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archived-kin · 4 years ago

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arcade date with levi (with a twist)

note from kin: the twist is that, rather than just meeting up and going to an arcade for a date, you and levi are actually characters from two different games in the arcade that come to life at night and go on cute romantic hijinks together! (wreck-it-ralph au essentially)

you, simeon, and luke are from a battle game, levi and his brothers are from a side scrolling platformer, solomon is the tutorial dude in an experimental alchemy game, diavolo is the owner of the arcade, and barbatos is the janitor! your character’s costume is basically the same as caesar’s from jojo’s bizarre adventure, and you’re kind of the pseudo-leader of your game’s characters

fandom: obey me!

character(s): gn!reader, leviathan, luke, simeon, lucifer, solomon

pairing(s): levi/reader

warning(s): guns, non-descriptive injury

genre: fluff

“Lights out!”

You cheer and hop out of your character selection box, stretching out your cramped limbs, then sitting down with a huff. Beside you, Simeon falls out onto the floor in a tangled heap of cape.

“Thank goodness,” He sighs, turning around and lying flat on his back. “Is it just me, or were our patrons picking me far more than usual today…?”

Luke carefully slides out of his own box, landing neatly on his feet with a little flourish. “Yeah, normally [Name]’s the crowd favourite…”

“It’s all those new promotional posters, I bet,” You hum, pulling off your headband and fanning yourself with one hand. “Seems like Diavolo’s really been pushing the angel series lately.”

“I wouldn’t call it a series,” Simeon says, chuckling slightly as he undoes his fancy cape. “There’s only two of us, after all.”

“Well, you’re the only ones out of us who actually have a theme between them,” says another one of your fellow fighters, taking off his hat and twirling it around a finger. “Anyway - [Name], shouldn’t you be going off to meet that loverboy of yours soon?”

“Oh, right!” You jump to your feet, dusting off your pants. Then you pause, raising your hands to pat at your face. “Wait, do my triangles look okay?”

“Your triangles look fine,” Simeon sighs, reaching over and tapping fondly at the little patches of paint on your cheek. “They always do.”

“Alright!” You adjust your scarf and throw the ends over your shoulder, tying your headband around your wrist. “I’ll be off, then! You guys know the drill, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, boss,” calls one of the younger fighters, hunched over in front of his box and scratching restlessly at the tip of his nose. “Not like we haven’t been doing it every day.”

“Don’t get cheeky,” You scold, but give his pompadour an affectionate pat on your way past anyway. It feels almost concerningly solid beneath your touch. “I’ll be back before morning!”

Your fellow fighters give a collective murmur of assent that’s abruptly cut off as you open the network door and hop into a wire. You’ve gone on this path so many times that it’s practically muscle memory at this point - six sections ahead, then to the left twice, a right at the purple junction, and then another four sections forwards.

The Tale of the Seven Lords’s network door is already open when you jump out of the wire, and the first thing you see when you poke your head in is Lucifer polishing one of the transport tubes used to get between levels. He’s discarded the fancy coat that he has to wear all the time as part of his character costume, and you don’t blame him - you couldn’t imagine even just running for five minutes or so with that one, let alone jumping about and punching at things for about fifteen minutes at a time, often longer.

“Lovely evening, Lucifer,” You greet brightly. He pauses in his work for a moment, then turns to look at you.

You’ve never gotten the feeling that he particularly likes you, but you’ve been trying your best to stay on his good side - after all, one must need the eldest’s blessing to date one of their younger brother. And your efforts must have paid off, too, because the corner of his mouth actually lifts slightly when he sees you grinning at him around the side of the door.

“[Name],” He says with a nod. “Levi’s up on Level Six.”

“Right!” You skip inside and shut the door behind you. “Good day?”

“About as good as it can get, I suppose,” He sighs, and you silently cheer. Willing small talk - that’s progress! “Most of our players for today picked either Belphie or Satan, so I got to take a break of sorts.”

You’ll never understand why some of characters in this arcade dislike actually being played so much - after all, isn’t that your entire purpose? Still, if Lucifer’s happy about not being picked, you’ll be happy for him as well. “That’s good!”

“Indeed,” He says, allowing a rare proper smile. He pulls back from the transport tube. “Up you go, then. Levi’s been restless all day - excited, no doubt.”

“He’s so cute,” You coo, adjusting your headband around your wrist to make sure it doesn’t slip off. “We go on dates all the time, but he’s still just as enthusiastic every time.”

“As Asmo likes to say, I suppose that each date should be just as exciting as the first,” Lucifer says evenly as you hop up into the transport tube, taking care not to get the freshly-polished metal grubby. “At any rate… Levi seems to be happy. So I suppose you must be doing something right.”

“What a wonder, right?” You reply with a laugh, giving him an enthusiastic thumbs up. “I’ll have him back before first light. Promise.”

“If you say so,” He says dryly, and stands back as the transport tube sends you up.

Just as Lucifer said, Levi is bustling about on Level Six, accompanied by Belphie, who’s having a whale of a time snoozing on one of the platforms and letting his brother do all the work restocking the power-up bricks. Levi abruptly straightens up as soon as you pop out of the transport tube, as if he can sense your presence immediately, and turns to see you waving happily up at him.

His face immediately lights up, and he hops down from the brick he’s standing on with a goofy jump sound effect, landing beside you with a slightly wobbly grin. Slightly out of breath, he greets, “Hi.”

“Hi,” You repeat back to him, kissing his cheek. From up on his platform, Belphie makes an exaggerated retching noise.

Levi absent-mindedly chucks an inactive supersize star behind him at the sound, and it hits Belphie directly in the forehead with a high-pitched ping, sending him toppling backwards off the platform. Luckily, fall damage isn’t programmed into this game, so he lands on his back with nothing but his pride hurt.

“Ready to go?” You ask, disregarding the rather thunderous-looking brother behind your partner. Levi nods eagerly.

“Yeah! Belphie can take the rest of my bricks. He’s barely done anything so far.”

“It’s not my fault so many people picked me today,” Belphie groans, getting up and catching the rest of the power-ups that Levi tosses his way. “I’m tired…”

“You’re always tired,” Levi replies, shaking his head. “Get Beel to do it if you’re so desperate to sleep.”

“Maybe I will,” is Belphie’s final retort before you and Levi disappear back down the transport tube.

Passing Lucifer at Level One again, the two of you slip out through the network door and hop into the wires. Your destination today is the Suspect Sorceror’s abode - one of your regular date spots, and one of your particular favourites.

Despite the fact that the two of you see each other pretty much every day as soon as it’s lights out, there’s always a fresh kind of thrill to the prospect of spending time with Levi, no matter how much you do. It’s kind of like your heart grows wings every time you’re around him - you can’t help but feel all light and fluttery inside.

You’ve never felt this way about anyone - heck, you didn’t even know it was possible for you to feel like this! Every character in this arcade is programmed with a set personality that’s simply impossible to break away from. In some cases, some characters are reduced to such one-dimensional traits that they can only ever respond to anything with one of a predictable and very limited number of possible reactions.

Incidentally, your code has established you as a rather boisterous and confident person who doesn’t always think before they punch, while Levi’s has always dictated him as rather self-conscious and insecure, but passionate about his interests. Neither of you have ever been programmed with anything close to the sort of AI that would be required for you to develop your own feelings separate of your codes - and yet, somehow, you have.

You’ve never pretended to understand your own existence. You’ve not very smart, after all; where your programmers gave you excellent fighting spirit and leadership skills and an unwavering sense of determined justice, they seem to have forgotten to give you very many brain cells. Even so, you’re fully aware of the impossibility of the nature of yours and Levi’s relationship.

Still, your philosophy has always been that worrying about the little things never benefits anyone in the long run. Well, this might not be a little thing, but if there’s anything you’re good at, it’s goofing off to avoid getting too dismal.

You hop out of the wire as soon you’ve reach your destination, landing neatly on your feet with your arms spread wide in a rather flamboyant flourish. Levi scrambles to follow suit, but loses his balance on his way out and immediately starts heading directly for the floor; you quickly dart forward and catch him by the arms.

Levi’s panicked eyes dart up to meet your own, and before you’re even fully aware of what you’re doing, you deftly lift him into the air and give him a smooth twirl, then set him on solid ground once more. His knees immediately nearly give out beneath him, and you have to reach forward to catch him again before he takes a tumble.

“Wh-wh-wh—” Levi’s entire face is a bright, burning red. You’re pretty sure you can actually see smoke coming out of his ears. “You— huh?”

It’s just about the cutest thing you’ve ever seen; you can’t help but lean forward to plant a kiss on the very tip of his nose. Unfortunately, that doesn’t seem to have been the right move, because Levi immediately goes stock still, then abruptly slaps his hands to his face.

“You alright?” You ask, crouching down with him as he slowly sinks down to the ground, practically steaming. You can’t help but laugh, feeling a little bad for flustering him so much. “Caught you off-guard, huh? Sorry.”

Levi shakes his head silently, then finally pulls his hands away from his face. His blush has calmed somewhat - it had been so aggressive that it almost looked like a rash before, but now it’s more of a sort of reddish dust - and he’s looking you in the eyes again.

“Y-y-you can’t just do stuff like that out of nowhere,” He says finally, leaning forward and dropping his forehead on your shoulder. “I have to prepare myself first…”

“Aw, that’s no fun,” You wrap your arms around his shoulders and rock him back and forth slightly. “You'll get used to it eventually!”

“You’re going to give me a heart attack,” He mumbles into the sleeve of your jacket, though you do notice that he’s deliberately pressing himself closer to you. “Well, you would if I had a heart.”

“You’re so cute,” You chuckle, pressing another kiss to the crown of his head. “C’mon, we’ve still got a date to finish!”

You give Levi another five minutes or so to get his face back to its usual colour and calm himself down, and he’s pretty much back to normal by the time the two of you step hand-in-hand into Solomon’s little alchemy hut - you with a wide grin on your face and him with a slightly shaky smile. Unfortunately, it seems that date night isn’t going to be going smoothly today, because Solomon is currently being held at gun-point by a character you’ve never seen before.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” crows the strange little man, brandishing one of his two revolvers in yours and Levi’s direction. You instinctively step in front of your partner, steeling your fists in case you need to fight. “Two lovebirds, is it?”

“Evening,” Solomon greets, not looking in the least bit fazed by the barrel he’s currently staring down.

“Who's this?” You ask in reply.

Solomon sighs and leans forward on his counter, ignoring the threatening click of the gun that the little man has pointed at him. “He’s from that shoot-em-up game a couple consoles down. No idea why he’s decided to show up here.”

You wrinkle your nose, reaching behind you to give Levi a reassuring tap on the arm before stepping forward. The little man watches you cautiously, keeping one gun carefully trained directly on your head.

“Your bullets aren’t going to work on me,” You say matter-of-factly. “I haven’t been programmed to take damage when a bullet hits me.”

“Won’t work on you, eh?” He raises an eyebrow. “How about your beau over there?”

You narrow your eyes. “He isn’t any of your business.”

Of course, you know full well that Levi’s game features projectiles that he certainly takes damage from, and while you don’t know if that extends to bullets from this man’s guns, you don’t want to risk it. You, on the other hand, have only ever taken damage from the punches and kicks your fellow fighters throw at you - or the beams of light Simeon and Luke shoot for their respective ultimates.

The man grins, and you note that he’s missing one of his front teeth. “So you won’t mind if I just fire a little bit at him—”

Your arm shoots forward before you even fully register it, and the man careens backwards with a cry as your fist lands directly in his face. The gun he’d been raising to point at Levi clatters to the floor and lets out a shot into one of the walls; Solomon winces.

“You’re a real piece of work, aren’t you?” You scowl, striding forward and planting a foot on the little man’s stomach. He struggles under your boot’s heel, cursing. “First you spoil our date, and now you’re threatening my partner. You’re really starting to piss me off.”

“If you’re going to start a fight, take it outside,” Solomon intervenes, shaking his head. “I’ve got far too many glass bottles in here to risk letting you have a battle in here.”

“Doesn’t matter where I fight as long as I get a good punch in,” You smirk, folding your arms across your chest slightly and glaring down at the man as he scrabbles at your boot, attempting to wrench it off of him. “So, what’ll it be? Either you get your guns and scram, or we can brawl right here and now.”

The man responds by reaching to grab the gun he’d been aiming at Solomon earlier and firing a shot at your face. You jerk back in surprise, foot lifting, and he immediately scrambles out from beneath your foot, pointing up at you with a gleeful laugh.

“See how you like that!” He exclaims. “Not so cocky now, huh?”

You slowly reach up to press your fingers to where the bullet struck you, directly in the forehead. Solomon raises an eyebrow, while Levi calls out your name frantically, stepping forward with his hands outstretched.

You shake your head as the man laughs, holding up a hand to stop Levi. “Stay there. I’ve got this under control.”

“Huh?” The man’s grin fades as you pass your hand over the hole, only for it to be gone when your hand moves away. “What the—?”

“Didn’t I tell you?” You ask, looming over him as he frantically attempts to back away. He gulps, fumbling with his gun, but before he can try to fire another round, you knock the gun out of his hand with a swift punch. “Your bullets don’t work on me, pal.”

He turns as if to run, but your leg immediately darts out to trip him, and he tumbles forward onto the boards of Solomon’s hut with a muffled yell. This time you plant your foot directly on his neck, setting a single hand on your hip.

“I’m only going to say this once,” You begin, staring him dead in the eyes. “So listen up - got it?”

The man attempts to protest, but your heel only presses harder into his throat, and he has no choice but to give his gurgled assent. You smile, but it’s a menacing expression.

“This game is under my protection,” You say firmly. “You don’t come in here and start threatening to shoot up the place - and you most definitely don’t point the gun at my partner. Got it?”

He gurgles again. You nod in satisfaction. “Then we’re all in understanding here. Now scram.”

You lift your foot, and he immediately fumbles to get to his feet. You stay on your toes, prepared for him to attempt to go for his guns again, but he only gives you one last terrified look before turning and booking it out the door, tail between his legs.

You stare after him at the swinging door. The hut is silent for a moment more.

Finally, Levi says, eyes wide, “I think that was the coolest thing I’ve ever seen.”

#unedited #obey me imagines #obey me x reader #swd leviathan #swd solomon #swd lucifer #swd simeon #swd belphie #swd luke #leviathan x reader #levi x reader #wreck it ralph au #fluff #arcade #not sure how i feel about this one??? but eh

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puddygeeks · 4 years ago

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𝑾𝒂𝒓 𝑶𝒇 𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔 - 𝑪𝒓𝒊𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒍 𝑴𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒔, 𝑺𝒑𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒓 𝑹𝒆𝒊𝒅 𝒙 𝑶𝑪 - 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 8: 𝑮𝒐𝒍𝒅𝒆𝒏 𝑶𝒑𝒑𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒖𝒏𝒊𝒕𝒚

Masterlist

Rating: Mature

Summary: 𝐴𝑙𝑖𝑐𝑒 𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑖𝑚𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑒𝑑 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑛 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑖𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑖𝑟𝑒 𝑡𝑜 ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑝 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑢𝑙𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑖𝑛 𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑙𝑒𝑓𝑡 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝑜𝑝𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠. 𝑊𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑢𝑝𝑝𝑜𝑟𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐵𝐴𝑈 𝑓𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑦, 𝑚𝑎𝑦𝑏𝑒 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑏𝑒𝑔𝑖𝑛 𝑡𝑜 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑎𝑠𝑡.

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Spencer Reid x OC

Status: Ongoing

LONG TERM ONGOING PROJECT :)

My writing is entirely fuelled by coffee! If you enjoy my work, feel free to donate toward my caffeine dependency: will work for coffee

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: 𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑎𝑑𝑢𝑙𝑡 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡, 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑡𝑟𝑖𝑔𝑔𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑠 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑤. 𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑏𝑒 𝑎𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑑𝑜𝑒𝑠 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑛 𝑐𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑐𝑎𝑠𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑢𝑟𝑑𝑒𝑟, 𝑐ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑑 𝑎𝑏𝑑𝑢𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 & 𝑠𝑒𝑥𝑢𝑎𝑙 𝑎𝑏𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑎𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑖𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐵𝐴𝑈'𝑠 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘. 𝐼𝑡 𝑖𝑠 𝑚𝑦 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑡𝑜 ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑙𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑠𝑒 𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑢𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑠 𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑓𝑢𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑎𝑠 𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑏𝑙𝑒, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑖𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑦𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑏𝑒 𝑖𝑚𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑑 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ ℎ𝑜𝑤 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑠𝑒 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑎𝑔𝑒𝑑, 𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑙𝑒𝑡 𝑚𝑒 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤.

Eᴘɪsᴏᴅᴇ: Pʀᴇ Sᴇᴀsᴏɴ 1

Chapter Eight

“You know, it’s remarkably similar to Brighton Pier here.” I commented, fanning myself in desperation under the scolding sun and Ricky pushed his large sunglasses down to allow me to feel the full force of his judgement. “Well, except that it’s unmistakably hotter, obviously.”

“How dare you compare this beautiful sandy bliss to your pebble filled nightmare?” He remarked with a sweeping hand gesture at the beach, before sipping out of his straw with offence and I rolled my eyes at him.

Ricky has always been a force to be reckoned with, but as he got older, he only grew more confident and I was constantly inspired by how comfortable he was in himself. His thick brunette hair reached his collarbones now, but he currently had it pushed back out of his face with a colourful bandana so that he could tan. In order for him to worship the sun to his full capacity, he was wearing a worryingly small pair of shorts and had stretched himself across a lounger like the diva that he absolutely was.

“Hmm. Your actual beach is better, I’ll give you that one. But you’re seriously lacking on drag queens, quirky cafes and fancy boutiques to shop in.” I pointed out, fondly recalling the whirlwind weekend that we’d spent in the British city the last time that he’d visited me and he shrugged in defeat.

“Touché. You win this round.” He admitted, laying back to bask himself again, whilst I shuffled my sensitive skin further under the sun umbrella that he’d reluctantly agreed to allow me to bring over on the condition that it didn’t cause a single shred of shade over him.

It was a beautiful day, only improved by the quality of my company and I had to admit that I was endlessly pleased to have decided to extend my stay for another few days. Despite the years that had passed since we had last been in each other's physical company, Ricky was still able to put me at ease in a way that no one else had ever been able to emulate and I cherished the opportunity to simply relax with him at the Virginia Boardwalk.

“So, what’s it like being an FBI agent?” Ricky asked, turning his attention back to me with a smug expression. “Is it wonderful knowing that you have the power to stop anyone in their tracks? I would absolutely abuse my power for evil, but I know you’re too pure for that.” He muttered with delight and I chuckled at him knowingly. The things that he would use an FBI badge to accomplish didn’t even bear thinking about.

“Darling. I already told you. I’m not an FBI agent. I’m still a technical analyst for Interpol. I’m just on loan.” I repeated, already losing count of how many times I had made this distinction, but he still seemed as unconvinced by this as he was the first time that I told him.

“Oh, semantics! Sounds to me like you’re working for them and considering that you saved a girl from a burning building like a freaking hero, I’m just going to treat you like one.” He argued, seeming amused as if I were simply downplaying things, when realistically, it was a case of him dramatising the arrangement, as he did with most things. “We have an FBI agent in the family. That’s pretty cool.”

“There is absolutely no reasoning with you.” I groaned, shaking my head in embarrassment and he shrugged dismissively, as if this were an obvious fact that I should have accepted already. “How’s university going? Have you sorted your accommodation for your second year yet?”

“College is going fine. I’ve done a fantastic job being the life of the party, so I have plenty of offers for people to live with. My only struggle is choosing people who aren’t completely filthy as housemates. I can’t live in a grubbly little student hovel.” He explained, seeming repulsed by the very idea and I raised a brow at his diva attitude. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m not being dramatic. My first year in dorms, I shared a bathroom with straight men. You don’t understand the trauma that I’ve lived through.”

“Does your mother know that you haven’t arranged housing yet?” I interrogated, already sensing a hint of dishonesty in him and his features quickly contorted into a guilty look. “Rituparan! I understand being picky, but you’ll end up with no choice other than to live with the grimy jocks if you don’t hurry up. You need to get organised.” I scolded, earning an eye roll so severe that I worried his face might never recover from the strain.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist, Alley Cat. I’ll get it sorted. Now, drink your mocktail before it gets too diluted.” He ordered, sipping down the last of his drink and placing the little umbrella from the top in his hair with a flourish. The moment that he faced me, I knew that he had mischief in mind.

“Okay. Are you ready? Who am I?” He pouted so dramatically that his cheeks all but disappeared and I almost choked on my drink.

“Oh, too easy! That is the unforgettable Lola, the only woman on the planet who considers a cocktail umbrella the perfect hair accessory for any occasion.” I answered, earning a cheer and wicked laugh of satisfaction from him. “You know, I love having someone else to mock dad’s exes with. You’d think the fact that he only dates women my age would mean we’d have something in common, but alas, apparently a sense of humour isn’t shared by age group.”

“Of course they’re not funny! The only thing those girls come with is a price tag.” He sassed, flipping his hair back out of his face in a ridiculously bitchy gesture and I was immediately reminded of just how much I loved him. “At least you don’t have to pretend to like Tanya anymore. Honestly, if she had a second brain cell, she’d be dangerous.”

“Oh, no! They broke up?” I gasped, almost sounding convincing with my upset and he whipped his head around with drastic confusion. “I guess she had to bleed my dad dry of pocket money eventually.” I drawled, prompting a small yelp of surprise and a quick high five from Ricky.

Tanya had been dating my dad for just over six months now, so I knew that she was likely to be approaching her expiration date soon. His routine was well known amongst the entire family now and in an effort to counter the embarrassment that it caused for my mother and I, it had become a running joke for us all to share.

“Didn’t you hear the details?” Ricky crooned, turning to face me fully on his lounger with a devious expression and I shrugged nonchalantly. “According to Maji, she tried to charge her lip fillers to his business credit card. Caused all sorts of uproar at the office. I guess she’ll be making that duck face at someone else’s wallet now.” He divulged, pouting into an exaggerated model face for effect and I struggled not to splutter my drink everywhere in response.

Ricky’s mother always seemed to know everything that was happening in our family and I’d long believed that this was where he’d learned to dig information out of people. She was abnormally gifted in guilt tripping the truth out of even the most hardened family members and yet, she doted on Ricky as if he was the very thing that made her world turn. If I ever wanted to know what was going on in my dad’s life, I knew that I could rely on her to be up to date with events.

Before I could manage to recover enough to speak, my mobile rang with it’s sharp tone and I had to clamber around in my bag to find it. As soon as I saw the private number, my eyes grew wide in dread.

“Oh, no! The bat phone?” Ricky asked, seeming genuinely horrified that I might be called into work and I quickly nodded, before holding a finger to my lips to shush him.

“Agent Hawthorne.” I answered, feeling utterly ridiculous referring to myself this way in my current company. This insecurity was only made worse by Ricky sliding his shades back on in a judgemental manner and I gestured to him to stop distracting me.

“Alice. This is Hotch. Are you still in Virginia?”

The voice on the other end of the phone was as serious as ever and though I was enormously relieved to find that it wasn’t anyone from Interpol trying to order me home, I felt nerves building in my chest already.

“Yes, Sir. I am.” I reported, noticing Ricky raising his brows at me in interest and I knew that he was dying to know what was being said.

“I realise that you’re spending time with family, but would you be able to come into the office for a meeting? I have a matter that I would like to discuss with you in person, if possible.” Hotch requested, allowing me absolutely no hint of the cause for this meeting and I felt my face change into one of alarm.

My mind had already begun racing with all of the possible complications that I could be facing for my actions at the base now that all of the documentation for the case had been submitted and I was terrified that if any further charges were brought against me, they could contradict the deal that I made with Interpol to avoid imprisonment.

“Yes, Sir. I’ll come in right away.” I stuttered, attempting to fight down my terror. My hands shook with nerves as I hung up on the call and Ricky looked positively thrilled to have been given the opportunity to witness this conversation, as if he’d just been personally included in a matter of national security.

“It’s a good thing that you went for virgin cocktails, my dear. I have to get back to Quantico.” I confessed, quickly burying my nerves so that he wouldn’t sense trouble.

“Oh my god! This is so exciting!” He announced, hopping straight to his feet and flustering to grab his belongings that were spread across every surface around him. “One cab for Agent Hawthorne, coming right up!”

--⥈--

Outfit: https://www.pinterest.co.uk/pin/460070918191621506/

Standing in the lift of the Quantico building, I was overwhelmed with anxiety. I had been in such a rush to get here that it hadn’t even crossed my mind to change clothes, or to do anything to prepare my appearance at all. Though I knew that I didn’t have any more office clothes with me anyway, I acknowledged that I could at least have found something that provided a little more coverage and didn’t leave me feeling so exposed.

The idea of walking through an office where everyone was dressed smartly, wearing a white floral mini dress was an absolute nightmare and I realised that I only had a few minutes to make any changes. All I could think to do was to untie my waist length hair, shaking it out to at least cover some of my arms and attempting to make it look styled.

The doors opened to reveal a full office, with most of the team present at their desks and I gulped nervously. My dress felt as if it had actually shrunk in size since the beach now that I would be seen in it by people that I had worked with and I had to remind myself that I had bigger things to worry about with being called to come here than my attire.

JJ’s heels clicked on the polished floor as she entered the reception, her professional appearance clashing horribly with the casual style of my low top converses and I tried not to feel intimidated.

“Alice! I know that I said we wanted to see you again soon, but this is a little crazy.” She breezed as she approached me with a warm smile and I tried to force myself to relax. “Hotch is just finishing a call and he’ll be out to meet you.” She explained, before her gaze fell onto my outfit and I felt myself physically become stiff under her scrutiny. “You look pretty!”

“Oh, thanks. I was just on the beach. I’ve already worn all of my work clothes so, um, this is all I have?” I offered, shifting awkwardly and she smiled sympathetically at me.

“We’ve all been called in at unexpected times. I was literally collected from home in my pajamas once. You’ve got nothing to worry about.” She soothed, leaning closer to me as she spoke so that no one would overhear my concern and I let out a long breath in relief.

“Besides, I know that Hotch is just going to appreciate you being able to come in at such short notice. I hope you got to enjoy at least a little bit of your time off before we intruded?” She asked with an honest concern in her eyes and just as I opened my mouth to see if she could give me even the slightest hint of what to expect, Hotch stepped into the room.

“Alice. Thank you for coming so quickly.” He stated in his usual serious manner, reaching straight to shake my hand and I complied immediately, forcing a smile through my nerves. “I’ll try not to take up too much of your time. Let’s talk in my office.” He offered, opening the glass doors to the main office for me and I stepped through hesitantly.

Within approximately two steps of entering the space, I could already feel eyes on me and tried not to allow myself to be unnerved by the attention. The anxious voice in the back of my mind screamed that I was the most inappropriate looking member of staff to ever enter this office, but I forced myself to keep my head held high as Ricky had always preached.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that Spencer was watching me from his desk as if he’d been stopped in his tracks and I waved subtly at him, prompting him to hurriedly do the same back in a fluster. Morgan passed Hotch distractedly, before he noticed that I was following him with obvious surprise.

“Looking good, Poppins. Welcome back.” He muttered as he squeezed beside me, sneaking a charming smile and thanks to the combined warmth of the two men, once again I felt my nerves beginning to settle slightly.

Hotch encouraged me to take a seat in his office, before closing the door behind us and I felt as if I couldn’t think straight in the silence that followed. He settled into the seat opposite me, knitting his hands together on the desk between us and despite feeling before that I had reached the point where I could understand his expressions, his face at this moment was completely unreadable.

“For a start, I want to discuss what happened at the Twenty Nine Palms base.” He opened, his stern eyes studying my face for every minute reaction and though my heart sank at the suggested topic, I nodded back calmly.

“Whilst it can’t be denied that your actions resulted in saving a young girl's life, they were also unacceptably reckless. You demonstrated absolutely no regard for your own safety and jeopardised the reputation of the whole team. You are aware that we appreciate your support, but I’m not convinced that you realise we are legally and morally responsible for your wellbeing whilst you are under our service and that I would be personally held accountable for your death as a result of your irresponsible actions.” He lectured, his voice sounding even more severe than it had when I was in the ambulance and I felt my confidence crumbling with every word that he spoke.

It became clear that he had paused his speech to allow me the chance to explain myself and I cleared my throat to speak with a feeling of terror.

“I’m truly sorry for my actions, Sir. You are entirely right. I was reckless and selfish, and I didn’t consider how my behaviour would reflect on your team, and especially on you. I’m not going to make excuses. I just want you to know that I accept any and all consequences that you feel are appropriate.” I answered calmly, ensuring that I kept my tone calm and respectful, and he sighed as he studied me.

“I didn’t call you in here to punish you, Alice. This is a conversation, not a lecture. What I aim to understand is why an agent with no field experience, or any personal stake in the case, felt that they had no choice other than to risk their own life to save a child who they’d never met?” He clarified, his entire demeanour remaining unchanged even as he moved to a gentler tactic of questioning and I chewed on my lip.

It took a few moments for me to consider how best to answer this, but eventually I decided that I respected this team as a whole too much to lie. I prepared myself for a conversation that I knew would likely change his opinion of me permanently, but assured myself that honesty was a necessity at this point.

“When I was fifteen years old, my mother was abducted.” I began, glancing down at my hands as I spoke to avoid the intensity of his gaze. “It took four months for her to be found and when she came home, she was a different person. I never saw the mother that went missing again.” I paused, clearing my throat to keep the emotion from my voice before continuing.

“Three years later, a girl at my university went missing. She wasn’t the first, but the stakes were high as all of the others had been found murdered. I obsessed over everything that my mother had survived to come home and I couldn’t imagine how awful it would be to endure that at just eighteen years old. So, I began looking into the case and after a while of digging, I compiled enough information to anonymously assist law enforcement in safely recovering the missing girl. I realised then that I had the skills to make a difference to the world and I kept going, one missing person at a time, until Interpol found me.”

“You were given a choice between conviction, or working for them?” Hotch asked knowingly, as if he’d seen this very situation many times before and I recalled the recent conversation that I’d had with Penelope about hackers frequently being recruited through their questionable activities. I nodded slowly in response, deciding that this wasn’t the time to divulge any further information about the circumstances of my hiring.

“I didn’t join this field by choice. It was never the plan for my life. Don’t get me wrong, I always wanted to help people. I actually trained to become a psychiatrist, like my dad, but a job like this had never even been on my radar. Yet, here I am.” I explained, shrugging awkwardly as I realised that this sounded like I was ungrateful for the mercy that I was shown and I tried to be more careful with my wording when I spoke again.

“When I was standing in front of that building, watching the smoke pour out of it, all I could think about was how my mother told me that she spent every minute of every day that she was in captivity praying to come home. I could just imagine Amanda doing the same thing, hoping with everything she had that someone would save her and I was right there.” I stopped as frustration seeped into my voice, allowing myself to regain control so that I could resume my explanation.

“I knew that there was a chance that she was still alive and I felt like everything that had happened, all of the crazy unplanned situations that had led me to being there at that exact time were so that I could save her. It sounds insane, but it was like my legs moved before I had even decided what I was going to do. For the first time in my career, I trusted my team, this team to have my back and with all due respect, Sir, it was the right thing to do.” I finally finished my rant, forcing myself to meet his eyes to allow him to see my sincerity and I was shocked to find that his face was filled with understanding, causing me to realise that he was already filling in the blanks between my words.

“You said that this was the first time that you felt this way about your team. You shouldn’t be working with people that you can’t rely on. In our line of work, we are forced to face horrors that most people can’t even begin to imagine. The people around you should be your anchor in the storm.” Hotch advised, causing my eyes to become watery and I sniffed back my emotions, desperate not to cry in front of him. “You have options, Alice.”

“What options? Prison?” I scoffed, recalling my conversation with Shepard with a flinch.

Though I had thought in detail about leaving Interpol many times since my recruitment, I knew in a serious light that it was merely a fantasy and nothing more. Without my employment to them, I was considered as nothing more than a threat to security and returning to normal civilian life was no longer something that I could consider.

“Join our team.” Hotch offered, causing my mouth to drop open in shock and I noticed the corners of his lips twitch slightly upward at my reaction.

“It’s clear that you are neither happy, nor valued at Interpol. You have already proven the difference that you could make across multiple cases and the entire team have agreed that you make an excellent addition.” He elaborated, listing reasons that I struggled to even associate with myself and I couldn’t seem to form a response, as I stuttered in the silence.

“But, I-Sir, we just discussed how I jeopardised this team. I don’t mean to seem rude, or ungrateful because I absolutely am not, but I fail to see how I’ve given you the impression that I would make a suitable field agent. You already have Penelope for technical support, so I’m not sure what else you could need me for here.” I pointed out, hardly able to wrap my head around the sudden detour that this conversation had taken and found myself baffled at the very concept of him offering to employ me.

“When your team brought you for the Valeno case, you showed potential that they were purposefully dismissive of. After you left, Gideon suggested that I speak to you about a position within the BAU. Unfortunately, at the time we didn’t have the available resources to do this. Due to the recent successes of this team, we’ve been granted the budget to expand and I would be foolish to ignore a candidate who has already contributed to that success. You are a good fit and the first choice of every member in this unit.” He presented, completely disregarding my concerns and when I looked at him with confusion, he sighed.

“I have discussed the recent incident with Gideon and we share the opinion that with the correct mentoring and the support of a team that believes in your worth, you could be an exceptional field agent.” He divulged, causing me to raise my brows impossibly higher in surprise.

It was bizarre enough that Hotch wanted me to join the team, but finding out that Gideon had been the instigator for this offer blew what remained of my psyche to pieces and Hotch cleared his throat to regain my attention from my inner turmoil.

“The offer would, of course, be conditional. It would be based on your own commitment to overcoming your experiences. None of us are immune to personal biases and each of us have elements of our pasts that make certain cases more challenging for us than the others. However, we rely on each other to hold us accountable, and have all learned to be objective and to know our limits. If you think this is something that you can also undertake, then there is a place here for you. As long as you want it.” Hotch clarified, causing me to stare back at him in blatant disbelief.

“I-I honestly don’t know what to say.” I stuttered, fiddling with my hair anxiously and Hotch cracked a rare smile at me. “It isn’t as simple for me as just changing state. My life is in France now. I’ve already left my mum behind once in England. I’d also have to renounce my dual nationality and become an American citizen.” I thought aloud, considering the enormity of the decision before me and Hotch nodded in understanding.

“Can I have some time to think about it?” I asked nervously, unsure of what else to say and Hotch seemed completely unsurprised by my reaction, as if he’d actually been expecting it.

“Of course. It’s a serious decision that you aren’t expected to make right away. Take all of the time that you need.”

--⥈--

“Girl. Your life is crazy!” Ricky gasped, studying me with a fascinated expression and I had to laugh at his dramatic reaction, despite mostly agreeing with the sentiment. “You’re gonna say yes, right?”

I sighed deeply as I considered this question and the way that he considered me now revealed exactly how insane he thought I was for even needing to think about it. In order to avoid his prying eyes, I stood to start clearing away the takeaway boxes that littered my hotel room bed, but Ricky refused to be silenced.

“Alice. Honey. What are you doing?! Life at Interpol has been miserable for you since day one. You said it yourself. I can’t imagine anything there that could be worth turning this offer down for!” He scolded, staring at me in complete disbelief and I shook my head at his youthful attitude to things.

“It’s more complicated than that. I never planned to work in this sector at all, much less as an FBI agent!” I explained, still struggling to process the fact that this was even an option that was open to me. It felt as if it had come from nowhere and I was already overwhelmed with the mere concept of making such a serious life decision.

“This isn’t just a job that we’re talking about here. It’s a completely different life. I need to be sure that I can handle it, before I move away from everything that I know. I’d hardly ever get to see mum and Roger.” I clarified, struggling to make him understand the severity of the situation.

“You never visit your mama anyway! I should know. I overhear Maji talking to her about it enough.” He groaned, only causing me to feel even worse about the idea of moving even further away from her.

“Besides, if you took it then you’d be living right near me and there isn’t any better benefit than that!” He added, posing across the bed as if he were the most important factor in the proposal and I chuckled at him with fondness. He sighed at my lack of enthusiasm, before dropping to a more serious tone.

“The most important thing for all of us is your happiness. You’d be crazy to stay somewhere that is making your whole existence taste like bad Aloo Gobi. And you deserve better than that! You deserve for your life to always be like Maji’s cooking, full of love and happiness.” He described, seeming as if he’d distracted himself along the way and he glanced back down at his plastic container of curry with disdain.

“You realise that you have a gift for being able to relate literally anything to food, right?” I remarked playfully, observing him with amazement and he shrugged carelessly.

“Food is one of the most enjoyable things that sustains us. It’s important.” He argued passionately and I couldn’t think of a single point to dispute his statement with, having to allow him the pleasure of being correct. “Fortunately, Mumbai Gardens is able to provide an almost authentic experience, right here in the heart of Virginia. A good meal can heal many things, you know. Even the stress of your biggest ever life decision.”

“That’s high praise coming from you. Could it pass the home test though, do you think?” I queried with curiosity as I disposed of the remaining trash with the Mumbai Gardens logo on it and he scoffed as if I’d asked something utterly ridiculous.

“Not a chance! Even Mama would be able to tell you that it wasn’t completely correct. You know, she’s actually been with Maji long enough now to have better cooking taste than some of my other actual Indian friends.” He revealed, showing his love for his step mom, who happened to be my paternal aunt Heather, clear in his voice.

I couldn’t withhold a wide grin as I thought of my aunts, both filled with a warmth that radiated even in my memories. Heather and Ricky’s mum, Nabhitha, had been married for almost ten years now and were the main reason that I still had any faith in true love. They had done an admirable job of raising Ricky together, with Heather always treating him as if he was her biological son and I was endlessly proud of them. Thanks to them, Ricky had grown into the confident, funny teenager that I loved. Their blissful blended family gave me hope for my own future.

“I just had an idea.” Ricky breezed, sitting up particularly straight as if he could barely contain his enthusiasm and I turned back to face him with interest. “If you take this job, we could totally rent a place together! I could be your stylist extraordinaire, in-house councillor and professional Indian chef.” He suggested, his eyes gleaming with excitement and I scoffed loudly at the idea.

“Absolutely not. I’ve already got enough on my plate, without considering parenting you, Ricky.” I laughed, wincing at even the thought of dealing with his dramatics on a daily basis and he gasped at my refusal, seeming as if he could never have expected me to refuse his generous offer. “You can be as offended as you like, but I still don’t have the energy to deal with a college kid in my space. I’m not gonna be your easy way out of student housing. Pick some other teenagers to live with already.”

“Fine. I was offering you a lifestyle of sheer luxury, but I guess I’ll just have to take my fabulous self somewhere that I’ll be better appreciated.” He announced, acting as if he were hurt by my denial, before quickly softening back into a smile barely a few seconds later. “You should definitely think some more about taking the job though, queen. You deserve a fresh start.”

“We’ll see.” I conceded with a chuckle, desperate to simply end the conversation. “Now, which film do you want to rent?”

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iwrestlenow · 4 years ago

Text

Many More To Die, Chapter 15 (Epilogue)

TITLE: Many More To Die (Chapter 15, Epilogue)

FANDOM: Sanders Sides (Necromancer AU)

SUMMARY: Logan goes home for the first time in ten years--and ends this story so he can start a new one at Roman's side.

SHIPS: Logince (Logan/Roman), Moceit (Patton/Janus) and Dukexiety (Remus/Virgil)

WARNINGS: implications of violence, but mostly schmoop

This story is over, but THE story is just beginning. Still, I want to thank literally everyone that's been reading and enjoying this. Your kind words and comments, your support and kudos and encouragement...

For a while now, I've lost my passion for writing. This lit a fire under my ass. Thank you for helping to fan the flame.

I am your biggest fan. All of you reading this. Every single person. <3

Oh also this is unbeta'd so if it sucks it's on me, hope you have fun reading anyhoodle. :P

NOTES: This is based on the gorgeous piece of art by @gretacticdraws that can be found here. I ended up writing a ficlet for it, and then my brain got swallowed up. Breathe at me wrong, and I’ll write more…hell, who am I kidding? I’ll write more anyway because this? Is self indulgent drivel. XD

Also located at AO3 over here.

“You're nervous.”

“Falsehood.”

“I'm the one that's supposed to be nervous.”

“Roman, I am warning you...”

Roman's mouth was abruptly on his, warm and sweet and firm. His arms were secure around Logan's waist, pulling Logan's back against his chest, and Logan was helpless in the face of liquid golden warmth trickling through his limbs and pooling sweetly somewhere low in his belly as he leaned back into Roman's embrace.

It had been a week, and technically, Logan and Patton were still prisoners until a vote could be put to the people. As prince regent, with the king convalescing, Roman was already spreading word of the events in the castle, and the fact that necromancers had defended the life of the royal family.

Thomas, despite being alive, seemed hell bent on abdicating, claiming Roman was ready. Logan was in full agreement, but Roman refused to even consider it.

Not until he made sure his reign would be welcome.

Logan forced himself from the blissful reverie of Roman's embrace just in time to open his eyes and spot a figure on the horizon. People were appearing, but one towered above all the others.

Grandpap. Logan blinked hard against the sudden burn behind his eyes. Roman must have sensed his unrest, because a hand smoothed up the length of his spine.

The closer they drew, the more restless Logan became. His stomach was tightening, his chest compressing, a strange chill causing him to shiver when the air was perfectly pleasant...

Logan wasn't nervous. Logan was afraid.

Roman brought the horse they were riding to a stop once they were there—a dozen feet from the line of people that had formed to wait for their arrival, just at the boundary of the settlement.

Grandpap towered over them, but among the throng were Logan's parents—and endless others, so many he'd grown up with and around...

Roman gave him one gentle squeeze before he carefully dismounted and reached up to help Logan down. Taking one last breath, Logan walked up to face his grandfather as calmly as he could, where he stood, flanked by his child and goodchild—Logan's geni and his pari, Elliot and Talyn..

“Who claims this Weaver?” Josiah called out, raising his voice to be heard by the people around him.

“We do.” Elliot replied, their eyes too bright as they stared at Logan with a ferocity that made it hard to breathe. “We claim this Weaver, and grant him--”

“I will take no Name.”

Josiah regarded Logan sharply. “Scuse me?”

Logan took a deep breath. “I will take no Name, for I already have one.”

A gasp went through the group, and Talyn's hands flew to cover their mouth, tears slipping from their eyes.

“I am Logan Berry.” Logan continued, emboldened by the weight of a hand on his shoulder from behind. “Son of Elliot Crofter. Fruit of Talyn Crofter...heart-name of Starlight, recalled to life by the power of the Lazari.”

Logan paused, turning to face Roman.

“And I am claimed by the keeper of my soul.”

Roman smiled at him, bending to kiss Logan's cheek before he faced Josiah.

Only then did Logan realize Roman wasn't wearing it.

“Roman!”

Ignoring Logan, Roman stepped forward—and then dropped to one knee in front of Logan's grandfather as he drew his sword, offering it to him pommel first.

“To you, Lord Father, I submit my fate. If you have not the care to look into my soul, then it is better that you should run me through with my own sword and claim me as your thrall lest you believe me incapable of pure intent.” he declared without hesitation, his voice clear and strong. “What say you?”

Logan stood, breathless, as Grandpap gaped down at Roman with shock and anger in his face. His gaze flicked up to Logan, as if he couldn't help it--

Before he took the sword from Roman and hefted it into his hand with an ease that was unnerving. Logan had never seen his grandfather wield a blade, always fighting with bare hands and sharp words...

For the first time, he could see it: the blood of kings, the head that bore the weight of the crown, the noble blood that had passed from him to Geni and into Logan's veins.

Josiah used the flat of the blade to lift Roman's chin to meet his gaze.

“You know what you're askin', son?” he replied quietly.

“Yes, Lord Father.”

“To walk the grave and call it home?”

“To walk the grave, and call it home.” Roman replied, then continued with an ease that made Logan's chest tight with pride. “To give the dead my voice, to speak their will, to care for the lowest of the low as gods and as kings, for I seek no greater honor than to humble myself as a steward of the dead.”

“And why is that?” Josiah asked.

“For it is in the stewardship of death that we understand the blessing of life.”

Josiah slid another look up at Logan, raising an eyebrow. Logan had to bite back a smile—it was the same look Grandpap gave him whenever Logan asked for another new book or telescope or a third helping of jam with his breakfast as a little boy.

“You ask for death and resurrection as one of the tribe—what gift would you deliver for the honor of death and slavery?” Josiah asked, refocusing on Roman.

“The throne of the Kingdoms, and the crown that goes with it.”

Josiah blinked, the people around him dead silent with pure shock.

“Lies kill among this tribe, little prince.” Josiah warned.

Roman held steady, his breathing even, his voice colored with a softness that Logan knew meant he was smiling.

“Only a fool would come to the Lord Father of the Necromata with a lie on his lips—and while I am a fool many times over, I am not a fool in this.”

There was a startled, barely there ripple of tittering through the people at Grandpap's back—including the familiar roll of thunder that was Josiah's quiet chuckle.

“And the compensation you would ask for the soul you've gifted to my grandson?”

“I would ask for nothing, and accept only that which you would offer, Lord Father.”

“...then I offer you the throne of the Kingdoms, and the crown that goes with it. Didn't wanna be a king in my youth, and that ain't changed.”

“Grandpap--”

“Logan, hush your mouth.”

“But Grandpap, he's not--”

“Starlight, hush yer mouth.”

Logan's mouth snapped shut at the use of his True Name by his grandfather. Josiah watched Roman as he set the point of the sword against Roman's throat.

Roman was asking for the right to be with Logan not as a suitor or a spouse, but as a rightful member of his tribe. Such initiation required a blood sacrifice, usually represented with the symbolic slicing of a red thread or mutilation of a piece of red fabric.

And Roman wasn't wearing the thread Logan had knotted around his neck.

“It is done.” Josiah declared flatly, launching Logan's heart into his throat.

There was a soft twitch, and Roman's deep red travel cloak slipped off his shoulders to pool around him.

“The king is dead—and the king is reborn unto the tribe.” Josiah declared, lowering the sword and offering Roman his hand. “Rise, son of Shadow...and next time, wear the damn thread 'stead of showboating.”

Roman shrugged as he stood up. “I didn't want to give myself an out. I wanted you to know I meant it, I...I'm willing to die to be with your grandson, sir.”

“Well, now you are.” Grandpap replied, glancing at Logan again. “Provided this ain't an act?...”

Logan shook his head, then reached into his pocket and pulled the Soulstone free with shaking fingers, moving to Roman's side and handing it to Josiah.

“I apologize for stealing it, but I felt I had no choice.” he confessed. “For what it's worth, it protected me from the Cleansing—and likely protected Roman from far worse. Has news reached here?”

Josiah nodded, fingers curling around the Soulstone. “It has.”

“Then you know that Roman has had little memory of what led me to steal that ring—had the Soulstone not been present and working, the Animator might have done Roman harm much sooner to ensure he could successfully wipe out the royal family...and, without the king's protection, ours as well.”

Josiah just nodded, looking between the pair.

“So that's it? You two show up just to make the little prince Necromata and get my blessing? Where's your damn brother, and if the king lives why the hell did your soulmate just try to offer me the throne?”

Logan smiled, leaning into Roman's side. His arm came to settle around Logan's shoulders, the line of heat and pressure doing worlds to calm his nerves.

“It's a long story, Grandpap,” Logan offered, “but I think there's finally time enough to tell it—not just to you, but to everyone.”

Josiah smiled at that—a real smile, slow and broad and warm as fresh bread.

“I hope you mean more 'n just the Necromata, son...c'mon, let's go inside.”

With that, there was chaos, joyous and enveloping—and that word, once again echoing in Logan's head.

Necromata.

Once upon a time, Logan had nothing but that word to hold onto, alone in a dungeon cell, in pain and afraid.

Then Roman found him, for a second time, and saved him. Now, Roman had a future as king, and Logan...

Logan had that word again, but now that word also meant Roman. It meant his family, it meant his future...it meant real and lasting hope.

Necromata. It no longer meant the necromancers, or the legions of the Animator.

It meant his geni and pari, who chose that moment to leave Josiah's side and fling themselves at him.

It meant his Grandpap, snickering at them over his shoulder.

It meant Roman subjecting himself to the curious onslaught of questions from Logan's parents, not as a ruler but as Logan's future husband.

It felt like a Name now—a Name, freely accepted and made his own.

A life, restored.

For the first time, Logan could allow himself to have hope, because he had the power of the Necromata at his fingertips—and it was only a matter of time before that power and that hope brought the world back into balance once again.

#my name is liz and i swear to god i will fic again #this is all the artist's fault i'm just the hapless writer that stumbled across it #sanders sides #fic #logan sanders #janus sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #remus sanders #thomas sanders #logince #dukexiety #moceit

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smash-bros-and-smash · 5 years ago

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Actually, I’ve been thinking about the EU team all day, which means it’s time to subject the rest of the fandom to my headcanons

Wales:

-Excalibur’s resident Short King, clocks in at around 5′7″/170cm

-He tends to cover the right side of his face with his bangs because he has a lazy eye and is fairly self-conscious about it.

-He’s actually really good at video games and can beat everyone else on his team at Smash Bros.

-He plays the violin! He even has a cool-looking electric violin that he messes around with in his spare time.

-He swears more than anybody else on his team and is prone to coming off as abrasive, even when he doesn’t mean to be.

Sophie:

-The Cetus bladers are responsible for protecting Excalibur’s one shared brain cell. Sophie is in possession of this brain cell ~80% of the time.

-She wound up wanting to be an archaeologist because she owned way too many of those children’s encyclopedias on ancient civilizations as a child.

-Definitely the most approachable of the bunch. She’s actually friends with a couple of other people from the other World Championships teams, namely Nile, Mei Mei, and Lera.

-People sometimes think that they can get away with walking all over her because she’s the most outwardly polite person on her team. They are wrong.

-She loves cats and owns two of them!

Julian:

- [Makes one tiny mistake while doing anything ever] “Due to personal reasons I will be passing away”

-He’s been riding horses for years and he doesn’t understand why people think they’re cursed animals. They are perfectly good boys! You guys are just mean!

-If he gets sick on a day where his schedule isn’t too full, he will be a really huge baby about it.

-This man drinks way too much coffee. His teammates don’t understand how he’s able to sleep at night.

-Following the Hades City incident, he actually tries to get his act together and be a better person. He’s even on good terms with Da Xian. (He’s still pretty prone to slipping back into his perfectionist tendencies, but old habits die hard.)

Klaus:

-Emotional support German strongman

-Really though, if you have something you need to get off your chest, he’s a good listener (and to be honest, he’s probably the best person on the team to go to for advice.)

-His family is pretty well off, but he’s the only member of Excalibur who didn’t go to private school.

-He gives good hugs and can pick up any of his teammates with ease. Not even Julian is safe.

-He’s not a huge fan of going to big parties at all. Three piece suits are stuffy and uncomfortable, small talk is awkward, and some of the people who wind up attending them are super irritating.

#metal fight beyblade #Team Excalibur #Julian Konzern #Sophie #Wales #Klaus #long post #i just think theyre neat.jpg

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cultofbeatles · 5 years ago

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Hey! :) you appear to be quite known in the Beatles fandom on tumblr and I'm hoping to get some advice on how to get into the fandom and all Beatles stuff. I'm a new fan but I've known them for years already so I know as much about them as Wikipedia could tell me and I don't know where to start my 'research' honestly. They did so much, it's overwhelming. On a side note I don't like to read, so biographies are not really my thing. I'd be happy about any help. Thank you!

hey :) i was honestly so ready to drop some good book recs for you until i saw the line saying biographies aren't your thing haha. because how i learned everything about the beatles was through books :/

i do know that the beatles anthology (the big big authorized book they made) has a dvd version of it. i haven't watched it all the way through, and it’s kind of expensive, but i'm sure that’s very informative as well. documentaries aren't really my thing so i have none to recommend. always be careful about what articles you're looking at online, and take most of them with a grain of salt. i feel so unhelpful right now, i'm sorry! i know you said reading wasn't your thing but if i had to say the one beatles book you should probably read to know everything would be the beatles by hunter davies. it’s not as big as the beatles anthology, it’s a credible source, and it covers all four members equally. it’s a good place to start!

i know getting into a band like the beatles is so stressful because of how much content there is, and how much information there is to learn. that’s me with the rolling stones lol. but i'd like to say that you should just enjoy their music and not stress too much about the information. when i first got really into the beatles i only spent time listening to their music andiI read one book about them. it wasn't until a few years later that I stocked up on all my knowledge. all the stuff I now know about the beatles Is from reading at least 20 books on the band/each member. it’s nice to know things about a band you like but there’s no need to rush it or feel like you have to know it all at once :)

as far as getting into the fandom, do whatever you want! i mean, i come on here and just started posting dumb memes lol. everyone i've met on here is super nice and welcoming. we’re all just passing around one brain cell. do whatever you’d like on here and i'm sure you fit right in.

#I'm only good at recommending books I've come to realize that #oh well #welcome to the fandom btw #your turn with the braincell is on mondays at noon #asks #anon asks #answered #personal

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agent-aurelie · 5 years ago

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I’ve had a lot of spare time on my hands recently between the nervous breakdowns and not working and I’ve been feeling super inspired by this fandom. I’ve been creeping through art tags and doing little writing exercises/drabbles inspired by different sketch dumps and fan art I’ve loved, and sometimes they’re okay enough to post.

The first one I’ll share is inspired by this post by @roninreverie of Resistance-era Jacen trying to recruit some new pilots for the cause. Hera is furious.

Thank you so much to @roninreverie for letting me gush over her work and share this little ficlet.

The Recruitment Holo (1538 Words, no beta)

Hera is still seething after her rant at Jacen when the hatch to her cabin hisses shut behind her.

She has always considered herself to be a good parent, even when things weren’t easy. And there were plenty of times across not one, but two galactic wars, when being Jacen’s mother was the furthest thing from easy. At the very least, she was an attentive parent, opting more often than not to carry her small son on her hip to everything from command briefings to X-Wing pilot training exercises. When it simply wasn’t safe to take her child with her, Sabine or Zeb would always outrank the other eager pilots who were more than willing to take a shift to watch General Syndulla’s son, and they’d travel from multiple systems to do it. Jacen had a wider support system than any child she knew, which is why his latest stunt was so kriffing stupid that Hera has to take stock in where things had gone so wrong.

She is glad she retreated to her cabin to calm down before confronting Poe Dameron, and then Lando Calrissian, both of whom Hera is absolutely positive had some influence in Jacen’s little filmmaking project. A few weeks back during a fairly grim briefing, Hera noted how dire their pilot situation was becoming - she recalled the early days of the Rebellion when finding cells to band together to defeat the Empire was daunting, stressful work. She never dreamed she’d have to do it twice in her lifetime, and the Resistance desperately needed pilots.

“We’ll figure it out, mom,” Jacen had said confidently that evening at dinner, “I can take Chop and the Phantom for a recruiting spin if we’re really that hard up?”

Her son is an adult now, a handsome, charming, talented pilot of an adult. He inherited all of the best parts of Kanan, his bravery, his tactical mind, his good looks (for better or worse, Hera was learning), and the parts of Hera she’s most proud of, her love of the skies, her kindness and her determination and loyalty. But Hera still has a hard time letting him off world without her nearby. The all-encompassing devastation of the loss of Kanan never fades, and Hera is positive she can’t handle losing Jacen, too.

Hera almost wishes she’d let him take the Phantom instead of finding him half naked, taking recruitment matters into his own hands in front of a holo-vid recorder.

Hera Syndulla was going to kill Poe Dameron with her own ungloved hands, and Lando Calrissian, for good measure.

“Some tactician Jacen is, Kanan,” Hera mutters to the empty cabin before flopping back on her bunk, “Though I meant what I said - you probably would have done the same, and I’d have been run ragged training every sentient being who saw your holo-vid to become a pilot for the Rebellion. I just thought he was smarter than that.”

Kanan was a master at finding solutions. There’s always another way, he’d say, and his blue-green eyes would flash with delight as he unwound a solution to whatever narrow odds the Spectres found themselves in. Jacen inherited Kanan’s drive, those same problem solving skills that will make him an asset to the Resistance. She just wishes for her sanity, that he hadn’t also inherited Kanan’s relentless flirtatiousness, that handsome smile and that talent for charming his way out of every tight situation. Truly, he was Kanan Jarrus’ boy.

Hera’s mind drifts back to Gorse, so many years ago now, and how the secondhand embarrassment radiated from her when she heard the story of how Kanan had asked an Imperial captain over the Expedient’s com what she was wearing. She remembers how easy it was to play to his flirtatious nature to all but steal his Moonglow ID badge from around his neck. And she remembers how willing he was to follow her around - even after she explained she could investigate Vidian on her own - because he thought there was a chance of a physical reward at the end. Kanan had fallen into a lot of unnecessary danger because of his attitude and his libido, and while they’d both escaped mostly unscathed (and of course that mission led to the best years of Hera’s life) the recklessness of that time in Gorse could have been fatal to anyone but a Jedi.

She sometimes feels the Force still lingering in the Ghost, she likes to imagine it wrapping itself around Jacen for protection. But her son has not shown any particular sensitivity to it, and she’s almost positive that won’t materialize now to protect him in such dire situations.

Hera would not let Jacen make the same mistakes. There is truly no safety net for him.

But he’s going to make mistakes, Hera, she can hear Kanan’s voice in her mind. Sometimes in the most challenging moments of being a single parent, Hera can feel Kanan there with her, standing silently behind her as she doles out a punishment to their son or tries to impart some hard-learned wisdom to keep him out of trouble.

It’s just so hard that he isn’t actually there. And it never gets any easier.

Hera swings her legs off her bunk and pulls a change of clothes. She wants to speak to Jacen as mom, not as General Syndulla, and that means a quick change into leggings and a long tunic. She wraps her lekku in a soft scarf and slips out of her cabin down the hall towards his.

Kanan’s.

Hera knocks on the hatch and she can hear his footfalls headed towards the entryway as the doors slide open.

“Mom, I feel bad enough, I don’t need another lecture -- and before you say anything it wasn’t Poe, it was my own idea, we saw an old holo of Lando and he shouldn’t be in trouble for something he had nothing to--”

“Can I come in?” she interrupts, asking permission to enter a bunk in her own ship.

He steps aside and lets her pass. He shuffles back to sit on the edge of the mattress and scrubs his hands through his mop of green hair. Hera sinks to the ground and crosses her legs, facing her son.

“You’re better than that stunt, Jacen,” she says softly, no anger in her voice this time. “You’re more talented, more creative and far smarter than relying on your body to do something your brain can do just fine.”

He doesn’t say anything, she knows he’s embarrassed. Not just at being caught, but at the fact that her own reputation could have been affected by something so stupid, so reckless.

“Your dad,” she goes on, and it hurts, sitting in this room and talking about Kanan, but she pushes through the tightening of her throat, the pain that never leaves, because this is more important than her own comfort, “Your dad didn’t have it so easy when he was your age. He did a lot of stupid things too. I was there for some of them, and I was mad at him then. But he experienced loss and fear and anger that I don’t think I ever could fully understand. If we, “ and Jacen knows she means the Spectres, his family, even the ones he never met, “if we weren’t there to help your father… I don’t know what would have become of him, really.

“I’m here to help you, Jacen. I’m here to help you see past a short term gain and think smarter. What kind of pilots did you really think you were going to recruit that way? Think more strategically, more long term. Think like the Jarrus and Syndulla you are.”

Jacen knows she’s serious when his father’s surname enters the conversation. His elbows are propped on his knees and his head hangs, and she can all but feel the tension and tightness in his shoulders and back. He doesn’t raise his eyes to meet his mothers, and it breaks Hera’s heart that her son is upset, but she knows he hears her. She slides a little closer to her boy, and slips a hand under his chin, raising his face to hers. “I love you, Jace. I want you to help me find more pilots, but we’re going to do it the right way.”

He nods and she kisses his cheek. “Tomorrow we’ll take the Phantom. I have some intel on a small group that might be worth looking into.”

“Alright,” he says, and she can see a little more light coming into his eyes at the promise of taking to the skies, “I’ll fly?”

Hera rolls her eyes, but smiles. “Sure,” she agrees and stands, and cards her fingers through his hair affectionately as she heads back towards the door. “But we’re leaving early, so don’t waste your whole night on the holonet. I won’t hesitate to leave you behind and take Chopper instead.” The threat is empty, but it makes him smile.

“I love you, mom,” says her son, and Hera feels a surge of warmth in her stomach.

“I love you too, Jace.”

Good work, Hera, she hears Kanan’s voice and slips out of the cabin before the loss threatens to hit her again.

Poe Dameron and Lando Calrissian will live another cycle.

#Agent Aurelie Writes #Hera Syndulla #Jacen Syndulla #Art Prompt Ficlet #roninreverie #Star Wars Rebels Fanfic #SWR Fanfic

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sailorportia · 5 years ago

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Femslash February 2020, Day 1

Fandom: Revue Starlight Relive Pairing: Tomoe Tamao/Akikaze Rui Prompt: Meet Cute

approx. 1,800 words, rated T

also available on AO3

Summary: Thirteen year-old Akikaze Rui finds a way to change her shy demeanor in her middle school's drama club. More importantly, she wants to perform on the same stage as that gorgeous senpai. All she needs to do is work up the courage to apply...

Tags: Meet Cute, Comedy, Puppy Love, middle school!Rui, middle school!Tamao

Akikaze Rui, thirteen years-old, didn't know what to expect from her school play. It was the day of her middle school's cultural festival, and she had been wandering from attraction to attraction until her curiosity led her to the auditorium. Little did she know that her life was about to be turned upside-down.

The actors were average at best. It was a middle school play, after all. But there was one standout performer, a shining star against a night sky of amateurs: a girl with long, dark hair.

She played the role of a princess, her character beginning the play as a regal and refined woman who is pushed into taking up the sword and becoming a fierce and formidable warrior. The actress's transformation was incredible. Rui wouldn't have believed such a dainty girl capable of such ferocious yells and impassioned speeches. It was inspiring, to say the least.

Up until now, Rui had been a leading member of the Going Home Club. She was too shy to join any social group she didn't have to, and her only extracurricular interest was kendo, but she was already enrolled at a dojo and had surpassed what most middle school students were capable of. After seeing this play—more importantly, its starring actress—Rui was inspired to try acting. She wanted to change herself, and she might be able to do so through the medium of acting. She had to join the drama club.

Rui knew she had to strike while the iron was hot. There was a chance that if she waited, the fire burning in her chest might die down and she would give into her shy nature. It had to be now.

As the other students filed out of the auditorium, Rui snuck backstage. It wasn't until she was hiding behind a prop tree that she realized she didn't have a plan. She peeked out behind the tree periodically in search of her new idol, her determination waning with every passing second. Maybe she should just leave and go to the drama club sometime later...

She stepped out from around the prop tree just in time for another girl to come out from behind the stage. Rui recognized her immediately as the actress who had turned her world upside down. The girl was still wearing the princess costume that she had on during the play. It hadn't been apparent at a distance, but now that Rui was up close she could see that this girl was astonishingly pretty. Like, "melt your brain" pretty.

"Oh, I thought everyone left," the girl said. "Are you one of the girls who volunteered to help put away the props?"

"Um, I, uh..." Rui had trouble getting words out of her mouth at the best of times, and talking to a beautiful girl she admired hardly counted as ideal circumstances. The phrase "I want to join the drama club," had seemed so easy to say when she decided to sneak backstage.

The other girl seemed unperturbed by Rui's verbal fumbling. "Could you help me with this zipper?" She turned around, showing Rui the zipper on the back of her dress. "I think it's stuck, and everyone else in the drama club has left already."

"O-okay!" It was easier for Rui to think now that she wasn't looking the gorgeous girl straight in the face. She pulled down on the zipper slowly, careful not to tear the fabric around it; indeed the zipper was stuck, and Rui had to use both hands to try to free it. Her fingers grazed the bare skin of the other girl's back, and she felt the strongest urge to apologize, though she didn't know why. What's going on with me? Rui asked herself. Why am I getting so flustered? We're both girls...

At a later date Rui would recognize this moment as her gay awakening.

The zipper jam finally gave way and the metal teeth parted. Rui pulled the zipper down just far enough to make sure it was fixed, then jumped away. "Um, it's not stuck anymore."

The girl turned around and flashed Rui a smile that turned her insides out. "You're a life-saver," she said. "We haven't met before, have we?" She looked to Rui's uniform. "You must be a first year. I'm Tomoe Tamao. Hopefully in the future I can be a more reliable senpai to you."

Rui struggled to introduce herself, as if she had forgotten her own name. She was rescued by the unlikely appearance of a third year student.

"Ooh, looks like Tamao-chan has a fan!"

Rui's idol, Tamao, frowned. "Senpai, you left me all alone. I had to ask this nice first-year to help me with this faulty zipper."

"Don't complain. Plenty of girls at this school would jump at the chance for a little private attention from her."

"What do you mean?" Tamao asked. "Is she someone famous?"

"You don't know her? That tall glass of water is Akikaze Rui-chan. She's the talk of all the athletic clubs."

Rui blushed.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Akikaze-san," Tamao said. "What club are you a member of?"

The third-year chuckled. "Akikaze-chan hasn't joined any clubs. That's why they're crazy about her. She's the tallest first year in the school, and she looks like she's only going to get taller. All the sports teams tried to recruit her at the start of the year, but she turned down all of them."

"Recruit" was a delicate way of putting it. The athletics clubs had practically waged a war over which of them would get to claim Rui. The poor girl had been forced to sneak around the school, dodging her athletic upperclassmen at every turn. For someone with social anxiety, the experience had been terrifying. It was all she could do to stutter out a polite rejection every time one of them found her. Eventually they got the message and left her alone.

"Um, that's what I wanted to talk to you about," Rui said to Tamao. "N-not about the sports clubs! I want to join the drama club. Your performance this afternoon really inspired me!" In fact, it was the most moving performance she had seen, but she was afraid of coming on too strong by saying so.

Rui was afraid that her sudden declaration would weird her out, but Tamao's eyes glittered with joy. "That's wonderful!" She took Rui's hands in her own, oblivious to the way her kouhai stilled at the contact. "You can't imagine how glad I am to hear that our play touched somebody that way."

"Jeez, you can't be a respectable senpai if you melt over a little praise," the third year said with a laugh. "Tamao-chan takes her acting seriously. A little too seriously, if you ask me."

Tamao pouted (a sight that nearly knocked Rui off her feet). "You don't take acting seriously enough, senpai."

"Don't let the busybody scare you off, Akikaze-chan. Make sure you fill out an application form." The third year cackled as she walked off. "I can't wait to brag to the other clubs that we snagged their dream member right from under their noses."

"Honestly." Tamao sighed. "I know that she's busy preparing for entrance exams, but she could at least pretend to be diligent about acting. I promise the other members of the drama club aren't like her."

The other members of the drama club could be juvenile yakuza for all Rui cared. She only had eyes for Tamao. "I promise I'll give acting my all," she said, and she meant it. If she could act half as confidently as Tamao, she'd be satisfied. If she could perform alongside Tamao—that would be a dream come true.

"I look forward to taking the stage with you, Akikaze-san. Hopefully you'll have my back in the future as you did today," Tamao added with a chuckle.

Rui's heart skipped a beat at the reminder that she'd undone her senpai's zipper. "Uh, anyway, that senpai said you're really serious about acting. Do you want to be an actress?" For some reason she felt the need to know this near-stranger's life plans.

"Ideally, yes. "I'm going to enrol at Rinmeikan School for Girls, like my mother and grandmother before me. The school has a performance department with a century of tradition."

"I'm going to enrol too!" Rui, in fact, had never given a moment's thought to what high school she would attend.

Tamao didn't question Rui's declaration, nor her transparent motivation. "I'm glad to hear it. Not enough people these days respect traditional arts." She smiled. "Maybe it was fate that we met today, Akikaze-san."

"Y-you don't need to speak so formally to me, Tomoe-senpai," Rui stuttered. Being referred to so stiffly made her feel odd for some reason. She wanted the two of them to become... closer. "You can call me by my first name. If you want to, I mean."

"Of course, Rui-chan. But if we're going to be friends, you'll have to return the favour." The corner of her mouth turned up into a sly smirk.

Rui blushed. Friends. Yes. That was good. Great. Fantastic. "If you say so, T-Tamao-senpai."

Three Years Later...

"Awwww! Baby Rui was so cute!" Ichie squealed. "She was still taller than her senpai even back then."

During a lunchtime picnic out on the school grounds, Fumi had idly expressed curiosity as to how Rui and Tamao had become friends in middle school. Tamao related her side of the story, embellishing Rui's "gallant rescue" of her from the gnashing teeth of a stuck zipper. She pulled out her cell phone and showed the group a picture of herself and the drama club's newest member, visibly flustered by her senpai's hand on her arm.

"Rui-chan has grown a lot," Tamao said with a smile. "She's changed so much in three years, but she's always been a talented, beautiful young woman."

"Three years, huh?" Fumi looked to Rui with pity.

"Let's see more," Yuyuko said with a devilish grin, no doubt hoping for something she could tease Rui with. She scrolled through Tamao's photos, revealing a seemingly limitless supply of pictures featuring Rui.

"...that's a lot of pictures of Rui," Fumi noted.

"We made a lot of memories together," Tamao said with a smile.

"I don't remember that!" Rui yelped, blushing up a storm. Displayed on Tamao's phone was a selfie that she had taken with Rui's head resting on her shoulder. She appeared to be asleep, and Tamao held a finger to her own lips in a shushing gesture.

"That's pretty shady, Tamao-senpai," Yuyuko cackled.

"Is it a crime for me to keep pictures of my number one fan?" Tamao's subtle, sly smirk had lost none of its power of Rui.

#shoujo kageki revue starlight #revue starlight #revue starlight relive #starira #tamarui #tomoe tamao #akikaze rui #fanfiction #my fanfiction #yuri #girls love #femslash #femslash february #FauxGhostsFSF

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captain-aralias · 6 years ago

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More-than-six Sentence Monday

got some unexpected last minute sunday tags from @vkelleyart and @carryonsimoncarryonbaz \o/

Rules:

Writers: post (approximately) six sentences from something you’re working on. If you aren’t ready to do that, add six sentences to your WIP.

Readers: challenge yourselves to leave a six sentence comment or give a writer a six sentence prompt. (or a total of six sentences for the day)

Fans and creators alike: reblog a fandom post and add some love in the tags. Aim for 6 posts - or 6 tags. Whatever you can manage!

I tag some people who aren’t in this fandom, which i don’t think is the point. BUT... it means maybe they haven’t seen the meme, so there we are. @agapi42 @thisbluespirit @neveralarch @shipaholic

Great! I love talking about myself,

BUT... i literally have no works in progress. NONE. i posted the thing i was working on yesterday and i haven’t started anything else/have no idea what i will write next yet. (Give me your ideas. Can we have a kink meme or something? I love kink memes.)

So - I will do the commenting one someone else’s thing for 6 lines instead, because that’s nice.

And I will also give you (should you wish to read it) the original beginning from ‘Sex and Blood’, and loads of stuff I cut out of ‘The Mages Heir’ because I found the off-cuts hanging around in my docs folder, so why not? They’re yours if you want them.

Sex and Blood

This was the original beginning. Then I added Simon’s scene because... I can’t remember ... and cut most of this for a reason i DO remember, which is that I was like ‘Baz is supposed to be so sick he can’t even think. Why is he banging on about garlic?’ You’ll see I also sort of re-used some of it in the third part where Baz is in the library.

I know fuck-all about vampires.

To begin with, it was a matter of principle. Of pride. Finding out anything about them – about the creatures who killed my mother – was as good as admitting I was one. Which, obviously, I am – but that didn’t mean I had to think about it. (Much the same approach my father wishes I’d take to my sexuality, I expect. Being gay is bad enough – I could have the decency to repress it.)

Now, I think I’m afraid of what I might find if I looked.

Everything I do know, I’ve found out by trial and error. By surviving.

I know I can eat garlic. I know I can go out in the sun, although it burns me (sun-cream doesn’t help. Not even factor 40. I’ve learned that the hard way). I know I can cross water and see myself in a mirror. I know I need to drink blood regularly, but that I don’t need to take it from other people. I also know I want to – and that for some reason, the people I want to take it from most are also the people I’m most attracted to. (Or rather, from one person in particular.) So I know that sex and blood must be linked together in my brain in some horrific way that fortunately I haven’t had to fully explore yet. (Simon Snow’s disdain for me is a blessing in some ways.)

---

Lots of stuff was cut from The Mage’s Heir:

1. I switched this scene to Simon’s POV:

I let him kiss me. Then I let him take off his shirt. He sits on the edge of the bed, golden in the candlelight, and swallows as I open my mouth to show my fangs. Maybe it’s finally hit him. Either that or he knows what that swallow does to me.

“You’re sure?” I ask around a mouth of teeth, and he nods. “Bite me.”

And so I do – right where I’ve always wanted to bite him, at the base of the throat. I can tell it hurts because he stiffens and swears. His fingernails dig into my back.

Blood, incredible, warm and rich, Simony blood is filling my mouth, but I try to pull back anyway – then Simon relaxes and I have to catch him to stop him falling.

“Oh yeah,” he croons against my ear. “I knew it would be nice.”

It’s much more than that. I feel as though I’m on fire.

Gently, I lower him backwards onto the mattress, teeth still buried in his neck. My body is humming. And my erection is back - even blissed out Simon can feel it. One of his hands gropes vaguely around my crotch for a while. I rip the zip open and press his hand against me. He let me hold it there as I fuck myself rabidly against his hip and his hand.

This is from Part 2 and is about Penny bonding with Fiona over botony - but I thought that scene was going on for too long so it’s cut

I’m looking round at the plants. I think some of these are illegal in this country – things I’ve never even seen except on the internet.

“That’s moly,” Baz’s aunt says as I lean in to take a better look at something that looks like a massive snowdrop. “Useful stuff. It––”

“It repels magic,” I say.

She looks impressed. “That’s right. And it’s good for crazy people.”

“Are you’re sure it’s OK to have it in your house? Even the pollen could be dangerous.”

“Both of Bunce’s parents are on the Coven, Fiona,” Baz says pointedly.

“So were mine,” she says, unimpressed. “Anyway, I’ve obviously got a permit. Lapsed botanist,” she explains when I look quizzically at her. “But it’s good for field work.”

That makes sense, although I didn’t know there was anyone in London with all this stuff – I thought the Watford greenhouses were the best stocked, but even they don’t have moly (because it’s really dangerous). Baz never said. I’d have come ‘round earlier. Or if he’d told me his aunt was a botanist (even if she is lapsed) – it’s a really good magickal profession.

“Are we going to use any of this tonight?” I ask.

“No idea,” Fiona says.

Part 3 - this was the original opening - again, you’ll see i re-used some of it. I cut it once I realised that characters were literally saying ‘this is boring’ to each other

I wake up and it’s dark. And I’m on the floor. And I feel like complete shit.

I think about trying to sleep it off (that works sometimes), but now I know I’m on the floor it’s hard to get comfortable, so I sit up instead.

The good news is I don’t hit my head on anything. That means that Nicky didn’t probably hasn’t pulled the ceiling down, but now my head feels a lot worse because I tried moving it, and I still can’t see anything.

“Hello? Is anyone there?”

I’m not really sure what happened, if I’m honest. I remember Baz telling me he had a plan, and I remember him biting me, although I’m not sure whether that was the plan or whether he just got carried away. I think I must have passed out after that. And now I’m here – alone, on the floor, in the dark.

“Baz!” I shout stupidly.

Nobody replies to that either.

I get up and walk forward until I hit a wall (not literally. I had my hands out). That’s good, though. It means I know where the wall is. I drag my hand along it until I find a corner (that’s great! This is a room with corners, I’m making progress) and along the next wall. This time there isn’t a corner, exactly – there’s an open space. And then a metal bar. After that, another bar.

That’s not so good. It feels a lot like this is a cell. I’ve never been in a cell before (though I’ve been locked up plenty of times, mostly with magic) and I can’t say I’m enjoying it now. Especially if I’m the only one here. Maybe I’m the only one they kept alive.

“Baz?” I shout again. “Penny?” I’m really trying not to freak out. “Baz!”

“Shut up,” a girl’s voice says from somewhere I can’t see. “Some of us are trying to sleep.”

“Sorry,” I say. “I’m just trying to find my friends. Do you know if they’re all right? It’s a boy with soft black hair and a girl––”

“Don’t talk to me. I’m ignoring you,” the voice says.

“Yeah. But have you seen them?”

When the voice stays silent, I smash my hands against the bars. The bars rattle – loudly – and it makes me feel better, so I kick the nearest one and then slam my shoulder against them. I don’t really expect the bars to give, which is good, because they don’t, but I know I’m pissing off the owner of the voice, which is something.

Then I think, why not actually try and get out of here? And I begin the incantation for the Sword of Mages.

I don’t really expect it work now I’m actually trying, but it does. The hilt materialises in my hand and I feel the comforting weight of blade, even though I can’t see it. I know it’ll be as sharp as ever.

My magic must be coming back. It’s coming back to me, like the sword did, but this time it’s my magic, my real magic. I’ll be a magician again, like Baz and Penny. I just took a break for a while, like Nicky did.

This is amazing. It’s actually amazing. Even though I’m still locked in a cell, and I have no idea where Baz and Penny are, I feel like laughing. This is so great.

Neither of them has ever said it (Baz actively denies it), but I know that both them wish I still had magic. Any magic. They both love being magicians. And I know they both feel sorry for me – for what happened, for losing the thing that’s most important to them. And they worry about me.

Now they won’t have to.

And it’s kind of like I’m starting again, right back at the start of my magickal education. The incantation is not only the spell I always got right, it’s also the first spell I ever learnt.

The Mage felt I should be armed from the beginning.

“It will be a burden,” he said as I swung the sword around his office that first day. “A heavy one. But you must be able to protect yourself, Simon – I won’t always be there.”

At the time I didn’t understand what he meant about it being a burden (It was a magic sword, a sword I could pull from the air just by saying a few words).

I do now, though.

He meant things were going to try and kill me and that I was going to have to kill them first, even though I was only eleven. I didn’t really mind back then, I just felt I had no choice. I guess eleven-year-olds aren’t really ready for the big questions.

“Use the sword well and it will always come back to you, so long as you are my heir,” the Mage told me. He put his hand on my shoulder. “Use with courage and with wisdom. Be worthy of it.”

“I’ll try, sir.”

“I know you will, Simon.”

And I meant it. Obviously. But over the years I was at Watford, I used the Sword of Mages for all sorts of stuff I probably could have used a less-magical sword for. Things like spilling blood for my room at Mummer’s House or opening tins of beans. It’s just, it’s easy to get used to things. Take them for granted. And the sword seemed to be all right with it.

But if I’m getting my magic back, I can start over – do things right.

Starting with breaking out of here. That seems like a pretty just and courageous thing to do, as I have to be free if I’m going to rescue my friends and my boyfriend from goblins. Assuming they need to be rescued (which at the moment I think I have to). I can’t wait to tell them.

I feel for the lock. It’s right at the edge of the bars where they meet the wall (as you’d expect, basically) and it’s got a big, obvious key hole. It’s probably locked with magic as well as iron, but I don’t think that’ll be a problem.

I swing the sword up and down about where the lock is. It cuts in, though not all the way through.

“What are you doing?” the voice from next door says as I brace one of my feet against the bars and tug the sword free. “Are you breaking out?”

“That’s right.”

I swing the sword again, hitting the same point, even in the dark (eight years of almost constant practice paying off). The lock cracks and gives. And the door creeks open.

Light flares in the cell next to me as I walk out into the prison corridor.

There are quite a few other cells, but the others are all empty except the one next to mine. And in it is a girl, like I thought, holding a small light in her hand like Baz does. Except that her hand is green, because she’s a goblin.

I didn’t think goblins locked up other goblins (I thought they probably ate them, which I’m glad I never said to any of them as it sounds a bit racist now I think about it). This one looks about my age, and she’s as gorgeous as Agatha.

“Take me with you,” she says.

“I thought you were trying to sleep,” I say.

“That’s when I thought you were just a prisoner reciting the traditional first-night dialogue,” she says. “You know, where am I? Where are my friends? I’ve heard it all before.”

“But people don’t usually escape.”

“Not usually,” she says. “Because there’s a really good alarm system down here. That’s why we have to be–– Bloody Cap.”

Somewhere behind the door to this prison someone is running along a corridor – fairly fast by the sound of it, in heavy shoes.

“Forget I said anything,” the goblin girl says, extinguishing her light. “I didn’t speak to you. I’m asleep.”

I raise my sword to a fighting stance. “I think it’s just one person.”

Or I suppose, one person making a lot of noise and several other people who are aren’t. But they’ll all have to come through one door, so I should be able to take them all.

As the door opens, I shut my eyes in case they brought a bright light that’ll blind me. I hear the heavy wood of the door swing inwards and I bring the sword down and round in a wide arc. I’m just about to make it very hard for this guard to walk away from the fight (kneecap damage – I’m not going to kill him) when he says,

“Simon! It’s me – it’s Nicky.”

“Nicky?”

I pull back so fast I almost fall over. I open my eyes, and blink a few times, and he steadies me. It’s definitely him, not a goblin wearing his shape – I recognise his smell (leather jacket and strawberry vape). I don’t hug him, because I don’t like hugging most people, but I’m really pleased he’s alive.

“Is Baz OK? And Penelope?”

“Yeah,” he says. “We’re all fine. How about you? You’ve been out for three days. Healing magic’s a bit dodgy.”

I shrug this off because I don’t want to think about it right now. “Where’re are the others?”

“Upstairs.”

“Cool. Let’s go then.” I turn towards the other occupied cell. “Stand back and I’ll split the lock.”

The goblin light flares again and I see her standing at the back of the cell trying not to look excited.

“Well, hurry up about it.”

“Hang on, Lancelot,” Nicky says as I raise the sword. “I didn’t give you the message yet. You’ll want to hear it. It’s from His Nibs.”

I sheath the sword and it vanishes. “From Baz?”

That sounds good, it sounds like Baz is alive. (I am so fucking grateful Baz is alive.)

“Right. Essentially, he says, stay where you are, don’t attract any attention to yourself, and definitely don’t break out of prison. You can see why I thought it was a fairly relevant message at this particular time.”

“Baz wants me to stay here?” I say. “In a dungeon?”

“Not exactly the place to get over heavy blood loss, is it?” Nicky says. “I told you: Pitches care about magic and power and that’s it. But you can see how it would be awkward for him if you start running around the place, since he’s only king ‘cause he killed you.”

“What do you mean, he’s the king?” I say.

“Who’s the king?” the goblin girl says.

“My boyfriend,” I say. “Do you mean king of the goblins?”

Nicky scowls. “I knew you weren’t in on it, I told Fiona. Listen – if you want to start a revolution let me know. Otherwise, sit tight, eat this, and I’ll bring more news when I have it, OK?”

He’s pressed something round like a Coke can into my hand (the one that isn’t holding the sword). Now he claps me on the shoulders and shuts the door behind him.

“How can your boyfriend be the goblin king?” the girl asks. She’s close to the bars now, looking at me with undisguised scepticism.

“I don’t know,” I say. I think I’m still in shock – maybe Nicky’s right and it’s the blood loss. “He wasn’t yesterday.”

Except – shit. It wasn’t yesterday, was it? It’s been three days. (I’ve missed the start of term.)

I go back and sit in my cell. There’s nothing else really to do. In the light that’s still coming from the girl next door, I can see what Nicky’s given me is actually a tin of spinach – a tin of spinach without a ring-pull. I’m not sure how he expected me to eat it, but I guess I’ve got a magic sword I’m not using for anything else right now.

“That man called you Simon,” the girl’s voice says. “You’re the Goblinslayer.”

I didn’t know they called me that.

“No wonder you’re hiding in a dark,” she says. “I would be, if I were you.”

It’s lucky I now trust Baz absolutely, because this doesn’t feel good. It feels like one of Baz’s family’s plans to get rid of me.

And it feels like it’s working.

this is the end of part 3... i don’t really remember it very well, although i do remember that i had massive trouble with the doctor wellbelove convo, because it’s a massive info-dump disguised as a scene

“The treaty with the goblins is going very well,” he says. “As well as these things ever do, anyway. Queen Ilex and I have a meeting next week to negotiate the finer points of the treaty.”

Ilex is Holly’s royal name.

“She’s attending the Coven later this month with some of her people, to get the treaty magically ratified by both parties. I’d like you to be there, if possible.”

I swallow. “To stand trial?”

Dr Wellbelove looks surprised. “What on Earth for?”

“Because,” I say. Isn’t it obvious? “I’ve broken Mage Law, haven’t I?”

Dr Wellbelove nods. It’s definitely more than once.

“But,” he says, “you’ve also done what few others could have managed and helped reached a peaceful accord with a race of dark creatures.”

I shrug. I guess. I mean I was there, although I was unconscious for most of it. I wouldn’t say I helped.

“You may be interested to learn that one of the terms of the treaty was a complete ban on goblin consumption of humans, in exchange for animal livestock. Queen Ilex suggested it herself, although it seems the goblins have developed a taste for Scottish beef. I don’t need to tell you that will save many lives.”

“That was Baz,” I say.

“It wasn’t just Basil, though, was it?”

“Right. It was Penny’s plan that got us of there––”

“She claims it was your plan.”

“I guessed it.”

“And that it wouldn’t have been possible if you hadn’t already formed a relationship with the imprisoned queen.”

“Penny exaggerates,” I say. (Even though he said I wasn’t, I feel like I’m on trial here.) “I talked to Holly for, like, half an hour.”

“Well, how about we return to the numpties then?” Dr Wellbelove says. “You’ve already admitted you responded to a situation

“That was Nicky!” I say.

Well, I guess I shout it. Dr Wellbelove looks surprised.

But it feels wrong. He’s got it all wrong. I know what it’s like to do big, important stuff and this isn’t it. I’m not the Chosen One any more. I’m not anything. I’m just trying to clean up my own mistakes. And the Mage’s.

“Because you asked him to.”

“Yeah.” I’m getting confused here. “No. I feel like you want me to say that I did all of this stuff, but I didn’t. I didn’t do any of it. None of it was me.”

this is earlier in part three - it’s penny’s POV. i really like that bit about there being worse people to turn into. might re-use it later.

He and Baz are already all over each other, as though three days apart is unbearable. I chat to Holly the goblin while I wait. And keep waiting. (Micah and I haven’t been in the same country for three months. And it’s not as though there’s any reception down here so I can Skype him.) If you’re up for a round of snogging your boyfriend in public, you can’t be that sick.

Snakes, I think I’m turning into my mum.

I suppose there are definitely worse people I could turn into. Since Mum has almost everything she ever wanted and is pretty much always right. Just like I know I’m right now. Simon is – weirdly – OK.

and the same scene - simon’s POV

“Actually, I did tell you,” I point out.

I watch Baz mentally re-play the last twenty minutes to find out that yes, actually, I did tell him. And he was too busy fussing about his wand.

He shrugs. “Whatever.”

I don’t mind. Him not apologising means he’s not feeling stupidly guilty any more. I lean into him and he frowns.

#carry on #snowbaz #my fic #my deleted scenes #my content

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nutellaninja0001 · 6 years ago

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I love and admire Sansa Starks character because I don’t think fans truly grasp just how much strength it took just to survive growing up in King’s Landing as a prisoner of war and the grace needed to handle it the way she did.

The one thing that truly angers me about this fandom is their blatant ignorance of her character. For years, time and time again Sansa is painted as the “weak” damsel in distress because she was unable to escape King’s Landing and was unable to physically fight off those who abused her for years. They miss the entire point of her character. She’s not supposed to fight with a sword. She’s not supposed to survive this world using magic. She’s still here without having all that shit at her disposal.

I resonate with her character because as someone who’s grown up in an abusive situation it’s not always possible to leave. It’s not always possible to protect yourself and you need emotional strength everyday just to keep going. And Sansa does. Not only does she survive, she does it all with grace and never lets her abusers sour her the way they try. A key example is Cersei but we will come back to that later.

This meta will be focusing on her arc from the end of season 1 to the early episodes of season 4 so it will get long.

She has to handle the likes of Joffery. Sansa was Joffery’s plaything to torment. He murdered her father, forced her to look at his head and those of her household, and still, Sansa did not break. She’s 13 when all of this begins and instead she looks Joffery in the eyes and tells him perhaps Robb will give her his head.

What happens when she say this? We all know.

In this moment Sansa learned she could not speak out and if she was going to survive, she had to keep her true emotions to herself and continue on. She ends her season 1 arc realizing all that she knew of the world and royalty was a lie and from here this is her ivory stage when season 2 begins.

Can y’all imagine how hard this must have been for her to say? She’s sitting next to the boy who murdered her father and she musters the strength to look Tyrion in the eye and repeat what she has learned with zero emotions behind it. She detaches herself from this moment so that neither her tone nor her expression could be used against her. But anyone with half a brain cell can see right through it. I’m not going to get into this scene as a whole, but even at this age and already everything that’s happened to her she will not let it change who she is.

She stops Joffery from brutally murdering Ser Dontos and finds a way to not only manipulate Joffery, but save a man’s life in the process all at the risk of her own safety. Her kindness never diminishes and that isn’t easy in the face of such horror.

She received regular verbal and emotional abuse from Cersei who enjoyed mocking and terrorizing her just in a different form from her son’s preferable physical abuse.

She must sit with Cersei and play a part of a happy young girl who’s betrothed to a boy who enjoys abusing her and a family who is actively fighting her own. This whole scene is agonizing for Sansa as Cersei reminds her she will do her duty regardless if Joffery murders her brother. As they speak of her family as traitors and Cersei watches Sansa’s every word. She’s on the verge of tears throughout it but does not let them slip and instead continues playing her part. It’s a horrible scene for Sansa but truly amazing at the ability this girl has in moments like this.

The abuse by the hands of the Lannisters doesn’t ease up.

She is taken in the throne room, stripped threatened, and beaten while the whole court watches and does nothing in this moment. She is powerless to stop the abuse and when she is thankfully rescued from further abuse by Tyrion, she keeps her head high and repeats the words.

If I was a 13 year old girl and had just been beaten by a grown man, I sure as shit wouldn’t have been able to speak let alone kept a straight face and walked out with dignity. This is her subtle resistance that no abuse will break her no matter how hard they try.

Continuing with the horrors Sansa is assaulted and nearly gang raped during a riot. That in of itself is completely terrifying and later we see causes Sansa to develop PTSD. But when Shae is tending to her wounds she is not hateful. She has every right to be afraid and angry but she only asks why the the common folk hated her and if she had food to give them, she would have.

She shows compassion even for those who literally attacked her and has no lingering hate for these people. I respect the shit out of that kind of empathy so big in someone so young and again, her kindness towards other isn’t shaken after seeing how ugly the world can be.

She stops Sandor, and says she should have come sooner to thank him for saving her earlier. She challenges his bitter outlook and asks why he’s so hateful. Yes, Sandor has been through some serious shit and it’s turned him into the hateful man he is today. This is why it’s so important that her spirit is not broken even up until this point.

Another moment is when Sansa gets her first period and is immediately terrified by the realization she can now bear children for Joffery. She is just a child here and is already forced to fear womanhood by the patriarchal society that she used to do everything “right” by. Now, it’s no longer the future she dreamed of with Joffery. She doesn’t sit ideally by and skip to Cersei of what has happened. She even attempts to hide it along wit Shae before she is found out and is unable to do anything.

She’s taken to Cersei as Cersei, in her own way, tries to pass on some “womanly wisdom” to Sansa on this day. This is an interesting scene for characters like Cersei and Sansa in their position as queens who’s only talent will be recognized in society for their ability to bear children. I don’t think Cersei is trying to mock Sansa here. I do believe she is trying to teach Sansa the things she has learned over time but, it’s subtle in Sansa’s rejection of this particular piece of “wisdom” “love no one but your children.” We see Sansa hold the importance of family very close to her heart and later on with Jon, Bran, and Arya, Sansa doesn’t hold back in her love for those around her.

Possibly one of my favorite examples of Sansa’s clever wit is when before the siege by Stannis, Joffery calls her over to kiss his blade and further torment her that he she will possibly kiss the blood of Robb off his sword. She subtly manipulates Joffery and even tries to encourage him through the poking of his ego that he should go to vanguard as the most dangerous part of the battle.

It goes right over Joffery’s head and he’s not even aware of what is happening. The only one she cannot fool with her real intentions is Tyrion who time and time again sees Sansa as she plays this part and admires her for this performance.

Unfortunately, as she awaits in the room with Cersei and the rest of the ladies, Cersei is drinking and picks out Sansa to keep her occupied. It’s clear from these scenes Cersei’s resentment towards Sansa comes from how much she sees her former “stupid” self in Sansa. Again, Sansa must play the part with her words that she is praying for Cersei and Joffery.

She’s mocked for praying, called a fool, forced to drink, must endure Cersei’s drunken bitterness of her duties as a queen while she even brings up the possibility of Sansa being raped if the city should fall. Note, Sansa was nearly gang raped just a few episodes before this. Cersei tries to advise of ruling through fear but we see later on in the series that Sansa does not keep this idea as she becomes a woman her people truly respect and want as their ruler. An accomplishment Cersei herself never learned.

Sansa’s kindness is showcased beautifully again when Cersei believes the battle is lost and leaves the room while the ladies began to become very frightened. Remember, these are the same women who sat back and snicker at her, and watch as she is beaten. She’s in the room with the same man who took her father’s head and will kill her too if the battle is lost. What does she do? She reassures these women and calms them with a hyme. Only leaving when Shae tells her to. Showing herself as more of a queen than the queen herself.

When she gets to her room, she finds Sandor. The man she was told to fear. He’s drunken and covered in blood with an offer to come away with him. She’s a 13 year old child alone with a man who openly admits he enjoys killing people. Instead, she looks him in the eyes and tells him “You won’t hurt me.” Sure, he’s shown her some resemblance of kindness in the past but it’s hard for anyone to say what he would do when he’s already defied his king and abandons the battle. But above all Sansa shows courage in this moment.

Season 2 ends with Sansa’s betrothal to Joffery ending when the Tyrells come to KL and she’s unable to hide her joy when she leaves until Littlefinger comes to tell her she still isn’t safe under Joffery’s rule. We won’t get into all of it, but it’s another example of just how much Sansa was constantly in danger while in KL in more ways than one.

Season 3 picks up with Sansa as the target for so many around her. Varys, the Tyrells, Littlefinger, the Lannisters. They all see her as a piece and not a person and she is forced into situations beyond her control. A very, VERY overlooked moment of courage and strength is showcased once again when she has lunch with Margaery and Olenna who’s only point to having her here in the first place is to seek info about Joffery.

She’s probed and probed on the kind of person he is. Remember, she doesn’t know the Tyrells well at all. She’s putting herself at a huge risk if she tells the truth. We see Sansa constantly needing to remember her words because one slip and she’s dead.

But she does go through with it and looks Olenna in the eye when she says Joffery is a monster. That ^^^ took unbelievable courage under the circumstances and I don’t see how fans can miss the weight she was under and how careful she had to be at all times.

Her hope of escape and perhaps a chance at a happy life or, at the very least, somewhat of a happy life are within reach with a betrothal to Ser Loros and it’s taken away just as soon as it appears. Instead, she’s forced to marry a man twice her age and into the family she loathes, who’s only intentions are to still her claim to Winterfell and usurper her ancestral home from under her. She’s left with no choice but to go through with it and she keeps her head high throughout the ceremony. Even after Joffery threatens her with rape and she must await with a drunk Tyrion expecting the night to end with having to sleep with him whether she likes it or not.

She’s 14 during all of this! And it’s amazing just how much Sansa has endured throughout her time in KL.

We end the season with the reaction shot of Sansa after the news of the Red Wedding. She cannot say a word or express any type of grievances towards the death of her mother and brother publicy and she’s still within the clutches of those who were behind it. She’s still married to Tyrion and is still very much the property of the Lannisters. Tyrion knows there is nothing to say to her and walks away.

Season 4 begins with Sansa still greatly affected (and rightfully so) by the aftermath of the Red Wedding. She isn’t eating nor is she sleeping and can only think of the gruesome ways on which her family was brutally murdered. Again, she is 14 and handling all of this completely alone for the most part but what’s extremely resilient of her shows in the next episode when she is confronted by Ser Dontos.

Lastly I want to focus on her last two scenes in KL before Joffery’s death and she is smuggled away.

Her conversation with Ser Dontos and at Joffery’s Wedding.

When Ser Dontos comes to give her the poisoned necklace, he also thanks her for saving his life and I’ve brought this up before but, look at her reaction.

It’s a small, but very important example of Sansa’s kindness. She doesn’t even believe she did anything special and shrugs it off as nothing even though it was a HUGE act of bravery. Especially when compared to how everyone else witnessing the act does nothing but can only look on not wanting to get mixed into the mess or consequences of speaking up.

This reminds me so much of the rest of her siblings who see it as simple decency even if it’s downright fucking heroic of them.

Now the wedding. Joffery’s wedding is anything but pleasant for her. She must sit as Tyrion’s wife while Joffery takes every chance to torment both Tyrion and Sansa. Starting with the big preformece of the war of the five kings parody. One of the performers as Robb Stark. She must watch as her brother’s who’s death is still very, very, fresh be mocked.

She can not say a word but instead looks on at the act with a straight face and is unable to show any signs of pain. That alone is not an easy thing to do. Especially given the circumstances! But she continues to play the part she’s played for years and doesn’t shed a tear.

Her last show of resistance in KL is when Joffery is being especially petty and obnoxious towards Tyrion, forcing him to be his Royal cup bearer as he drops his cup and forces Tyrion to get it from under the table. Sansa breaks this act as she reaches down to hand Tyrion the cup. Subtle, yet open defiance of what Joffery is doing to Tyrion in this moment and she doesn’t even need to say a word.

She’s smuggled away while Joffery is dying and so ends her arc in King’s Landing since her arrival as a young child.

It had been painful for Sansa in so many ways and what I respect is she never loses who she is. She never stops being kind, decent, empathetic, and she never forgets who she is as a Stark. So many have tried to break her down but her inner strength stays true. She grows, damn right. She learned a lot, fuck yeah. But she comes out the other end not bitter nor broken. She’s always been a survivor and as we’ve seen time, and time again that’s not an easy thing for characters in this story. Especially a young girl like her. And I respect the hell out of that and can relate to far more than I could any other character in the series. She’s taught that you can’t always fight those who hurt you, but that doesn’t mean they can win.

Sansa Stark wasn’t ever the girl who was supposed to drop kick her enemies or burn them alive. She was the girl who’s eniemies made a grave mistake turning her skin from porcelain, to ivory to steel and she’s all the better for it.

#Sansa Stark #sansa stark meta

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thekastlediaries · 8 years ago

Note

"I need you to scream. You're Karen Page he's the Punisher, he will come for you." in which Karen hurt and taken by a villain and Frank is enraged. (I was inspired by the Tarzan trailer)

Hey, so today I actually cracked 1000 followers and I cannot believe it! I’m so happy there are so many people here that like this ship as much as me and I’ve had so much fun reading the stories everyone has written and reblogging the edits and the wonderful amazing fanart. I have so little to offer fandom sometimes, and I’m way too broke to do a giveaway, but I thought if I sat down and really concentrated on filling a prompt that might be enough to commemorate this little milestone. :D I hope you like it.

VIOLETS AND VIOLENCE on ao3

The last thing she remembered was the smell of violets, dainty petals pushed against her nose, the sweet scent invading her sinuses. She’d closed her eyes for half a second to lose herself in the scent, to imagine that he had been the one to leave them on her fire escape. How stupid could she have been?

Now the only thing she could smell was the dank mildew of an underground dwelling. Poorly ventilated and even more poorly lit. The back of her head throbbed and she knew without checking that there was rather large knot underneath her yellow hair, perhaps even a gash if the moisture dripping down the back of her neck told her anything. Her sight was the last sense that came into play, an errant thought passing through the back of her mind as she wondered if this is how it was for Matt.

Her pupils adjusted to the dimness, faint far off light filtering down into her cell, the bars casting shadows across the dirty floor. It wasn’t the first time she’d been locked up, but she had to admit that the clean yet stark cells downtown were a lot more preferable than where she was now.

Trash scattered across the floor, dirt caked in the creases between tiles, reddish brown stains on the wall that leave no question as to what went on here… It was a scene straight out of a horror movie, but she just didn’t have it in her to react accordingly, a calm strangely numb feeling setting over her. How had this become par for the course?

She shifted against the damp floor, dispassionately noting that her shoes were gone and her stockings were now unsalvageable tattered things. Her wrists were free, the expected cold and unyielding sharpness of cuffs absent. Nothing around her ankles either. It was rather ominous sign. Her captors being unconcerned about her freedom of movement only meant the cell was secure.

She sat up, vision blurring for a second as her head swam. Nausea threatened. Best not to move too quickly. She made a mental note to see the doc about a possible concussion after all of this was over. Her surroundings gave her no clue as to who was behind this nonsense, and the only ambient noise was vague whir of a fan kicking off and on. Not enough to offer any clue as to where the hell she was being held. Just fucking perfect. God only knew which set of pissed off assholes this was. She had a real knack for making enemies.

She heard a shuffling down what must have been a rather long corridor, and her heart began to beat a little faster. There it was, that spike in adrenaline that told her she was in some real trouble. Her eyes darted around the cell looking for something to use as a weapon, lighting finally on what appeared to be a spoon. Shit. It’d have to do.

She quickly snatched up the utensil and shoved it down into her blouse, tucking it securely under the band of her bra before resuming her prostrate position on the floor and trying like hell to steady her breathing. These creeps didn’t need to know she was conscious… not yet.

Micro described it as a vacation, although Frank wasn’t sure if hiding out in an abandoned warehouse and living off canned goods for two weeks could be called a vacation. Maria had liked short jaunts to the beach, weekends spent in one room summer shacks where they let their bathing suits dry on the line outside and drank sangria on the porch overlooking the ocean. Sometimes when he fell asleep he could still smell the salt on the air, just like it had whipped across the water. He didn’t think anything he’d done in the last couple years could possibly be described as a vacation.

But it was down time, and he had used it as best he could. Sleeping off a fair number of bruises and cuts, laying back to read a book for the first time since a bullet had torn through his gray matter. It was amazing how nimble his mind felt after a few weeks of recuperation. He was raring and ready to get back to work, but Micro wouldn’t give him the all-clear.

Apparently he’d inadvertently stepped into some real shit, snapping the neck of an entitled prick who’d been swinging his dick around a little too forcefully. Not that Frank was averse to rolling around in the muck with scumbags, especially pricks like Kimball Blackwell. The man seemed to think it was alright to hire sex-workers and leave them bleeding in alleys. Frank didn’t like that, and he’d put a permanent stop to it with one bullet.

It was unfortunate that the Blackwell family also happened to be an organized crime syndicate that Frank’d never heard of. Based out of upstate New York, they were old school skull-busters that had been in the smuggling game since it was profitable to pack barrels of whiskey into horse drawn buggies. The times had changed and so had the Blackwell’s product. The family owned a lucrative trucking business now, slipping various shipments of narcotics hidden in tirewells back and forth between the U.S./Canada border.

But had Kimball Blackwell not been such an through and through piece of shit, Frank wouldn’t have had any real interest in taking them down, at least not any time soon. Creating power vacuums in drug empires had a way of creating more problems than it solved, and Frank, despite his reputation for being a homicidal maniac, liked to be a little more prepared when it came to things like that. The problem was the younger Blackwells had been born into an empire, and they were spoiled rotten little shits who got off on hurting people. The Blackwells minions had come out in droves to avenge Kimball’s death before Frank had even known what was happening, which had resulted in this little vacation from reality.

He hadn’t liked how quickly he’d had to snatch up his things and move into hiding, but keeping on the move was a normal part of his new life. The only thing about this whole misadventure that gave him real pause was worrying about Karen’s safety. He’d spent too much time popping by her place, walking her home, trading leads. This was exactly the kind of mistake that could pull her down into the bullshit with him, especially with a bunch of woman hating sadistic fucks on his tail.

Micro’s emails were succinct, nothing dramatic really. All they contained was information about the family’s movements, their dealings and whatnot. Frank poured over it all for clues as to whether or not they knew about her. Finally, after days of dry intel, Frank actually brought up her name, tagging on a short line to an already brief email: Page’s nose still clean?

He expected a simple reassurance, but what he’d gotten was far from it.

Haven’t noticed movement in a couple days. Will check personally. Stay where you are. The wolf pack is still out roaming.

Hours later he’d received a phone call on his burner, but it hadn’t been Micro or Karen on the other end of the line.

Karen expected her visitor to drag her up off the floor, to roughly shake her awake. What she didn’t expect was the quiet whisper of a man dropping to his knees beside her. Her whole body went cold when she felt the man drag the tip of one finger down the side of her face, pushing away one lock of hair in a sick semblance of tenderness. She fought the urge to gag as the touch traveled down the side of her neck, tracing along the collar of her blouse.

The man spoke. “So you’re his whore, huh? His little fuckbuddy on cold nights?”

He leaned forward to sniff at her, grunting in satisfaction. “I heard he couldn’t get it up anymore, but looking at you I’m sure that’s not true.” He let out a lecherous sigh. “Does he call out his dead wife’s name while he’s pinning your to the mattress? Yeah? I bet that stings.” He began to finger the buttons of her blouse.

Karen’s jaw tensed, her heart picking up it’s pace in spite of everything she did to slow it. The only shot she had was to incapacitate the man and make run for it. It sounded like he’d left the door to her cell wide open. In the the space of a breath she hauled herself up into a sitting position, putting all her momentum behind the heel of her palm against the vile man’s nose. She hoped the force would break the bone and shove it up into his brain.

Unfortunately it didn’t work quite as planned, and although a satisfying amount of blood spurted out, the man wasn’t lying dead at her feet. She scrambled away from him, ignoring the bellowing roar as she dove for the cell’s exit. An ear piercing scream flew from her throat. “Help! Someone, please!”

Large hands caught her round the waist, hauling her up against a burly chest, quickly pinning her arms to her side. The man laughed evilly in her ear. “You’re a feisty one, aren’t ya? It’s been awhile since I had one who liked to bite and scratch and scream. Too bad that’ll have to wait till later, after Frank Castle is nothing but a bullet riddled corpse.”

He began to drag her down the corridor, toward a door with a weakly flickering bulb behind it. She screamed again, this time her voice feeling ragged. “HELP!”

It elicited another laugh from him as he kicked open the door. “Keep it up, Miss Page.” There was a phone sitting on the corner of a desk in a room with no windows, he shoved her toward it. “Call him. I need you to scream. You’re Karen Page he’s the Punisher, he will come for you.“

She clammed up, stiffening at the prospect. Not a muscle in her body would move toward the phone. Instead she spat at the man. “Fuck you! Call him yourself.”

All the air whooshed out of her lungs when he slammed her up against the wall, one knee jammed between her thighs, a hand clasped around her throat. “Listen, you little bitch. You’re gonna call him, and you’re gonna scream, and if you don’t feel like it, I’ll just have to motivate you properly.”

He raised his hand, a bulky ring with his family crest on it glinting in the weak lighting. She scanned her memory for anything relating to it, but nothing came up. The hand came down against the side of her head, leaving a ringing in her ears as she tumbled to the floor. She barely had time to process the pain before he was hauling her up again. “I already have the number, thanks to his little buddy that came looking for you, but I need your precious voice on the other end of the line.”

She laughed bitterly. “You’re signing your own death certificate.”

He dragged her back to the desk, pinning her face down against the smooth walnut, the tops of his thighs pressing pressing against her backside. With his free hand he removed the receiver from it’s cradle and laid it next to her face, quickly dialing the number to Frank’s burner. Karen tried one last time to escape, bucking beneath his weight, trying in vain to get the heel of her foot up high enough to kick him in the balls.

The man only pressed down harder, listening intently as other end of the line rang. Finally it stopped, the ringing momentarily replaced by a raspy breathing. Frank was never one to speak first when someone called his burner, Karen knew this and so did the man holding her captive. He twisted his fingers in the hair at the back of her neck and yanked hard, eking out a surprised yell from Karen. She didn’t want Frank to walk into an ambush. She clamped her mouth shut, biting down painfully on her lip until she drew blood, but it was too late. He’d heard her already, his voice very far away, small and tinny on the other end of the line…

“Karen?”

Micro had gone radio-silent, that was the first bad sign. The second was the phone call, half a second of Karen yelping into the receiver, followed by the sounds of a physical altercation, and then the panting voice of the last man Frank was going to kill today.

“Come and get her, Castle. Or the same thing’s gonna happen to your whore that happened to Kimball’s last one.”

“Where the hell are you?”

More nearly silent struggling, judging from the speaker’s choppy breathing. There was a thump in the background. Frank cursed softly. There was no way in hell Karen would be compliant. He only hoped this was just some moron underling who’d decided to take things in his own hands to impress his bosses. There was a chance she might get out of this alive if that were the case. Frank waited for the man’s response.

“I’m so glad you asked.” The man rattled off an address.

Frank memorized it quickly, pushing away the tinge of red that was beginning to encroach on his vision. This was no time for a mindless rampage. He had to be quiet, and precise and leave no stone unturned.

He ended the call without responding to the asshole, reaching for his ready-bag. He was out the door in less than thirty seconds, running along the rooftops toward the docks, twisting a silencer onto his favorite pistol. The locations these pricks picked were really beginning to be old-hat for Frank. An empty warehouse with the words Blackwell Shipping slashed across the brick facade, the paint nearly as old as the crumbling bricks.

He picked off the snipers on the roof first, one shot, one kill. Each man falling in a silent heap before they could even register what had happened to their companions. Frank suspected the kidnappers knew this would happen, giving no shits for the unfortunate assholes posted up there. They were decoys, something to make him feel safe and in control. He glanced along the windows of the surrounding warehouses, finally catching the glint of a rifle scope in the moonlight. Frank took the man out with one shot, quickly moving down into the alley beside the building.

If he had anything to say about it, there wouldn’t be a lone survivor of the Blackwell family when he was finished with them.

As soon as the line went dead, the man hauled Karen back up against him. He pulled her back into the corridor, this time moving toward a set of damp stone steps. She fought against his movements. Every fiber of her being told her that going to yet another location with this man spelled disaster. She elbowed him in the ribs and took off down the corridor, only to be caught in the midsection by an unyielding fist out of nowhere.

She crumpled to the floor, and the new man picked her up like a sack of potatoes and threw her over his shoulder. “Where you want me to put her, Mr. Blackwell?”

“In my office. I have plans for her.”

Unable to catch her breath, she was helpless. She could feel the man going up the stairs with her, heard the click of a door unlocking. He dropped her in a heap on a slick leather couch, her vision doubling as her head knocked against the wall behind her. The bigger man was gone before she could gather her senses. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried valiantly to catch her breath and ease the throbbing in her skull. Everything was happening too fast, her mind foggy with the latest blow.

Her original captor was back, Mr. Blackwell his man had called him. She wracked her brain and still couldn’t come up with anything. Why did this man want Frank so badly? And what did he have planned for her?

One question was answered with the sound of leather belt sliding free from its loops and dropping to the floor. Karen’s eyes flew open to see Blackwell unbuttoning his trousers and stalking toward her with a leering smile on his face. “My brother liked to beat his whores a little before availing himself of their services, but I’m more of a gentle sort. Gentler even, I bet, than your fuckbuddy Castle.”

Karen felt her mind go blank. Men like this couldn’t be reasoned with. She didn’t have anything to trade him, no information, no assurances. He wanted one thing, and that was to crush her beneath him, to inflict as much pain as possible. He had no ulterior motive now that Frank was already on the way, and she had no means of stopping him.

Seeing her frozen in fear made Blackwell’s smile grow wider, and he threw caution to the winds, approaching her quickly. His snatched at her blouse, eyes dancing as the buttons bounced on the wooden floorboards. The motion made Karen look down, and she saw it. The metal edge of the spoon hidden in her bra.

In a split second she fished the utensil out, holding it in her hand like a dagger she lunged forward and plunged the curved metal into Blackwell’s eye socket, twisting the spoon and pulling out the man’s eyeball.

He let out a bloodcurdling scream, staggering back, hands clutched to his face. Karen was back, her mind firing on all cylinders. Quickly she jumped up, scrambling to the fireplace to grab the only weapon-like object in the room: a rusty fire poker.

She hit him over the head with the handle, heavy cast iron leaving a crunching dent in the back of the man’s skull. He dropped to the floor instantly, but Karen’s momentum and rage carried her forward, raising the handle over and over again until the man’s face was nothing but a bloody pulp.

The door behind her flew open, and she turned, fully prepared to fly at her next attacker, but she stopped cold at the sight of a white skull painted across a flack jacket. Relief surged through her body, making her go limp, fire poker falling to the floor. Her spiking adrenaline had nowhere to go now that she wasn’t fighting. Instead she burst into tears, knees collapsing beneath her.

Frank caught her before she hit the floor, holding her tight against his chest, soft shushing noises whispering in her ear as his hands probed her body for injuries. “I’ve got you. They’re all dead. You’re safe.”

She didn’t see him again for two weeks, but it wasn’t the same as the last time. One by one the heirs to the Blackwell Shipping fortune began showing up dead, clearly assassinated, one bullet lodged in each of them. She kept track of it in the obituaries, safely ensconced in Foggy’s apartment. Frank wouldn’t let her go back to hers until this mess was over.

When she did go back there were new locks on the door, a new steel reinforced door frame even, and the windows looked like they belonged in fort knox. The glass was suspiciously thick and Karen was pretty sure it could withstand more than a few rounds of ammunition.

And he was waiting for her, standing in her kitchen with small flowerpot clutched in his scarred hands, an unreadable expression on his face. She walked toward him, unsure of what he was thinking. “That for me?”

He nodded, setting the succulent plant on the table beside him. “I would have brought flowers but…” He trailed off, the memory of the violets still painful for the both of them. “Ma’am, I’m sorry–”He stopped short, something in his voice catching. His vocal chords were raspy, mostly unused in the past few weeks. The sound of emotion getting tangled in with the hoarse vibrations made her pulse skip. “Frank?”

He moved toward her, lifting one hand to her face, fingers tracing the spot where she’d been bruised. The mark was long faded, but she knew he could still see it in his mind’s eye. His roving hand slipped into her hair, cradling her head, fingers brushing against the spot where she’d been knocked over the head.

Swallowing, she tried to form the words to articulate how she was feeling. There was a well of emotion inside of her, rising until she thought it was going to spill out in a cascade of tears. He was being so gentle, his eyes probing so deeply into her soul. Before she could say anything, she was crushed to him in a tight hug.

He mumbled against her hair. “I should have stopped coming around a long time ago. You’re life is tainted by me. I’m sorry.” He began to pull away.

She shook her head, reaching her arms up around his neck and pulling him closer. “What’s done is done, Frank. Leaving won’t change that.” Her bottom lip began to tremble. “Please stay.”

He leaned down, his forehead touching hers, skin melding. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

#kastle #kastlelibrary #karen page #frank castle #kastle fic #kastle fanfiction #daredevil fanfiction #daredevil fic #this one is a little bit on the violent side #so #assault cw #tw assault #it's not terrible and i feel like it's not gratuitous #but i thought i should put a warning #please let me know what you think.

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thephantomporg84 · 6 years ago

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Oh god. This. You and me both.

Between online gaming and running into fucking crazies across different fandoms for so long this chick is bush league on a good day.

Like I’ll laugh at her, abso-fucking-lutely, because it both a.) shuts her up because she doesn’t know how to handle non-anger and rage-filled responses and b.) is mildly entertaining to do, but holy shit.

The people that keep fueling her (the ones that know about her) aren’t helping the problem, either. Like. We absolutely need a warning post passed around since tumblr does all of jack shit for moderation (Referring to the one from the other day) that’s got plenty of notes, evidence, etc. Easy to find and refer to. It’s really important in this case since the DMC fandom essentially came back from the dead/is still relatively small in comparison to some other currently popular circles. With new fans/artists/writers/etc poking their head in, I don’t want her souring something that’s supposed to be fun and new and exciting for a new fan. So yeah. That’s basically a necessity — for now, at least.

But a lot of people take it way, way, WAY too fucking far and personal, and — despite the awful shit she said — it ain’t that serious. This is what internet trolls do. I get so many Anons asking if I’m going to try and like... push this bullshit angle that I feel threatened and/or stalked because she (apparently) checks in on my main account to the point I just like... am almost fed up? I guess? I mean I actively laughed at all of the (actually readable) gross shit this headcase sent me but I’m supposed to apparently lie and/or falsify a police report (totally illegal and also a felony in many states, for any non-U.S. folks, btw) and/or say I now feel threatened because other people kept poking a fight with her and got their feelings hurt?

Which brings me to my other problem: I’m totally down for laughing at the troll, in general (like on here) or directly if she approaches me, not actively going to her or putting shit out there to start drama. It blows my fucking mind that so many people get mad for her randomly attacking others, yet they send me blatantly aggressive, inflammatory, and cringe attempts at bait regarding her religion/sexuality/etc. — wanting to do the same goddamned thing she does AND saying some of the same shitty things she does.

It gets doubly annoying because people will go pick fights with her and get their feelings hurt and then send me messages or screenshots or whatever of the entire thing and it’s just like... you knowingly went and picked a fight with her, totally aware that she’ll say whatever nasty thing comes to that half a brain cell she has left. I’m not going to try and make you feel better/shit talk about her — my sympathy is not extended to dumb dick decisions like that.

But yeah. I’ve literally said it in Anons at least two or three dozen times by now between here and on my main account: Legitimately arguing with her and trying to seriously stir the pot and provoke her/debate her is totally fucking pointless. The only way to stop a troll like that is to have your laughs if you wanna/gotta have ‘em, obviously, but ultimately a.) completely ignore her and b.) warn the content creators she goes after if she tries to start something with them and they seem unaware of her (not pick fights on a post — that’s just tacky). This stategy works especially well in this situation because she’s a fucking moron who shoots herself and her argument in the foot once a post, at least, if not more. She can’t see past her own rage, and that’s about the biggest Achilles heel you could ever have in an argument.

[Sorry, btw! I didn’t mean to go on and on in a reblog, I’m just... annoyed. I just feel like I’m almost alone half the time because it feels like only a few know how to troll right back and then basically be done with it. There’s a bloodthirsty/vengeful, hypocritical tinge to quite a bit of this shitshow and I don’t like that shit at all + refuse to support it.]

Derelict-Stranger has been pulling this bullshit for nearly a year now, wonder when she’ll shut up and stop

I know. December will be a year since I’ve first dealt with her.

It’s probably going to take being fully ignored/blocked on sight for her to stop.

#long post #long post is long #drama #discourse tag #discourse #porg drama #thephantomporg84 #derelict-stranger #derelict stranger

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caratimmermansposts-blog · 6 years ago

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Audience Studies (3P18) Blog Post #3

As much as I love over priced movie theatre popcorn and the big fancy reclining seats, I also love being able to save money and not having to leave the comfort of my bed. Netflix is great, having the constant stream of shows and movies wherever and whenever I please but it always seems as though I’ve watched everything worth watching on there at least once, plus there is the whole eight plus bucks a month thing. Youtube on the other hand does not cost me a penny and there is new content uploaded daily, whether I want to watch funny cat compilations or Bob Ross painting for an hour and a half it is all there at my fingertips. With all the positives there are most definitely some negatives that come along with it being a free public platform, for example you can very rarely get to a video without having to see at least one advertisement and that “Skip the Ad” button is becoming less and less available. Anyone can post anything on the streaming site, this can be a huge plus but can also come with consequences and most definitely has in the past. Creators have become their own form of celebrity and there is a whole new subculture that has been created around these content creators and their viewers.

Even when one is googling the most odd, random and completely mind numbing thing such as the ASMR version of someone eating a Big Mac they are still being monitored and analyzed by big data. Big Data is “Big data is a term that describes the large volume of data – both structured and unstructured – that inundates a business on a day-to-day basis. But it’s not the amount of data that’s important. It’s what organizations do with the data that matters. Big data can be analyzed for insights that lead to better decisions and strategic business moves.” (SAS, 2018), meaning that every click, like or dislike of a video is kept tracked of and analyzed. This information can then be taken and a profile of your own personal political, religious views or even your favourite colour can be put together. This can lead to things like personal advertisements and videos on your home page. This information can also be used to sway your opinions or mindsets through even the most subtle of things. My most popular page on youtube looks completely different than the person next to me, even though the way it is set up makes one assume that it is based on generally popularity not by your previous searches.

The Idea of Social media editors (SME’s) or “the faces of the media agencies in the digital world” and “Now set positioned to control how news flows not the social media sphere” (Wasike, 8). SMEs are extremely active and evident on with youtube and are able to dictate “how the media agencies interact with audiences in the digital world and eventually bring [those audiences] into the fold.” (Wasike, 8). Content Creators on youtube have created their own entertainment niche and have been able to become as popular and recognizable as your favourite actor/actress while still being able to stay relatable to their “viewers”or fans meaning they are “... fan audiences are deeply engaged in their favourite media texts. Fans often reinterpret media content and create their own cultural productions in response” (Sullivan, p. 193). The ability to comment on videos makes users feel as though they are in close contact with these people and even friends with their favourite creators. This has created entire fandoms or people who are “associated with the cultural tastes of subordinated forma6ons of the people, particularly those disempowered by any combination of gender, age, class and race” (Fiske as cited in Sullivan, p. 193), creators often have names for their viewers similar to celebrities, example of Justin Bieber and his “Beliebers”. Popular creators are able to earn millions of dollars from advertisements and brand deals, they are even able to manufacture and sell their merchandise. There have been a number of Youtube creators who have gone on to have successful careers in makeup, music and acting. Vidcon is an event that takes place every year in California where some of the most popular youtube creators gather to take part in “meet ups” and “Q and A” events with paying viewers. The event has gone more and more with each passing year and can now be compared to some of the more famous fan expos such as “Comic-con” and Star Trek conventions.

The popularity of these so called “everyday” people has brought forth multiple issues for the platform. When looking at Media frames and Media framing “Generic frames are broad and structural themes and are limited to conflict, human interest, economic impact, responsibility and morality (Semetko & Valkenburg, 2000). The idea of morality are most definitely a personal thing, but if one is pushing and presenting their morals on a Youtube account with millions of followers it can most definitely have an impact. Morality when being used in the idea of media framing “emphasizes religious and morality issues in news coverage.”(Semetko & Valkenburg, 2000). A prime example of this would be when one of the most popular Youtube Creators Logan Paul posted a video on his channel (which consists of mostly teenage girls) a video of a dead body that he and his friends had come across in Japans suicide forest. The video quickly gathered millions of views and was eventually removed from the site, many people fought to have his channel removed but his subscribers fought against it. He took his own morals and pushed them onto these viewers to the point of defending a highly disturbing act. This also shows how much influence the audience of the site has on decision making, Logan realistically should of had his channel taken away at a minimum but his subscribers and viewers fought and were heard. There is also a great deal of conflict framing “ portray adversarial dynamics between individuals, groups or institutions.”(Semetko & Valkenburg, 2000) shown on the site. There is often “beef” between different creators or groups of creators that can result in things such as “dis-tracks” or even the potential for planned fights. For example going back to the Logan Paul example, he and his brother trained and had a promoted, televised boxing match between a popular English Youtuber and his younger brother. The fight made everyone involved millions of dollars richer, which shows the potential Economic impact frame of the platform. The economic impact frame meaning the “news coverage to portray the impact thereof on individual players, institutions or nations.”(Semetko & Valkenburg, 2000). There is also a huge economic market created by Youtube through the advertising dollars and partnerships between brands and creators.

The site also promotes the idea of “Fake News” or ““Fake news” is a term that has come to mean different things to different people. At its core, we are defining “fake news” as those news stories that are false: the story itself is fabricated, with no verifiable facts, sources or quotes. Sometimes these stories may be propaganda that is intentionally designed to mislead the reader, or may be designed as “clickbait” written for economic incentives (the writer profits on the number of people who click on the story). In recent years, fake news stories have proliferated via social media, in part because they are so easily and quickly shared online.” (University of Michigan Library, 2018). There are multiple pop culture blogs and channels that act as though they are legitimate news outlets, they post daily videos featuring celebrity rumours as well as politically motivated videos to help sway voters opinions. The idea of “clickbait” is very obvious, popular creators will title their videos with misleading phrases such as “This surprise made her cry” or “Buying my best friend a new car” but when the viewer clicks the video it is completely unrelated to the title. The creators also use misleading “thumbnails” for their videos to catch the viewers eye as they are scrolling through videos. Even is the user quickly clicks off the video when they realize whats happened the channel that posted it still gets the “views” and therefore the monetary rewards.

The world is becoming increasingly digital, whether that be with personal communication or entertainment and Youtube is one of the key players in this revolution. The site is being updated as we speak and more and more content will continue to be posted every minute of everyday. Whether or not you are using it for personal entertainment purposes such as watching your favourite creator prank his friends or the boot-leg version of that old movie because you’re to cheap to rent it or actual educational purposes, the possibilities are endless and ever changing. There are obvious signs of big data in almost every aspect of the site and no matter how simple the video there is something some big corporation can take and come to a conclusion about you. Social media editors are a massive part of this process and are highly influential on their viewers. All this said I will continue to waste my free time scrolling and watching every “try not to laugh” challenge or recipes I will not even think about attempting to make, because for some reason it makes me feel good whether or not I’m losing a few brain cells in the process.

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