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anyoneseenadam · 3 years

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Home: Chapter eight

azriel x reader (acotar)

summary: (y/n) is a daughter of Persephone, still recovering from the trauma of her fall into Tartarus and doesn’t have time for a stupid, handsome, annoying, stunning, injured man. But now they’re stuck together in the middle of nowhere and there only chance of getting home is if she can heal him, and fast.

warnings: big spoilers for mark of Athena and house of Hades, also for the acotar series, eventual smut, blood, PTSD, graphic descriptions of violence, injuries and torture, enemies to lovers so az is a bit of a dick to start, swearing

word count: 1.6k

a/n: ahhh this is the last part and I’m kinda sad but at the same time I don’t want to drag it out, I also have a new idea for a dorian x reader so it’s a good thing to finsih one but am still sad. I hope you enjoy I made it extra fluffy (also had a cheeky wee hint back to the first part)

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You were sat in front of a large mirror, taking in your appearance as you listened to the noise downstairs, the hustle and sounds of people speaking as they rushed about in preparation a sharp contrast to the silence of your and Azriel’s shared room. The girl looking back at you in the mirror was beautiful. Her hair was pinned up, revealing a long neck adorned with a simple necklace your lover had gifted you. Your skin was clear as well, any blemishes you had, any scarring from acne you had picked at, was gone, replaced by dewy, glowing skin. In fact everything about you seemed to glow, your hair was shinier, your skin had a new ethereal sense about it, and you looked more like your mother than you ever had before.

You heard a clatter of plates downstairs and bit your lip with a slight smile, running your hands over you dress. It was baby pink, as you had commented that white may be a little on the nose, with a deep V-neck and white and pink flowers trailing down the heavy skirt, you had picked it out with the help of Feyre and Mor who had dragged you out shopping, giggling when you had stared in shock at the sheer number of dresses you only believed existed on Pinterest. You reached over the vanity and picked up the delicate gold dangling earrings that you had ‘bought’ (Azriel had technically bought them but you certainly paid him back) and put them on, gazing wistfully at your now pointed ears.

So much had changed so quickly. Azriel’s family were extremely welcoming, instantly treating you like they had known you forever. You became incredibly close with Cassian and Nesta, much to Azriel’s amusement, as you bonded over books with Nesta and a general love of Azriel with Cassian. Nesta was officially sold on you when she finished ‘Call Me by Your Name’ the day you gave it to her, the two of you discussing it all night as you made promises to find a way to show her the movie. Rhysand and Mor treated you like a sister, the three of you soon teasing each other, Amren genuinely laughing when you let loose your more creative insults. The only one who seemed reserved at first was Elain, but soon the two of you were spending hours in the garden as you taught her about the different needs that different plants had and how to grow them most effectively.

Azriel had never been more in love. He already knew you were mates but now that it was official, and possible, he felt like he was on cloud nine. He was in love with how quickly you feel asleep in his arms. The way you lit up when talking about your passions, hands moving widely. He was in love with the way your eyes sparkled constantly now, only rarely being overcome with shadows, ones that he had learned to help dispel, you were laughing more and had even started showing your back again. When you went to the House of Wind to train with Cassian and Azriel one summer afternoon you had removed your top, leaving you in a simple sports bra, not missing the mix of pride and desire in Azriel’s eyes as you continued your exercises.

“Can I ask what happened?” Nesta had asked late that day, Feyre looking up from her book, Nyx cradled in one arm. You had explained, and after, when you expected to be pushed away, Feyre had simply passed Nyx to Nesta and wrapped her arms around you, holding you for a long while, even when the Illyrians entered the room. When she pulled away you noticed the tears in her eyes and offered her a small smile, as she whispered to you.

“You’re with your family now, nothing like that will ever happen again.” And then you were crying too.

Now you were sat in your low-back dress with your hair up, scars on display for anyone to see. You had been woken at nine am by an excited chorus of fae women and all but shoved into a bath, your hair washed, and skin scrubbed until you felt new-born. You had been brought a strong, dark coffee and some honeyed toast as you sat soaking in the bath, your friends moving about outside tidying your room and fishing out everything you needed, before you were pulled from the bath and forced to dry. When you had walked back into the room, you found Mor wiggling her eyebrows as she passed you a bag which, on further inspection, you found contained an intricate set of baby blue lingerie making you laugh loudly as you thumbed the material. They had then crowded you, Nesta drying and styling your hair as Feyre did your face, treating it alike one of her beautiful paintings, Elain painting and filing your nails as Amren and Mor sat sipping on champagne, both donned in beautiful, dark silk dresses, as they discussed the day ahead. You felt alike a princess when they were done and had commented as much, gaining you a glass of champagne and a comment on how you looked like one too. However they soon left, claiming there was much to sort out downstairs and that they had no faith in the boys to get it sorted.

Now you were sat alone, your gaze had moved to outside your window where light snow had started falling. You stood and moved the open window, perching on the ledge, smiling when a robin landed next to you, flying to rest in your palm, it’s ruby coloured breast not making you flinch. You still had nightmares as you were still part god and probably always would have the dreams you had grown used to; however you were making progress.

“If you’re planning on running away that ledge is too high,” You smiled as you heard his voice, turning to see your beautiful mate smiling at you.

“Maybe Cassian can come and fly me out,” you challenged,

“Ha, ha.” He deadpanned and you giggled, standing to wrap yourself in his arms,

“In my world it’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the service,” you whispered into his chest,

“This technically isn’t a wedding,”

“That’s a fair point,” you muttered, and he smiled down at you,

“It would be a shame to deprive me of this sight, you look beautiful princess,” he spun you out of his arms and you giggled, making his heart swell with love.

“It would, wouldn’t it?”

“C’mon, we should go soon, Cassian’s already crying,” you laughed and grabbed his hand as he pulled you along and down the stairs. You gasped when you reached the bottom, there were flowers everywhere, the whole room transformed into a fairy wonderland that made you feel giddy. You smiled when you saw that Cassian was in fact, already tearing up as he stood to greet you, complementing you and thanking you for making his brother so happy, you had laughed and shoved him away in your emotional state, not wanting to cry so early, as you moved to the sink in the room that was spraying a fine mist of water, creating a rainbow.

“Oh Iris, Goddess of the Rainbow, show me Nico Di Angelo, Camp half blood.” You threw in a golden drachma, the image wavered before revealing your friends and family on the other side, waving, and sending greetings. The inner circle came over and you all conversed for a while before Azriel was rather impatiently tugging on your hand and you moved onto the ceremony, with just your found families present. Having been raised mortal you insisted on exchanging rings, and Azriel was completely happy to oblige, obsessed with the feeling of pushing the ring onto your finger and kissing you, having someone that was wholly his, and who he was completely devoted to.

The rest of the day was spent curled under Azriel’s arm, sipping cocktails, and laughing as you were told all the most embarrassing things the inner circle could dig up. You ate delicious food and laughed with your friends, you heart aching at how naturally this happiness came to you now as you gazed at the man you loved.

You stood outside, breathing in the fresh air, and enjoying the slight chill that came through the thin shawl you had wrapped around you shoulders. Soon you felt a familiar hand press into your hip, pulling you into his side tightly. You looked up at him, still in wonder of how you landed such a beautiful man.

He caught your gaze, brushing a snowflake of your cheek and grabbing your hand, pressing a light kiss into the palm. “Penny for your thoughts?” He asked, gaze so full of love that tears welled up in your eyes.

“I’m just so glad you got stabbed,” you muttered, and he laughed before you continued, “I’m serious, I don’t know where I’d be if we hadn’t met, but you are everything to me and I’m so glad we pushed through, I’m so glad we fought to be together.”

“I love you.” He whispered into your hair as he pulled you in tightly, his scarred hands moving over your scarred back as you sighed, content.

“I love you.” You replied, pulling away and watching as a red admiral butterfly landed on a nearby poppy.

#acofas #acomaf #acotar #azriel #azriel x reader #acowar #heroes of olympus #acosf #acofs #rhysand

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jubilantwriter · 3 years

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Jaspvid Week 2021: Day 1 - Changes

(AO3) (2020) (V-Day)

@jaspvid-week

Familiar Faces, Worn Out Places

Summary: It's only been one year since the supposed end of the world, but David and Jasper still linger to wander these quiet lands. So then, it shouldn't come as a surprise that they stumble into a place that's too familiar and close to home than they like. David's heart squeezes as the memories bombard him from every which way.

Just how much has changed? And how prepared is he to face these changes headfirst?

Word Count: 3583

FHAKJSLDFJAK WHAT A WAY TO START, ONE DAY LATE ALRIGHT ALRIGHT ALRIGH ALRTH-

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They didn’t think their journey would lead them back here. There’s something eerie with seeing a town they recognize still look the same but also… not.

Sleepy Peaks was never meant to be this sleepy, he thinks. David reaches for Jasper’s hand, squeezing it tightly as his eyes skirt from one store to another. The wind rustles the doors left ajar, wood smacking against wood as familiar, old stores creak from the damage they’ve sustained.

Time has passed too slowly for it to have only been a year. Has it only been a year? Maybe a bit longer? It feels like ages since they’ve shared that chocolate in an attempt to celebrate Valentine’s day. Their worn boots crush the shattered glass still speckled across the ground, windows shattered like so many other stores, and yet, seeing it in a place from their childhood?

It feels wrong.

“Davey…” Jasper looks over at David, concern clear on his features as they stand in what remains of the sleepy town. “Maybe we should head out somewhere else.”

“No.” Despite his misgivings, he wants to continue forward. There’s things he wants to see. Things he… wants to see one last time before moving on. “There might be some useful things left over, you know? We gotta look around some more.”

“If you say so.” Still, Jasper never drops that look of concern. “Just tell me when you’ve had enough, alright? We can always bounce if it becomes too much.”

“Yeah…” He smiles cheerfully despite their memories slowly creeping in from years long since passed. It’s strange - they never really explored this town much as children, despite stopping in it often before being dropped off at that old camp. But as they approach the rickety General Store, the sound of excited, chattering boys echoes in his mind.

”Jasp! Ma said we can get some candy!”

“Radical!”

“David, I said one candy bar each, not everything at the counter!”

“Heeey, I remember this place.” Jasper whistles as the ransacked store sits full of memories before them. “You tried to shoplift from here once!”

“Jasp!” A bright, embarrassed blush raises to David’s cheeks as his criminal past is brought up. “You know it was just a phase!”

“Suuure.” He grins easily as he steps into the store, head turning this way and that before he makes his way to the counter. Another whistle escapes him as he plants his hands on the counter. “Damn, this used to feel so tall when we were kids.”

David walks to his side and imagines a pair of small hands barely reaching the top of the counter. “Yeah, we could barely see over it.”

“You used to think that since you couldn’t see the cashier, the cashier couldn’t see you when you stashed a bar in your pockets.”

“Really? You’re still going on about that?”

“Really.” Jasper waggles his eyebrows as David laughs. “Your mom got so mad when you got caught each and every time. You’d think you’d learn after three straight years of getting caught, but nooo, you had to be Mr. Bad to the Bone.”

“Stop it!” David playfully shoves him as Jasper snickers. “Like you were any better!”

“Hey! Between the both of us, I’m pretty sure I was the goody-two shoes.”

“Says the master of the puppy dog eyes.” David shakes his head as he strolls over to the empty shelves, hoping to spot something overlooked. “You could give the cashier the saddest eyes, and he’d give you a free candy bar.”

“I bet I could still pull it off if I tried hard enough.” With that, Jasper sidles up to David and bats his eyelashes at his boyfriend. “I bet you’d give me a free candy bar if you were the cashier!”

David groans guiltily before pushing Jasper’s face away. “...I’d at least pay for it first with my own money.” Jasper’s boisterous laugh echoes in the empty store as they continue following the ghosts of their childhood through the aisles. Nothing seems to be left behind, even as they check the broken-into backroom and behind the cashier’s counter.

Nothing remains. A store that once housed the goodies and rewards for a well-spent summer now sits haunted with the memories of the two men still standing in its shell. David takes Jasper’s hand and squeezes it once, before looking over to him with a strained smile.

“It’s been a year anyways, it’s no surprise that it’s empty.”

Jasper only nods along before tugging him out of the store. They pass by familiar storefronts, ghosts of their former selves taking peeks through the broken glass as they whisper about the newest, coolest gadgets, or the delicious smelling scents coming from the restaurants and diners. Lumps and bumps line the road as the pair traverse on the old asphalt, the road cracking here and there from whatever disaster may have struck this town. Earthquakes perhaps? David eyes the sides of buildings blackened by forces that could be man made or naturally caused. Fires too, it seems.

How many of the residents died? How many escaped? Sweat beads at the base of his neck as they approach the entrance to the woods, the road leading into it impeded by fallen trees and debris. It’s a good thing they’ve long lost the use of cars by now. They climb over the trees and carefully trek along the road, watching out for potholes and largely uneven parts of the road. Tree roots have managed to grow underneath the asphalt, lifting chunks of it high enough to trip over. A year of overall disuse has the entire road littered with fallen leaves, branches, and countless coverings of debris. Jasper grunts as he trips over a well hidden crack, caught just barely in time by David as he straightens himself out.

“Christ,” he grumbles, looking ahead into the shadows of the forest, “how much further?”

David looks up and follows his gaze, the end nowhere in sight. The car ride to the camp always felt like it took way too long, while also being way too short. It took him a while to really warm up to the place, but by the time he truly started to like the place, he stopped going to camp. What can he call the memories? Happy? Bad? Bittersweet?

He looks to Jasper as their hands linked together silently. “It shouldn’t be much further.”

“I’m bankin’ on that.”

The trek isn’t the hardest one they’ve made. They’ve traversed over rockier terrains, neighborhoods ankle deep in water where fallen telephones can be anywhere out of sight, and stepped over rickety, unstable planks of wood in houses falling apart at the seams. They’ve fended off desperate, violent survivors many a time before as well, running when possible, fighting when inevitable.

They don’t talk about the blood that covers their hands.

...So yes! They have been through much, much worse. A walk through a forest with a neglected road? Should be a breeze through the park! And yet, they drag their feet as if they’re travelling through muck, looking over their shoulders with an unneeded precaution, hoping to delay the inevitable. Jasper’s memories couldn’t have been as fond as David’s, given their last year together but…

“Oh. Shit.” Jasper’s mumbled exclamation draws him out of his thoughts. “Looks like you were right, Davey.”

Turns out, they didn’t drag their feet long enough. Ahead of them stands the familiar old sign of Camp Campbell, though half the letters are missing. The rickety old sign is hanging loose and limp, the one remaining chain allowing it to swing idly as a strong wind jostles it. Apprehension grips David as he looks over the once familiar campgrounds. When did the disasters start?

When did they begin?

“Are you sure you wanna do this?” Jasper looks over to David, concern clear on his face as the old camp remains eerily quiet.

“...I mean, who knows, right?” He laughs nervously and slips his hand out of Jasper’s grasp. “There might still be some supplies! Some things we can take a-and stuff…”

“Davey…”

“I know what you’re thinking.” He takes a step away from Jasper, rubbing his arm nervously as he looks up at the faded sign above them. “But I- I just want to make sure. You know? I know the disasters started just before summer hit but I- I just want to make sure.”

A hand lands lightly on his shoulder. “You sure about this? What if you find something you don’t like?”

It takes him a moment, but he finally looks over to Jasper with a wobbly smile. “I think we’ve both gotten used to that feeling by now, right?”

An uneasy smile rises to Jasper’s face as he nods. “Alright, bud. How do ya wanna do this?”

He looks ahead to where the mess hall is. The place used to be so lively but now… “Can we split up? Just to cover more ground, and stuff.”

“...Right.” A skeptical look crosses his features before Jasper’s hand lowers to squeeze his arm with a comforting smile. “Just promise me you’ll holler if something’s up, capiche?”

“Capoche.” His response gets a chuckle out of Jasper, before his eyes search his one last time before stepping back.

“Alright, let’s meet back here before the sun sets.”

“Gotcha!” David waves as Jasper wanders off to the left, disappearing from sight as he goes to explore the grounds there.

Now he's all alone. He takes a deep breath and sighs. Well, it's not a bad thing, after all. It's what he wants. It's what he... needs. He shakes his head to clear it. Right! Exploration.

Right.

He walks right into the mess hall, the old doors creaking as he forces his way in. Tables and the like are covered in dust, but otherwise look mostly untouched. Nothing seems worse for wear, but the windows have been cracked, and some are even broken. His boots crunch over the shards as he examines the windows. It's not easy to determine if the broken windows were the cause of the many natural disasters, or if they were man made, but judging by the lack of disruption and chaos in the mess hall, he can hazard a guess and blame it on the elements instead.

...Oddly enough, the mess hall smells like nothing. It's not something that should take him aback, but it does. If he remembers correctly, it always smelled like mashed potatoes and butter in here. It was a staple for every meal. Thinking back, he always hated the mashed potatoes, but Jasper loved them.

"C'mon, Davey! It's Quartermaster's specialty!"

"Ugh, well maybe he should do a better job at his specialty. It tastes like wet paper and crud!"

"Davey!"

His steps falter as he steps closer to the kitchen. They were never allowed back here but...

Well, that never stopped him as a kid, now did it?

He pushes the door open and peeks around the kitchen. Nothing much has changed except the microwave looks both newer and incredibly beaten up. A shelf catches his attention, but his nose immediately crinkles up when he realizes the foodstuffs on the shelves are nothing but perishables that have long since perished. Another door catches his eye, and if he remembers correctly, this was where the staff kept the rest of the food.

"I dunno, Davey, this doesn't seem like a good idea."

"I didn't think you were such a goody-two shoes, Jasp."

"I'm not! I just don't think you should do it during activities!"

"Exactly, no one's gonna expect us to come in during the daytime-"

"What are you two doing here, children."

"..."

"SCRAM, HURRY!"

The memory nearly pulls a laugh from him as he opens the pantry door. Like the shelf outside, all the perishables have long since succumbed to pests and mold. He picks up a can and looks at the best by date.

19... 98?

He quickly puts it back down and chooses not to think about the implications. Okay, maybe the pantry is a bust. He turns on his heel and walks back into the mess hall. The unspeakable silence makes him swallow hard. It's... unnerving to see it so empty and quiet. He can still hear the laughter and groans of disgust that used to reverberate within these very walls. As he walks past a table, he swears he hears a familiar giggle from his memories. He turns to face the childish giggle, but nothing but a shadow from his memories greets him.

...Maybe some fresh air will do him some good. All that mold is messing with his mind.

His feet take him back out and towards where he thinks the campers were supposed to stay. Noises fill in the blank spaces, excited campers making conversations from the past that he once overheard in his youth. The crunch of the dirt keeps him tethered in the present, but even as he glances to the side, he swears he can see the shadows of former friends running around in the corner of his eye. This place used to be so sunny, so bright and full of life.

Now, all he sees are the broken down remains of yellow tents. Leaves and twigs cover some of them, and a fallen tree crushes a good few of them further off. He approaches a particular one, the third one to the left, and carefully tries to set it back up. It's no use - the poles on the inside have snapped into pieces, rendering it impossible to get upright. Still, he tries to at least straighten it out. He grabs some broken branches and props it up haphazardly. It works, but it won't last. A strong breeze could topple it over.

Still. He stands back to admire his handiwork. It's strange how he's taller than the tent now. Before, it used to feel kind of big with enough space for him to do a little jump inside if he felt like it. Now, it looks sad and tiny, with its tree branches keeping it upright in a poor resemblance of its former self. It's... not the best. The sides are sagging, and it looks ready to topple into itself but...

He blinks, and he can see Jasper's childlike appearance duck out from the tent, laughing boisterously.

"Come on, Davey! We're gonna miss the bonfire!"

"We can't miss the bonfire, stupid, it's still gonna be there even if we're an hour late."

"Still! C'mon, broski!"

"Don't call me that!"

"Broski!" Jasper's young laughter fades away as he rubs his eyes. The tent topples into itself like he predicts. He sighs and looks away from its remains, instead looking towards where the dock should be. A tree blocks his path, but that's never really stopped him before, now has it?

He climbs over it with ease and follows the dirt path down to the lake. The dock is largely untouched, but the kayaks are long since gone. In the distance, he can see the familiar sight of Normal Island, but he feels no need to explore that place. If there were any survivors, maybe they would be there but...

Splashes and excited shouts fill the insides of his ears, his gaze remembering the counselors that helped kids learn how to swim, or fellow campers having summer fun by swimming around the lake and splashing each other. He considers jumping down to check under the dock, a place he used to hide under until Jasper swam under and dragged him out, but getting his pants soggy is the last thing he wants at the moment. Instead, he sits at the end of the dock and keeps himself from giving into temptation and letting his legs dangle into the lake. He looks up and sees the clear, blue sky with not a cloud in sight. If this were a normal camp day, all the campers would be going out for a pleasant hike.

No fallen trees.

No eerily silent woods.

Just a normal, noisy, exciting hike.

A shuddery sigh passes through him, and he closes his eyes. Camps aren't meant to be quiet. It's wrong. It doesn't feel right. Even when he hated the place, he'd only seen it as lively and inexplicably loud. Now it's... it's...

Dead.

The lake laps at the shore softly, but there's no laughter to accompany the noise. No splashes, no cries, no shouts. Even as he tries his hardest to remember, the loud silence is the only thing that reigns around him. That, and the sound of heavy boots marching up behind him.

"Thought I'd find you out here."

He looks over and offers a weak grin. "Hey, Jasp."

"Heya." Jasper plops down next to him, a distant look to his eyes as he stares out at Normal Island. "...Feels weird, huh?"

"Yeah..."

"Different vibe from..." He gestures vaguely before dropping his hand to his lap. "Different from broken down stores and dank cafes."

"Strange, huh?" David hugs his knees to his chest and rests his cheek against them. "We had some good memories here too, though."

"Yeah." Jasper sighs as he leans back. "Good and bad. Nothing like stealing candy bars though."

David snorts. "No, nothing like that."

"But we did steal that kayak one night."

"I stole the kayak. You were just along for the ride."

"Mr. Bad to the Bone strikes again." Jasper turns and grins with a touch of sadness to it. "You always did have this thing for stealing things as a kid."

"I did, huh?" David shrugs with a small smile. "You were the only one who seemed to notice."

"And the cashier."

"And the cashier." A small chuckle escapes him as the breeze ruffles their hair. "...So did you find anything?"

"Nah. Just some dust, expired rations, dirty mags in the counselor's cabin..."

"Jasp!"

"What?" He laughs as David lightly shoves his arm. "We're all adults here. You can't tell me you've never looked at a dirty mag before." He waggles his eyebrows and it's enough to draw a laugh out of David.

"No, I never really looked at one before. But was that all you found?"

"Yup. Nothing else." A pause. "Not a single body, not a single skeleton. Hell, I couldn't even find the Quartermaster."

"I'm pretty sure he must be dead by now."

"You think so?" Jasper raises an eyebrow at that. "That dude seemed like he could live forever. Like, I'm pretty sure I saw him stab himself with a hook once. Preeetty sure that happened."

David laughs as his thoughts circle back to Jasper's previous statement.

"So no bodies?"

"None." Jasper grins as David feels a weight lifted off his shoulders. "Just an empty campsite."

Not completely. David looks out to Normal Island and thinks the campsite will never quite be empty. No one truly died here, but he knows it'll always be haunted by their memories. He stands up and dusts himself off before reaching a hand out to Jasper. "Just an empty campsite."

Jasper takes his hand, and he pulls him up with ease. "Ya ready to bounce from this joint?"

David takes one last look around the place. A part of him wants to look around more thoroughly, maybe explore the activities field one last time, or walk into the mess hall one last time, but the weight of the memories might crush him even if Jasper's by his side. And besides, he trusts Jasper's words when he says there's nothing left for them here. He smiles as he nods his head.

"Yeah, I'm ready to go."

"Sweet." Jasper leans in for a quick peck on the cheek, his thumb rubbing comforting circles into the back of his hand. "Where to next?"

"Don't know." David leads them back to the entrance of the camp, where the rickety sign continues to swing and perhaps will always continue to swing. "Wherever the path takes us?"

"Sounds like a valid reason to me."

They walk away from the remains of their past, never knowing if they'll ever come back to revisit it. A part of David hopes that they will come back to the old campgrounds. Maybe life will one day return to this old shell of a place. Maybe it will forever remain lifeless like today.

He's not sure what is left for a place like this.

"Wanna watch me try and vault over that tree like an Olympic track star?"

"Jasp, don't-"

"Too late!"

"Jasper!"

There's a lot of maybes on his mind. But maybe something will change someday for the better. Jasper laughs as he runs at the fallen tree in front of them, only to trip and smack his face against the bark. David yells and comes to his aid and is met with boisterous laughter, and he can't help but join his fallen boyfriend in his fit of giggles.

Maybe.

But until then, he'll cling onto these old memories. If these are all that remains of this old place, then he'll hold onto each one in its memory. For the sake of the place where they met.

”Hey, you’ll come back next summer, right?”

“No way, dweeb.”

“...Aw. Then how are we gonna meet again?”

“...Stop looking at me like that. Fine. Fine! I’ll come back next year!”

“Radical! That’s a promise, right? Pinky promise me!”

“Ugh, fine, you nerd.”

For the sake of their memories, he’ll let it rest fondly in his heart. Until he can finally leave them all to rest.

#camp camp #cc david #cc jasper #post apocalyptic au #jaspvid #godddd these are all gonna be late #im so sorry #also these are all going to be unbetaed #im gonna try and keep these Not Long #lmao i ended up getting attached to this au im such a fool #well i started 2020 with this au might as well keep up the trend #AMIRIGHT FOLKS #hopefully i can produce #new things and new ideas #i know i will be reusing another au for another day but like #its cute lmao TuT #jaspvidweek2021 #I KNEWW I WAS FORGETTING SOMETHING

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curlybitch · 5 years

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Main 3 + Aizawa with a S/O who's quirk causes them to fall asleep/pass out after using it

Im pretty sure this is gender and race neutral but 🤷🏽‍♀️

Bakugou

The first time its happens he’s sister S H O O K

Like damn bitch really?

Your probably training when it happens

Your quirk allows you to send out high energy electrons to break particles in solids and liquids apart at the molecular level

Yeah you know your shit

anyway the high energy electrons reside within your body and when you send them out it depletes your energy by lowering your glucose production

Yeah that makes like very little sense but it sounded smart in my head

So yall are going against robots in some training sim

You’ve been put on the same team and you guys absolutely DESTROY the sim

Metal and other things used to make a robot strewn all over

Hes panting, Hunched over with his hands still popping and a murderous look on his face.

He turns to look at you smirk curling the ends of his mouth as he lets out a “how about it you stupid fucking extra. Not bad."

You turn to look at him as well a small smile making itself known before your face goes blank and you tip backwards to fall into a heap on the ground

Or at least you would haveif he hadn’t caught you

He had snatched your wrist at the last moment as it had limply swung in the air and he pulls you into his chest and wraps his arm just under your shoulder blades

He iS fReAkING oUt

His Crush just fucking collapsed like

HOW????

Legit brushes past Allmight who was your teacher for the class and hauls ASS to recovery girl

He thought you were dead

On his way out he heard Kaminari mumur a “Ms.Kesha. MS.KESHA!! omfg she fuckin dead”

He’ll get pikachu for that later though

When he learns its just a side effect of your quirk he’s less worried but still v concerned.

When you do finally start dating Expect him at your side whenever you guys are working on quirks

After Training camp your stamina increases though so he’s a little less worried

Always provides Carbohydrates needed to get your energy up

“EAT YOU BEAUTIFUL FUCKING BEING"

If you fall asleep on him or his stuff (like maybe yall were studying or smth) you best believe he’s not getting his shoulder/side of his body/bed or whatever back

He loves you so much like he really does want whats best for you

Todoroki

Oh shit

Is probably the most protective of you ngl

You better be prepared to get smothered

The first time it happens he kind of just watches with a blank yet panicked look as you collapse

Its at USJ after the teachers arrive

You had barley been holding it together in the landslide zone with Shouto since hagakure was literally nowhere to be seen

You could create force fields and send out compressed air blasts. The problem is when using your quirk getting oxygen through the force fields is hard and when you send out blasts of air 62% of it comes from your lungs.

By the time snipe shoots the first shot your vision is hazy and your having a hard time standing

Shouto notices this and stands a little closer worried you may be under the effect of a villain’s quirk.

you bend over falling onto your hands and knees (😏) as your face tents red under your darker skin

By the time you do fall into unconscious he snaps out of it and rushes over to you.

He picks you up as a pro comes over asking whats wrong.

When he learns its an effect of your quirk he’s like

DAMN

Like your own quirk basically chokes you and your so nonchalant when you wake up he’s ???

When y'all finally do get together don’t worry/

Need to get your inhaler prescription but insurance wont cover it He has Endevawhores credit card

So ready to spoil you with that assholes money

He legit buys an oxygen tank just so he can carry it so that if you look like you need it he can provide you with air

He thinks your so amazing like your quirk literally works against your body and your still out here getting your grind on

(Grind on him though pls-)

You have a higher blood oxygen ratio than most people so your lighter than average and at first he’s worried

“Baby, please eat”

“Y/N Are you hungry?”

Once you explain to him why your weight is the way it is he calms down a little

Still spoils you though

Midoriya

OH baby

He knows what its like to have a quirk that effects you negatively

Is 100% there for you

The first time it happens he crys

Baby boy Thought that he lost you before he could confess

Your quirk allows you to manipulate peoples minds

It’s basically an illusion quirk but you make people see what you want them to see

The problem is-

It takes alot of brain power for you to do that

Even though your big brain

(Big Brain)

It still exhausts you on a mental and emotional level. Especially emotionally if you make some dark shit

During the Activity on the first day you to make your classmates and your teacher think you did well.

Afterwards When your ranked 6th your so fucking tired you pass out.

He panics because you fall back right onto him.

M*neta was so jealous

He really loves you in like

The purest way

He thinks that you probably wouldnt want to date him because most girls like guys who are taller than them

You guys are about the same height

Hes also really timid and insecure

PLEASE REASSURE HIM

Falling asleep on his shoulder during bus rides

Sleeping in his bed while he does his homework

Just showing you trust him

He wants you to know he can provide for you in emotional ways

Probably has a whole notebook dedicated to your quirk

Helps you think of ways to make it more offensive

Ways to combat it

Hes got you

Aizawa

You fall asleep all the time

Half the time it's just cause your in the habit of sleeping after your shift at hero work

Bitch

Him too

You guys are both underground heroes but you met back in your 1-A days

Well his 2-A days but who's counting

So he already knows what's happening the first time you collaspe

Your quirk is called Silent Night (lmao now I'm just making shit up)

Your quirk allows you to decrease or completely eradicate sound and sight in a person/group

This can be a steady decrease or not

Anyway by doing this it creates a ringing in your ears and back in your early days it caused splitting headaches and Black out migranes

It also can cause black spots Dancing around your vision

You get really disoriented

The first time your patrols synced you guys had to take out a large drug ring

You had to block the sight and sound of about 200 men and women who were on a less than legal position

When you guys get them all cuffed with the help of a few other heroes and the police have finally arrived you all but collaspe against the wall of the building

Black spots dance in your vision as your ears ring

He slowly walks over to wear you seem to be rapidly falling into unconsciousness and puts a hand on your shoulder

He calls over a medic even though he knows they cant exactly help you as it's a side effect of your quirk

Expect naps together

All

The

Time

He shares his sleeping bag and yall are cuddled up so close

Even though it's pretty big cause hes 6 feet tall do the sleeping bag is about 8ft and drowns your ass

He just loves having you close!

So uh...this is my first reader insert so tell me how it is...?

Leave me a ask or dm me one???

I'll try (pretty much) anything once!!!

EDIT: AHHHHH

Also please please PLEASE send me an ask cause a bitch is bored.

#bnha x reader #bnha todoroki #bnha midoriya #my hero academia #my hero academia imagines #reader #izuku x you #midoriya x reader #todoroki x reader #bakugou x reader #aizawa x reader #mha x reader #mha x you #mha x y/n #reader insert #bnha imagines #mha imagines

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agentrouka-blog · 4 years

Text

Arya and Weasel - sending your inner child off into the woods

Weasel is an orphaned, traumatized girl of around two years of age whose story is absolutely heartbreaking. We meet her in A Clash of Kings and she accompanies us for the span of three Arya chapters, which takes place over just about a month, most of which takes place off page.

We meet her at the end of Arya III, she has her first interaction with Arya in Arya IV and then tags along with Arya, Lommy, Hot Pie and Gendry in the woods until she runs off into the unknown at the end of Arya V.

I’ll follow the story and try to give some sense of time and location to justify my time estimates, simply because GRRM chooses to be so vague.

Gods, Arya’s chapters in ACOK are among the very finest in the entire book series.

Warning: Long. As always, excessive use of quotes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ACOK, Arya III (chapter 9)

Yoren and his gang have been traveling the Kingsroad since King’s Landing. She beat Hot Pie bloody in Arya I and they had a tense encounter with goldcloaks looking for Gendry in Arya II. Now they change course westward of the Kingsroad close to the beginning of the chapter.

“We’re not far from Gods Eye,” the black brother said one morning. “The kingsroad won’t be safe till we’re across the Trident. So we’ll come up around the lake along the western shore, they’re not like to look for us there.” At the next spot where two ruts cut cross each other, he turned the wagons west.

Here farmland gave way to forest, the villages and holdfasts were smaller and farther apart, the hills higher and the valleys deeper. Food grew harder to come by.

They spend an unspecified amount of time, likely about two weeks, traveling and living off the land. Enough for two days delay to still matter but long enough to form habits, see landscapes change, have hunting adventures.

Outside a holdfast called Briarwhite, some fieldhands surrounded them in a cornfield, demanding coin for the ears they’d taken. (…)

The next day Koss came racing back to warn Yoren of a camp ahead. (…) “Might be one side, might be t’other. If they’re hurt that bad, likely they’d take our mounts no matter who they are. Might be they’d take more than that. I believe we’ll go wide around them.” It took them miles out of their way, and cost them two days at the least, but the old man said it was cheap at the price. (…)

Arya saw men guarding the fields more and more when they turned north again. (…) At one place, she spotted a man perched up in a dead tree, with a bow in his hand and a quiver hanging from the branch beside him. (…)

A day later Dobber spied a red glow against the evening sky. “Either this road went and turned again, or that sun’s setting in the north.”

Weasel’s tragedy begins when her village is put to the torch. The blaze is enough to light up the night sky from half a day’s travel away. Judging from what we see in Arya IV, the violence was likely unspeakable.

By dawn the fire had burned itself out, but none of them slept very well that night. It was midday when they arrived at the place where the village had been.

It’s butchery and desolation. Yoren goes to investigate the destroyed holdfast.

When they finally returned, Yoren had a little girl in his arms, and Murch and Cutjack were carrying a woman in a sling made of an old torn quilt. The girl was no older than two and she cried all the time, a whimpery sound, like something was caught in her throat. Either she couldn’t talk yet or she had forgotten how. The woman’s right arm ended in a bloody stump at her elbow, and her eyes didn’t seem to see anything, even when she was looking right at it.

I knee-jerk assumed the woman to be Weasel’s mother, but that is never explicitly stated in the text. For all we know, they aren’t related at all. They are not shown to interact, and even if the woman was Weasel’s mother, she is too far gone from her severe injury to be coherent, let alone care for the child.

She talked, but she only said one thing. “Please,” she cried, over and over. “Please. Please.” Rorge thought that was funny. He laughed through the hole in his face where his nose had been, and Biter started laughing too, until Murch cursed them and told them to shut up. Yoren had them fix the woman a place in the back of a wagon. “And be quick about it,” he said. “Come dark, there’ll be wolves here, and worse.” “I’m scared,” Hot Pie murmured when he saw the one-armed woman thrashing in the wagon. “Me too,” Arya confessed. He squeezed her shoulder. “I never truly kicked no boy to death, Arry. I just sold my mommy’s pies, is all.” Arya rode as far ahead of the wagons as she dared, so she wouldn’t have to hear the little girl crying or listen to the woman whisper, “Please.” She remembered a story Old Nan had told once, about a man imprisoned in a dark castle by evil giants. He was very brave and smart and he tricked the giants and escaped . . . but no sooner was he outside the castle than the Others took him, and drank his hot red blood. Now she knew how he must have felt. The one-armed woman died at evenfall. Gendry and Cutjack dug her grave on a hillside beneath a weeping willow. When the wind blew, Arya thought she could hear the long trailing branches whispering, “Please. Please. Please.” The little hairs on the back of her neck rose, and she almost ran from the graveside.

I almost inserted a long paragraph about the textual parallels to Lyanna and Sansa here. But I refrained because this is merely meant to document Weasel.

The woman and the child (and the murdered men I didn’t include in my quotes) are Arya’s first direct confrontation with the vicious of this war. She and Hot Pie are so humbled in the face of it, they forget their original enmity, their posturing. They become children again. They admit their bone-deep fear.

The human suffering is an unbearable horror and Arya, understandably, tries to block it out and get away from it.

So this tiny little girl Weasel has just watched every person she has ever known being murdered by scary, angry strangers and then spent that night and half a day among the charred ruins and the bodies. Hungry, thirsty, scared. No one shows up to comfort her until another stranger picks her up and carries her away.

It goes on:

“No fire tonight,” Yoren told them. Supper was a handful of wild radishes Koss found, a cup of dry beans, water from a nearby brook. The water had a funny taste to it, and Lommy told them it was the taste of bodies, rotting someplace upstream. Hot Pie would have hit him if old Reysen hadn’t pulled them apart.

We’ll return to this lovely image.

Arya encounters wolves as she relieves herself in the woods at night. They do not harm her, but she is clearly shaken by everything that has happened.

The crying girl travelling alonside her and the wolves prowling the woods. Two sides of Arya.

She tells Yoren she doesn’t care. She just wants to go home. The chapter ends on:

“Go to sleep, boy. Hear me?”

She did try. Yet as she lay under her thin blanket, she could hear the wolves howling . . . and another sound, fainter, no more than a whisper on the wind, that might have been screams.

Followed by a lovely thematic transition at the beginning of Davos I.

The morning air was dark with the smoke of burning gods. They were all afire now, Maid and Mother, Warrior and Smith, the Crone with her Pearl eyes and the Father with his gilded beard; even the Stranger, carved to look more animal than human. The old dry wood and countless layers of paint and varnish blazed with a fierce hungry light. Heat rose shimmering through the chill air; behind, the gargoyles and stone dragons on the castle walls seemed blurred, as if Davos were seeing them through a veil of tears. Or as if the beasts were trembling, stirring . . .

Arya is about to enter the warzone for real.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ACOK, Arya IV (chapter 14)

We open not too far from where we left Yoren’s merry band. They have reached the river flowing straight south from the Gods Eye.

It seemed a peaceful place . . . until Koss spotted the dead man. “There, in the reeds.” He pointed, and Arya saw it. The body of a soldier, shapeless and swollen. His sodden green cloak had hung up on a rotted log, and a school of tiny silver fishes were nibbling at his face. “I told you there was bodies,” Lommy announced. “I could taste them in that water.”

He tasted them in the brook, this is a river. Usually brooks flow into rivers, not the other way around. But not too much travel time can have passed for Lommy to make that remark. A day? Two days?

We get a location.

It was midday when the others returned. Woth reported a wooden bridge half a mile downstream, but someone had burned it up. Yoren peeled a sourleaf off the bale. “Might be we could swim the horses over, maybe the donkeys, but there’s no way we’ll get those wagons across. And there’s smoke to the north and west, more fires, could be this side o’ the river’s the place we want to be.” He picked up a long stick and drew a circle in the mud, a line trailing down from it. “That’s Gods Eye, with the river flowing south. We’re here.” He poked a hole beside the line of the river, under the circle. “We can’t go round west of the lake, like I thought. East takes us back to the kingsroad.” He moved the stick up to where the line and circle met. “Near as I recall, there’s a town here. The holdfast’s stone, and there’s a lordling got his seat there too, just a towerhouse, but he’ll have a guard, might be a knight or two. We follow the river north, should be there before dark. They’ll have boats, so I mean to sell all we got and hire us one.” He drew the stick up through the circle of the lake, from bottom to top. “Gods be good, we’ll find a wind and sail across the Gods Eye to Harrentown.”

We don’t know what hour the sun sets but it’s early autumn in Westeros and I’m guessing they’re about 7 to 8 hours from the south shore of the God’s Eye, at wagon and donkey travel-speed.

We have our first mention of Weasel among a heartbreaking instance of Arya’s remaining faith in humanity.

Hot Pie was being silly; it wouldn’t be ghosts at Harrenhal, it would be knights. Arya could reveal herself to Lady Whent, and the knights would escort her home and keep her safe. That was what knights did; they kept you safe, especially women. Maybe Lady Whent would even help the crying girl.

Sadly, we don’t hear who has been taking care of the little girl since her mother died. Arya makes no mention of it.

They reach the deserted town.

The black brother left ten to guard the wagons and the whimpery little girl, and split the rest of them into four groups of five to search the town.

There are no boats, they decide to spend the night at the holdfast. Lots of descriptions of the holdfast and the town. No mention of the little girl. Seriously, who is minding this little toddler?

When the food was ready, Arya ate a chicken leg and a bit of onion. No one talked much, not even Lommy. Gendry went off by himself afterward, polishing his helm with a look on his face like he wasn’t even there. The crying girl whimpered and wept, but when Hot Pie offered her a bit of goose she gobbled it down and looked for more.

Ah, at least someone is feeding her. Thank you, Hot Pie. Weasel is hungry, she wants to live.

Hot Pie went off and let her alone and Arya curled up on her pallet. She could hear the crying girl from the far side of the haven. I wish she’d just be quiet. Why does she have to cry all the time?

Getting some sister parallels in here.

Jeyne Poole had been confined with her, but Jeyne was useless. Her face was puffy from all her crying, and she could not seem to stop sobbing about her father.

"I'm certain your father is well," Sansa told her when she had finally gotten the dress buttoned right. "I'll ask the queen to let you see him." She thought that kindness might lift Jeyne's spirits, but the other girl just looked at her with red, swollen eyes and began to cry all the harder. She was such a child. (AGOT, Sansa IV)

Don’t like others crying around you when you’re scared, Stark Sisters, do you? There’s a Robb parallel, too.

"Rickon needs you," Robb said sharply. "He's only three, he doesn't understand what's happening. He thinks everyone has deserted him, so he follows me around all day, clutching my leg and crying. I don't know what to do with him." He paused a moment, chewing on his lower lip the way he'd done when he was little. "Mother, I need you too. I'm trying but I can't … I can't do it all by myself." His voice broke with sudden emotion, and Catelyn remembered that he was only fourteen. She wanted to get up and go to him, but Bran was still holding her hand and she could not move. (AGOT, Catelyn III)

They tend to have other characters reflect their inner emotions. That crying, overwhelmed child that they are trying to ingore: themselves.

Arya, likely through warg power, wakes up to warn the others of the imminent attack. Amory Lorch’s riders are putting the town to the torch. Arya is watching from the holdfast parapets.

Something bumped against her leg, and she glanced down to discover the crying girl clutching her. “Get away!” She wrenched her leg free. “What are you doing up here? Run and hide someplace, you stupid.” She shoved the girl away.

No room for soft feelings when you have to function to survive.

Lorch is not inclined to spare Yoren on account of being with the NW. They attack and throw torches, the barn has a secret tunnel and Yoren orders them to escape. But the barn is already on fire.

As they were running toward the barn, Arya spied the crying girl sitting in the middle of the chaos, surrounded by smoke and slaughter. She grabbed her by the hand and pulled her to her feet as the others raced ahead. The girl wouldn’t walk, even when slapped. Arya dragged her with her right hand while she held Needle in the left. Ahead, the night was a sullen red. The barn’s on fire, she thought. Flames were licking up its sides from where a torch had fallen on straw, and she could hear the screaming of the animals trapped within. Hot Pie stepped out of the barn. “Arry, come on! Lommy’s gone, leave her if she won’t come!” Stubbornly, Arya dragged all the harder, pulling the crying girl along. Hot Pie scuttled back inside, abandoning them . . . but Gendry came back, the fire shining so bright on his polished helm that the horns seemed to glow orange. He ran to them, and hoisted the crying girl up over his shoulder. “Run!”

In this moment of absolute mortal danger, Arya decides to take charge of the traumatized toddler to ensure her survival, stubbornly, violently even. Just like Yoren did with her. Hot Pie would have left her. Ouch. Gendry soon takes over, luckily.

The open trap was only a few feet ahead, but the fire was spreading fast, consuming the old wood and dry straw faster than she would have believed. Arya remembered the Hound’s horrible burned face. “Tunnel’s narrow,” Gendry shouted. “How do we get her through?” “Pull her,” Arya said. “Push her.” “Good boys, kind boys,” called Jaqen H’ghar, coughing. “Get these fucking chains off!” Rorge screamed. Gendry ignored them. “You go first, then her, then me. Hurry, it’s a long way.” “When you split the firewood,” Arya remembered, “where did you leave the axe?” “Out by the haven.” He spared a glance for the chained men. “I’d save the donkeys first. There’s no time.” “You take her!” she yelled. “You get her out! You do it!” The fire beat at her back with hot red wings as she fled the burning barn.

Even having grabbed the little girl and knowing there is a path to escaping, Arya cannot simply flee. She hands over the charge of Weasel to Gendry and proceeds to save the lives of the three captives from the black cells. Because Arya doesn’t just let people die. Not unless she wants them dead herself. A force of nature.

She gets the axe from outside in the battlezone, walks back into the blazing barn, throws the axe into the wagon and dives down to safety. The chapter ends thus:

Arya rolled headfirst into the tunnel and dropped five feet. She got dirt in her mouth but she didn’t care, the taste was fine, the taste was mud and water and worms and life. Under the earth the air was cool and dark. Above was nothing but blood and roaring red and choking smoke and the screams of dying horses. She moved her belt around so Needle would not be in her way, and began to crawl. A dozen feet down the tunnel she heard the sound, like the roar of some monstrous beast, and a cloud of hot smoke and black dust came billowing up behind her, smelling of hell. Arya held her breath and kissed the mud on the floor of the tunnel and cried. For whom, she could not say.

So that went from dire to catastrophic.

I love how this chapter was structured. It starts out quiet, the unease builds in the empty town, they create a moment of respite eating dinner in the perceived safety of the holdfast, but even there they have doomed themselves by lighting the cookfire. Then it escalates, the howling of the wolves, the phony negotiations, the blaze they saw in the distance the chapter before now comes to them, and everything sinks into cacophony, until the last second of dubious escape. Arya’s helpless tears are such a well-earned release of panic and tension. There is no safety, only momentary escape, only confusion. It’s monstrous.

She cries, like Weasel cried.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ACOK, Arya V (chapter 19)

We open to Arya high up on a tree observing a village on the Western lakeshore.

Someone’s there. Arya chewed her lip. All the other places they’d come upon had been empty and desolate. Farms, villages, castles, septs, barns, it made no matter. If it could burn, the Lannisters had burned it; if it could die, they’d killed it.

They have been traveling in the woods a while since the night of the blaze. Arya remembers them returning the next night, burying Yoren and joining up with three survivors. The route is North along the Western lakeshore.

Cutjack opened the door at Gendry’s shout, and when Kurz said they’d be better pressing on north than going back, Arya had clung to the hope that she still might reach Winterfell. (…)

To the east, Gods Eye was a sheet of sunhammered blue that filled half the world. Some days, as they made their slow way up the muddy shore (Gendry wanted no part of any roads, and even Hot Pie and Lommy saw the sense in that), Arya felt as though the lake were calling her. (…)

North along the shore, past a number of deserted rural settlings.

At the end of the day she would often sit on a rock and dangle her feet in the cool water. She had finally thrown away her cracked and rotted shoes. Walking barefoot was hard at first, but the blisters had finally broken, the cuts had healed, and her soles had turned to leather. The mud was nice between her toes, and she liked to feel the earth underfoot when she walked.

This process will have taken some time. A few weeks.

From up here, she could see a small wooded island off to the northeast.

While the Isle of Faces is not truly small, there is no mention of other wooded islands on the lake. This would place Arya less than halfway up the western shore of the lake. This would match the wagon travel speed of a few weeks from the kingsroad to the holdfast on the south shore. They are slow because they avoid roads, trudge through vegetation and mud, and because they are encumbered by injury and a toddler.

The food situation is not great.

She had broken her fast on some acorn paste and a handful of bugs. Bugs weren’t so bad when you got used to them. Worms were worse, but still not as bad as the pain in your belly after days without food. Finding bugs was easy, all you had to do was kick over a rock. Arya had eaten a bug once when she was little, just to make Sansa screech, so she hadn’t been afraid to eat another. Weasel wasn’t either, but Hot Pie retched up the beetle he tried to swallow, and Lommy and Gendry wouldn’t even try. Yesterday Gendry had caught a frog and shared it with Lommy, and, a few days before, Hot Pie had found blackberries and stripped the bush bare, but mostly they had been living on water and acorns.

The kids are on their own. Kurz the poacher was kind to them and gave them some survival training. But he died four days after they set off from an infected wound. The other two adults abandoned them directly after. Echoes of Dany with Drogo and the khalasar. Up and gone when he died, leaving behind the weak and the slaves.

Maybe Tarber and Cutjack figured they would stand a better chance without a gaggle of orphan boys to herd along. They probably would too, but that didn’t stop her hating them for leaving.

This is horrific. Four children between 14 and 9 years old, plus a little toddler. Sneakily abandoned by the two remaining adults. The Hansel and Gretel vibes are strong. Like Hansel and Gretel, they will be captured looking for food. Like Gretel, Arya will free them using cooking as a weapon, eventually. But that’s for later.

Very much of Arya’s chapters echoes Dany, actually. All from opposite sides. The violence, the abandonment, the eventual enslavement, the starving. The comparison to sheep. It all shows the bottom side of Dany’s war at Drogo’s side, and her travels through the desert with the baby dragons. Even Vaes Tolorro mirrors the Gods Eye town. Food and rest, and visitors that will lead them to another large settlement, eventually. But back to the kids in the woods.

Arya rejoins the others and we see Weasel again.

At the sound of her voice, Weasel came creeping out from the bushes. Lommy had named her that. He said she looked like a weasel, which wasn’t true, but they couldn’t keep on calling her the crying girl after she finally stopped crying. Her mouth was filthy. Arya hoped she hadn’t been eating mud again.

“Did you see people?” asked Gendry. “Mostly just roofs,” Arya admitted, “but some chimneys were smoking, and I heard a horse.” The Weasel put her arms around her leg, clutching tight. Sometimes she did that now.

So Weasel is all cried out. It’s been a month or so since she lost her family after her village was set ablaze, followed soon after by another such violent, fiery attack. She went from a stationary life in a vilage with her family, meal time, bed time, cuddles and playing, to a life of being scared, confused, hungry, dirty and constantly on the move.

Like Arya, Weasel stopped crying, like Arya, Weasel doesn’t mind mud in her mouth.

“If it’s a fishing village, they’d sell us fish, I bet,” said Hot Pie. The lake teemed with fresh fish, but they had nothing to catch them with. Arya had tried to use her hands, the way she’d seen Koss do, but fish were quicker than pigeons and the water played tricks on her eyes. “I don’t know about fish.” Arya tugged at the Weasel’s matted hair, thinking it might be best to hack it off. “There’s crows down by the water. Something’s dead there.” “Fish, washed up on shore,” Hot Pie said. “If the crows eat it, I bet we could.” “We should catch some crows, we could eat them,” said Lommy. “We could make a fire and roast them like chickens.”

I love these kids. They are hungry and grumpy and irritated and listless, in their way. They have no clue what to do and injured Lommy is the most anxious of them all. His leg was wounded and infection is setting in. He is the most helpless, and it makes him the most annoying of them. Yield, he says. Yield.

Like Yoren did to her, Arya contemplates hacking off Weasel’s hair. Matted, tangled. Like a bird’s nest, perchance?

A lovely parallel highlighting the role of privilege, with another taumatized orphan cared for by a Stark daughter:

Alayne smoothed his hair. Lady Lysa had never let the servants touch it, and after she had died Robert had suffered terrible shaking fits whenever anyone came near him with a blade, so it had been allowed to grow until it tumbled over his round shoulders and halfway down his flabby white chest. He does have pretty hair. If the gods are good and he lives long enough to wed, his wife will admire his hair, surely. That much she will love about him. (TWOW, Alayne I)

Arya is trying to care for this child, for her inner child, but she does it listlessly, no practice, no plan. She doesn’t talk to Weasel, at all. Numb.

“Whoever it is, you should yield to them,” Lommy whined. “I need some potion for my leg, it hurts bad.” “If we see any leg potion, we’ll bring it,” Gendry said. “Arry, let’s go, I want to get near before the sun is down. Hot Pie, you keep Weasel here, I don’t want her following.” “Last time she kicked me.” “I’ll kick you if you don’t keep her here.” Without waiting for an answer, Gendry donned his steel helm and walked off. Arya had to scamper to keep up. Gendry was five years older and a foot taller than she was, and long of leg as well. For a while he said nothing, just plowed on through the trees with an angry look on his face, making too much noise. But finally he stopped and said, “I think Lommy’s going to die.”

Ah.

Gendry is the “adult” in the group and he’s definitely going through his own “Rickon in tugging on my leg” phase, and presenting Arya with a variant of an offer Dany gets from Xaro in Meereen later: Abandon this doomed, starving lot and take your chances elsewhere. Unlike Dany, Arya is not actually responsible for any of these children, not even little Weasel. Unlike Dany, she is not even close to tempted.

“I’m sick of carrying him, and I’m sick of all his talk about yielding too. If he could stand up, I’d knock his teeth in. Lommy’s no use to anyone. That crying girl’s no use either.” “You leave Weasel alone, she’s just scared and hungry is all.” Arya glanced back, but the girl was not following for once. Hot Pie must have grabbed her, like Gendry had told him. “She’s no use,” Gendry repeated stubbornly. “Her and Hot Pie and Lommy, they’re slowing us down, and they’re going to get us killed. You’re the only one of the bunch who’s good for anything. Even if you are a girl.”

I am cutting out the following super hilarious exchange around revealing her identity, along with the horrible description of the village with the gibbet and the “SS rounds up the villagers for questioning and deportation” imagery.

Gendry gets himself captured and hauled into the warehouse with the other prisoners. Arya will leave no one behind. Arya will defend her pack.

Lommy and Hot Pie almost shit themselves when she stepped out of the trees behind them. “Quiet,” she told them, putting an arm around Weasel when the little girl came running up.

Hot Pie stared at her with big eyes. “We thought you left us.” He had his shortsword in hand, the one Yoren had taken off the gold cloak. “I was scared you was a wolf.”

She has her arms around Weasel, trying to comfort the child, keeping in touch with the last of her innocence. It’s her final interaction with Weasel. They thought she was a wolf. She will be.

Hot Pie glanced at Lommy, at Arya, at Lommy again. “I’ll come,” he said reluctantly. “Lommy, you keep Weasel here.” He grabbed the little girl by the hand and pulled her close. “What if the wolves come?” “Yield,” Arya suggested.

Iconic, badass quote. Heartbreaking context. Their rescue mission is unsurprisingly doomed before it truly gets going. Hot Pie “yields” at the first instance and Arya receives a terrible blow to the head. They take Needle. They are made to lead guards to Lommy and Weasel.

The man with the torch searched around under the trees. “Are you the last? Baker Boy said there was a girl.” “She ran off when she heard you coming,” Lommy said. “You made a lot of noise.” And Arya thought, Run, Weasel, run as far as you can, run and hide and never come back.

Hide, inner child. Run and hide, like Nymeria. Like the wolf.

So that is the last we see of little Weasel.

Realistically, she will be dead within days. Exposure, poisoning, injury, starvation unless she has absorbed enough from the others to gather enough bugs for herself. Or eaten by wolves. Plus the fear, the feeling of abandonment. It’s a grim picture. It becomes unbearable when you try and picture any toddler you know in the place of Weasel.

I am going to headcanon hardcore that Baby Weasel is going to be found by loving people and taken away to safety, wrapped up warm and fed and gently raised. Alternatively, she is kindly raised by the giant wolf pack. And somehow not freezing to death. *hands over ears* Lalalalaalalalalaalalala!

We end the chapter with one more death, one that we will see avenged four books later:

“Can you walk?” He sounded concerned. “No,” said Lommy. “You got to carry me.” “Think so?” The man lifted his spear casually and drove the point through the boy’s soft throat. Lommy never even had time to yield again. He jerked once, and that was all. When the man pulled his spear loose, blood sprayed out in a dark fountain. “Carry him, he says,” he muttered, chuckling.

The echoes are beautifully done.

"Well," she said, "I don't know how you'll get there, then." "You'll need to carry me." See? thought Mercy. You know your line, and so do I. "Think so?" asked Arya, sweetly. Raff the Sweetling looked up sharply as the long thin blade came sliding from her sleeve. She slipped it through his throat beneath the chin, twisted, and ripped it back out sideways with a single smooth slash. A fine red rain followed, and in his eyes the light went out. "Valar morghulis," Arya whispered, but Raff was dead and did not hear.

(TWOW, Mercy)

On the one hand, it’s poetic justice. On the other, it screams out that Arya is basically a child concentration camp survivor but the war is not over. She has had no peace, only ever more hiding, no play, only ever more working, no recovery, only ever more killing. She is in exile, still. But she will return home. And she will one day recover. But she will never ever forget.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In Arya VI, she chooses a new name herself for the first time. The concentration camp vibes are strong. Just read the chapter.

“Some farmer’s whelp, are you? Well, never you mind, girl, you have a chance to win a higher place in this world if you work hard. If you won’t work hard, you’ll be beaten. And what do they call you?” Arya dared not say her true name, but Arry was no good either, it was a boy’s name and they could see she was no boy. “Weasel,” she said, naming the first girl she could think of. “Lommy called me Weasel.”

Lommy and Weasel. Injured and young. No use. Dead and gone but not forgotten.

Ramsey names his dogs for the girls he killed. Sansa and Jon each want to name her future children for the family they lost. Arya names herself for the women and girls she cared about. Weasel. Cat. Nymeria, Nan. Even little Beth Cassel. Her kill list is one part of her. But the list of names that truly matters is another. She takes up their cause not in a hope for a peaceful future with personal happiness like Jon and Sansa but in the here and now, within the broiling whirlwind of injustices. But the very first name is for the little girl, for herself, essentially.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In conclusion:

Little Weasel is, to me, a personification of Arya’s inner child, as she struggles with her loss of innocence and the abandonment by adults. Because she shows up when they encounter their first hardcore warcrime scene. Arya tries to ignore her wailing and pays little attention to her, but attaches her to her hopes for help from Lady Whent and her Knights. She doesn’t take charge of Weasel until their adult caretakers, such as they are, become unavailable by way of being horribly murdered in battle. She is not really equipped to care for her, but she tries and she is determined not to abandon her. When she has disappeared, Arya doesn’t despair, she wishes her well, she has some remnant of faith and she attaches it to Weasel. Off into the wild, to escape certain death, perchance to survive, like she sent off Nymeria.

It is no accident that Arya names herself Weasel when she enters the concentration camp hell that is Harrenhal, and it is a truly briliant stroke that her only direct memory of Weasel after that is when Arya enters service in the House of Black and White in AFFC, Arya II, which seems more empowering but draws up many comparisons in her mind to Harrenhal. The inner child has run off, but her spirit remains hovering over Arya, never quite fading.

#asoiaf #arya stark #weasel #war crimes #inner child #gendry waters #hot pie #lommy greenhands #yoren #ACOK

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nyssaavilaramirez · 4 years

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hi can you do a highschool AU in where Y/N hates Percy, a bad boy/player but Percy tries to get Y/N? oh btw Annabeth was a one time thing....

Game Night (Percy Jackson x Reader Highschool AU)

*Camp Half-Blood is gonna be Half-Blood Boarding School. Also I kinda changed the one time thing w/Annabeth...hope u still like it tho! And Percy might seem OOC, so, sorry!*

Warnings: Some Swearing, Reader has phonophobia (Fear of loud noises)

H/S = Hair Style

F/V/G = Favorite Video Game

F/F = Favorite Food

You slammed the locker door in frustration. You had just bombed pre-algebra test in Mrs.Dodds class. Your best friend, Annabeth Chase, obviously passed the test. She’s the smartest one in the entire grade according to everyone. Well everyone but Drew Tanaka. Piper McLean, your other best friend, somehow didn’t have to take to take the test. She has a way of getting what she wants with her voice. It’s weird, but you didn’t look into it that much. “Someone’s mad.” You hear a voice say. Instantly you knew who that voice belong to. Percy Jackson. Your mood turned from frustrated to “mildly” annoyed.

“What do you want?” You spat.

Percy seems taken aback from the question but his signature smirk plays back onto his face.

“Ooo, feisty. I like a girl who has fire.”

“Lucky for you, I’m cold as ice.” You play back.

He scoffs which you find kinda cute. Wait what?! He is the enemy. You can not fall for someone who hurt your friend. Percy looks doubtful for a second, which you find surprising. Percy always is or acts confident. “Hey, you okay?” You ask worriedly. You mentally slap yourself for caring.

He smirks and that send a whole wave of annoyance through your body. “Didn’t know you cared Y/L/N.”

“Forget it Jackson. I try being a nice human being for once. Hell, I even gave you more than 2 chances, which I don’t ever do. Can’t you be decent for once?” You push through him and walked towards the school doors. When you nudge the doors open, you got a notification. Remember to go to Jason’s football game tonight! (For Piper). You sighed, knowing that you had some homework to do later tonight. You also remembered that you promised Piper that you’d go to her boyfriends big game. You headed to the girls side of the campus and changed into some school spirit clothes. You did your hair in a H/S and left the dorm.

...

You waited for Piper and Annabeth at the main entrance of the football field. You felt a hand on your shoulder and you could tell it wasn’t Piper or Annabeth. You grabbed their hand and twisted it behind their back. “Jackson, what the hell? Don’t you know not to sneak up on people?” You still didn’t let go of his hand. “Didn’t know you enjoyed holding my hand Y/L/N.” You immediately let go of his hand and a look of disgust fell on your face. “What do you want? As soon as Piper and Annabeth get here I’m leaving.”

“I was gonna ask if, you’d...maybe wanna...”

“HEY!!! Y/N!!!” Piper screams. You were grateful that you could leave early. You waved your hands like crazy and screamed back. “HEY PIPES! HI ANNABETH!”

Jason gave you a weird look but you smiled and shrugged it off. You have each girl a hug and questioned Annabeth. “I can get rid of him if you want me to.” You whisper to her. She looked confused as if what Percy did to her never happened. “What? Oh, no. He can stay, I guess.” You gave her a look which said _Bitch-What-The-Hell?-How-Can-You-Forget-What-He-Did? _Annabeth ignored it and entered the football field. “Pipes I gotta go. See you soon.” Jason gave her a kiss and left. Piper gave you a small wave and left you with him.

You scoff and glare at Percy. He seems to ignore it and that action annoys you even more. “Well, the games about to start Y/L/N. You coming?” He says. You wanted to ditch the game and just play some F/V/G and eat F/F. _But you promised Piper that you’d go. _You mentally sighed and went inside.

...

You flinched at the screams and cheers filling the stadium. You needed to leave now. You felt anxious around loud noises. You knew that your phonophobia was kicking in. You felt bad for Piper because she tried so hard convincing you to come to one of Jason's game. No one knew about your phonophobia. You thought people would laugh and make fun about how you are scared of loud noises. You couldn’t take the noise so you stood abruptly and left. No one noticed you leave the stadium, or so you thought.

You kept walking ‘till you found a huge rock that kinda looked like a fist. You climbed to the top and sat down. The wind ruffled your hair and the moon brightly shone on your face. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath in. You felt Percy sit next to you and you were surprised. You didn’t expect anyone to come after you, let alone Percy Jackson. You two sat in silence for a couple of minutes, taking in the sight. “How’d you find me?” You ask Percy, breaking the silence. Both of you turned to look at eachother. His raven black hair ruffled through the wind. His sea green eyes shone in the moonlight and his crooked smile made him look like a troublemaker, which he was. Percy breaks your gaze and stares at the moon. “It’s-I sometimes come up here. I saw you leave so...”

“Awww...does Percy Jackson care for me?” You teased.

Percy didn’t deny it. “Jackson?” You ask, kind of worried now. You had expected for him to deny it. He still doesn’t answer.

“Jacks-” You were cut off with his lips on yours. You instantly push him away with a mix of confusion and anger. “What the hell? You like me?” YOu question. He opens his mouth to speak but you weren’t done yet. “Look, do you even remember why I hate you?” Tears were threatening to fall and you didn’t know why. You weren’t about to cry. Not in front of him.

“Yeah.” He says, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You left her. On the road, in the middle of the night. She was sobbing! Her parents kicked her out because she came out as lesbian, and you didn’t even help her.” You yelled at him. “She loved you,” you whisper, “she loved you, but she couldn’t help the fact that she likes girls. She came to my dorm in the middle of the night. She said that she didn’t wanted to hurt you. But guess what? She didn’t. You did.” Hot tears were now streaming down your face and you harshly wiped them off. You picked yourself up and climber back down and started to head to your dorm. For once, you didn’t look back.

A/N: This is my first oneshot on tumblr! Comment for Pt.2 or if you have any feedback!

#percy jackon and the olympians #percy x reader #piper mclean #annabeth chase #ooc post #one shot #rick riordan #jason grace #football #high school au

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whoisnotmyname · 4 years

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dbd uuhhhhhh incident??

So, I mentioned it on the twit, but yesterday night I had this extremely bonkers game with this Trapper. (spoilers, it was a hot mess but like not in a fun way lmao)

It was with two friends and a rando, who ended up being super sweet and we chatted before the game. We both needed to escape a trial through the hatch, and they (playing Cheryl) were nervous about getting tunneled bc they were bringing a key. Me, being Biggus Diccus, put on my prestige bloody face, 2008 fighter club skinny jeans, and tiddies out as David King and equipped a skelly key. Told ‘em we’d figure it out and I’m ok with being a big loud distraction for them. Had some laughs, got into game.

We got plopped into Lampkin Lane, nbd, but this Trapper, man. He hounded us hard. Insta-hooked and camped my friends back to back, leaving Cheryl and I running back and forth scrambling to get anything done. He ended up catching himself in a lot of his own traps, and Cheryl managed to get away from him twice because of this, and myself once. The first time he got me, it was bc I had started disarming his traps set up around the basement that was located in one of the houses. It was mostly as a diversion to get him off of the other survivor, as he’d been tunneling her and had all ready been hooked once.

It worked- I got him to chase me around the house, downing me and trapping himself as he walked back into the living room of the house. Which, wasn’t ideal, considering there was a bear trap in the back door, window, and basement. And Trapper was in front of the front door. So, not wanting to play into his game of trapping myself and him picking me up again I decided to stand behind the only furniture in the room and squat at him until he did something. He stood there for a few seconds watching me, and he eventually dragged me down into the basement.

h o w e v e r

What he ended up doing was placing a trap in the far back corner in front of the locker, then he dropped me and left the basement to find Cheryl. First Bad Flag. Now, bc I don’t run NM I had to crawl my ass out of the basement, and out to the back yard. Cheryl tried healing me, but was caught after a short chase, both of us getting downed again.

He brought her down to the basement first, now on her second, and on the back hook. Then brought me down, got himself in his own trap, and moved ever so slightly to the left. So that he was body blocking me from leaving the small alcove in the basement.

Which means, i was stuck. I couldn’t walk around him, set off the trap to down myself, nothing. I got to watch the Cheryl slowly run out of struggle time and die, right in front of me in some sick idea of??? I dunno. I think the Trapper thought he was putting me in time out or something but BOY was he wrong!!!

I played around for about ten minutes, racked up my boldness points by running in circles (triangles) in front of him, jumping in and out of the locker, slapped his ass when he would turn around. Worked on my David’s twerking skills while my friends and I laughed about how ridiculous this killer was being.

But then this fucker went afk

We ended up getting into some kind of game of chicken I guess? It was about 20 minutes into this I realized he was almost as stubborn as I am.

Almost.

I wasn’t gonna DC bc some idiot on the internet wanted to bully me lmfao. So I played around a bit longer, eventually just giving him a view of the backstraps as I went and did other things for few minutes. A few minutes turned into an hour an a half as I wandered around AO3, and eventually posted a good pic of the whole ridiculous ordeal on twitter.

After two hours of being afk, they finally DC. Two hours.

What the hell kind of person thinks they can just?? Do that????? Like, what goes through your head to justify doing that to someone.

Anyways.

Time-out didn’t work on me as a kid, it filled me with spite and anger. There’s more pride than iron in my blood and there’s no way in shit some punk ass in a video game is gonna ruin a good time for me. I found a lot of good fics, and had a nice evening with my friends (and ended up finding that Cheryl later and friended them!) I hope that Trapper like, idk, took a shower or drank some milk or smthn. “Can’t be arsed.”

#dbd #long post #this game was WILD Y'ALL #what sicko does that #trapperkeeper696 if you see this #take a nap m8 #like #holy shit bruh #i main david king for a reason #lmfao #and its not bc he looks like jon bernthal #ok maybe a bit #(the joke is i'm an asshole)#david king #the trapper #????#kinda???#dead by daylight #I would die for the cheryl again

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comradeclown · 4 years

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OK, so in honour of my top posts now being me saying at various degrees of length that Arthur is gay (hashtag mylegacy, lmao…), I thought I should just go for it and actually dive in a bit a lot into why I read the character as gay. Now, usually all the justification I need to read a character as gay is “wouldn’t it be cool if this character I like/relate to/etc were gay like me?” and “it’s OK, officer, I do what I want”, and I’m well aware that 99% of the time it’s me using my own creativity to do a resistant reading + the film/book/whatever bumbling into subtext entirely by accident. And while I definitely don’t think there’s ever any more justification needed for any kind of LGBT reading, lol, as it comes to Arthur, obviously feel free to disagree with me, but I honestly think my read of him as a gay man is entirely textually supported, however unwitting and accidental that might have been on the part of the filmmakers (mind you, I don’t think it was Todd Phillips’ conscious intent, but I’m like… 85% sure Joaquin Phoenix knew exactly what he was doing).

(ETA that this is extremely long, so I’ve put it all under a cut.)

First of all, there’s of course… pretty much the entirety of Joaquin Phoenix’s performance (a very, very small sample can be found in my he gay son tag and just generally in my arthur fleck tag, ha), from his mannerisms to his physicality to the way he interacts with other characters. I know part of it is a function of wanting to go back to the character’s campy roots (which are themselves… you know…), and I know I’m relying on stereotypes to some extent, but first of all, you can’t divorce either camp or gender non-conformity from LGBT history and existence, and secondly this is literally how characters have been coded as gay throughout the entire history of cinema. What I’m saying here is that you can’t have a character who acts like Arthur does, literal limp wrist and all, or says “come on, Muuuurrrayyy, do I look like the kind of girl clown who could start a movement” the way he does, to pick one of many, many examples, and not evoke the long history of cinematic wink emojis at People Like Me.

That in itself would… honestly be plenty, lol, but it could be chalked up to, idk, Joaquin Phoenix doing his own thing, were it not for the fact that it’s completely reinforced at every turn by the filmmaking language, even down to his wardrobe choices, and it’s worth noting at this point that the framing is always one of empathy — albeit with nuance — and affording the character subjectivity, rather than being “ew, look at this gross [homophobic slur]”. Like, the very first time we see Arthur, literally our first impression of the character, he’s at a mirror, putting on make-up and then ruining it by crying, and while the make-up is of course part of his job, this is just not how the inner crises of straight male characters are expressed in the language of cinema. Of note too is the fact that he’s clearly visually separated from his co-workers in all the scenes at Ha-Ha’s, indicating his alienation from them, and while this could be chalked up purely to his disabilities, I don’t buy that that’s the only reason, given that Gary gets shit due to his dwarfism, sure, but at the end of the day he’s clearly “one of the boys” in a way Arthur (can’t be) isn’t.

There are honestly so many examples of the framing working to separate Arthur from conventional masculinity and heterosexuality that I’m just going to pick some highlights, such as: obviously, the way he expresses himself emotionally through dancing (to the point that one of his coworkers explicitly ribs him about it, “if your dancing doesn’t do the trick”), which again is not something that straight male characters do in the language of cinema. The fact that all the media we see him consume is musicals, classic comedies and a talk show he’s obsessively fannish about and watches with his mother — and we know he’s a fan of the show as a whole, not just Murray, hence him saying “I love Dr Sally” (and the way he says it…). Or, speaking of his media habits, when he’s dancing with the gun while watching Shall We Dance, this could have so, so easily been about him ~regaining his lost masculinity~ through, say, fantasies of revenge or badassery, but instead it’s about him being acknowledged as a great dancer and punishing bad dancers, and it all ends in slapstick anyway.

Also, while I’m on this topic, I want to address the nature of Arthur’s dissociative fantasies about Sophie. Honestly, I don’t read them as indicative of genuine romantic/sexual interest at all, because the film frames them as identical to Arthur’s more deliberate daydreams about Murray. I mean, not that I’m adverse to gay readings of that if that’s what you want to do, lmao, but to me they’re both very clearly post-traumatic fantasies of having another person look after you for once, of having someone value and cherish you and take care of you emotionally (which obviously has massive appeal if you’ve been dealing with the after-effects of catastrophic trauma all your life but nobody has given a shit about your suffering and you’ve had to be the one to look after other people to boot). Note that after the get-together with Sophie — which is clearly patterned after all those old comedies and musicals Arthur watches — the Sophie fantasies are incredibly platonic and involve things like having another person be there for you in a crisis, telling you something supportive, getting you a hot drink (in contrast with the reality of the hospital scene, in which Arthur is alone and he’s the one trying to comfort someone else, i.e., holding Penny’s hand), essentially no different from fantasy!Murray hugging Arthur and knowing exactly what to say to make him feel good about himself. Also note that both fantasies involve being the object of someone else’s affection, Murray picks Arthur out of the audience and Sophie comes to him, it’s a pillow princess Cinderella fantasy, more than someone loving you it’s about being loved. (And, once more, this could easily have all been v. v. different, the Murray fantasy could have been the much more conventionally masculine fantasy of being a famous comedian and being invited on Murray’s show, the Sophie fantasies could have had an undeniable sexual component, etc.)

Anyway, to get back to the general point of cinematic framing, again if the movie didn’t want me to read Artie as gay, it shouldn’t have had a pivotal moment in his character arc be him sitting at his mother’s vanity table, doing a new make-up look which involves using her lipstick, and then having a Moment while he’s literally holding a quasi-glamour shot of her.

And the thing is, all these reams of stuff aren’t even the key piece of the puzzle for me, which is the way in which the film as a whole can be read as a gay narrative. I’ve posted before about how part of the emotional catharsis of the film is about Arthur finally shamelessly embracing and even revelling in all his freakishness and socially-despised traits, a big one of which being what is arguably his effeminacy and… honestly I don’t need to explain how that’s a classic gay (and more generally LGBT) narrative, do I? Like, there’s a reason why a pivotal scene is Arthur having his hair-dyeing underwear rave in a flat that’s suddenly incredibly bright and sunny for the first time, it’s about reclaiming the pain and ugliness of your life and your circumstances into a space of potential liberation, which is honestly why this movie is always going to be incredibly personally meaningful to me for so many reasons, but definitely meaningful to me as a gay woman. (Again, this could so, so easily have been about him becoming some stone-cold badass or whatever, but instead the film has him dye his hair, put on a super garish new outfit and new make-up look, dance shamelessly in the street, and be incredibly campy on national television.)

More generally, there’s other aspects of the narrative arc that tie into this general theme and which also serve to continually distance Arthur from the conventional cinematic narratives of heterosexual manhood: for instance, once he starts fully embracing the Joker persona — which is… just Arthur, the crucial difference is in how others perceive him and how he perceives himself — any attraction to women, feigned or real, goes completely out the window and the only genuinely affectionate interaction he has with another human being is with Gary (I know we all love to joke about his first kiss being with Dr Sally, but it’s obviously Comedy Jokes and he doesn’t even kiss her for real, his make-up is completely intact; Arthur’s only real kiss in the movie is when he kisses Gary). Or, when Arthur’s personal narrative finally intersects completely with the larger social narrative — which is itself about upheaval, reclamation and potential liberation — the big triumphant moment is him once again dancing, this time for a cheering crowd, and using blood like lipstick to redraw his smile.

Or even, to a lesser extent, his whole sub-plot with his mother, before I watched the film I was worried that this was going to be the usual narrative about the henpecked guy who finally puts the bitch in her place as part of becoming a Real Man, and it’s not at all, quite the opposite, Arthur is not henpecked and is clearly in charge of the household, he genuinely loves Penny — and is confident she loves him back — and enjoys doing at least some things with her (them watching the Murray Franklin Show together), and up until the reveal any issues he has with her are largely the product of having to look after an ill person with zero social support and while working a physically and emotionally demanding job and dealing with his own disabilities. When he kills her, it’s a deeply sad and self-destructive scene and it’s the result of his profound anguish and sense of betrayal and he frames it as the bitter, trauma-haunted dark half of self-actualisation and self-acceptance (“that’s the real me”, “I haven’t been happy one minute of my entire fucking life”, “now I realise… it’s a fucking comedy”).

Or, at a more meta-textual level, the way the film is unabashedly both a pulpy thriller and a melodrama, just shamelessly embracing all its emotions, its pain and catharsis, without a trace of irony. Like, yeah, part of this is the immense sincerity and compassion Joaquin Phoenix brings to his performance, but it really is the movie’s approach as a whole, and when there is humour — and I do think there’s quite a lot of humour in the movie — it’s not the distancing, let’s-not-feel-anything-too-deeply-bro humour of your typical MCU movie, it’s the camp sensibility of laughing with and at your own tragedy. (Myriad examples down to the use of certain songs in the soundtrack.)

On a final note, you guys know how much I don’t care about authorial intent, but I feel compelled to point out that in his director’s commentary, Todd Phillips says, while discussing Arthur’s journey into becoming Joker, that he reads the larger pop-cultural character of the Joker as someone who doesn’t want women, and like… Again, it’s not like I think that he was deliberately making a gay narrative in any way, it’s just that if you’re creating this journey of a man who eventually becomes a character who’s not interested in women in that sense, you’ve also just ended up stumbling into a gay narrative accidentally on purpose, lmao, what’s the real difference between “at the end of the story, Arthur doesn’t want women because he’s ~da Joker now, baby, he doesn’t want anything~” and “at the end of the story, Arthur doesn’t want women because he’s gay and he’s no longer deeply repressed and closeted”?

Anyway, like I said, feel free to disagree, he’s a fictional character, lol, but this is where I’m coming from, and the reason why if everyone involved in the movie decided to make a statement tomorrow about how much Arthur Fleck wants to bone women I’d just say “shit, idc, I’m afraid you made a gay movie about Arthur Fleck, a gay man, it’s a little too late to retcon this bitch now ¯\_(ツ)_/¯”. Also this is over 2,000 words long what the fuck I am so sorry

#long post #joker 2019 #class struggle clown movie #arthur fleck #dive down into chuckletown #he gay son #now in the form of 95 theses nailed to my tumblr #gonna make a letterboxd list called 'the author is dead this is lgbt cinema now'

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ascottywrites · 5 years

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The Steter List --Tails

After I realized that the last post was getting pretty long (what does that say about me?) I decided to split it up into two parts Sterek and Steter, so that it’s easier to deal with and not as possibly overwhelming...here’s that Steter half!

--Steter a.k.a Stiles Stilinski/ Peter Hale--

*a.k.a. The ship that makes me rethink life

Something Powerful Between Your Thighs by Bunnywest (Complete: 4/4| 18,595) --Steter/ --Biker!Peter

Someone’s actually replied.Fuck.

I’ll give you what you need, pretty boy. And you can call me Sir.

The hairs on the back of Stiles’s neck prickle at that, and his dick throbs. He clicks on the profile and the picture that pops up is UN-FUCKING-FAIR. Jesus Christ on a bicycle, nobody should look like that. The man’s staring into the camera, a smile that’s almost a sneer on his face. And what a face it is. Intense blue eyes, cheekbones like cut glass, and a strong jawline covered in the perfect amount of stubble. His neck, what Stiles can see of it, is thickly muscled, and Stiles can see the beginnings of a tattoo that travels down. There’s the tiniest scattering of grey at his temples, and Stiles breathes out, “Oh yes, Sir,” as he drinks in the details on the profile.

Sacrificial Lamb by Bunnywest (Complete: 21/21| 54,900) --Steter

The Alpha has a scruffy beard, unkempt hair and dazzling blue eyes. The scar on his face is raised, running down his cheek like a twisting, gnarled rope. Stiles knows that it came from the blade of Kate Argent herself, and that the Alpha got it fighting in the battle where Kate killed his lover, cutting his head clean from his neck, if the stories are to be believed.

The Alpha lets Stiles look his fill, before indicating that Stiles should take the other couch, and Stiles does so, his father’s words echoing in his ears. He can do this, can be pleasant and amenable. The lives of his people may depend on it. The Alpha spends long moments surveying him, before saying, “I like you, Stiles.”

You don’t know me, Stiles wants to blurt out, but he bites his tongue.

The Wild Card by Bunnywest for Rainy182 (Complete: 1/1| 10,799) --Steter

It's courting season, and for Omega Stiles, that means he has a month to choose who he's going to spend his heat with. He didn't think he'd have many suitors to choose from, but apparently he was wrong. It's a good thing he has Derek's uncle Peter to guide him.

Ink Blossoms by Triangulum (Complete: 1/1| 24,501) --Steter/ Tattooed!Peter

"So, you're going to ruin your niece's baby shower with flowers in the wrong color?" the florist, Stiles, asks when they reach the counter. He pulls out a binder and starts flipping through it.

"Not ruin. Mildly inconvenience," Peter says.

"Right, messing with a hormonal pregnant woman seems like a great plan."

"To be fair, her fiance and the father of her baby is my ex-boyfriend," Peter says. "And we weren't broken up when they started 'dating'."

Stiles looks up at him in surprise. "And you're still getting her flowers?" he asks.

"It's under duress, I assure you," Peter says. He absolutely wouldn't be here if his alpha hadn't ordered it.

"Well, shit, yeah, let's get you some purple revenge flowers," Stiles says.

smoke & bone (mistletoe & fang) by rightsidethru (Complete: 1/1| 3,075) --Steter

Deaton once told Stiles to be that spark. He never fully explained what that meant, however. (It was intentional.)

Lie to me (I like them pretty and white) by orphan_account (Complete: 8/8| 12,577) --Steter

Fact number one: Only true mates can have kids together.Fact number two: Peter had a mate, who was pregnant with twins when he died in the fire.

When Stiles tells him he’s pregnant, he... well, it doesn't really go according to plan.

Stiles wakes up in the hospital. He’s alone, a packed overnight bag beside him brought by his dad probably... and he doesn’t really have a reason to stay, so he grabs it and runs.

/look at end notes for TWs/

*I still think this one is a cute little ditty.

Til Death by Bunnywest (Complete: 10/10| 50,770) --Steter

"How long do we have to find him someone?” Stiles asks.

“Two weeks,” says Derek, eyebrows pulling down even further. The fierceness of his expression tells Stiles just how concerned he is.

“He marries, or he goes to the camps. And you know what your father told us,” Scott reminds her.

The camps……aren’t camps.

Peter either finds a wife, or he dies.

*I'm not really a fan of female!Stiles, no particular reason, just not my cuppa. But this one I enjoyed all the way to the end! Intro to Ethics by thegirlnamedcove (Complete: 8/8| 18,061) --Steter

"The universe isn’t wrong about this stuff, the soulmate spell is ironclad, and that means you know this is going to work out. That’s something people don’t get with friends, or dating around.”

“Sure, people say that,” Stiles gestured at the mark where his arm was now stretched out along the back of the couch, “but we don’t actually have any way of knowing. None of us signed up for this. The Ancestors just decided to bestow it upon us and we all have to live with it. Maybe it’s not magic compatibility after all, maybe people just learn to live with one another because everyone around them is telling them to.”

In Sickness and in Fire by wynnebat for Green (Complete: 1/1| 7,320) --Steter

After a fight with an alpha from a rival pack, Stiles begins to turn. It doesn't go as expected.

*Despite the villan-esque portrayal and the Satan in a V-neck tag, there is a large part of me that believes that if Resurrected!Peter got the opportunity he would be that guy you want to have your back. Puppies and Programming by Bunnywest (Complete: 12/12| 17,012) --Steter

Stiles is rich, successful, and lonely.

Buying a Halebot Personal Support Bot seems like a great idea. A human-like robot that can read and respond to his desires and is perfectly sexually compatible, and doubles as a bodyguard? Sign him the fuck up. And it's perfect, at first. But then the P3Tr develops a glitch. Feelings.

Gentleman 'verse by Bunnywest (on-going series) --Steter

Stiles is an omega who just wants to be courted properly, and needs someone to help him though his upcoming heat.

Peter's the alpha who thinks he'd quite like to help out.

Things don't quite go as planned, but they still work out exactly as they should.

*Is it obvious that I have a special appreciation for Bunnywest?... Like is it too noticeable? Ha!

Worn Out Shoes by moonstalker24 (Complete: 28/28| 96,763) --Steter

When the dead rise, and the world comes to an end, the McCall Pack must learn to live in this new world, or die in the attempt. This is the story of the end, and of the year that follows.

*I found this origionally for the Accidental Baby Aquisition tag. ...I love that tag.

Falling In, Not Through by Julibean19 for Mysenia (Complete: 10/10| 49,898) --Steter

“You need to help me,” Stiles says eventually. He’s still in too much pain to move off the floor, but he’s picked up a stray feather, twirling it between two fingers with a look of pure terror on his face. Peter nods immediately, eager and willing to be involved in whatever this is.

Peter’s eyes flick between the feather spinning between Stiles’ fingers and the harsh angle of the bend of his wings above his shoulders. He doesn’t look like any picture of an angel Peter has ever seen. There should be an elegant swooping curve there, neat little rows of white or gold or silver, pointed tips flung far out from Stiles’ body and a halo above his head. If Stiles is an angel, the myths are all wrong.

In which Stiles finds that he has wings and Peter finds that a pack doesn't always need to be made up of wolves.

Wild Creatures by neglectedtuesday (Complete: 1/1| 13,000) --Steter

The treaty is signed while Stiles is being laced into his wedding corset. Ink splatters parchment as a maid pulls the ribbons, tighter and tighter. Stiles’ breath and future are taken away, all to save a village. He is a sacrifice more than a bride. The maid assists in fixing a choker around Stiles throat. Her hands are cold despite the roaring fire in the grate. The choker is a string of blood red rubies, they reflect the firelight with a wet shine like an open wound.

I'm Only Heard During the Silence Between My Screams by Irukashi_Narukib (wip: 39/?| 47,481) --Steter

Stiles thinks no one is listening, so he just... stops talking. It's just like that asshole Peter to refuse to take the hint.

Rewriting the future by Synesthetic (Complete: 28/28| 106,631) --Steter

Two days before their planned bonding, alpha Derek Hale runs away with his secret beta girlfriend, leaving Stiles heartbroken. With the demands of his omega physiology forcing him to bond with someone before his first heat, Derek's uncle Peter steps in and offers a solution.

A Darkness Follows by havok2cat (Complete: 9/9| 41,994) --Steter

Stiles serves his community service at Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital. He's assigned to a mysterious patient and finds himself quickly becoming obsessed.

Reluctant Allies With Benefits by veterization (Complete: 8/8| 93,217) --Steter

Peter suggests he and Stiles start having no strings attached sex. It's that simple. No, really, it totally is. Stiles will make sure of it.

as you are by veterization (Complete: 1/1| 34,093) --Steter

Stiles runs straight into a tree and suddenly, things are... different. Namely, he's in a world where Peter Hale is his boyfriend.

Took the Words Right Out of my Mouth (Must've Been When You Where Kissing Me) by stellewrites (Complete: 1/1| 6,008) --Steter

"Maybe he’s genuinely flirting, but he’s just pretty bad at it. Like, pulling your pigtails kind of thing?”

Stiles rolled his eyes, “Look, if you’re not going to help, I’m going to hang up, ok?”

“You asked for my opinion!” Scott laughed.

“Yeah, yeah…” AKA, Stiles works at a diner and has a love/hate relationship with the flirty Alpha that comes in almost daily with his pack.

Winding Roads to Flowering Fields by Tahlruil (ongoing series) --Steter

#steter #stiles stilinski #omega!stiles #regency #fae #zombie apocolypse au #teenwolf #teen wolf #fanfiction #ao3fic #peter hale #supernatural a/b/o #a/b/o #alpha!peter hale #ficrec #10/10 would reccomend #recommendations

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the-house-of-the-nine · 4 years

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In Mind of Misery: Manipulation, Part 13

[ And so the journey begins. Three Separate stories to tell here all happening Simultaneously. Attacking from three fronts, is this the beginning of the end for The Nine? Please Like, Share, and Follow us! We are hoping to get new people coming our way, and could use the love! Thank you everyone!!!!! ]

Cast:

[ L.K ] - Lazarius Kashebahl, Marseille, Raelyndia Duskhollow

[ P.K ] - Kretus Dark

[ V.D ] - Verzatea Duskflame, Pame Myl’Brin

[ J ] - Jursol, Jimba, Mawa

[ T ] - Talisin aka The Boy

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[ P . K ] Kretus stared down into the blondes face and inwardly grumbled. But my stew is still hot and I hadn’t even had a bite yet! He masked his irritation with himself. Serves him right. He should have just minded his own business. But then he hated himself for those thoughts. With a sigh, he merely nodded.

“You’re talking about the old Duskflame estate then. If I recall, that is your surname yes? It’s not far from here. One, maybe two hours trek due north...”

He shifted on his feet, his hands slipping into his pockets now.

“I can help you get there, sure.”

He slid his gaze around the fucked up group again. Shoulda just stayed put.

[ L. K ] "Two. . .hours"

He mouthed silently and turned around to move back toward Pame. As he neared the Kaldorei he would softly motion for them to switch.

"She is much lighter, give your back a rest."

It wasn't that he was going to ask her, more or less tell her. She had been working herself to near death trying to take care and fight for everyone.

Rather than force her to endure further, Lazarius would take the weight of the Shaldorei and turn back toward the others.

"You find a way to cut that time in half. . . and I will make it worth your while, how does ten thousand sound?"

Lazarius grunted as he hoisted the one arm elf over his shoulder and supported the man the best he could without injuring him further.

"We can talk on the way, move. . .now."

He snapped inferring to Verza to get this show on the road.

[ P . K ] “Ten thousand what? Biscuits? Daggers? Punches to the gullet?”

The tattooed red head moved forward and made a gesture to Lazarius as if to say let me carry the girl.

“Give the woman a rest. I can carry her and then I have a mount we can put two on. That should cut the time down.”

[ V . D ] At the command of Lazarius, Pame wasted no time in heeding him. There was a selfish reason for it, too, because the thought of a break actually... Appeased the Kaldorei. It made the tension in her shoulders slacken when hoisting the red head into.her arms after Mars had been steadied and lifted by Lazarius. Though she'd bare her teeth in a glower at the suggestion of taking it too easy,

"I have her,"

She denies stubbornly, gritting her teeth after recognizing the harshness of her own tone,

"Egh... Thank you anyways..."

At the snap would the sindorei stare intently toward the Kashe'bahl, the previously tear soaked cheeks now flustered pink with shame attheir hesitation. He was a dick, but he was right. They werent safe, time was ticking.

"Gods sake," Tea groans at Kretus's cheeky remark, bending forth to scoop the little boy into her arms-- a habit she'd picked up with Brinys, and one she'd familiarize the boy with cause she'd be apoiling him henceforth...

Whether they followed or not, Tea starts walking the way Kretus had emerged from... Just to get them started! Even if it was the wrong way.

[ P . K ] Kretus just shrugged his shoulders and turned to walk north. Right to his hut and after Tea.

“Suit yourself,” he said to Pame.

He looked at Lazarius over his shoulder as he was walking.

“Might want to have a chat with your comrades that now is not the time to be stubborn.”

[ L. K ] "I can very easily call one of those worms down from the sky and let it pay you a visit if you think her company is so bad. In case you aren't aware, aside from 'Teacup' you're a stranger to the rest of us, with very little value. . .aside from some stew. . .and a hut. . . You'll have to excuse our apprehension and desire to be someplace safe, secure and also trusted. No offense."

If Kre didn't think Lazarius could hear him, he was mistaken, they were all elves here, even Jursol was keen of hearing, they all would have caught his remark. As he walked with the Shaldorei over his shoulder he grunted.

"Why don't we try this. . . since we are on the path toward doing something, You already know Verzatea. . . the troll is Jursol of the Zandalari, the Kaldorei is my personal Shade, Pame Myl'Brin and the young girl she is carrying is Raven. This arm less fellow who is going to be just fine. . ."

Marseille opened his eye, just barely enough to peer at Laz and crack a soft smile.

"This is Marmless. . .I mean Marseille."

He would point ahead with his hand holding the arm of the elf.

"We don't know the kids name, picked him up on the way. And I am Lazarius Kash'ebahl. I assume you are Kretus . . she had told me a bit about your escapade during the Magister incident. . . it is a shame we never got to meet after I was returned."

[ V . D ] Pame snorts noisily at the Marmless comment, biting harshly at her bottom lip to prevent that from bubbling over into a straight up laugh.

But it certainly was amusing, especially now that she was confident Mars stood a fighting chance of surviving. Maybe she'll laugh fully once they're completely out of the woods.

[ R ] Raven continued to be easy to carry. Indeed, she was lighter than the Shaldorei. Her frame was slathered in drying, or dried black void tainted blood however. At least being completely out, she didn't squirm while being carried.

[ P . K ] He continues walking, listening to Lazarius introduce them all. He had certainly not meant to keep his words from being heard. The man spoke what was on his mind when it was on his mind. Most of the time.

“You have the right of it. Kretus Dark.”

He wasn’t insulted in the least. He had merely been trying to help. He’d learned over the decades that help, whether offering it or receiving it, was a finicky thing.

“Tea,” he shouted.

“Start going right a bit. You’ll see my campfire.”

He looked at Laz again.

“We can grab a few things quickly and then lay both the comatose woman and Marmless atop Gambit. Should cut our time if two of you aren’t weighted down with bodies.”

[ L. K ] "Ma...rseille. . .wretch. . .even without my arm, I will knife y..."

Laz shook the words from him as he continued to walk.

"Save your strength." he quickly corrected as he continued to limp along with the ancient elf.

"Mister Dark. . . is that your actual name? I have never met anyone of the House of Dark. Was that your fathers house? The Kash'ebahls are a well known rank of nobility, In all of my time within the magistrate I don't ever recall hearing the name."

[ V . D ] With a hesitation in step the sindorei awkwardly wobbles around and starts meandering through the woods whilst wearing a bashful expression.

"I knew that,"

she murmurs beneath her breath, even though her breath was becoming equally shallow with every grueling step. She started to regret slacking in her stamina training.

Though she'd silently push herself to keep moving forward. Otherwise she'd become undeniably slow and fall to the back before slowly giving up.

[ P . K ] He slid his eyes toward the male elf and forced a smile. A smile that oddly looked like someone Laz knew when she forced smiles.

“My mother was a poor woman. And my father was...”

his jaw clenched and he looked forward, his camp fire in sight now.

“Don’t actually know. Some nobleman who took my mother for a mistress then discarded her.”

[ L. K ] "Sounds like a typical noble piece of shit."

Lazarius said, knowing what he did about his own father, the man who'd sold him off for the fortune he'd gained, he wasn't exactly lacking in the department of horrible fathers.

He would continue to walk in the middle of the back, occasionally looking over his shoulder to make sure Raven was alright. Even in Pames care, he was fiercely protective over the girl. Or was he just making sure she hadn't woken up yet.

[ P . K ] Tea would make it to the small home first. It really wasn’t a tiny hut. It was moderate and looked cozy in the dreary Ghostlands. The fire was all but cinders now, the stew still hot.

“He was from what my mother told me of him. Help yourselves to the stew while I gather a few things.”

Kretus grabbed his own bowl that was now lukewarm and began shoveling it in while he disappeared inside. He’s re-emerge with more bowls then disappear again as he rummaged around gathering a few things. It would not take long.

[ V . D ] With a weathered sigh of relief Tea momentarily lowers the boy to indulge Kretus's kind offer. She'd locate items which to safely carry the stew offered, as well as utensils for them all to eat from-- offering each of their group a bit of stew to fuel them for the hard journey ahead.

Pame, while she devoured it swiftly, would hiss and huff noisily from scorching the inside of her mouth from rushing the process of chewing. Though she'd offer to feed Mars, blowing on it so as to prevent him from unnecessarily hurting himself.more.

[ J ] Jursol followed the others choosing still to listen as they moved. Her raptors purred as they nudged her now and then. She glanced around at things as they walked taking in the new sights.

When they arrived at the mans hut she took a minute to look around. The raptors needed to hunt for food and felt the same at the moment. Mars was in good hands for the time being. Breathing a sigh of relief before speaking up.

“We be needin ta hunt for der meat.”

She said pointing at the raptors. Jimba now in her arms as she pet him. Jursol looked once more to the others to be sure they would be OK for a bit while she was gone.

[ V . D ] "Swiftly," Pame agreed with Jursol, her eyes sweeping the familiar forest with a glower before remarking secondly, stressing,

"Carefully. These woods are known for monstrosities."

-- The promise to Jursol made by Verzatea before her hunting spree was a vow to set up small hints to help guide the zandalari and her raptors to the right path, back to the traveling band of misfits after they began the journey. Something small, but something Jursol could track.

@siidaraykashebahl

@frompage112

@zandalaridruidofgonk

@thebladeitself

@whatadarkbitch

@pyravari-kashebahl

@miss-irascible

To be concluded in “In Mind of Misery, Manipulation, Epilogue″

#thehouseofthenine #the house of the nine #original stories #guild writing #original characters #discord writing

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