing and the next she’s bitten and we know what happened from there. One moment she’s travelling with Joel and Tess and Tess is gone. One moment she’s sharing a wonderful moment with Sam and Henry, and then they’re both gone. In the most brutal and cruel manner that fed her survival’s guilt. And that is why she was so upset with Joel. She lost so many people literally right in front of her. Then she learns the Fireflies are gone because of the one person she was able to grow to love as family, something she never ever had in her life, which also means her previous guardian, Marlene, her mother’s close friend, is gone as well because of him. As Tess quoted, “Guess what, we’re shitty people Joel; it’s been like that for a long time”. Tess was right. Joel was not a good person, and that is what made him unbelievably fascinating as a playable protagonist. But the player grew to know him from Ellie’s direct influence, not from the hardened person he became after 20 years of emotional distance from anyone following the death of Sarah. And that sudden harsh cruelty is exactly what I was expecting in the sequel, even if I wasn’t mentally or emotionally prepared for it. I certainly still got upset with every death there was: Joel, Jesse, Mel, Owen, Yara, everyone. The Last of Us is not focused on happy endings. At all. Of course we wish for that, and the new menu after completing the game shows that there was definitely some hope following what happened on that beach, but the world is more about human emotion and the crazy things we do for the people we love, even if it’s in the worse possible way, and it gives us that bit of questioning wonder with a tiny dash of hope for Ellie and her humanity. That’s exactly what Joel’s actions were for his love for Ellie at the end of the first game. This was Ellie doing the same for her love for him. And what Abby did for her love for her father. And the thing is some people wish we understood Abby from a different order, and I totally understand and respect that. But again, in real life we don’t get the background knowledge of everyone’s pasts either if not for research of some kind, which is why we need to make an effort to learn if possible. That’s all The Last of Us really has to offer, no matter which character’s story we are following, and that is what makes it so special. The second game isn’t driven by hatred alone. It’s about the other gruesome side of things for love.

Now gameplay wise, yes, I do believe structure could have been improved or done differently to help with the flow of the narrative here and there. And there were some moments that felt dragged. But that’s gameplay, not the story itself. I thought The Last of Us was emotional whiplash. That was just preparation to the roller coaster Part II would bring. And I’m not saying Part II is better. Both games are very different stories with very different perspectives, so I honestly can’t compare them. The original game brings the bond of two characters we all grew to fearlessly love. Part II brings what exists outside of the world of those two characters, and that they aren’t the only ones on this teeter totter of having done horrific things in the name of love in this cruel world they live in. Because we’re all only human. In game as Ellie, Joel, and Abby we pick up all of these letters throughout both games about these characters we don’t even see, let alone meet, and yet I want to know more about what happened to them. What are their stories during all of this? And even if you still hate Abby in the end, which is fine, there was that chance of seeing someone else’s story as well that intertwines with Ellie. I personally LOVE it when this happens. And all of us, no matter how horrible the world seems to fall apart, are capable of learning through the knowledge of other’s experiences.

#the last of us part II spoilers #the last of us part 2 spoilers #tlou2 spoilers #the last of us #the last of us part II #now if you are one of those people who threatened laura and her family #fuck you and seek out some real therapy #i made a post before the game came out that even if i ended up not liking it #i wouldn't waste my time letting the dislike consume me #and i will die myself before i threaten anyone with death threats #i tried to be sensitive here because i will not hate or call out people for not liking the game #because i can see why #but there are reasons why people love the game too #and this is my reason

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