#we know hardly anything about them in canon I’m taking any scraps I can get

[knightinink]

Summary:

“You’re not the woman I fell I love with.”

“I know… I’m sorry…”

“…Me too.”

A little Cash & Tilla angst that I wrote a while ago, & just decided to put up on ao3.

[chosoniisan]

A risk worth messy reward ↠ kamo choso

↠alternative title: swapping spit with choso, literally

↠pairing: kamo choso | sorceress!reader

↠setting: post canon, not at all compliant

↠genre: nasty, nasty fluff

↠caution: suggestive; height/size difference ("my" choso is over 6ft); unhealthy-ish/complicated relationship; kinda owner/pet dynamics; coercion (?); lots of tongue

↠summary: after yet another rural-steeped mission, your first priority is finding the nearest bed to fall into; conversely, choso has other things on his mind

↠authoress' notes: my initial plan had been to write a hc about the oddities of choso, how he has some bizarre and inexplicable habits, but writing hcs (without plot) isn't my strength, so I opted for what could be considered "snapshots" instead :')

also, the context, setting-wise, for this is that once the dusts settles post canon, the high-ups (the smattering of them still kicking), let choso live conditioned on you acting as his controller at all times, lest you risk ending up on the execution chopping block, too. . .

A ripely full moon, and the air’s refreshed with a slight chill:

by all means the sort of mid-autumn night you’d want to bottle up and take with you.

You might just have to overlook the chunks of entrails sticking to your soles, though. And maybe you can pretend that it’s the crickets droning in the grass and not the crisping of bone dissolving into nothingness. As if on cue, you resist the urge to sigh to keep the tang of death, thoroughly worn over, from invading your lungs any more than it already has.

It’s not quite how you’d envision your evening—but beggars can’t be choosers. And on the bright side, at least you’re fully intact, all your limbs present and accounted for despite enough close calls to last you a lifetime. Sure, you might have said the very same thing last time (i.e. a handful of days ago), and you’ll no doubt mirror that sentiment next time too (i.e. in another day or so), though you take your blessings when you can get them.

Granted, your good luck quickly runs its course since there’s hardly anything fortunate about the strain of curses the far-flung reaches of the countryside seem to breed to no end. Who would have thought that the higher you climbed the rankings the more acquainted you’d become with woodland critters the size of your hand (excluding cursed spirits, mind you). Then there’s the persistent feeling of otherness crawling over you like a second skin the longer those prying eyes rake and rove over you. (If only they knew that a city girl and her dutiful charge were the last bit out of place in these parts.)

“I mean it when I say that you’re a lifesaver, Choso.” Your poignant ring is all the encouragement he needs to scrap making sure that dead is actually dead this time around and squeeze himself back into your sphere again. Crunch, crunch, crunch goes the tall grass giving way to your missing piece because obviously solace by another name is your side. Leave it to him to be over 190 centimeters of delicately endearing. “I wasn’t expecting that other special-grade, but, of course, you’re always covering for me in a pinch—I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you.”

In that moment, you’re the stargazer of him; a face lighting up the pearly night beyond measure. “I’m always following your lead, though. You’re a lot more experienced than me, too, so the best I can do is try to keep up. Because I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.” A dash of sheepishness colors the downward wisp of lashes brushing against his cheeks, but that isn’t enough to distract him from the sway of you in his shadow (even if he has to really drop his head to horde that eyeful for himself). “I’m glad we make a good team,” his brief lull is beseeching, the tilted head even more so, “at least I think so.”

For the sake of his tenderly bleeding heart, your nodding doesn’t miss a beat. “Yep, we sure do. . .! And every good team needs some rest, so I should go ahead and text our supervisor and let him know we’re finished up here.” Another thwarted attempt at a sigh, so you settle for a mild quirk of your lips amidst reaching into your pocket for your phone spared from the fray. “We’ll have to stay the night in town, which isn’t ideal, but we can take the first train back home in the morning.”

The faster you can confirm the rendezvous spot, the faster you can sink into a warm bath and then beneath a cozy comforter, so you’re already a few rapid-fire texts deep when Choso pulls on your sleeve.

“Wait. Before that. . .” he begins, slow, measured as if he’s taking the time to taste every word before it leaves his lips. Like that’s not enough to prod at your attention, you’re especially perceptive to rose stain swashed across the expanse of his face, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think him too innocent to sell his soul to the devil for a life of strife alongside you. Though perhaps innocence in its purest state is wetting his hands in blood, bearing your burden of nocturnal calamity with the occasional slip of diffidence. “Can I. . .” Gulping down that lump in his throat. “Can I have my reward now?”

It's your turn to sound things out for good measure.

“Your. . .reward?” (Emphasis on the furrowed brows there.)

He bobs his head once, meanwhile you’re rifling through the pages of your mental archives in search of this reward, whatever it is. A contemplative hum sifts through you at the recollection of saying something in the realm of treating him once this mission wrapped up; admittedly, it was the sort of remark made in passing, but if it’s Choso, you don’t mind staying true to your word. Besides, you have an inkling of what he might have in mind (or you hope you know him well enough to make that guess. . .there’s only one way to find out).

“You’re talking about the souvenirs near the station; I think you were looking at the sweet dumplings, yeah? I don’t know if that shop is open this late, but we can go over and check—”

“No, not that.” Vehemence strums in his tone, so much so that you start a bit, setting off the ripple effect of him offering you a repentant look in return, one that’s still very clearly brimming with fervor. “I did a good job, right? And you promised I could have a reward if I was really good.” As a matter of fact, he’s not wrong, but his moonstruck gaze, expanding, plants an unnamed sensation between the open spaces in your chest. (You’re not daunted by him, it’s just that unpredictability has never been your forte.) “. . .So I was thinking that I wanted you.”

Doesn’t have a chance to click together in your brain until the warmed heart of his palm envelops your entire cheek, and even then you’re still too many steps behind by the time he’s level with you: face-to-face, eye-to-eye, lips. . .dangerously close. Inhaling a mingling of dried copper and powdery musk doesn’t help you figure out what he means by wanting you, having you; rather, with each fanning of his breath over you in crests, you’re gradually unraveling into something entirely unlike you. Something a lot more nerve-ridden.

If you had intended to chime in after scrambling to make sense of the situation (or not), the reality is that you’re simply opening the door for him to carve a place inside you. Literally. Considering it’s not the sound of a mildly articulated concern that echoes in the air, but a muffled squeak when he catches his lips on yours, inviting himself into the niche of your mouth before you can try to recoil. Even when you do think to reel away, his arm is already circled around your waist, seizing you into the bulk of him to the point that you can’t tell where one of you begins and the other ends.

You’ve long given consideration to the fact that Choso’s spent more time sealed than unsealed, that to this very day he’s still working out the kinks of what it means to be mostly human—but this. This goes beyond his idiosyncrasies of not knowing the particulars of kissing. No, this is nothing of a kiss and everything of devouring you whole.

As susceptible as you are, he has no trouble crowding his tongue against yours, which is the difference between tasting him and choking on him. Testing the waters is the last thing on his mind (you suspect it had never been there in the first place) when he’s using the anchor of his hand to steer you right where he wants you, because how else could he map the ridges of your palate without you shrinking like the violet you’re steadily flowering into. Intrusive is him eating away at your lips like a man starved, but it’s also the blooming of heat curled through your insides with a particular penchant for the midst of your tummy.

The compulsion to stagger back is second nature to you, except he’s unnaturally folded into you, so there’s really nowhere for you to skitter off to, especially not with the fixation given to a mesh of sticky pink. And it feels foreign, sinfully so, as he overwhelms you with broad, saliva-rife sweeps of his tongue, undeterred by your stagnate self, too paralyzed by the knotting in your core, the blistering up of sweat at your temples, and the uncut wildness—or is that obsession?—of him before your very eyes. Either way, it’s just the push needed to send you over the edge of quiet bleating. . .that finds its premature end swallowed into him for safekeeping at the bottom of his stomach, just like every other morsel of you.

Heady appreciation is quick to follow on your heels by way of a long-winded moan from him, to you by virtue of his snare. The stammering in your chest is the clear mark of being caught off guard, and Choso in all his fevered glory capitalizes on your lapse of self to plunge his tongue as deeply as it’ll reach. Nevermind the fact that there’s no stifling the stuttered heave around him or the full-bodied quaking against him, either, he’s still singularly focused on partaking in the mess of you. Willingly or not, you can’t help but indulge him when you’re varying shades of fluster, and it’s the gilt reflection of your disarray that has you clamping your eyes shut. Too bad for you, darkness doesn’t temper the dizzying sensation clambering through your veins that’s becoming more, and more, and more intertwined with him.

(You don’t know how much longer you can weather the storm of him, or if you’ll even be able to mend what he’s already bitten through, and maybe it would have been preferrable if he had taken your skin & tissue with him. He took something far more softly perverse.)  

Though in the end, it’s of his accord, only, that he spares you of the kind of smothering that’ll have you icesheet cold against him in no time flat. And you use spare loosely because he simply moves to sucking and nibbling on your bottom lip as if parting from you means imminent death. If he’d give you a chance, you could assure him that his fears of relenting are unwarranted, but in the thick of hungry fascination, he’d rather stripe his tongue along the corner of your mouth to gather up a stray bead of slick. Whether yours or his, you don’t know—you do know that when he’s done, it’s every bit of his tacky memento etched on your skin.

His gift to you for letting him have one of your deepest intimacies.

As expected, he doesn’t keen over from unlacing himself from you—truthfully, his hand is still palming at your cheek, so it’s not a full untethering—though you’re certainly not boasting a modicum of stability yourself. If that unyielding hold around your middle is anything to go on, you suspect that he doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest; you might even say that he’s savoring in the ruby-rich reliance of his handler.

“Uhm,” Reticence returns with a vengeance despite having just rooted through you mere moments ago; the moonlight glancing off traces smeared across his lips a testament to that. “. . .Do you we could see about those dumplings now?”

And of course you’ll oblige him—even knowing you’re complicit in preserving his devotion.

[earlgreydream]

time for us.

| loki x reader | angst | fluff |

anon requested. loki has been working a lot lately and hasn’t really had anytime for the reader and he completely forgets about their anniversary and she doesn’t tell him for a couple of days but then he snaps at her and they have a huge argument

a/n: this doesn’t have any spoilers for the show— just mention that Loki works for the TVA (which isn’t canon at the time of me writing this)

You loathed Loki’s new job, working for the Time Variance Authority.

Ever since Loki began at the TVA, they’d managed to occupy nearly all of his time and energy, leaving little to none left for you. Your relationship was strong, but only a few weeks of work had put a strain on the two of you.

He’d become more short tempered, and easily agitated. You tried to be patient, but little things seemed to antagonize you, and soon every small thing was becoming huge.

Above all, you hated to fight with Loki. You bottled up your frustration, shoving them down inside of you and keeping them hidden and locked away. Your limited time with Loki was precious, and you didn’t want to poison it with your annoyance. However, it was doing damage that you hadn’t yet comprehended, building a pressurized weapon that was bound to explode.

It took weeks, but the explosion came.

.

Loki had been so caught up in work that he missed your anniversary. It had escaped his mind entirely, passing like any other day. He was distracted by variants running wild, and the need to please his new boss. He felt responsible for things that were going wrong, and he had put your relationship on the backburner.

You’d been certain he’d take you out during the night, or at least do something to acknowledge the anniversary of your love, but you’d been dead wrong. You waited at home as hours passed, and when his normal arrival time had long passed, the pain in your chest grew until your entire body was throbbing with hurt.

You took your makeup off, along with the pretty dress you wore-- the green one that your husband adored.

Loki had stayed late at work, taking overtime and showing up just before ten. You were so hurt you could hardly speak, but Loki’s mind was too muddled with work to even notice. You were already in bed when he returned home, and he’d kissed your forehead and gone to sleep with less than five words leaving his lips.

You laid awake in bed that night, staring at the wall. You should have told Loki you were angry, said something then and at least gotten it in the open. But you shoved it down with everything else— every other hurt and grievance and annoyance that poisoned you.

.

“Can you set that down, please?” You asked, four days later. You tried to keep your tone even, but you were impatient. The bite in your words was all you could do to keep from tearing the file from his delicate hands.

Loki was in the kitchen, his face buried in a variant case file. He was supposed to be helping you make dinner, but you were dismissed and cast aside once again as his work outshined you.

“I’m working, Y/N! It’s important. Don’t you want me to get paid so you can have your pretty things?” Loki snapped, shocking you.

“No!” You screamed, slamming the cabinet door shut.

He stared at you, turquoise eyes wide in shock at your outburst. He dropped the file on the counter, a harsh glare adorning his stunning face.

“No, Loki! I don’t fucking care about the pretty things. I don’t even know that I care about YOU!” The words were coming out before you could stop them.

“You don’t care about me?! All I ever do is for you!” Loki met your anger, matching your energy and only fueling the fire of rage that was building in your stomach.

“You’re such a selfish liar! You don’t give a fuck about me, Loki! You’re in a relationship with your bullshit job, you don’t give a damn about me! All of your time and your energy... and fuck, even your kindness goes to the stupid fucking TVA!! There’s nothing left for me, and I don’t want your scraps!” You shoved him back when he took a step toward you.

“I’m selfish? You’re needy and dramatic! You’re a spoiled brat, acting out when not every ounce of my attention is being given to you. What, you’re mad that I didn’t help you make this salad? Grow up, Y/N!” Loki’s hateful words poured out, tasting like acid in his mouth.

“No! I’m mad that you forgot our anniversary and that you haven’t seen how much you’ve hurt me!” Tears burned as they streamed down your face, blurring your vision that was bleeding at the edges.

Loki’s lips parted, and realization suddenly crossed his features. He took a step back, recognizing his anger had spiraled out of control, and that your anger was justified.

“I didn���t mean it… I do care about you, I just want you to care about me.” Your voice broke, and shaky hands went to your mouth, stifling a sob. Guilt swelled in Loki’s chest as he saw you fall apart, unable to bear the weight of your anger.

“I’m sorry. You’re right. I don’t know how I’ve forgotten. Please, my love, forgive me,” Loki’s tone softened, and he knelt down to his knees before you.

He didn’t care about the messy floors ruining his perfect suit, nothing mattered to him then except for you.

“I shouldn’t have gotten so angry, I just miss you,” you were weeping, unable to hold the sobs at bay.

“It’s okay, scream and cry if you need to, but know I love you more than anything and I am terribly, terribly sorry.”

Loki gently pulled you forward, closing his arms around you. His forehead rested against your stomach, and you laid your hands on top of his head.

“I know. I know,” you stammered in shaky breaths. Your fingers trembled as you dragged them through his hair, overwhelmed with every emotion that washed over you all at once.

.

You got home from work, a couple of days after your fight. You had both apologized, easing the tension over. Loki hadn’t stopped apologizing, even when you promised him it was okay. It had been better since-- you weren’t keeping secrets or harboring anger, and you felt exceedingly better in the aftermath of your fight.

You walked into your master suite, considering a hot bath or a shower after your day. You were lost in your thoughts as you kicked your shoes off, before turning to the bed. A dress was laid out on the end of the bed, glittery heels and jewelry in a box beside it. Loki wasn’t home, but a note was attached, telling you to get dressed and he’d meet you.

You smiled, lifting the black cocktail dress. You changed, fixing your hair and makeup in the mirror. Your day at work had been long, and you didn’t know what Loki had in store for you, but you were excited.

The lock clicked open on the door, signaling the arrival of your husband. You stepped into the foyer to greet him, met with Loki in an all-black suit. A grin spread across his expression as he noticed you, making warmth bloom in your chest.

“You look-” you both started at the same time.

You smiled and tilted your head, letting him speak.

“You look beautiful,” Loki spoke softly before giving you a kiss.

“Thank you. You look sharp. What’s the occasion, what are we doing?”

“I’m so sorry I missed our anniversary. I thought we could celebrate us tonight.”

You broke into a grin, nodding excitedly.

“Yes. Yes, let’s do it.”

“Of course. Let me set my things down,” he kissed your cheek and stepped into your master, cleaning up and dropping his bag.

.

You were driven to a fancy restaurant, one hand in Loki’s as the other smoothed over the wheel of his black sports car. He dropped the keys with a valet, and you were escorted to a table in the back of the place.

“Wine, Mrs. Laufeyson?”

“Please,” you nodded, and the waiter poured you a glass of sparkling pink moscato.

“I’ve gotten us a suite at the resort in the city. I have a bag packed for you in the car, I thought we could enjoy a weekend away. You deserve it,” Loki brought your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles.

“You’re spoiling me,” you giggled, sipping your wine.

“As I should be.”

Elaborate French dishes were brought out on gorgeous plates, looking like something from a food blog. It tasted divine, and Loki told you some history about the dish from some time he was living or traveling in Paris. You listened to his animated stories, thinking about how you were so in love with him. 

“Why’re you staring at me like that?” Loki laughed softly, spooning sorbet into your mouth.

“Because I love you. And you’re charming and cute when you get excited,” you confessed with a grin. 

“I love you too. I’m sorry about everything,” he apologized. 

“It’s okay. We’re past it. Time moves forward for us.”

Loki nodded, leaning forward and smearing a kiss over your temple before retrieving your car from the valet.

“To the hotel?” he asked, sliding his hands over your hips and kissing your neck as you waited.

“Okay,” you giggled, squirming in his arms. 

He squeezed your bum, making you gasp before opening the door for you, helping you into the passenger seat. 

When you arrived at the hotel, there was a bouquet of roses on the table, and candles burning around. He kissed the back of your head, setting your bag down for you.

“Let me make this up to you,” his voice was deep as he unzipped your dress.

“Please,” you smiled, turning in his arms and pulling him into a heated kiss. 

[votederpycausemufins]

Welp, this fic i thought i wasn’t even going to continue is now longer at 17 chapters than War in Hermittown which was 26 chapters. And I’m not done here yet! (WiHT ended with 56,719 words. SF was at 55,597 last chapter, and this one is over 3k words, putting it to at least 58k total)

tagging time! @petrichormeraki and @helleborusangel are you guys proud of me?

Xannes and Tommy turned their weapons on Theseus. “How’d you find this place bitch?” The hels copy just rolled his eyes before gesturing over to Dream. “What, you were tracking him?”

“He’s an admin using a console. Find the console, find the admin.” Theseus replied, which confused Tommy. “Right, you wouldn’t know about that, would you.”

Tommy glanced back to Xannes. “Any clue what he’s talking about?”

“Yes. Before command blocks, datapacks, plugins and autofill commands, a lot of admins would default to consoles. These days most people tend to ignore them, but there are some benefits. Though the negatives usually make it seem like the worst option.”

“Why’s that?”

“Admins have better control over everything else. A console is more powerful and capable of much more, but it’s disconnected from the admin. It tends to be stationary in the world and needs to be hidden, and while there are ways to make them moveable, it’s usually not worth the hassle.”

Theseus smiled. “Oh look who’s not as much of an idiot as they seem. Another question then. Why are you still getting in the way? You want those scraps of metal? Take them. He’s the one I’m after.” And he pointed at Dream.

“You haven’t fucking told us why though.” Tommy crossed his arms.

“You didn’t really need to know.” Theseus said before sighing and taking off his mask. “But if that’s the only thing that’ll make you let me through, fine. Nightmare’s dead in my world. I killed him myself. Used up his three lives.”

“You guys still have the three lives system? I thought everything in hels was… y’know, worse?” Tommy asked.

“Oh it is. Exactly why I want Nightmare back.”

There was silence save for the continued sound of weapons banging off each other. “You… you want to what?”

Theseus shrugged. “The bitch never really got what was coming to him. Sure it’s the NSMP, and it’s technically named after him, but his name is based on a concept. He’s not the one in charge, he just made a place where nightmares can become reality. He just never got that chance because he’s dead. And with how hels works, he can’t come back. That is… unless I can bring Dream back with me.”

“That seems like the worst idea I’ve ever heard.” Xannes spoke up. “There’s no guarantee how that will work, especially since he was an admin. You’re setting yourself up for a disaster for both your world and this one.”

“And so what? I die? If I can’t do this right, why bother sticking around.”

“Then I might die too bitch!” Tommy yelled at his copy. “And I definitely don’t want to go out just like that.”

“Plus there are other people linked here.” Xannes spoke, pulling up commands. “Now, you’re going to want to stop, or I’m going to have to attack.”

“Oh please, what can you do?”

“My brother is known as the best admin of all time. Which meant I needed to be the best hacker.” Xannes smiled behind his mask. “And with Prof and NPG around, I haven’t gotten to try anything out in a while, so I’m going to really enjoy this.”

Tommy could almost feel the danger that was Xannes before he moved. He swung his sword once, and even though Theseus was more than ten blocks away, it was like the blade had hit him. He then pulled out a crossbow along with his sword, managing to duel wield the weapons. And then even though the second weapon kept being fired, it seemed to always be filled with ammo, not giving Theseus any rest from attacks, not to mention the fact that it was also multishot.

Tommy used that as a chance to run over to the bots. “Alright you two, I don’t care what the fuck’s been going on with you two, you need to fucking stop before you kill each other.”

“He deserves to die!” Jrum shouted, not looking away from his brother. 

“Jrum, I’ve told you about the guy that kinda isolated and manipulated me? The one Big G compared to Sam?”

“Yeah, and Grum’s just as bad!” Jrum said before attempting to attack again, instead just getting pulled back by Tommy.

“No! No he isn’t! That guy Grum’s been stuck with? That green bitch right there? That’s the fucker who was messing with me! And now he’s been doing it to Grum.”

“Yeah right.” Jrum crossed his arms, and Tommy slapped the back of his head, wincing as pain coursed through his body from damaging the vines. It caused the teen to flinch back, making the bottles in his inventory clank together.

Hearing the bottles made Tommy remember what he had on him. He had no clue how well the water worked, but right now it was better than nothing. He pulled them out and smashed them on top of Jrum’s head like a water balloon, the water covering Jrum and getting into his mechanics. It caused a short circuit and it seemed to fry the vines from within, but also Jrum. As the circuitry within him sparked, it damaged the vines, causing even more damage to Jrum, until it killed him.

“NO! JRUM!” Tommy yelled, freaking out about having just killed someone in his family. Beside him, Grum just stared at the place where Jrum had been standing a minute ago, the body having dissolved into smoke. 

Life Counter active. Entity Check Jrumbot. Death: canon. Life counter: 1 life remaining. Commence respawn. Respawn complete.

Teleport Requested. Assessing. Assessing. Allowing Teleport. Entity Jrumbot Teleported to Deathpoint coordinates.

Just like that, Jrumbot reappeared. He wasn’t completely covered with the vines, but he still retained the single vine around his antenna and his screen was still a red color. “Oh thank goodness, I thought you might have had a single life left.”

“Well now I do, no thanks to you!”

When Tommy had yelled, Xannes looked away from his fight. Theseus was able to finally close the distance and attack Xannes without the helsmit protecting himself, but he didn’t need to, the hacks keeping him from taking damage. “He’s using a console…”

Theseus tried attacking Xannes again. “Yeah, we covered that already. Why’s it soooo surprising now?”

“Because the console is Grum.”

That made Theseus scoff. “Wasn’t it obvious? It’s a computer that’s always near Dream. It’s essentially a console with fewer drawbacks. Even more powerful than a regular console too.”

When Theseus said that, Tommy turned his anger on Dream. “Ohhh, I can’t fucking believe you. I mean, that is an absolute child. At least with me, I was older, practically an adult, but he hasn’t even had a birthday and you decided to mess with him! As if you didn’t have a death wish already! I mean, guess that’s why you got everyone blocked. What if I just asked Grum to unblock everyone, what then?”

“And what? Just let Phil and Techno back in? What would that help with?”

“Oh please, you know their dad would be the first one in. Doesn’t that scare you?” Tommy asked with a smirk, though it fell in a few moments. “Wait do you actually not know who their dad is?”

“Just because he’s supposed to be another one of your brothers doesn’t mean anything. They’re hardly something I can’t deal with.”

“Can’t deal wi- Dream! Their dad is Grian! You know, the guy who literally has the name Dreamslayer? Like that’s part of his legal name at this point.” Tommy could tell when it got through to Dream, because he pressed back in his invisible prison just a bit and started looking for some possible way out.

He ended up snapping his fingers at Grum. “Hey, get me out of here.” And then Grum processed the information and teleported Dream a couple blocks to his left, freeing him from the barrier blocks.

“Oh shit. Xannes! He got o-” Was all Tommy was able to say before he was pressed against a wall, feet no longer touching the ground and him left struggling for air.

“You know, I could kill you right here. It would be easy. But for all I know, you come back as a ghost. So I’ve got a better idea. Just to make sure that if you do come back, it hurts even more. Grumbot?” He looked over at the robot, who immediately made its way over to Dream’s side. He handed it a netherite axe with the word ‘Nightmare’ etched into the metal. 

“No, c-come on Grum. You c-can’t do th-this.” Tommy did his best to get the words out. “Pl-Please… c-can you l-let everyone in a-at least.”

“Oh come on. He’s loyal to me. Why would you think-”

“That command is protected and requires a password to access.”

For a moment, Tommy lost all hope, but in a moment of clarity, he realized that Dream didn’t know Grum would say anything. If that were the case, there wouldn’t be a password. Yeah, Tommy could be wrong, but there was still a chance. “M-Mumbo for Mayor…” He choked out, and immediately Grumbot started processing the password, then accepted it.

“Blacklist disabled.”

“Kill Tommy!” Dream yelled in anger. And then Tommy was hit by the axe. Once. Twice. And then a third and final time.

Life Counter active. Entity Check TommyInnit. Death: canon. Life counter: no lives remaining. No respawn applicable.

No. 

Commencing Respawn. Respawn complete.

Teleport Requested. Assessing. Assessing. Allowing Teleport. Entity Tommy Teleported to Coordinates X-3, Y-3, Z-3. Returning inventory contents.

Tommy was holding his chest, panting to catch his breath. He was so sure he was dead. But no. Here he was, away from Dream and still with all his gear. That had probably been Xannes saving him, and healing him as well based on his current level of health.

For a moment, Tommy wanted to rush back in there, but then he remembered. The blacklist had been disabled. People could get in. He pulled out the communicator and sent a message to Grian, hoping it wouldn’t take too long. Then he put it away and tried to go back over to the bots, but his legs were shaky, and in just trying to take one step, he fell to the floor.

Even though he wasn’t close to death, he could still feel himself fading while at the same time it felt like everything was happening at once. Every sound seemed louder, what little breeze there was felt like pins and needles. And he just felt tired. As his vision went in and out, he saw Jrum rush off. Then Theseus stopped fighting and went after Dream. Then the three of them were gone. Then he was up in the air, something picking him up.

Finally, he felt the buzz of his communicator, and everything went dark.

The moment Grian got the message from Tommy, Grian made a Watcher portal straight to the SMP. The others nearby were slightly surprised that it was to let them follow along, but they weren’t arguing. Tubbo was the first to go through, Phil and Techno following behind. Grian was about to be right behind them, but was stopped by a hand. “You’re not keeping me from going Mumbo.”

“I know that. I wasn’t going to.” The redstoner spoke before taking Grian’s hand. “You’re the one always jumping into things, and that’s mostly a good thing. But this is something I don’t want to be left out of, so whether you like it or not, I’m coming with.”

“What? Did you think I was going to leave you behind? I wasn’t going to close the portal behind me. I was hoping you would come too, I was just letting you decide.”

“Good. ...So, do we want to…?” Mumbo started to say before he was yanked towards the portal as Grian ran through it, dragging him along.

When they arrived on the other side, Phil was the only one nearby, sitting down next to the portal. “Hey. Before you ask, I volunteered to wait while the other two went off in their own directions. That was only a few minutes ago. Haven’t heard anything back from them.”

Grian nodded. “I’m going to try contacting Tommy. Mumbo, those coordinates Tommy forwarded to me before? Can you check them out?”

“Definitely.” Mumbo nodded, pulling out his own communicator and checking the coordinates and which was to go to reach them.

“I’ll see if I can find anyone who could give us information.” Phil offered before immediately leaving, leaving Grian alone.

Alright, if I were one of the kids or Tommy… where would I be?” Grian asked himself, looking around before spotting something red in the distance. “Oh hello there. What’s that?” He quickly got into the air, flying over instead of trying to cross the rough terrain. “Tommy did send something about Jrum and red plants, didn’t he?” Grian bent down to try and touch the stuff, but was surprised when it seemed to move away. 

A voice spoke and then Grian was left looking around, trying to spot who had spoken. “What do you mean don’t touch it? I’m trying to find my kid and the best lead I have right now are these things.” Then he was left looking around again. “Oh, if that’s the case, then why not ditch the invisibility potion and meet me face to face?” Another short bout of silence and then Grian growled slightly, clenching his fists. “Then maybe I will.” And he started following the moving plants, the vines moving to almost create a path as they parted near him.

They snaked into an underground room and then down a thin tunnel. Grian had a little trouble getting through with his wings, not wanting to shift them away in case he ended up needing them suddenly. When he finally reached the end, he was greeted by what was obviously two teams of people fighting. One group was all in purples meanwhile the other group had a mix of colors, but there were a lot of reds and whites.

When it didn’t look like anyone noticed him, Grian moved forward a bit, cleared his throat, and then shouted. “HEY!” Immediately everyone froze and looked over at him. “Excuse me, I’m sure you’re having a lovely war and all, but I’m looking for my kids. The two of them are about… these heights and are adorable little robots.”

“Are you saying you’re one of Jrum’s parents?” Someone in a black and white cloak said, and Grian nodded at them.

“Yeah. Is he here? Or do you at least know where he is?” Grian asked, before the person attempted to attack him. Immediately his wings moved to act as a quick shield. “I’m guessing that’s a yes, but you don’t want me around.” Grian pulled out his sword. “Eh, I was expecting an ambush anyway.”

But before another attack could happen, the voice from before spoke, seemingly to the cloaked person. “So what?! He abandoned his kid! If that were true he would have shown up!”

“Hey, I tried getting in. Your admin just found a way to keep me out until now. Now, are you going to listen to your friend and tell me where Jrum is, or are you going to fight?”

The incoming sword worked as the answer to Grian’s question and he blocked it with a shield before attacking back. The person tried moving behind some vines hanging from the ceiling, but Grian just sliced them to the ground, clearing the area. “Wait, how are you doing that?!” The person asked before Grian flew up to bash their head with the end of his shield and knock them to the ground. 

“Nooo! What are you doing!” A voice yelled out and Grian turned around to see a familiar robot running over.

“Jrum!” Grian landed, arms open for a hug, but he just pushed past his dad to run to the person now on the ground. “Wh-what?”

“Are you okay?”

“Nggh… yeah. Wait, now where have you been?”

“I got kidnapped and Grum was there and he attacked me! But now I’m fine!”

Grian looked between his son and the person he had been attacking. He had no clue why this was happening, so he looked over as some of the other people nearby, who weren’t sure how to answer him. “Oh come on, no one had any idea?” And then the invisible person spoke. “I mean I guess? He was built before the turf war, but he didn’t really take part in it. Why? Look, I just want to get my kid and leave. My resistance days are pretty much over.”

There was quiet before Grian sighed and his wings shifted away. “Fine, I’ll play along, but you better hold up your end.” And when he opened his eyes, they weren’t their normal color, nor even just bright purple from using his watcher powers. Instead, his iris and pupils seemed to be missing, replaced by grayish-purple sclera.

“Well at the very least it was a house.” Xannes grumbled as he attempted to brush off the layer of dust on the bed sitting in the corner for him to then put Tommy on. It was tough with him having to carry the unconscious teen and only really about to use a leg as a duster, which was just spreading the dust around. “Can this be any harder?!”

A door opening behind him made the helsmit groan. “That’s wasn’t a fucking request! What the fuck do you-” He turned around and saw someone familiar and thankfully wearing a red tie. “Fine. This works. You take the kid.”

Mumbo was handed Tommy and Xannes finally was able to just pick the covers up off the bed and shake them off. It left Mumbo coughing and Xannes instantly regretting it as an alert on his screen warned him about his filters, but he put the blankets back down. The redstoner set Tommy down on the bed while Xannes worked on cleaning out the dust that was now in his helmet. “What happened to him?”

“He got killed, but respawn brought him back. It didn’t seem to be the best respawn because it hit hard. From what I can tell, he wasn’t supposed to. Is this a hardcore world?”

Mumbo shook his head. “Tommy said something about them having three lives, but they only counted if they were important.”

“So he essentially just got revived instead of normally respawning. That would explain it. You should have seen the three that got revived this season.”

“That’s right, you permakill someone if they don’t return for a season, don’t you.”

“Yeah. Of course they can still exist elsewhere, but it's a type of ban in a way.”

Mumbo nodded before finally looking away from Tommy and over to Xannes. “H-Have you seen either of the boys?”

“Yes, though they’re not doing so well. You know what a console is, right?”

“Yeah.” Mumbo nodded again. “I had to use one when I was first starting out so I didn’t break everything when working with redstone. Came in handy a few times, but I’m glad not using one anymore. Is there one being used here?”

“Yeah. The admin here decided to have fun with one since he found a way to make it mobile thanks to your redstone.”

“My red- wait!” Mumbo jumped up from kneeling on the floor next to the bed. “Are you telling me he’s using one of the boys?!”

“Yeah, Grumbot. He’s extremely out of it, but Tommy was able to get him to remove the blacklist and I’m pretty sure he’s the one who revived him, so it’s not a completely lost cause. Meanwhile the other one got infected with something like crimson nylium. I’m not sure how bad your land war went, but ours got out of hard fast.”

“We had a bit of trouble near the end, but the minigame battle near the end kept things from getting too far.”

“Well, hopefully it doesn’t end up like helscraft. Most of us ended up possessed by the different nyliums for a good portion of the war. And looks like Jrum is in the same situation.”

Alright, I’ll let the others know and hope Grian notices the message.”

“How many came along with the two of you?”

“Same group that we visited with. They came from here in the first place anyway, so they’ve got a better chance finding what we need.”

“Hello? Ranboo? Are you in here?” Tubbo asked, carefully stepping into the house. They had been planning to set up the second floor for Michael when he disappeared, so hopefully Ranboo would still be living there at least a little, unless he had taken the ziglin elsewhere. 

The place was dark, all the windows closed and no torches or lanterns there to light the place up. It left Tubbo fumbling around, trying to feel his way around and wishing he had brought something for light. He tripped on something and fell to the ground, rubbing his head and hoping he hadn’t damaged anything. Then suddenly, something lit up, and Tubbo froze.

He had looked behind him to try and see if he could tell what had tripped him. He could barely make out the outline of a foot. Following up, it led up to a glowing screen with a smiley face plastered on it. Just behind that, Tubbo could also see two glowing magenta eyes from an enderman standing behind the robot. 

Before Tubbo could ask any questions, a voice came from elsewhere in the dark room. “You know. As far as everyone knows, you're dead. How about we keep it that way?”

[painless-innit-colourful]

‘Two Down, One To Go’ - part 3

Hopefully I didn’t spend eight months burning the festival vods into my memory to end this badly. Tubbo was there for Tommy the night after he lost his second life, and he’d like to return the favour. After his temper gets the better of him, the last of the heroic Pogtopians must deal with the fallout and figure out what to do next. Featuring a little headcanon about how a person knows how many lives they have left.

part one | part two

---

After what felt like a century, it was quickly ended. Tommy was never going to win, that much was clear from the start, and it was clear in his movements and the growing fearful look in his eyes that he wanted it to end. Techno’s eyes met Tubbo’s for a split second as he dealt the final blow, a punch that landed square in the middle of Tommy’s face. There was a horrible crack, and Tommy slammed into the wall of the pit, blood gushing from his nose and down the white part of his shirt like a raging river. He tilted his head back as Techno advanced for the final time, pushing him away with the back of his forearm, pinning him against the wall, and it was unclear if the motion was to keep Tommy from attacking or from pitching forward. Their eyes met: Tommy’s were dilated with fear and pain, while Techno’s beady gaze was steely but triumphant. They seemed to come to some understanding (perhaps of what mortality is), for Tommy then shut his eyes and dropped his head. Techno stepped away, and the boy slumped to the ground.

With the ease and temperament of a cultivated warrior, the Blade straightened up, wiping at his face and smearing some of Tommy’s blood about his eyes. It was like he was wearing a crimson masquerade mask. For a few moments, there was again that uneasy silence: something about the Blade looking over the crowd kept them quiet, subjugated by his aura of intimidation. Then he looked away, and there was a small burst of noise from the crowd - like a firework - as they began to disperse, sensing the end of the dramatics.

The Blade put one hand on the side of the pit and hopped up with the grace of a dancer. Compared to Tommy, bruised and bloodied, you could hardly tell he’d been in a fight. He looked between the lingering scraps of the crowd, Wilbur waiting with a smile and his hands still in his pockets, Niki glowering at him, Tubbo looking at the floor by his feet and Tommy still slumped against the wall of the pit. One clear of the throat had all of them looking vaguely in his direction, but he was looking for Tommy’s attention. “So..?” “F*ck you man,” Tommy said through a mouthful of blood. The pigman just laughed, and it echoed around the cavern like thunder. “It stays in the pit.” And off he went, an arm lazily thrown across Wilbur’s shoulders as he painted pictures of a destroyed Manberg in the air with his hands and words, the crowd stalking them rife with gossip and gawking and money changing hands. Tubbo’s stomach dropped.

“What are we going to do?” Niki’s voice was soft, barely audible in the echoing noise. Tubbo leant his head back against one of the rough stone walls, the burns curling around his eyes stinging. There was a spluttering to his left: Tommy attempting to clear his mouth of the blood still trickling from his nostrils. “I don’t know.” He admitted, lurching forward to go and help Tommy. “No no, I’m coming up, don’t.” It took Tommy a couple tries to scramble out of the hole in the ground, one palm pressed ineffectively against his nose, still leaking down his face. “Bloody thing- hah-”

“C’mere-” Tubbo reached for his face, the edge of a smile creeping into his voice as Tommy tried to duck away, also ineffectually. “Nah I’m fine, trust me-” “Mate-” He’d managed to grab Tommy’s wrist, reeling him in and slinging his other arm about his waist to keep him there. He ignored the flare of pain from the burns on his chest and arms, instead grinning at the grimace Tommy was giving him as he pulled his hand away from his nose. “You’re doing a sh*t job with that nose bleed.” He pinched his nose, “Head back, big man.”

Tommy crossed his arms like a toddler throwing a tantrum and threw his head back. They waited in the growing quiet for an indeterminate amount of time, as the people became more settled, as Niki grew more restless next to them, as the pressure on Tubbo’s injuries ached more and more, until finally he couldn’t take the lancinating pain any longer, and sprang away from Tommy with a wobble, breathing heavily.

His eyes were screwed shut, as were his teeth gritted and fists balled up, nails digging back into raw flesh and bandages. Prime this hurts. He couldn’t seem to get enough air. He sank to his knees, retreating into Tommy’s jacket like a hedgehog or a turtle hiding beneath protective layers. His head throbbed, like someone was bashing on it with a hammer. Somewhere in the back of his mind - the logical part - he knew what was happening. The danger had passed, the fighting ended. His body had pulled down the protective wall it had raised since Schlatt had snatched the mic from him, and now he was feeling the full force of his injuries without the adrenaline rush to dull the pain. But the part of him that knew this, the part that was telling him he was fine wasn’t as loud as the headache trying to split his skull from the inside.

‘Get up,’ He fell back on his Manberg habitats: don’t cry around other people, don’t show weakness or injury. ‘Stop this now, and get up.’ He willed himself to stand, commanding one leg at a time up. He got one foot flat on the floor and almost stood on it, when another wave of nauseating agony swept over him and he pitched sideways, crumpling into a heap on the floor like a discarded suit blazer.

“Tubbo-” Roughly, he pushed himself off the floor, ignoring the stabbing sensation from his palms as he righted himself. ‘Stop this. Get up.’ “Woah- Tubbo, stop a second-” ‘Stop horsing around. For Prime’s sake, get up now.’ “Tubbo, wait- Holy Prime, stop moving, you’re hurting yourself.”

Tommy’s hands hesitantly grazed his sides, feeling through his borrowed jacket where the bandages got thinner as his eyes traced the rest of them covering most of Tubbo’s upper half where burns didn’t. “Aah- Sto- Stop-” Tubbo managed to get out, shaking his head quickly and falling away from Tommy, the movement making him feel lightheaded. The hands quickly retracted. “Knees?” He nodded, a lot slower than before. “Are- Are you okay? What hurts?” Tommy asked as he put his hands palm down on Tubbo’s lap. The older boy fought through a mental fog that threatened to cloud his vision. “E-Everything-” He exhaled quickly in something that might’ve been a laugh in another universe, staring down at Tommy’s hands on his knees and laying his own next to them. “My head- It feels like- like someone keeps hitting me and- m- my heart-” He shook violently, bandaged hands going to clutch his sides as if to hold himself together.

“Hey,” Tommy leaned closer so he was looking up to talk, his expression empathetic, a soft smile in his eyes as he spoke gently. “This happened before, remember? This happens when you lose a life. Remember last time, in the Camarvan? It passes. Just wait with me, alright?” “Everything hurts-” “I know,” He patted a steady rhythm into Tubbo's lap, one-two-three, one-two-three, one-two-three, like a waltz. Slowly, gradually, the agony receded, relinquishing his senses back to him, and he became aware that Niki had knelt by his side. "What can I do..?" Her mascara was running. Tommy gave her a soft smile, “I think… I think we should get out of this f*ckin’ cave. Get some air.”

“I think you need a change of clothes, big man.” Tubbo croaked, and they both looked down at Tommy’s shirt, stained rusty-red with the blood of multiple people. “Speak for yourself.” He said lightly, and Niki gave a breathy sigh. “I think we should burn it.” “His or mine?” “Both.” She said with a slight laugh, glancing behind her. “I could go find some for us now?” Tommy replied with a shake of the head. “Let’s just get out of here. Although-” He glanced at the axe by the side of the pit. “If we’re going up top we could do with a shield or two and some weapons, y’know, standard procedure.” He jumped to his feet and scurried away with a call of: “I’ll be right back!”

“Hey Tubbo,” He glanced up to see Niki smiling warmly, sitting cross-legged beside him. “Are you alright now?” “I’ve certainly been better.” Their half-hearted laughter flickered like candlelight. “So, um… What Tommy said about you being down a life… Is it true?”

His hand went to the tally under his collarbone leisurely, feeling through the bandages to the tiny, earth-shattering ridges beneath. Two. There were definitely two.

“Yep,” He breathed. “I am down to one canon life.” Stating the fact seemed to make it all the more real. He was the third of his friends to slip, and now he too walked the boundary between those that stay and those that have passed. “I’m so sorry.” She patted his leg. “If I’d have done something- if any of us had done anything-” “Don’t.” He caught her hand. “It’s not worth thinking about. Besides, the Blade has already made it clear that- that it wouldn’t have been worth it.” He tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice, but he felt it was warranted. Sure, military strategy dictated they’d done the right thing. Sure, they only lost one set of eyes on the inside, and not two. But it was like Tommy had said: it was getting less about the nations and the wars and the ideals by the day - at least to them. Of the three founding fathers of L’Manberg, they only had three lives between them now. Some resentful part of him wished they’d found the button. A front-row view of Manberg’s destruction would’ve been better than this.

“What would you have wanted, though?” Niki has this remarkable ability to see through people, almost as if she had heard his thoughts drifting to the button. He shut his eyes briefly, trying to think, and he was standing on the stage again, boxed in by yellow concrete and foes all at the same time. His eyes darted up to the rooftop of the NASA building, where he’d been only minutes ago. Wilbur and Tommy, highlighted figures in brown and red against the cheerful blue sky, each had a hand on their communicators, Tommy staring straight at him, mouth wide open in disbelief while Wilbur’s fingers flew furiously across the keyboard.

‘techno is on our side’

‘he wont hurt you’

“Wilbur said he wasn’t gonna hurt me.” He opened his eyes again, back in the ravine, though he didn’t doubt part of him would ever leave the concrete box. He looked Niki in the eyes, “I would’ve liked the truth, I think. I would’ve liked... to know.” She nodded, and the next time he blinked they were walking through the fields of a once-great nation together, anticipating frivolity and celebration to come, no matter how disagreeable the town they would be painting red. Ironic turn of phrase, to say the least. “This was really not how I expected today to go.” Niki’s laughter in response was sharp. “Definitely not.” She smiled sympathetically. “If it’s worth anything, I thought your speech was very good.”

He smiled indulgently, just in time for Tommy to reappear looking like a packhorse, weighed down with two shields and enough weapons to take back Manberg. None of these things were in his hands though: he was juggling three round grease paper packages, and Tubbo knew exactly what was coming when he stopped juggling and presented Niki with one, standing up straight for once and putting some false bravado into his voice.

“By the way Niki, welcome to Pogtopia. Here’s your dinner. A quick note, we’re not exactly equipped for high cuisine, so I’ll run you through how mealtimes work if you’re going to take your meals in the cafeteria-” He gestured at the bashed-up picnic benches they’d had to disassemble to get into the cave, and then reassemble to eat off of in the space next to the ‘kitchen’ in one very funny afternoon swearing at badly-translated instruction manuals. “Here’s the menu: since we were late back, we get yesterday’s leftovers, the emergency potato stockpile. Also, Technoblade does not seem to be in a chefing mood.” There was a round of awkward faces before he continued. “Tomorrow morning for breakfast: potato stew probably, hopefully not reheated. Tomorrow lunchtime: potato, maybe in a salad.” By now Niki was starting to figure out the pattern, the confusion on her face travelling through disgust to disappointment to resignation to acceptance. “Tomorrow for dinner: jacket potatoes- Hey, do you wanna guess what’s for breakfast the day after?” “Oh boy! I wonder…” They giggled, the first human sound to grace the cavern walls in too long. “I swear on Prime, I wouldn’t have asked for the pig’s assistance if I’d known he’d only cook us potatoes.” His eyes flicked momentarily to Tubbo, and his smile dropped. “As well as a couple other things, y’know…”

The air around them shimmered, or maybe that was just Tubbo’s vision. “We need to get out of here.” “Yeah.” Tommy’s response was quiet and laced with a foreign grief. They headed for the stairs together, Niki following attentively behind, and when their shoulders collided, their hands joined automatically in a softer hold than ever before.

“Did- Did you do that alone?” Tubbo asked Tommy as they climbed the stairs, part of a shuffling conga line of heroes and refugees and martyrs. He looked back for a moment, his eyelashes casting strange shadows down his cheeks from the swinging lamps next to them. “Do what?”

“What- What happened to me just now, and what happened in the Camarvan. When everything hurts and you feel like you’re going to die again.” Tommy’s somewhat guarded expression melted, a small smile tugging at his mouth. “Yeah.” He admitted in his softer tone, “At my house, before I came to tell everyone.” “Why?” Tommy turned away as they kept climbing. “We would’ve been there to help you, if- You didn’t even tell the others for ages though, did you?” He remembered a single terrifying moment in the middle of the biggest party they’d ever been to (thoroughly discounting today) when Tommy confided in him. “You didn’t want to worry everyone.” “I didn’t want their pity either.” He said, tone level.

“How did you do it?” “I… Don’t remember. I think I blacked out, at least functionally.”

Not only had his best friend handled, or tried to handle, the pain of losing a life alone, but he’d also attempted to silently carry that burden by himself. Just the thought of it put a weight over Tubbo’s heart. “I would’ve helped you.” He murmured as they took a left and escaped the crowd, heading towards another exit. “You did,” He said lightly. “All those nights you stopped me waking half the nation? That counts.” They crossed the floor of the small chamber at the top of the spiral staircase, and Tubbo suddenly dropped Tommy’s hand and stopped to open the enderchest against the wall. With careful hands he drew out the record with the red label and a smile from Tommy.

“That’s the real one, isn’t it?”  Tubbo looked between his two companions. “Anyone got a jukebox?” They didn’t have their bench, but no matter where in the world you are banished to, you’ll always have the sun.

Injured and weary, yet stubbornly surviving still, the three of them climbed the steps to the sky and caught enough of the last spillage of heaven for the day that they could fit in a full song. And by the last light, they had planned a plot. Of revolt and rebellion. Such familiar words.

And with the first stars rising as their witnesses, they hatched a smaller plan. A little catharsis, if you will.

---

The sky at dusk was gorgeous as the sun gradually sank out of sight. Tubbo wished he could enjoy it, but the ache in his being and his head and his heart was too much. “Are you cold?” He shook his head, but Tommy put his arms around him anyway. He was so careful, draping them where he knew there were no bandages; back, shoulder, standing just behind him and placing his head right next to Tubbo’s. Blocks turned in the jukebox before them, its red label swirling in the low light like a spinning skirt as the melody played for all the men and the beasts and the trees that came to listen.

Out of the blue, Tommy whispered in his ear: “Can I make you a promise I can’t keep?” “I- Yeah, sure.” If he hadn’t been so tired, he might’ve turned his head to see what Tommy was up to. All he knew was that his best friend had leant closer and squeezed his sides warmly. Tubbo ignored the slight painful twinge. “I promise-” He whispered, the words so soft they got lost in the song. “-to keep you safe, Tubso.” “Oh.” “I promise, as long as I live, to be there, to stand between you and Techno, or Eret, or Schlatt or Dream or Wilbur or- or Death him-bloody-self, and I promise to say ‘No you may f*ckin’ not hurt him’ and-” “Okay, I get it-” “-and I’ll f*ckin’ fight them, all of them if I have to.” “I’m fine Tommy, you don’t have to be all sappy for me.”

“It’s true.” And though he hadn’t moved that whole time, nor had his tone changed, Tommy’s arms suddenly felt a lot safer to be in. “No matter what happens, whether Techno is on our side or not, whether we get Wilbur back or get more people on our side or not or whatever, it’s me and you - and Niki - together against- against the world. And I mean that.”

Like a blanket straightened over a bed, a small silence settled over them as the last signs of the sun vanished behind the next hill. “Swear it,” Tubbo’s voice was barely above a breath. “On something important.” He couldn’t explain his sudden change of heart, but maybe the way his limbs shook with leftover adrenaline and fatigue and fear could. “I- I swear it on the discs. Me and you, ‘till the ends of the Earth.” “Always those discs.” He couldn’t keep the slightest hint of mockery out of his voice, but Tommy just hummed in disagreement. “If I swore it on the safety of the most precious thing, it wouldn’t be a promise, it’d be a paradox.”

By the time the meaning of his words dawned on Tubbo, Niki had reappeared, and Tommy let go out of his shoulders, a knowing smile gracing his features as he purposely avoided Tubbo’s scrutiny. “Had trouble finding it?” “No, actually.” She took a few deep breaths before continuing. “You wouldn’t believe how hard it is to find a lighter in there.” Tommy and Tubbo shared a look equal parts bemusement and consternation. “Well come on then, the sun’s about to have gone down and I don’t know about you, but it’s getting a bit f*ckin’ cold out here.” “I think that’s because you’re only wearing a t-shirt, Tommy.” Niki teased, while the boy just shot her back an unimpressed look. “Yeah, well,” He turned to look at Tubbo, ruffling his hair somewhat roughly. “I lost my jacket like an hour ago.”

They tittered in tandem until Niki cleared her throat. “Who’s gonna do the honours?” His companions then immediately answered her question by looking to Tubbo. The edges of his lips curved upwards. “Can someone else hold it for me?” “I’ll get it-” “No, let me.” Tommy squinted at Niki.  “I think least injured should do it, just in case.” She reasoned. “Didn’t you get shot on the way out of Manberg?” “Didn’t you fight an entire crowd in Manberg by yourself?” “That’s a bit stupid,” Tubbo interjected. “I was trying to find you.” Tommy shrugged. “Okay, yeah, you hold it.”

Straightening her posture, Niki pressed the lighter into Tubbo’s hands and then held up the jacket. It was Tubbo’s Manberg Secretary of State uniform, jet black and singed and soaked-through in places. His thumb played with the catch over the hood of the lighter. “Just- What are we gonna do with it when it’s… on fire, y’know?” Both of his fellows stared blankly at each other. “One second.” Tommy took two steps backwards and disappeared over the ledge, and Tubbo skittered forward with half a laugh to see that he’d hopped down to borrow some water from the nearest pond. “Love the forward planning skills we got here.”

Rather comically, it took Tommy about a minute to lug the bucket of water back up the hill. “We will have no forest fires tonight.” And the three of them giggled a bit more. “Okay,” Niki said, wiping at the corner of her eye. “Ready?”

It took more force than usual for Tubbo to get the lighter to work, and once the flame appeared he snatched his fingers away, conscious of the flammability of his bandages. Niki held the blazer before her, arm high in the air, and Tubbo reached out, touching the end of the lighter to the edge of one of the sleeves. At first, nothing happened, and then, the jacket caught. Abruptly, Niki was forced to let go of the flaming piece of clothing as the fire raced up and across it in seconds. “Holy sh*t.” She whispered. “F*cking sh*t indeed.” Tommy tugged Tubbo back towards him as the blazer dropped into the wind, flapping downhill as it dissipated into dark ash. “I was not expecting that.” “Probably the amount of alcohol soaked into the fabric,” Tubbo said with disdain. “Good f*cking riddance, Manberg.” “YEAH!” His friends cheered together, and he watched as the fire consumed the uniform he’d despised so much. The flag on the left lapel seemed to glow as the flames ate away at it, and that made them three out of three for burning a Manberg flag.

“I heard there was a special place,” Tubbo and Niki looked at Tommy with incredulity as he began to sing the anthem, but there was a certain mischievous twinkle in his eyes as he sang, and they joined in, the familiar words and melody both a comfort and a thorn. “Where men could go and emancipate, The brutality, and the tyranny of their rulers,” Tommy held his hands up, silencing the other two as he grinned. “Well this place is real, don’t be afraid, With Tubbo-” He pointed to each of them in turn. “Tommy, Niki, F*CK TECHNOBLADE-!”

The three of them fell about laughing. “You should do it louder Tommy, I don’t think he heard you-” Niki said between the hooting emanating from a small crowd gathered at the Pogtopia tower and the hysterical laughter of her comrades. His shouts echoed throughout the little valley they overlooked, and they soon resumed the tune, joined by members of the rebellion across the land, humming and singing along whether they were allowed or not. To be a traitor is not a respectable thing, but sometimes it is better to follow one’s heart than one’s leader.

“It’s a very big and not blown up L’Manberg!” It was as if the land itself was singing, and Tubbo hoped they could hear this chorus back in Manberg. “For L’Manberg!” For those that were unsure, that needed to hear that paradise had existed and could again. “For L’Manberg!” For those that were still left behind, keeping their heads down and staying out of trouble, especially after tonight. Tubbo tried to inject as much panache into his voice as he could, partially for them, for those that were rightfully too afraid and unable to sing along. But mostly because he wanted JSchlatt to hear him. “For L’Manberg!” He wanted to walk through the nation he’d served for so long, waving the correct flag, singing their song, and he wanted especially to scare the sh*t out of that tyrant. I survived, he wanted to say, standing at the other end of the trigger. I survived, and I’m leading the choir, and we’re going to have our land back thank you very much, no matter how many tallies on our charts. “For L’Maaaaaanberg!”

For L’Manberg, and for everything it stood for. Tubbo, like his friends, is down to his final life, and he’s sick of playing nice.

---

Taglist: @nixavia @zrenia @spaceheatertrash @hitherto-blue (Please let me know if you’d like to be on the taglist in future :)

[bimswritings]

This Is Our Way

Ch.1

Summary: What happens when you make the mistake of thinking you can steel from a Mandalorian? You land yourself and job and a plethora of adventures and emotion you could never even dream of.  The question is; where will those emotions lead.

Warnings: Typical canon violence, NSFW implications and scenes later on

You can also read it on my Ao3 account.

_____________________________________

Clouds. Dark, impenetrable, depressing grey clouds are what greet you as soon as your eyes open, just like they have every day for years during your existence on the scrappy planet of  Corellia. Home to the most desperate and cruel criminals, along with the enslaved and weak civilians and captives. All mixed in with your average day citizen trying to get by.

A great place to live.

The sound of tie-fighters overhead is what first woke you, screaming as they made their morning flight overhead, acting as an ever present reminder of the Empire's presence and signaling the start of your day. Bones and joints crack in sync as you push yourself up, rubbing your eyes and crawling from the busted old weapons crate that acted as a poor supplement for a bed. Its lid laid discarded to the side, allowing the cool night air of one of the only dry nights of the month to flow in while you slept. The hard metal lining was barely tolerable, even when padded with the few scraps of fabric you had managed to snag over the years, but it was sturdy and the lid provided great protection from the ever present rain on the overcast planet.

Taking care not to trip while climbing from the enclosed space, you stumble out onto the main section of the roof and stare over the city as you stretch, trying not to cringe as certain bones popped back into place painfully. It wasn’t a pretty sight, and not even the fresh breeze that floated in from the sea could make it any more appealing.

Boring, industrial buildings stretched as far as the eye could see in varying colors of black and steel, hardly standing out against the horizon of equally dull colors only punctuated by the occasional crism Empire flag. In the middle of it all was the only decently maintained and sizable buildings on the planet, where the majority of ships for the Empire were produced. It was thanks to the presence of that one building that there was even an economy here, keeping it from turning into a more dreary and wet version of Tatooine, the outlandish world it was. The sight was enough to make your stomach churn, but had nothing on the aching pain that radiated from the organ and had you mind wondering when you had eaten last. Three, four days maybe? It didn’t matter. However long it was, the meager scraps you had managed to find behind the restaurant district of the wealthy were but a distant memory. It was this very hunger that drove you from your safe space, forcing you to climb down the pipes lining the outside of the building you resided on.

The metal creaked and groaned in protest under your weight, but you didn’t give it a second though, knowing there was nothing to worry about. You had been climbing along these fixtures for years, nimble hands and feet finding the smallest of purchases as you move along with ease.

When the ground was close enough you dropped, rolling through the impact to your feet and taking shelter behind an abandoned stall as you momentarily stumbled, vision swimming and black dots dancing before you. Force, you really need to get something to eat soon. Rainwater could only fill your stomach for so long before it lost its abilities to hold you over.

Peering around the corner, your eyes scanned the narrow alleyway, looking for any sign of stormtroopers or other rough characters that would cause trouble. You were never much of a fighter, but today especially was a day you were feeling particularly weak.

‘Alright. All I need to do is slip out, grab a couple of credits, and get back. It should be fine as long as I don’t run into-’

“Well well well. Look what we have here.” Leon’s voice spoke from behind, making you cringe and berate yourself for not being more careful. This was the last thing you needed to deal with, and Leon’s sickly smooth voice only served to grate on your nerves more as you turned to face him and his three lackeys, identifying them as Sho, Everett, and Corin.None as dangerous, but all as bad tempered as their leader.

Glacial blue eyes stared from pale skin beneath his shock of blond hair, a combo that drew ladies like flies to him. Pair that with pearly white teeth and he could have been a poster boy for some prep school on Coruscant. If not for the tattooed arms and green vest that held the insignia of a ranicore tooth, marking him as one of Sozin’s many street enforcers. His kind was the one you hated most. Cocky guys who thought that just because they were someone in some gang they had power over everyone else, not giving a second thought to those they hurt, be it man, women, or child. As long as they got a nice cut at the end of the day they were fine. Despite your hate for them, by all means joining a gang was the best way to survive here. It promised food, shelter, and constant work. All you had to do was give up your own self respect and humanity in return.

“The little Jawa had finally come out from her fortress. Tell me,” He smirked as the others formed a loose circle around you, effectively caging you in. “Get anything good lately.”

You wanted to spit at him, slap that stupid smirk off his face and leave him to go crying back to his boss. But you didn’t. Instead, you took a more casual, defensive stance, ready to get away the moment you had the chance. Slapping a fake smile on your face, you cocked an eyebrow in mock teasing.

“Please. If I had anything of interest I’m sure you of all people would know.” You were getting more nervous now, keenly aware of how close Sho was getting to your current position. Far too close for your liking.

“And with the patrols increased and punishments cracking down, things have gotten harder.''

“True, but I just never know what those sticky fingers of yours may manage to pick up. Your skill has a reputation after all.” His eyes skimmed over your body, not even trying to hide the way he was practically undressing you. The slimy bastard had been pining after you for years, ever since he had watched you lift a number of things from a trooper when you were both just young teenagers. He claimed it was for your skills but it didn’t take a genius to see he was looking for something more. “Maybe you could give me a live demonstration some time.”

And there it was.

You said nothing, only pushing yourself further against the cool metal of the wall behind you in an attempt to create some sort of distance in between you. Your stomach, the traitor it was, decided that it would be the best time to voice its own opinion, letting out a loud growl of protest that didn't go unheard.

Leon’s face took on a mask of concern and sympathy, and you might have fallen for it had you not known any better. His tone took on a softer, more whispery tone, like he was speaking to a stray feline. Not that far off if you thought about it.

“You look hungry. Why don’t you come back with me. I can get everything squared away with Sozin, and I promise, I’ll take real good care of you.”

His hand extended out in invitation, strong fingers that had ended the lives of so many gently relaxed, the other crossing behind his back in a mock gentleman pose, as if he even knew what being a decent guy even started with.

“C’mon. Think about it. No more empty stomachs or fighting for every scrap. You’d even have a nice bed to lay in at the end of the day. No more sleeping on the filthy streets.”

Scoffing, you summoned the last of your confidence, brushing past him and ignoring his invitation. “I’d rather take the streets than your blood soaked sheets any day.”

That should have been it, and it would have been for anyone else on just a code of respect among those here. But Leon wasn’t known for taking no for an answer. Before you could even make it  three steps his hand closed on your elbow, bringing you back closer to him. Despite all you twisting and pulling, his superior strength kept you close, breath fanning your skin as he spoke.

“Listen here, I’ve been more than kind in my advances. A saint some may even say, so you’re not going to walk away from me, understand? No your going to come back and-”

“Hey!” A shout from the end of the alleyway interrupted him, drawing all your attention as the squadron of storm troopers rounded the corner to the alley, falling in line behind their captain.”You there! What’s going on?”

At the sight of the local law enforcement and their blasters, Leon’s grip loosened a fraction. Just the smallest amount really, but enough for you to be able to slip from his grip and between Sho and Corin before they could stop you. You ignored the shouting of the officer, sprinting in the opposite direction and around the corner into the main streets of Corellia.

‘Good luck trying to find me now.’ You smirked, pulling your hood up to conceal your face as you effortlessly blended into the crowd, becoming just one of the thousands of faces that traveled through as you continued on your way. Now it was time for the real work to begin.

Just as with the seasons, your own hunting grounds changed, ever rotating through the different sectors in order to keep law enforcement off your tail. It was one of the first lessons you had ever learned; never hunt in the same spot for more than a few weeks.

Today was a fresh start in the port district, leaving an abundance of new and unaware targets. It was a popular place for travelers as well, who were especially naive, but even with that you knew today would be a challenge. It hadn’t been a lie when you told Leon that the troopers were cracking down. More patrols and increased severity of punishments had started to begin in order to ‘cut down the crime’, as your senator put it. Fat chance of that though, as one could argue that Corellia ran on crime. Still, the effort put forth was really putting the pressure on smaller people like you, who were just trying to survive, not to mention the street vendors and shop owners had installed their own new security measures in place, leading to an unfavorable combo that led to your current weak and hungry state. So you were here, looking for some oblivious fool to cop a few credits off from your perch just outside the mechanics.

As your eyes scanned the crowd, looking for visible money holders or those with liftable jewelry and other items, you saw him. He was hard to miss actually. The beskar he wore from head to toe shone proudly even without the light of the sun hidden above, speaking of its own durability and care shown by the owner. Alongside him was a pod, closed, and most likely carrying whatever supplies he had picked up from the market. The brown cape around his shoulders did nothing to hide the gun scross his broad back, nor the dozens of smaller weapons strapped to his person.

He stood tall above the crowd, most parting like water around a stone to avoid him, and it was no wonder. Even you had heard the stories about the Mandalorians. Fierce warriors and fighters who could track their prey to the ends of the galaxy. They were the best bounty hunters and hired guns on the market. You had been witness to more than one lowlife being pulled from their seat in the cantina by his kind, kicking and begging to no avail as they were carried away, dead or alive.

Teeth gnawing on inside of your cheek, you debated with yourself. On one hand, he was a high risk target, undoubtedly being used to these kinds of places and the people who lived here. Stealing from him would earn you a blaster shot to the head if caught, that is, if he were feeling merciful enough not to crush every bone in your body. But then, he was a bounty hunter. They always carried a lot of credits, and ones worth more at that. One swipe from him could set you up for days, if not weeks! He was also the only target you had seen open worth any value the entire day, and you weren’t sure you could go much longer without food.

You debated with yourself, going back and forth as you watched him grow closer to where you sat. If you didn’t make a decision soon you would lose your chance all together.

As if detecting your hesitance, your body made the decision for you, loosening another growl from its depths, prompting you forward and before you knew it you were on the move. Pulling a small guide book from your pocket, you pretended to be grossly interested in the useless thing, eyes moving to falsely skim the words as you carefully adjusted your path closer to his, threading between the crowd with as much ease as he cut through it.

The moments before were tense, each step leaving you feeling more electrified as adrenaline coursed through your body, only feeding your blind confidence as you counted down.

‘6..5...3..2..1….Now’

You pretended to stumble, tripping on your own feet as naturally as you would walk, veering from your course and bumping into the armored man. You winced slightly as your shoulder made contact with the metal, which made your grunt of pain that much more believable and distracting while your hands got to work. Like all bounty hunters, he kept his money in front of him, just slightly to the left of his leg. A tactic to prevent pickpockets like you that frequented the scenes they often found themselves in. Smart, but you had gotten used to this tactic before, and it was a simple swipe of your hand as it quickly entered and retreated the pouch, fingers closed around an unknown number of credits, all within a fraction of a second as you mumbled apologies, raising your opposite hand in distraction as your other moved to pocket your catch.

As soon as your own fingers left the pouch, you knew you were in trouble. Years of being on the streets had taught you when you had the upper hand in a situation or not, whether you were the predator or prey. In that moment, that small fraction of a moment, you went from poised victor to the most demure of prey.

And the man in front of you was the hunter.

His hand, even quicker than your own, moved to latch onto the retreating limb. The very one holding the credits you had thought had been yours.

Head snapping up to meet his, you were faced with an unfeeling gaze in the form of silver surrounding a small ‘t’ of inky darkness that prevented you from seeing his face. You tried to pull away, only to have his stern grip tighten even more, the leather of his glove squeaking in symphony along with the crackling of the joint. Yet you still refused to drop the credits, stubbornly holding onto them out of spite and fear. If he hadn’t seen them yet, there was no way he could indefinitely prove you had taken anything from him, though the way he focused on it told you he already knew the truth.

Kriffing hell. Why had you even thought this would be a good idea. He was a Mandalorian, and in your hunger driven brain you had somehow managed to convince yourself it would actually work. Well congratulations, you had the credits, but now you were as good as dead. If he didn’t decide to deal out his own justice and kill you then and there, surely he would turn you over to the stormtrooper.

The skin on your back tingles and warmed at the thought, memories of public whippings flashing in the back of your mind and doubling your heart rate and raising your panic even more.

Maybe you could still get out of this though. He was a man, as far as you could tell anyways, and all men were susceptible to one thing, hardened warrior or not. You could distract him, try to get a trade or compromise in return for forgetting about the situation. If not him then the clones. Maker knows they were always willing to pass up small crimes every once in a while in exchange for a way to sate their horniness. Though you had never tried the practice yourself, you had heard of numerous others getting off the hook that way. How hard could it be?

Your thoughts were interrupted by movement, bringing you back from your blind panic of plotting how to get out of this. The Mandalorian had tilted his head, t-visor still trained on your face as he observed you. Those around you were all too eager to ignore the situation, walking past with explicitly diverted eyes as they went about their business. The hand not holding yours moved, making you flinch back but with nowhere to go as he kept you trained in place. It moved towards your face and you braced, eyes scrunched and ready for the impact of a palm or fist making contact.

Yet, it never came.

Instead, the soft worn leather gently pressed against your face, fingers gently running along the curve of your cheek, highlighting the bone that protruded with hunger. The occasional scrape of his beskar along the skin makes you shudder, but if he even notices he doesn’t say anything, only continuing to stare as his hand tips your face every which way for him to examine. Then he just...let go. Without another word he had dropped his hands, stepping around and continuing on his original path, leaving you behind him, frozen in place and in a state of shock.

You could have stood there for any measure of time, be it seconds or minutes. Your brain was too busy trying to process what had just happened to even think about anything else. It was only when someone rudely bumped into you, almost knocking you to the ground, that you finally snapped out of it, and suddenly you were running. Feet pounding the uneven ground as you gained speed, faces flew past as little more than blurs as you continued to put more space between you and your should-have-been attacker. If it had been any other time you might have been proud of the speed you had, the burning in your lungs of little significance. Not even when you had seen Leon once again did you blink, blowing past as he called out and tried to grab you.

Before you knew it you were rounding the alley back to your little home, leaping more than climbing up the pipes with record speed as your feet barely touched the rickety metal. You practically dove into your little crate of a home, pulling the lid and locking yourself in darkness as you tried to sooth your pulse, taking deep breaths that did little to help. Absentmindedly, you began humming to yourself. A song so out of tune and unrecognizable it would have made a wookie weep, but it was what you needed as you pressed the burning and sticky skin of your forehead against the cool metal of the wall.

Eventually, after countless repetitions or the short tune, you managed to steady yourself, bringing enough sense back to realize you were still holding onto the credits from before, which were now gripped tightly in your hand. Enough to the point where the skin had turned a pearly white and your fingers hurt to move as you slowly unclenched them, revealing angry marks and even places where the rectangular currency had bit deep enough into the skin to draw blood. But oh what a beautiful sight it was.

One hundred credits laid in your fist, clustered together in a jumble of varying amounts and different kinds, but a total amount of one hundred. You normally only got this after a week of extremely successful hunting in the summer months. The sight of it now was enough to make you cry.

Despite the urge to go and get food from the nearest vendor, you knew better than to go out right away. For all you knew he had only let you go just to follow you back to your base, probably thinking he could turn you into the stormtroopers for a bigger ransom than what he lost, or loot your own place for anything you had stored up. Jokes on him if that was the plan, because he would only get back what you took from him.

The thought stayed stuck in the front of your mind, forcing you to stay tucked in your hiding space for the remainder of the day and keeping you awake through the night. Every little sound made you jump, convinced that you would once again find yourself at the receiving end of his burning gaze, the helmet he wore only masking his expression and leaving your fate uncertain. He never showed though, never ripped the lid off your container or dragged you out into the open.

By the time you managed to fall asleep, your body finally running out of its immense supply of adrenaline, the city itself had just begun to awaken below to the wee hours of the morning, and the fighters had just begun their morning rounds once again.

‘Maybe...maybe just a few hours of sleep.’ You thought to yourself, burrowing down into your small nest of blankets. What could be the harm?

Well, apparently a lot.

You had woken up in a panic, cracking the lid to see that the sky had already gone dark once again. Swearing to yourself, you emerged once again like a Nightshrike from its cave. Foregoing any normal rituals, you allowed your body to stretch itself as you moved, hustling from rooftop to rooftop, something you only did under the cover of night. The last thing you need is someone seeing you and discovering your home up top. You would never be able to get any peace after that.

You were in a rush though, and the thought of wasting a day of work didn’t bother you nearly as much as the thought of your favorite shop closing. With the amount of credits you had now, you wouldn’t have to worry about money for a while, so the only thought you had while the dim lights of the city flicked to life below was getting there as soon as possible. Who knows, maybe you’d even have enough to treat yourself to some fruit, an expensive and rare treat for anyone on the planet.

Skidding to a stop just before the end of the row, your eyes lit up at the sight of the shop still open, clearly readying to close. Shimmying back down to increasingly deserted streets, you were already drooling at the thought of biting into something and not having to wonder what it would taste like. No more than ten minutes later you were leaving, pockets now full of brick bread as the owner locked the doors behind you.

The plan was to only eat half of one on your way back, the nutrient rich and dense pastries giving you enough energy for the day in a single bite, but not even halfway back you found yourself licking the crumbs from your fingertips, hardly holding back from grabbing one of the four remaining loafs. Instead you reached into the opposite side and grabbed the meiloorun fruit you had managed to snag.

Now this was the main event.

Sinking your teeth into the soft skin, you nearly groaned as its taste exploded on your tongue, making your taste buds dance and sing as the sweetness became so intense it almost hurt. You still loved it.

Your stomach was full for the first time in forever, almost foreign as you had begun to forget the feeling. Juice dribbled down your chin as you continued on your way home, making a deliciously sticky mess to be wiped away and cleaned by your lips, intent on not letting a single morsel go to waste.

Thankfully the trip back was less eventful than your previous outing, helping instill an eerie yet calming silence over the city and prompting you to take your time.

You always enjoyed it up here on the roofs. Hardly anyone came up, not many having the same confidence and agility possessed by you and few others, and there was an ever present breeze up here that didn’t quite reach the lower levels. Not to mention the view it gave, which was one of the main reasons you had chosen a roof as your spot for a base camp. If only you could see the stars, but alas, the sight was as rare as greenery here, leaving it up to your own imagination to construct an array of bright lights on the top of your crypt.

Finishing the fruit, you paused at the edge of the building before your own. Small lights danced in the darkness, the occasional lamp illuminating a hustling figure and the street walkers that lined the corners of streets, calling to anyone in sight. The occasional search light of a patrol ship would shin above the buildings as it made its rounds over the city.

‘Must be looking for someone’ you mused, turning back to return home. No reason to get caught out tonight, especially when you were looking at a few days of relaxation.

As you turned, a familiar flash caught your eye, triggering a new taught panic response. You could hardly believe your eyes, rubbing them extra hard just to make sure you were seeing things right. But alas the sight before you neglected to change, unfortunately not a trick of the eye like you had hoped it was, and the Mandalorian you had thought you escaped the previous day continued walking down the dark alley.

You began to sweat backing away from the edge and further out of his line of sight, trying to still keep him in yours as you peered back over and tracked his progress as he got closer.

‘Kriff. I should have known he would want his money back.’

Panicking, you began going over all the escape routes near you. Ones through city street and sewers that would be much too small for him to fit through. Though, if he had tracked you here then chances were he would be able to find you wherever you went. This really wasn’t good. You might not even be able to go collect what meager possessions you had back in your box.

Then, materializing out of the darkness as if he were made of it himself, was Leon. He stepped into the path of the Mandalorian like he had no fear and, knowing how stupid he was, you thought he might actually not have any for the bounty hunter. But why would he when he was the primary enforcer for Sozin and still had his own backup, the three from earlier.

“Hey there.” He spoke in a voice that promised nothing but trouble, hands casually resting in pockets that undoubtedly concealed a weapon of some sorts. "I've been meaning to have a talk with you. The shiny Mandalorian warrior everyone is talking about."

This, you thought, was not good.

[rainbowcarousels]

seven days of valentines

DAY 2: Sephiroth/Genesis with some AGS thrown in. (Just Be Still With Me canon)

“I love you not only for what you are, but for what I am when I am with you. I love you not only for what you have made of yourself, but for what you are making of me”. - Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Genesis was behaving strangely. 

 Given that he always behaved in an inexplicable manner and liked to contradict himself, it would be more accurate to say he had begun behaving more strangely. A little more highly strung than usual, a little more quick to fluster and a lot more likely to resort to fiery retribution if people brought up the issue.  Worse still, Sephiroth couldn't shake the feeling that it had something to do with him. There had been a measurable increase in staring, but he rebuffed active engagement on the topic. There had been more sparring, but it didn't seem to be providing the release it usually did.

 At first he had assumed perhaps the romantic relationship between him and Angeal had hit complications, but aside from the new staring matches and occasional walking off, there wasn't an observable change in his presence.

It had been a suspicion that he had been the cause in Wutai. When they returned a couple of weeks ago, suspicion turned to confirmation. It was clear he was attempting to keep some sort of distance between them because he didn't place his hand on his back to ask him to move, nor did he lounge against him to read and even during the post-mission medical review where he would usually be harder to get rid of than Heidegger's incompetence, he had been distant. It wasn't so much that he looked forward to these actions from him, he just had never stopped to consider that he would miss them if he stopped doing them.

Perhaps Sephiroth had offended him in some way but he doubted it. Genesis had no issue with confronting him if he felt he was wrong in the slightest.  Normally, when Genesis became unreadable, he could go to Angeal for an explanation but the boundaries had shifted in a way he couldn't fully understand and that meant he didn't know if he would cross them and earn his ire as well.

So when Angeal offered to cook dinner the night after a long, long day of justifying why throwing more troopers at a problem was only going to lead to a high death count without more SOLDIER oversight, Sephiroth was relieved to find himself in the quiet (well, as quiet as it ever got around Genesis) company of his friends.  However, once dinner was said and done and Genesis draped himself on the couch instead of sitting on it, the staring happened again made all the more noticeable by the fact Angeal seemed to be doing it too.

Genesis patted the seat by him, “Come and sit with me.”

It felt like a trap, like he was about to trigger something that had been brewing for several months and he wasn't sure he cared because at least then he would know what the problem was. What was more unexpected was Genesis reaching for his hand and placing it in his own lap, letting his thumb rub circles over his palm in a surprisingly soothing motion. Perhaps whatever it was had simply passed and he was eager to reestablish their previous levels of physical communication.

“Would you like one?”  Sephiroth's attention was drawn to Angeal, who was offering one of the dried, candied fruit skins he made when they were here long enough. He was a little full, but there were no scheduled monitoring for his diet here and Angeal had been enjoying them so it seemed rude to refuse one.

“Let me,” Genesis said, fishing his hand into the plastic container and pulling out an oddly shaped scrap he didn't recognise.

Learning a different variety of foods had been one of the more interesting experiences of these dinners, as they both had experience with certain foods he'd never really eaten before and occasionally, with ingredients he had never experienced.

Sephiroth then realised he was literally attempting to feed it to him and his confusion returned. “I'm not injured,” he said. That was the only occasion he tended to need any help eating and it was rare.

“Humour me,” Genesis insisted, holding the piece between his fingers and twisting it around.

It was possible he'd drunk a lot more wine before Sephiroth had arrived and as such, had slipped into a more whimsical mindset. It was also possible that Sephiroth had gotten on his nerves at some point and he'd decided to put something unpleasant in the food. However, if he had, Angeal wouldn't have gone along with it or been eating from the same container, so he did as he was asked.

It was a strange texture, chewy, almost leather like but also had some  fuzzy feeling spots to it. It was peculiar, but he liked peculiar textures, it made it all a bit more interesting. Except then there was a sudden new taste of something inside it and he felt himself squint as his cheeks pulled tight and heard Genesis laughing lightly. 

Was he wrong? Had he done something to it?

“You look like a chipmunk,” Genesis snorted.

“We can strike tart fruit off your list of likes,” Angeal added, ducking his head. “Do you want to try something else?”

“No,” Sephiroth said as the tingle in his cheeks began to fade.

Genesis's staring had resumed, but the quality of the staring had changed in some way. His expression was more open than mischievous and he reached a couple of fingers to the top of Sephiroth's hair parting, threading them down and through. 

“You're ridiculous,” he said softly.

What was so ridiculous about expecting fruit to be sweet? Admittedly, he had begun to develop a taste for sweet things and Angeal was often the driving force behind him finding new things, but it wasn't the first time he'd tried something he wasn't sure he liked.

“You're the one staring,” Sephiroth pointed out.

“Turn about is fair play,” Genesis told him. “You often stare at me.”

“You're impossible to ignore,” Sephiroth said. If he wasn't walking around in bright red with more materia than he could possibly use and spouting Loveless at anyone within his vicinity, he was still outspoken, like the very concept of silence offended him.

“So don't,” Genesis said. ”I don’t want to be ignored.”

Sephiroth hadn't realised he had been. “What do you want?”

“You,” Genesis's smile changed to the more familiar look that sent anyone with sense walking very quickly in the opposite direction because something was going to be set on fire. “Any way I can have you.”

That sounded – from his limited experience on the matter, it sounded intimate which made no sense at all. That was something he and Angeal did together. Sephiroth couldn't help but glance at him, finding he was watching the two of them with an expression that didn't seem upset or angry. It was something else entirely.

“What way do you want?” Sephiroth asked, just to be sure.

“You already know the answer to that,” Genesis tutted. “I know you can be dense but you're not that bad.”

“This is...” It was hard to put into words, so he looked to Angeal “This is something you do together.”

“Yes,” Angeal agreed.

“Then why do you need me?” Sephiroth asked.

“We don't need you,” Genesis said. “You didn't need three servings of the chocolate cream, but you definitely wanted it and enjoyed it. Is want not enough?”

Want he had some experience of. Want was being pawed at by the fan clubs, being told which people to speak to events, who to pose with, who it was imperative he let touch his arm or kiss his cheek because they were very important to the company. 

Want was uncomfortably like owing them something.

“You don't have to say yes,” Angeal said, quietly. “The last thing we want to do is make you feel uncomfortable.”

Uncomfortable was the wrong word. If anything, it felt too comfortable – the feeling of Genesis's thumb ghosting across his hand. the couch, the food and soft surrundings. “Are you certain you want to?”

“It's nothing I've considered before,” Angeal admitted. “But it wouldn't be a hardship either. You would be beautiful to watch together and I would be interested in intimacy with you, if you wanted that.”

“That's hardly a fair comparison,” Genesis said. “I look beautiful regardless of who I'm with.”

“You're our friend first. If you don't want this, that's okay but if you're open to trying it, we would take care of you,” Angeal promised. 

That tone was a promise. It was a strange concept, this idea he could or would need to be taken care of. It did make his heart rate increase when he tried to picture it, but the concept was foreign and he could only come up with vague impressions of feelings that felt too big for his body.

“I don't need taking care of,” Sephiroth said instead.

“But do you want to be?” Angeal pressed.

Taking care of had many meanings. The company took care of his schedule,  his medical needs, clothes and housing but they did already take care of many things for him. Angeal often took it on himself to take care of his nutritional needs or when words could be too difficult. Genesis took care of social engagements where he was often stuck for words while Genesis had plenty to spare and to push him to do things he would never have considered before. They both functionally cared for safety, especially in battles or as sentinels so he could get some rest without interrupting.

“I could take care of you,” Sephiroth offered instead, even if he wasn't entirely sure of how to do that. His experience in the area was extremely limited.

“I know you would,” Angeal said, kind enough not to point it out.

“We're getting a little ahead of ourselves,” Genesis said, giving his hand a pull to bring his attention back. “I would like to kiss you and I think I've been patient enough. Any objections?”

The last time he had been kissed, It had been a sloppy, wet experience from one of the investors wives and he'd wanted to scrub his skin clean away.

“I don't know if I like it,” Sephiroth replied.

“That's because you haven't been kissing me,” Genesis declared. He did love to be the exception to every rule. “Or Angeal for that matter, even if he has wandering hands every time we do.”

“I do not!” Angeal ducked his head away, shaking it slightly. “I'm just trying to get you to keep still.”

“I'm not sure anything short of sedation will do that,” Sephiroth pointed out. Even then, he tended to grip closely as if he were constricting a prey animal.

“We can stop if you don't like it,” Genesis decided. “More 'saying no' practice for you isn't the worst idea either way.”

It wasn’t bad. It was another thing to add onto the list of odd things Genesis did, because he moved strangely slowly for someone who rarely stopped to think about things once he'd made up his mind. He got very close, pressing his nose lightly against his and smiled – small, almost shy and clearly searching his eyes for something before he pressed his lips over his.

It wasn't at all as he expected. His breath was warm, but smelled vaguely of the 'cheap slosh' he'd been drinking all night and it wasn't unpleasant even if he was very, very close. It was slow, hesitant even where he had expected clashing mouths and hitting teeth like a training room duel and not at all like it had been before. No pinpricks of sweat, no desire to push him away and he found himself pressing his hand against his back, trying to get him closer instead, as if he just couldn't feel close enough no matter what. It was engulfing and terrifying.

Then all at once, it was over and he was pulling away and he found he definitely didn't want that so placed his hands on Genesis's hips to stop him.

Genesis laughed taking his hands from his hips and stepping backwards, “Come along,” he said, giving his hands a tug. “Let's go somewhere more comfortable where we can enjoy watching Angeal turn the same colour as his hibiscus.”

[schnees-and-schnugs]

I’m going to create a canon divergence that is so self indulgent- *insert willow-whitley and kitty AU*

This is a concept I want to write in multiple short parts until I get bored and wear it out- so consider this just a pt. 1

I also wrote this with these last few   fics in mind, so you can think of this as a continuation of those. Or not. But a lot of the same themes do apply.

This is probably going to be first fic that I don’t write in one/two sittings but my classes are a pain in the ass ;_;

tw: eating disorder, alcoholism 

_______________________________________________________________

  “I want a cat.”

  Willow blinked. “What?���

  Her son fidgeted nervously on his feet. “A cat. I want to adopt a cat.”

  Well this is a... surprise. 

  Despite her and Whitley having lived on their own in Patch for a few months, he’s hardly spoken a world to her since the fall of Atlas. Or spoken a word to anyone, really. She put it up to the radically new environment, and well, the fact that Atlas is gone, the SDC is in shambles, and Jacques had been MIA (probably dead) since the fall. Winter and Weiss had insisted that Willow and Whitley settle down somewhere quiet and safe, and the islands off the coast of Vale weren’t exactly next on Salem’s attack checklist. 

  It was two of Weiss’ teammates who suggested they head to Patch, even offering to let their father know about their arrival. Willow had gently denied the kind offer, saying that Tai Xiao Long didn’t need to bother with them. They’ll be fine. She pretending not to notice the look on all their faces: a depressed alcoholic and her previously isolated, emotionally traumatized son?  Fine on their own? 

  She had then turned around, gathered Whitley (who was sitting on the bench behind her, ignoring attempts made by a few of Weiss’ companions to cheer him up even a little), and bought tickets for the next ship going from Vacuo to Vale.

  Yet when the ship docked on the shore of the island, there stood a blonde, muscular man with a sign that read: Willow and Whitley Schnee, Welcome! in sharpie. He must have saw the confusion (and honestly a little fear) on her face from his standpoint on the harbor because he had quickly flipped the sign over and scribbled on it before holding it up again. My name is Tai Xiao Long. Yang and Ruby’s Father.

  It seems that Weiss’ friends didn’t listen to me.

  Nevertheless, Willow had breathed a sigh of relief. She had quite a few run ins with people on the journey east who recognized her and/or Whitley. The interactions have ranged from stares that were a little too long to pure hostility. It also didn’t help that some people thought it was okay to just grab any well known person they see- she almost broke a man’s arm after he had suddenly seized Whitley’s wrist and jerked him around. He’d probably be dead if Winter and Weiss were there, but Willow had settled on ripping the mans arm away with a glyph and dragging Whitley off quickly.  

  And now here they are, three months later and Willow was drinking a can of soda while enjoying the afternoon breeze on the front porch of their little cabin when Whitley approached her.

  “A cat. I want to adopt a cat.”

  She looked up at her son’s face and saw a familiar look of apprehension that everyone in their family had when faced with the prospect of having to ask for anything. Of course, before it usually involved asking Jacques, or begging more so. Willow had to approach this carefully or else Whitley is just going to recede back into his shell and not speak a word for another three months.

  “Well... we can ask Mr. Xiao Long about it. He surely would know about any animal shelters around here.”

  He scrunched up his nose, a face that she knew in Whitley Terms meant yeah okay... but I’m not happy about it.

  Willow knew better than to suspect that Whitley disliked Mr. Xiao Long specifically. He avoided everyone these days- friendly neighbors, SDC businessmen, etc. Tai had made sure they were comfortable every step of the way. He had shown them around, introduced them to soon-to-be friends, brought them into his home for meals until Willow figured out her way around a kitchen, even invited Whitley to study at Signal Academy. He refused, but Willow appreciated the offer. And she knew Whitley appreciated it too, but he’s having a hard enough time coming to terms with Willow’s protectiveness of him, much less accept the fact that a stranger may also care slightly about him.   

 “Then what do you suggest we do?” Willow couldn’t help but to smile at his childish apprehension. She relished any show of adolescence in her son these days. After years of walking on eggshells and maintaining a facade just short of perfection, he needed to clumsily blunder around like any young teenager would do.

  Whitley tugged at his long red sleeves. “There’s a stray kitten that comes around here at night...” 

  “You have that one in mind?”

  He nodded. “I always hear it meowing outside my window. I want to try to bring it inside- I leave scraps outside my window but it always disappears by the time the sun rises. Maybe if I could get it to come to the porch... In Atlas, they said in the animal shelter that it takes a few weeks to socialize a kitten.”

  He started at her expectantly. Willow had forgotten that Whitley would occasionally volunteer at one of the few animal shelters in Atlas. Jacques only allowed him to go just so he could milk all the PR he could out of it, obviously. But to this day, she had never actually heard Whitley speak about it unprompted. It must have been something he genuinely liked if he was so quiet about it. He knew full well that any hobby that he actually outwardly enjoyed was the first on Jacques’ chopping block if Whitley ever slipped up. 

  Willow stood up on the porch steps and faced her son. “Very well then. Tonight we’ll leave food out on the front porch and watch to see if it comes by.”

  Whitley’s face brightened for the first time in months. “Really?”

  “Mmhm.” She hummed. “Hopefully soon enough the kitten will like us and come inside...”

  Willow’s chest ached at the overwhelming surprise on his face. Asking Jacques for anything always came with a catch, a quid pro quo. Looking back, Willow always knew love was a transaction to him. But being young and blinded by the man- she just accepted it as a slight character flaw. Whitley didn’t know anything other than this.

  She was going to get him this kitten even if she had to crawl in the shrubbery at midnight looking for it.

  For the next few hours he assisted Willow in the kitchen for the first time since they got to Patch. Mostly because he wanted to get the kittens food out as fast as he could, but she wasn’t complaining. She watched as Whitley cut up a cooked chicken breast into bite sized little pieces, his tongue slightly sticking out as he concentrated. She wondered, briefly, if it was safe to allow him to handle a kitchen knife. Willow shook the thought away. He isn’t a child. She wouldn’t insult him by treating him like one. But she still had to be a mother... if it wasn’t too late.

  She tried to be as hands off as she could in these last few months while trying to muster what parental authority she could without scaring Whitley away. He was free to spend his time to do whatever he liked just as long as it was safe and he went to bed on time. Eating three solid meals a day was also a requirement, but that was a sensitive issue that Willow didn’t know how to approach with conviction. He has been cooperative for the most part in this aspect- which came as a surprise since Whitley has spent years trying to maintain whatever little control he had over his own life by strictly regulating what went inside his mouth and when. Which often meant very little eating.

  Willow didn’t want to name the condition out loud. If she did, then it would become a problem. Then she would have to admit that all of this still wasn’t enough to fix everything. Then she would start wanting a drink-

  Maybe everyone was right. Maybe her and Whitley were simply too broken to be able to live on their own.

  But they haven’t been living on their own, have they? Mr. Xiao Long still came by a few times a week to “check up on how y’all are adapting”, as he says. More like to make sure I’m not passed out drunk and Whitley hadn’t taken the opportunity to jump off a cliff, Willow thought bitterly.

  She still didn’t know how much Weiss and her friends told him - but they must have been pretty honest if he was going to be this concerned. Willow cringed at the thought of how he must see her - a failure of a mother. Not only that, but one who’s too afraid to confront the fact that her son is sick and needs help, but she can’t help because she’s not enough-

  “I’m done.”

  Willow blinked out of her increasingly chaotic thoughts to see Whitley holding a small bowl of chopped chicken, staring at her expectantly.

  Maybe I should stop thinking so much.

  “Lets put it out on the front porch then,” Willow grabbed both their plates of spaghetti off the kitchen counter. “We can eat by the window and watch for the kitten.”

  Whitley frowned. “Can we keep the front door open? Maybe if it sees us enough times then it will get used to us eventually.”

  “Whatever you want darling,” She replied, already on her way to the living room.

  And so they sat eating dinner, she on the edge of the couch and he on the floor on front of the open door. They sat in silence, but it was a comfortable one - Whitley watching the outside intently for the kitten and Willow watching him absentmindedly eat. A few minutes turned into an hour and she began to wonder if the kitten was going to show tonight, but a tiny scampering sound brought her and her son back to attention.

  The kitten emerged from the shrubbery.

  It was beautiful.

  It was small, only about a few weeks old. Its pitch black fur made it almost impossible to see without the aid of the moonlight. Its little white socks on its paws and glowing eyes gave it away as it inched slowly towards the now cold bowl of chicken. 

  Willow held her breath, and she knew Whitley was too. The kitten tentatively ate from the bowl, unaware of the two humans watching it. It seemed about half way through when Whitley, unknowing, leaned forward- causing his now empty plate to slide off his lab and hit the wood floor. The sound wasn’t loud, but in the silence of the night it was like a gunshot.

  The kitten’s head snapped up, ears perked in attention. For an almost comical millisecond, the kitten stared at the two of them and they stared back, everyone wide eyed. Then it turned and ran off back where it came, leaving behind nothing but a bowl of half eaten chicken.

  Willow braced herself for Whitley’s inevitable disappointment. But instead, when she turned toward him she saw an expression of joy. His eyes are brighter than she had ever seen them, not since he was a child.

  “She’s a girl,” He said.

  She furrowed her brow. “How do you know that?”

  “When she turned around and ran - I saw her backside. I think she’s a girl.”

  Willow smiled. “Very well then. One discovery is good enough for tonight.”

  Standing up, she reached for both of their used dishes and softly closed the front door shut. “Time for bed.”

    Whitley didn’t complain. He headed off the bed while Willow cleaned up the kitchen- a menial task that she never had to do back in atlas. But she found a peace in it. If given the choice, she would take a lifestyle of chores over the decadent one she had before. Ten times out of ten. This felt real.

  In the back of her mind, she remembered the chicken left outside. After considering, she decided to leave it out in case the kitten came back. She would make sure that Whitley would have this kitten eventually. It was the least she could do.

[phoenix-downer]

Thanks for Waiting Chapter 1/2

For Rikunami Day 2019. Chapter 1 will be posted today, and chapter 2 will be posted next Monday. Hope you enjoy!

Chapter Length: ~3300 words

Summary: Riku and Naminé are an unlikely duo working towards a common goal: helping Sora. But as they spend more and more time together, they start to question if they’re doing the right thing. It’s easier to focus on that than on what might be happening between them. After all, a Nobody doesn’t have feelings of her own, and a human wouldn’t fall for a Nobody… right?

Characters: Naminé, Riku

Relationships: Riku/Naminé

Additional Info: Romance, Friendship, Angst, Mutual Pining, (Mostly) Canon Compliant, Missing Scene(s)

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Naminé rubbed her eyes, then picked up the pencil and continued her work. This memory was an old one; Sora wore a white shirt with red pants, and there was a light shining in his hands. It was one of those memories he probably didn’t even remember, but it was a part of his heart all the same and needed to get put back together. 

“Naminé? You’re still awake?”

Naminé looked up from her sketchbook. A figure wearing a black coat and a blindfold had entered her little sanctuary, a blank white room with drawings of Sora’s memories attached to the walls. 

“Oh, hello Riku,” she said as she turned her attention back to her drawing. “I take it our hideout is still safe?”

Riku took a seat at the opposite end of the table from her. “For now,” he said with a sigh. His silver hair was getting long, including his bangs. Between that and the blindfold, Naminé wasn’t sure how he could even see anything.

“Isn’t that a good thing?” she asked. 

“I guess. I just… don’t feel like I’m doing anything.”

“Well, there’s not much you can do right now other than stand guard over Sora. And it’s an important job. His life is in our hands.” 

He rested his head in his hands. “That’s just it. After what I did, I don’t know how I’m gonna face him when he wakes up.”

“Well,” Naminé said as she put her pencil down, “if it makes you feel any better, there are plenty of good memories of the two of you together. And Sora forgave me for trying to replace Kairi. He wasn’t happy about it, but he didn’t hold it against me. If he can forgive me, he can forgive you too.”

Riku was silent, and Naminé stole a glance at his face. With his eyes covered, it was harder to get a read on what he was feeling, but not impossible. 

“Riku,” she said softly, and he lifted his head. “I think you’re being harder on yourself than anyone else is.”

“I could say the same about you. How long have you been working on Sora’s memories without a break?”

She pursed her lips. “That’s different. I have to make it up to him. I have to fix my mistakes. With each day that goes by, he’s apart from his friends for that much longer.”

He sat back in his chair. “And how is what you’re doing any different from what I’m doing?”

“It’s not,” Naminé finally admitted.

His lips twitched, ever so slightly, and for a moment Naminé caught a glimpse of the Riku Sora and Kairi must know.

“Listen to us,” he said. “Two people bumbling around, trying to atone for what we’ve done but probably doing more damage in the process. What a pair we make.”

Naminé stilled at that. “I’m not a person the way you are, Riku. I’m not… human. I’m just a Nobody. Kairi’s shadow.”

He said nothing for a long time, and she picked up her pencil again and continued. When he stood, she glanced up at him one last time. 

“Goodnight, Riku.”

“Goodnight, Naminé.”

With that, he stole out of the room as quickly as he’d entered it. The only sound left was the scratching of pencil against paper.

The more Naminé spread her drawings of Sora’s memories across the walls and tables of this lonely room, the emptier Naminé felt inside. Like she was pouring everything into those drawings until there was nothing left. She set her pencil down, the drawing of Sora as a child finally finished, and rested her head in her hands.

His memories mocked her. They were always waiting for her as soon as she closed her eyes. Reminding her of the life she could never have. It didn’t matter that Sora had promised to be her friend. Once he woke up, he wouldn’t even know who she was. She was alone again. 

Riku was trying, he really was. But a human like him couldn’t understand what it felt like to know you were never meant to exist. That you were a mistake, an accident. Naminé could hardly blame him for thinking that way. She and Roxas and Xion were all just fakes, and he and Sora and Kairi were the real ones. The humans. The ones with actual hearts. And even though Roxas and Xion were never meant to exist, either, they still had Axel. Who did she have?

No one. Sora had chosen Kairi over her. Riku wanted his friend back, and so did Kairi, even though she couldn’t remember his name. 

There was one person who had wanted to be with her. The Riku Replica. But he was gone now, and his feelings had been fake. Given to him so Marluxia could manipulate Sora. Given to him so she could toy with him and break him. No one had ever cared for her out of their own free will. 

What she wouldn’t give just to have that, for once. But she could never ask for it, for if she did, she would simply ensure the same thing would happen again. Love without a choice was not love at all. 

When she left the white room for the night, a shudder went down her spine. How could a Nobody like her be haunted by ghosts of memories that weren’t even her own? 

But it didn’t matter. Her time was limited. In the end, she would have to return to her Other, just like every other Nobody did in the end.

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Riku sighed as he sank into his creaky bed that night. The Old Mansion was hardly a nice place to live, but somehow it was still less creepy than living in Maleficent’s lonely old castle with its big empty room back on Hollow Bastion.

Being away from Sora and Kairi was hard. But it wasn’t their fault Riku was currently in this mess, struggling with his darkness as he tried to fix his mistakes. And Sora wouldn’t wake up unless he went to questionable lengths to get his friend back. 

His thoughts wandered to his task at hand. Sure, DiZ kept saying Roxas and Xion and Naminé weren’t real people. But if that was true… why did Xion have a face now? A face that looked like Kairi’s? And why did Roxas seem so much like Sora? Why was Riku reminded so much of his friend when he saw him?

And Naminé. Naminé, with her gentle smile and earnest manner. Naminé, who was just as determined to atone for her mistakes as Riku was for his. How were the two of them any different, really? Why was it that he was human and she was a Nobody? Did it even really matter?

Yes, it did, because if he accepted Naminé had a heart, then he’d have to accept Roxas and Xion did, too, and he couldn’t do that. Couldn’t do that and still bring Sora back.

DiZ was right. Nobodies and Replicas weren’t real people. They were just fakes with fake hearts, and no amount of wishing would ever change that. 

But as Riku fell asleep, Naminé’s face was in his thoughts, and a part of him wished he was wrong.

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When Naminé woke up the next morning, faint smells were coming from the direction of the mansion’s kitchen. 

Curious. Usually she was the one who did the cooking. Riku was in and out too much to be a reliable cook, and DiZ had probably never made anything more complicated than a sandwich in his entire life. 

She had no clothes but her white dress, so she slipped it on now and folded the oversized Twilight Town t-shirt that was her nightgown in a neat pile on her creaky old bed. She’d managed to snatch it when no one was looking, because Diz didn’t think a Nobody like her need worry about things like clothes or even food.

But her body, faint and ethereal as it was, still needed sustenance of some kind. She had made do by scrounging around in the woods near the mansion or snatching scraps from food stalls in town until Riku put a stop to that and started bringing back actual groceries for her to cook with.

Taking the stairs as quietly as possible, she made her way down to the kitchen. The smells drifting to her nose triggered Kairi’s memories of other mornings spent with Riku and Sora, mixing batter and adding in chocolate chips.  

Sure enough, Riku was hunched over the stove with a metal spatula in his hand. The stove had been a little too short for him before, but after his recent growth spurt, it was comically so. 

“Good morning,” she said as she peered over his shoulder. A plate of pancakes was next to the stove, and he scooped the latest one off the skillet and dumped it on top of the pile.

“Morning,” he replied. “Pancakes are about the only thing I know how to make, so I figured I’d take over cooking duty for once. Grab yourself a few and take a seat. Syrup’s already on the table.”

“Thank you.” She found a chipped but clean plate to use, along with a mismatching fork and knife, and took a seat on one of the creaky old chairs. Miracle of miracles, the table didn’t wobble as she set her plate down, and she gave Riku a curious look.

“I tried to stabilize it this morning,” he explained as he brought the remaining pancakes over along with another clean plate and took a seat. She watched as he poured syrup over his stack of pancakes, leaving a few for DiZ. 

So that was what you did with the syrup. She copied him and then tried a bite. The pancakes were warm and fluffy, and the syrup was just the right level of sweetness.

“These are really good, Riku. Thank you.”

“Yeah, well, you can thank Kairi. She’s the one who taught me how to make them.”

But of course. Riku wouldn’t make them for her sake; he was making them because he missed Kairi. 

“I hope I get to meet her soon,” she said. Well, more like she knew she would, she just wanted to talk to Kairi before she merged with her.

“She’d like you,” Riku said. Not a question, a matter-of-fact statement.

“She would? Even after I made Sora forget her?”

“She’s not the kind of person who holds things against other people.”

“Why don’t you go see her then?”

Riku sighed. “I can’t. Not without Sora.”

Naminé didn’t know what to say to him. What she wouldn’t give to have real actual friends of her own. He had friends who cared deeply about him, and yet he wouldn’t even talk to them.

“Well,” she said at last, “I hope the three of you can be together again soon.” 

He coughed and quickly changed the subject. “What will you do, when all of this is over?”

“I suppose the same fate that befalls all Nobodies will befall me eventually. I’ll return to Kairi like I’m supposed to.”

He was silent for a while, then finally replied, “Doesn’t that make you sad?”

She shrugged. “I don’t have a heart, remember? So I can’t really be sad about it.”

But Riku’s head drooped, and she had the curious thought that perhaps he was sad for her.

No, that was impossible. Humans didn’t feel any empathy for Nobodies. How could they, when Nobodies were just empty husks masquerading as people?

She couldn’t let Riku get attached. That would just lead to heartache for him and make it harder to do what had to be done. 

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Naminé sat in the white room, staring blankly out the window at the courtyard below and the woods beyond that. Xion had made her promise to look after Roxas, and… 

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

She glanced at Riku, who must’ve entered the room without her noticing. His eyes were still covered, but she didn’t need to see them to sense something was on his mind, too.

“I don’t know why,” she said, “but something about this feels wrong. I know I’m not supposed to be able to feel, and yet… I can’t help but wonder… are we really doing the right thing, Riku?”

He didn’t answer her for a few moments as her question hung in the air. Was he having a crisis of conscience over what they were doing? Was it possible he felt guilty? Ashamed?

But this was all to help Sora. That was what mattered, right?

“Right or wrong, Xion made up her mind in the end,” he said at last, his voice heavy. “There was no stopping her.”

“You’re sad for her?” 

Riku didn’t reply; he just sat down and stared at the drawings on the wall. As the memories of Xion faded one by one despite her attempts to cling to them, Naminé couldn’t help but wonder. Would anyone remember her after she’d returned to Kairi? Or would she just fade away? Would everyone forget her like Sora had forgotten her, or would someone, anyone, remember her? Would she become a part of Kairi, or would she… 

She shook her head. Roxas. She was supposed to look after Roxas, for some reason. 

Riku stood and walked to the door. 

“Where are you going?” she asked. 

“Xion… I’m supposed to… face Roxas.”

With that, he was gone, and so were the last memories of… 

That was the thing about memories fading. Once they were gone, they were gone for good. Hoping that someone would remember her after she returned to Kairi was pointless. She was doomed to be forgotten in the end, just like every other Nobody. 

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Diz’s secret basement laboratory, with its blue glowing lights and creepy monitors, was usually somewhere Naminé merely passed through when she wanted to visit Sora. But someone had entered the Old Mansion and was in the lab now, and she wanted to know what was going on. Otherwise she’d never find out, as Diz wasn’t going to tell her otherwise. 

She took the steps one by one, clutching her sketchbook to her chest as she peered down. What she saw at the bottom of the stairs made her breath catch. 

A tall figure was there, dragging an unconscious Roxas along with one arm as it favored the other. Her promise to help Roxas rang clear through her head, and she cast her sketchbook aside and addressed the figure.

“Who are you?”

“Naminé, it’s me.”

She gasped, and her hand flew to her mouth. “Riku?”

Sure enough, the memories were his. His heart was his. But his appearance was not. He… he looked like Ansem now. Like his own worst enemy. He still wore a black coat, but he was taller and bulkier than he should be. His hair wasn’t messy anymore, either; it was perfectly smooth, and he was no longer blindfolded. Instead of the beautiful green eyes she had come to expect, golden ones stared back at her.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he said, averting his gaze. “But I had to do this to defeat Roxas.”

Naminé’s lower lip trembled as she looked from Riku to Roxas back to Riku. How was this right? How was any of this right? Why had Riku transformed? And why did Roxas have to be sacrificed? Why did bringing Sora back have such a high cost? She didn’t know helping him would… would—

Her eyes rested on the unconscious Roxas once more. Maybe she and Roxas weren’t human, but surely they didn’t deserve to just—

“I see you’ve brought Roxas back,” Diz said, and Naminé stiffened at the sound of his voice. “Place him over there. The digital Twilight Town is ready.”

Riku moved to do as Diz asked, and Diz turned his attention to her.

“Naminé, now that we have Roxas, you must make haste. The Organization will begin searching for us.”

“Of course.” 

She still owed it to Sora to put the rest of his memories back together. She’d promised.

But… she could at least comfort Roxas in his final few days of life. It was the least she could do for him, for the only person left who might understand. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Dispose of Naminé.”

DiZ’s command to Riku rang through his head as he listened to Axel and Naminé speak to each other. And then Axel brought up the elephant in the room, the reason why Riku had come to  Sunset Hill overlooking the real Twilight Town in the first place. 

“DiZ? Wants to get rid of me?” Naminé asked. Her voice wasn’t angry or accusatory, just sad and a little surprised. She stared at the sketchpad in her hands. “Well, I suppose it makes sense. He doesn’t want a Nobody with powers as dangerous as mine around.” She looked up at him, and her eyes were heavy. “I don’t blame you, Riku.”

As he stared at her, he thought of all the days they’d spent together over the past few months. Thought of how she’d treated him kindly, even after he’d taken on Ansem’s form. Thought of how she’d smiled when he’d made pancakes for her. Thought of how she always knew just what to say as well as when to be silent. Thought of how upset she’d been over Roxas’s fate. How she’d defied even DiZ’s orders after she’d cooperated with him for so long. And why? 

That was when it hit Riku. She was lonely. She was trying to bond with the only person she thought might understand her. If she really didn’t have a heart, then why was she trying so hard to connect with someone else?

DiZ was wrong. Riku had made a terrible mistake. Naminé had a heart. Roxas did too. Maybe even Axel as well. And even though it was too late to help Roxas now, he could still do something for Naminé. He could still show mercy on Axel.

“Go,” he told them, and Naminé’s eyes went wide and her lips parted. “I owe you both,” he explained after Axel questioned him. What he didn’t say was that a part of him couldn’t bear to see Naminé dead. Couldn’t bear the thought of her not existing anymore. 

“Thank you,” was all she said after a few moments, but it was all she had to say. He watched as she disappeared inside the portal Axel had opened. Now he was the one defying orders, but he didn’t care. She was gone, but at least this way, she might be safe. 

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As Naminé merged with Kairi, she realized at long last the truth that had been staring her in the face: she did have a heart of her own, a will of her own, a mind of her own. 

While she was glad that she continued to exist at all, a part of her still wished that she could feel the breeze on her skin again, the sunshine beaming down on her face. Wished she could talk to Roxas and Kairi and Sora face to face again. Wished she could see Riku again—

She caught herself. Where had that thought come from? Strange, unbidden, and yet… here to stay. The more she tried not to think about Riku, the more she thought about him. Thought about his wry humor and dry wit and teasing smiles. Why had he spared her? Was it really because of guilt, or could it be something more?

No, it had to be guilt. There was no other explanation. He felt bad about what he’d done to Roxas, and this had been his way of making up for it. 

There was no way he felt anything for her. None at all. And that was how it should be. She might be her own person, but she had no hope of being distinct from Kairi ever again.

Did she?

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A/N: I’ve been wanting to write something that delved into Riku and Naminé’s bond in more detail, as well as what might have happened behind the scenes during those moments the games can’t include because of time and budget restraints. This chapter covered the material leading up to KH3, and next week’s chapter will cover KH3 itself. Hope you enjoyed!

[t-citurnity-moved]

Heyyyy. It’s waaayyy too early for me to be awake, but I’ve been thinking about some things and wanted to make a post about them LMAO.

Some little notes about B.order.lands Caine under the cut. I’ve been thinking about a lot of these for awhile now, so bear with if they get a bit lengthy / rambly.

These are just general canon-ish things about him in the universe, so not limited to BL3 or anything like that; I mention a few things that are BL3 centric tho.

I’ve been juggling between powers for Caine, since he’s a Siren.

One of the powers I want to give him is time stop, but only briefly. Like maybe 5 seconds, but can be upgraded to 10. It happens in a bubble around him and he can move in stopped time. Anything that comes in contact with the bubble slows to a stop.

OR I could be Extra™ and give him the ability to nullify other Siren’s powers.

The final Eridian writing in game states that there are seven Sirens in existence at one time and that the seventh “should never be found” or something to that extent.

In this instance, Caine would be the seventh and that grants him the ability to nullify Siren powers so long as he’s touching the person (and for like a second or so extra for the effect to wear off).

This would make him, like, the PERFECT counter to Tyreen + Troy and I love the idea. More on that at a later date.

Either way, being a Siren is “tradition” in his family and is passed down the maternal line; his mother was a Siren, his grandmother, etc.

His Siren status was passed from his older half-sister, Hecate, who died when they were both young. Because being a Siren isn’t exactly uncommon in his family, it’s likely that they knew how to pass these powers along.

If there’s a specific ritual or not, doesn’t really matter since they’ve got their own way of doing things. They’ve probably come up with their own “coming of age” ritual that Caine was apart of before he came out.

Caine’s Siren markings are purple; they counter the “softness” of other Sirens by being wild and jagged, even compared to Troy’s (whose are stated as being “flayed and violent.”)

He covers them up and avoids using his powers if at all possible; he doesn’t like relying on them.

Because of this, pretty much no one knows he’s a Siren. And he doesn’t have any thought to tell them either.

Caine’s wings are pretty similar in terms of being wild and jagged; they’re large enough to cover his entire body and he has a whopping four of them. Yeah, I’m kicking canon lore out the door, sue me.

Outside of Siren things, Caine is a mercenary who’ll pretty much take any job if it means getting paid. He hardly cares about the vaults or what’s in them; he doesn’t fuck with Siren BS unless he absolutely has to.

Which is why he has such a crisis in BL3, because he’s so unused to having all this Siren shit shoved in his face after unlearning all of it after his family is eradicated for lack of a better term lmao.

He also tinkers with things! Like, he’s really big on technology and has built a few gadgets for himself that’ve saved his life more times than he can count. He also salvaged parts to make himself a motorbike out of scrap lmao. It’s reliable, though it doesn’t really look it. He doesn’t really trust the catch-a-ride system much, no offense to Ellie.

ALL THAT BEING SAID. He does really love his friends despite being a hardass, ESPECIALLY in BL3.

He’s pissed when Lilith loses her powers and is ready to throw down the second he sees Tyreen and Troy next time.

He also throws caution to the wind and uses his own powers to save Maya. (You can pry Maya surviving out of my cold, dead hands.)

Of course this means that everyone knows he’s a Siren now, but he doesn’t care as long as all his friends are still alive.

IF I go the route of his powers nullifying those of other Sirens, the next time he meets the twins, you can bet Tyreen tries to leech him only to find out she can’t. It’s crisis inducing and really gives them BOTH a wakeup call.

From that point, Caine tries tor really undermine every interaction Tyreen has with Troy, because Troy’s the “vulnerable” one. This is before they’re together, he wouldn’t do that if they were dating unless it was a bad situation.

WHICH IT IS. And you can’t convince me otherwise. Tyreen doesn’t give a damn about Troy and we all know this. Yeah, siblings play around a lot, but DAMN she’s downright ruthless to him, ESPECIALLY after his boss fight and her first instinct isn’t to check up on him to see if he’s still alive, but to LEECH HIM INSTEAD.

Needless to say, this is what sparks off Troy’s redemption arc, which I’ll get more into at a later date once I square away a LOT of things.

[higuchimon]

[fanfic] What’s In A Name:  Chapter 5

Leafmon peered around Ken-chan’s room. He wasn’t sure what to expect; this place was very different from the Digital World. This wasn’t anything like what Ken-chan had as the Kaiser, and he knew right away that he liked it. While the place was clean and organized, it didn’t have the rigid lines and restraint the fortress had possessed. The bed looked comfortable, even if it wasn’t the wide king size bed Ken-chan had there. Leafmon couldn’t wait to snuggle in there with his partner.

Ken-chan might even let him snuggle there. When he’d been younger, before the Kaiser, Ken-chan eagerly snuggled with him. Leafmon could hardly wait for that to happen again.

What it also had that the fortress hadn’t was the soft murmur of other voices. Leafmon bounced over to the door and listened in silently. So those were Ken-chan’s parents. From what he could see of them they looked like nice people. He wondered if he’d ever get to know them. He vaguely recalled stories that Digimon had to hide when they were in the human world. He would have to ask about that.

Ken and his parents moved away from the door and Leafmon couldn’t see them anymore. They were still talking, though, so he didn’t worry that he’d been forgotten. He knew that Ken had changed – it practically glowed from him – but he remembered everything about the Kaiser so very clearly. It would take time for what had changed to sink into him.

Slowly he worked his way around the room, trying to learn it. This was a part of Ken he’d never seen before. He knew the gentle boy that he’d first met long ago and he knew the cruel Kaiser – and he wanted to know the Ken of now, and help him deal with everything that had happened.

I have things to make up for too. I could have tried harder to stop him sooner. I could have left him – I could have told the Chosen about the fortress from the very beginning. While Ken did a lot, Leafmon wasn’t going to shy away from his own guilt. Whatever Ken did to make up for it, Leafmon would do as well.

The door swung open and Ken entered, closing it behind him. Leafmon glanced over to see him with a tray of food in his hands. He blinked, only now realizing exactly how hungry he really was. Being reformatted was work and he hadn’t had a proper meal in too long.

“Leafmon?” Ken looked until he saw him and stepped closer, smiling. “I thought you might be hungry.”

Leafmon wiggled for a second before he launched himself at Ken. “I’m starving!” He bounced and wriggled, landing on the table with the computer. “Are we going to eat together?” Oh, he’d longed for that. So many times ken had eaten either in front of the monitors or in the cold dining area, and all Leafmon – Wormmon at the time – had been able to do was watch.

Ken settled the tray on the table and sat down. “If what’s what you want. My mom made all of this. Do you see anything that you like?”

Leafmon checked it out. “I like all of it!” He wasn’t even sure of what to call most of it. It just looked and smelled fantastic. Ken picked up something that he did recognize – a steamed bun – and offered it to him. Leafmon gulped it down in moments, while Ken slowly ate some of it himself.

Far too soon every scrap of food had been eaten. Leafmon leaned against Ken, who rested one hand on him. Leafmon could have blissfully reformatted all over again from that alone. Something did seem different – he vibrated with a deep energy that he’d never felt before.

Then with a sudden pop, something changed and the world looked a bit different. In point of fact, he looked down to realize that he looked very different – less puddle of green, more of an acorn.

“Leafmon?” Ken stared down at him. “What – what happened Are you all right?”

He looked down at himself again, realizing in a breath what happened. “I’m fine! I just evolved, that’s all. It happens to baby Digimon when we get a good meal, sometimes.”

Ken blinked a few times before a warm smile touched onto his lips. “All right. I forgot you could do that.” He tilted his head, giving his partner a look. “You have a different name now, don’t you?”

Nodding wasn’t that easy now. Instead he bounced up and down gleefully. “I’m Minomon now!” It had been a long time since he’d been in this form before – since before he’d met Ken the first time. He considered, bouncing a little more. “When I evolve again, I’ll be Wormmon!”

Ken’s smile grew a touch warmer at that. “I look forward to seeing you like that again.”

Minomon leaned against Ken. “So do I.” He’d been Wormmon for so long that it felt like the proper shape to be in. Most Digimon felt like that when they stayed in a given evolution for any length of time. At least he thought so – he’d never had the chance to ask the ones who could evolve at the drop of a hat.

Maybe I can now. Would they work with the Chosen? Or even talk to them? He wasn’t sure of if he should ask. Everything was just so new right now that he didn’t want to make Ken sad for even a second.

But it didn’t seem to matter right now. Ken took the tray back outside, and while he did that, Minomon floated about the room. He stared at the books and the computer, then wandered over to the door that led to the balcony. It was cracked open and he peeked outside.

This world didn’t just look different from the Digital World, it smelled that way too. He wasn’t sure if he liked the smells but perhaps they just took getting used to.

“What are you looking at?” Ken asked, coming up behind him. Minomon wriggled.

“It looks nice out there,” he said. “Can we sit out there, Ken-chan? Please?”

Ken hesitated, but only for a few seconds. He pushed the door open all the way and headed out there, Minomon joining him. Ken settled on a small bench and Minomon floated down to rest in his lap.

There was a pleasant warmth out here, and lots of noises that Minomon didn’t understand, but didn’t feel threatened by. Being in Ken’s lap meant that he was safe, no matter what. He still couldn’t fully wrap his head around that, but he liked thinking about it. He would get used to it, he knew. He had a lot of time ahead of him to do so.

He sighed a deep, happy sigh. A week before he’d been in the Digital World, kicked and abused by the Digimon Kaiser, never treated kindly for so much as a second. Now he was in the human world, sitting in his partner’s lap, the Kaiser a fading memory.

So much had changed in just that brief span of time. Minomon looked forward to seeing what else was going to change, and how much of it would be for the better.

To Be Continued

Notes: Probably going to skip the part where Archnemon steals stuff off Ken’s computer and go to the next important plot point: Wormmon and Stingmon! Also, the fic’s almost over.

[winteriron-trash]

The Fires We Were Forged In [Part 1]

A/N: Okay, I lied again. Here’s another canon-compliant Endgame story. Sort of, I guess. Yes, the Loki and Bucky story is coming soon, it’s still getting edited a bit but for now, I wanted to post this idea that came to me when I saw a post circling of texts Peter sent to Tony’s phone post-Endgame. (If someone has credit pls lemme know, I can’t find it) So, here this is. Stick through the angst for the ending, I promise it’s worth it. :) I can’t tell how many parts this will have without spoiling the ending, so just read on. I’m not self-centred about my writing but I promise this one is good.

Warning for Endgame spoilers and all that. Enjoy!

-

Peter wasn’t the best at coping. In fact, if there were a scoreboard kept, he was pretty sure he’d come right in last at the worst at it.

And sure, no one blamed him. No one blamed anything except for themselves, really. Peter felt it in the looks anyone wore whenever… that name was mentioned. Everyone, even people who weren’t involved, found a way to blame themselves. Carol wished she’d been the one to use the stones. Rhodey wished he’d stopped Tony. Pepper wished she’d intercepted the gauntlet to keep it away from Thanos. Steve wished he hadn’t ripped the Avengers apart.

Everyone blamed themselves because really, how else were they supposed to cope? How else were they supposed to handle the fact that the Earth’s best defender was gone, and they had to live to watch him go?

It hurt. It hurt worse than the burn in Peter’s throat when he screamed himself raw. It hurt worse than the bloody, bruised, probably broken knuckles Peter got from angrily punching the stray suit he came across when they were cleaning the workshop out.

Peter was horrible at coping.

He was gone. Tony. Iron Man. Tony goddamned Stark, the man who’d built his own legacy with scrap metal and a genius smile. The man who believed in Peter when no one else would even look at him. The man who killed Thanos and saved the universe, even if it cost him his life.

The man who fucking left Peter alone and sobbing at last nights because why the hell did Peter deserve to lose another father figure? Let alone, one like Tony?

Peter blamed Tony, and that was maybe the worst part of it. Everyone else blamed themselves, but Peter saw through it. No matter who’d’ve done what, Tony was the one who had to do it. Strange even said so. Tony Stark had to die for the universe to live.

Fate was a cruel thing. And Peter blamed Tony for being selfless enough to comply with it.

Still, Peter didn’t hate Tony. He just… he missed him. Same as everyone else. Peter tried his best to put himself back together and move on. He was an Avenger now, that was his job.

And it wasn’t so bad. Morgan was adorable, Harley was cool when he wasn’t being a dick, and Nebula was so much kinder than her metal exterior let on. Peter had a new family, one that mourned with him and didn’t blame Peter when he had to leave the room whenever someone even said Tony’s name.

They understood. It was as infuriating as it was comforting. To be surrounded by pitying looks and shoulder pats and soft voices asking Peter if he was okay.

No, Peter was not fucking okay.

But he tried to be. He tried to cope and find what helped him feel a little saner and put together even in his worst moments. It wasn’t perfect, but it was all he had.

Peter’s best and possibly also worst coping mechanism ended up being texting Tony.

Well, not Tony. Tony’s old number, that was now just a void for Peter to scream into when he needed it.

Peter remembered when Tony gave him that number. The idea of having Tony Stark’s personal number in Peter’s own phone was something that had Peter bouncing off the walls for days. He relished in it, sending Tony constant texts that started out as Spider-Man updates, but digressed into just random things that happened to Peter and he felt the need to tell someone about.

And Tony always answered. To every single text. Sure, the answers were brief sometimes, just a few emojis and a ‘good job, kid’ if it was something like Peter telling Tony he aced a test. Sometimes the answers were longer, more heartfelt when Peter admitted he was scared of his role as a hero. Tony was always there.

So sometimes it was just nice to send a text to a dead number, and imagine what the response would be.

Peter would send anything, really. Some days it’d be test scores, the next it’d be a picture of Morgan attacking Harley with his own potato gun while Nebula tried to suppress a smile in the background. There’d be heartfelt texts, sometimes. Ones of Peter promising Tony how much everyone remembered him, and how his sacrifice was so worth it, seeing all the happy families reunited.

Peter thought if he promised Tony that his sacrifice was worth it, maybe Peter would start believing it too.

Even if Peter could never really accept that the loss of a man that great could ever have a price.

Which was why Peter had his bad nights. His awful nights where everything hurt and all he wanted to do was destroy anything he could get his hands on, just hoping to feel something.

Those nights, the texts were angry. They were a jumble of words and letters of Peter yelling at Tony, demanding why he’d left his family behind, telling Tony that they didn’t fucking win, that nothing could ever be a win when Iron Man was dead. It was a desperate plea for help, at it’s core.

Peter was trying to pull his act together though. And it was going… well. He’d gone sixteen days, seven hours, and forty-three minutes since he was texted Tony’s dead number. The last text he’d sent had been out receiving his early acceptance letter from MIT. He was doing well.

But Peter was bad a coping.

So when a bad night came again, like they always did, Peter was curled up in the corner of his room, sobbing. He’d already punched a hole in his wall and broken a mirror. Peter ignored the glass. And the blood.

Instead, he grabbed his phone, with shaking hands, opening the last contact he should be opening like this.

Oh well.

The text Peter sent was hardly coherent. There were spelling errors, mixed up words. It didn’t matter. All that matter was the page long angry rant of pain as Peter yelled at Tony for leaving them all behind. Demanding that Tony come back, begging Tony to come back.

Why wouldn’t he come back? Why did everyone else get to come back?

Peter was crying so hard by the end of the text he wasn’t even sure if he sent send before chucking the phone onto his bed. He hugged his knees and sobbed, pushing himself further into the corner.

Peter hated everything. He hated Tony, he hated Thanos, he hated the Avengers, he hated Spider-Man, he hated-

The phone chimed.

Peter was so genuinely confused, he stopped crying for a second. His screen was lit, and from across the room, he could see the notification for a new text message.

Feeble, awful, senseless hope built in Peter as he crawled on his hands and knees through broken shards to grab the phone. It didn’t make sense, it couldn’t be him, but there was a part of Peter that wanted, so fucking badly. An awful selfish part that made Peter hold his breath as he took three tries to unlock his phone and open the message.

‘I’m really so sorry, but I just got this number. I think you’re looking for someone else.’

Oh.

Peter wanted to scream again.

The only thing he had left of Tony and even that had been taken away from him. The universe really did hate Peter, didn’t it?

With a soft sniffle, Peter managed to type out an apology and a promise to not contact the number again. Even as typing the words out made his heart feel like a twisted coil in his own chest.

‘It’s fine. You wanna talk about it? You seem like you need to let some stuff out.’

Peter paused. He did want to talk about it. Especially to someone who didn’t know him or anyone else that he knew. Just… a stranger.

‘Yeah. That sounds kinda nice.’

‘Cool. You’re talking about Iron Man, right? We all miss him. It hurts, having to see him everywhere but know he’s not really here.’

‘Yeah. It really sucks.’

‘Did you know him personally?’

‘He was my mentor, I guess. I looked up to him so much.’

‘Not to go out on a limb, but are you that spider kid in Queens people keep talking about? Everyone said that he went up into space with Iron Man when the first attacks came.’

‘It’s Spider-Man.’

‘I’ll take that as a yes.’

Peter didn’t realize his face was dry of tears until he smiled. Actually smiling, without hiding anything underneath it felt… nice. Really nice.

‘You can’t tell anyone you know Spider-Man. I’m an Avenger, you know.’

‘Like people would believe me anyway. An actual Avenger? Have you met Pepper Potts?’

‘Mrs Potts and I talk all the time. I’m really close with Morgan.’

‘Yeah, their kid, right? This has really gotta suck for her. Losing a hero is nothing like losing a father.’

‘I know how she feels. I think she understands it a lot more than people are willing to admit. No one wants her to have to grow up this fast.’

‘How can she not, being surrounded by superheroes like you?’

‘Fair point.’

Peter spent the rest of the night texting the… new person.

And the rest of the next night.

It became a kind of routine. Peter never asked anything about the person, and they never really offered the information. They both seemed fine with that, really. Even though Peter still didn’t have the heart to change the contact name, it didn’t hurt as much, or even at all some days, when he saw it. His new friend was funny and smart enough to keep up with Peter, always teasing him about whatever he was on the news for that week.

And always being there for Peter in his worst moments. In the moments where all Peter could manage to say was ‘I hate him I hate him I hate him’ over and over again until his fingers were numb, they stayed with him.

It was better than any therapy session Aunt May dragged Peter to.

Peter did feel bad about it, some days. Dumping all his problems on this random person, no matter how much they assured Peter that it was fine, as long as they were paid back in information about his suit. Which Peter didn’t care enough not to share because it was really cool, to be honest.

On the week Peter was packing up for MIT, he found himself complaining to them.

‘Moving for college sucks. It’s stress and too much work.’

‘Mood. I’m in my first year at MIT, it doesn’t get any better once classes start.’

‘Wait, really? MIT?’

‘Yup. Jealous, spider boy?’

‘Not really, it’s where I’m going too.’

‘For real? Nice job. He’d be proud of you, you know.’

Peter smiled softly at his phone. ‘Yeah, I know.’ He thought a quiet moment. ‘Hey, since I’ll be there in a week, how about we meet up?’

The few seconds it took for Peter’s message to be read, then to watch the typing were agonizing.

‘You sure you’re okay with some rando knowing your secret identity?’

‘You’ve helped me through so much, I feel like you already know me. Let’s go out for coffee, it’s the least I can do. Please?’

Another agonizing pause.

‘Fine. But I pick the coffee place.’

Peter grinned.

Peter and his texting buddy planned their coffee meet up for a few days after Peter officially moved into his dorm room. He’d sent a selfie so they would recognize him, which got Peter a snarky comment that he looked just as dorky under the mask that made Peter laugh.

If Peter thought the anxiety of moving into college was bad, it had nothing on meeting his friend of months for the first time. A friend that he didn’t even know the name of.

Oh god.

Peter arrived to the coffee shop ten minutes early and spent five of those ten minutes feverishly checking that he got the right place and time and date. He chose an outside table, so hopefully, he’d be recognized more easily. Since he couldn’t exactly look out for someone he didn’t know the face of.

Peter spent the next five minutes playing on his phone, switching from app to app, not having the concentration to commit to anything.

After that, he began counting the minutes that his friend was late.

What if he’d been set up? What if it was just a big joke? What if they were going to scam him?

At seven minutes in of internal panicking, Peter’s attention was pulled from his phone by shouting.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! The professor would not shut up! I ran here, I’m so sorry!”

The young woman standing in front of Peter’s table did look like she’d run there. Her dark skin was flushed with adrenaline, frizzy black hair in a mess falling out of her hair tie. She blew it out of her face with a scowl. The woman practically threw her stack of binders and lose papers onto the table, revealing the Iron Man shirt she was wearing that hung loosely, slipping off of her shoulders.

Peter gave her a long, blank stare. “Are you…”

She plopped down in the chair across from Peter. “Hey, spider boy.”

Peter smiled so wide it hurt. It’d been a while since he’d worn a smile like that. “It’s just Peter. Peter Parker.”

The woman smiled back, extending her hand across the table. “Cool. I’m Riri Williams.”

[seyaryminamoto]

I know this isn't your primary fandom, but I'm curious. What would you say are the problems with Thor: Ragnarok? For me, personally, it was the worst Thor movie. Completely unfaithful to the source material, bleeding of convenience writing and full of shoehorned bathos that killed any 'serious' moment.

Ha.. ha.. ha… ha…

I kind of was grateful no one had asked me this on Tumblr, but you just had to go for it, huh, Anon? Yeah, yeah you did, and now I have to do this. Now I have to rant. And risk getting a ton of people yelling at me for my controversial opinions.

But you know what? Quoting my good old buddy Oghren, “sod it”. This movie deserves it.

I think Ragnarok has no saving graces. It’s really that simple. I will of course elaborate on why throughout this post, but I’m really glad you believe it’s the worst Thor movie because so do I. In fact, I think it’s the worst of all the MCU, I can’t think of any I disliked more. Even the very controversial Ultron has more to its favor than Ragnarok, and that’s saying a lot.

So, where should we begin?

You’re quite right about it not being faithful to the source material, convenience writing oozes out of the screen all the time, it’s guilty of terrible humor worthy of a 14-year-old in the throes of puberty, and it’s incapable of keeping true to the previous established films in the same cycle. But there are explanations for all of this, of course.

First things first: when Thor: Ragnarok was announced, everyone was horrified and for good reason. No one who cared about Thor’s story and characters wanted to watch a horrible, nitty-gritty movie that would kill all the characters they’d grown to love over time. That’s what Ragnarok promised, initially. Remember the original design for the logo, when the movie was first announced?

Yes, it looked dark. Extremely dark. It sounded like it was going to be an angst fest. And nobody likes an angst fest (not true, a lot of people do, but not enough to make up for the tickets that wouldn’t have been sold if the movie had been dark instead of humorous).

So, after promises of making this movie the be-all, end-all for the Thor franchise, suddenly the executive team behind it was changed. That’s when the very acclaimed Waititi came into the picture. Not only did he scrap everything that had been prepared for the movie, but he did so by outright removing reported elements that could have genuinely made the movie better than its predecesors.

By this I mean, there was a lot Ragnarok could have, and should have done, to improve on what the previous movies did wrong. The first of such things was creating a better bond for the audience with Asgard, with the asgardians, with the people whose world we were about to see destroyed. This bond was not entirely absent for a large portion of Thor’s fanbase: there were people who liked Thor’s friends, the Warriors Three and Lady Sif. People complained about Frigga’s fridging, not only because it was unfair that she was relegated to that kind of writing in The Dark World, but because they liked her character too.

Were Thor and Thor: The Dark World less than stellar at the box office? Okay, sure, let’s say they were. Let’s not deny that. But…

The only MCU-related franchise with more content on FF.net than Thor is the Avengers. Thor has more fics on FF.net than Frozen. And if you think these fics are all from Ragnarok’s era, you’d be sorely mistaken: Thor Ragnarok came out on October 10th, 2017. I went back on the list of fics, turns out there are 422 pages: October 10th, 2017, is only the 56th page. The 56th. Please, let’s let that sink in. THAT is how much content was made for Thor before this damn movie even came along.

Don’t care for FF.net, though? I know a lot of people don’t. Do we really think AO3 will yield a considerably different result?

The “Thor (Movies)” tag features a total of 38,932 fics today. That’s thrice as much as what FF.net features. A total of 1947 pages. October 10th is at the 658th page. Again, more than half the content was written BEFORE Ragnarok. Not only this, but a lot of the content post-Ragnarok is quite likely not canon-compliant, as is typical in fanfiction (I saw quite a lot of Loki/Jane stories written after Ragnarok happened, and as anyone would know, Jane has been written out of the MCU so far, ergo the 2017-owards stories aren’t even necessarily taking Ragnarok into consideration).

Therefore, was the Thor franchise a box office failure? Man, I can’t even say if it was or wasn’t. But the fan response for Thor far outdid most everything else in the MCU. The thing is, it wasn’t the fan response Feige and the Marvel people were after. It’s basically the same concept as why Young Justice was cancelled back in the day: the target audience wasn’t responding to it as much as the audience they were actually reaching. Thor resounded the most with women, with an audience that saw a romantic hero where Feige and his cronies wanted a big buff moron who smashed on par with the Hulk. And that just wasn’t acceptable for these big executives.

Honestly, considering that the original Thor earned $449.3 million, and The Dark World earned $644.6 million, I don’t even know why they’re talked about as box office failures. Were they not as big as the other Marvel movies? I assume as much because of how people talk about them, and yet box office results that triple a movie’s budget should be far from failure. These movies were not flops. They may not have been the most successful with the critics and with a large portion of the audience, but like I said above, they generated a HUGE fan response. Bigger than many other fandoms related to the MCU (over at AO3, only Captain America beats Thor, from what I’ve seen).

So, my point is… would it have been THAT BAD to have a third movie that followed up on the previous two? Would it have been a box office flop? Considering that Marvel has a huge fanbase that watches every single movie they release without really caring about what’s in it, just because it’s Marvel, I don’t think it would have been a flop at all. Having Thor’s franchise as a less successful side of the MCU in terms of money, but more successful in terms of fanbase, would have been just fine, as far as I can tell.

But what do Feige and his buddies want? Money. And that’s why they went to Waititi.

Oh, people will say that Waititi was only an indie filmmaker, how could they know he was going to make a movie this big?! Well, the thing was, James Gunn was busy, so they had to find someone who was willing to make of Thor the same success Guardians of the Galaxy was and Waititi offered to do just that for them. Because, let’s be real: Ragnarok is practically a rip-off of Guardians of the Galaxy. Not only because of the style of the movie, not only because of the humor, but even because it’s fundamented on the notion of “unlikely team-up between different and damaged people united for the common goal of saving the world!”, which yes, you could say is the same notion that made Avengers what it was, but in Avengers there’s an actual effort to get the team together. S.H.I.E.L.D. wanted these specific superpowered people to work together to stop Loki. Here? It’s the same concept as Guardians of the Galaxy because a twist of fate, pretty much, brings all these people together by chance and they team up to put an end to a nasty threat. So, yes. Guardians of the Galaxy rip-off.

Why was it bad to recreate Thor as Guardians of the Galaxy, though? That’s what a lot of people might ask. Well, here’s the deal: you don’t expect Captain America to feature in something that feels like an Antman movie. You don’t expect Ironman to star as the protagonist in something more befitting of a Black Panther movie. Marvel movies are all largely similar in terms of how formulaic they tend to be, but they usually have their independent contexts, their IDENTITIES, and those identities aren’t easily replaced just like that.

Thor had its own identity. That identity was marked by Kenneth Branagh’s original Thor movie: it was practically Shakespeare in space. The development of the characters, its character-driven-storytelling, the organic unfolding of each situation, the understandable motivations of each characters, both heroes and villains, all of it made the original Thor something DIFFERENT in the early MCU. Ironman was the flagship of the MCU at the time, and Thor came out as a completely different story with ONE link to Ironman, in the form of Agent Coulson. Ergo, Thor stood on its own. Did it not stand as tall as the others, like I said? Big effing deal. It was its actual own thing. You could watch Thor without watching anything else and you would still get a fully-rounded movie.

Oh, but apparently it was a snoozefest for a large portion of the MCU fanbase who came here hoping to find the ten thousand action sequences from Captain America: The Winter Soldier or so. Shakespeare in space? That’s just lame! That’s just boring! Character-driven storytelling isn’t cool unless you have explosions on par with a Michael Bay movie! 

Well, to such “critics”, I’ll just say: Ragnarok wasn’t exempt from making people fall asleep either. I already have heard of several people who fell asleep halfway through, and my own mother couldn’t even finish it in a single sitting because of how utterly boring and annoying she found it. She ended up enjoying Deadpool better and she usually hates gratuitous violence on principle. Enough said.

Alright, so moving on: what else comprised Thor’s original identity? Humor. Oh, sure, it wasn’t “14-year-old boy in the midst of puberty” humor, but it was still humor. How many jokes have been made about Thor’s mug-smashing? How about him asking for a large enough dog to ride? Darcy made a lot of people laugh too. Are we really going to pretend none of that happened because “Ragnarok is funnier”? Or is it everyone just forgot about those things, quite conveniently? Thor was hardly a dry, dark and gritty franchise. It’s never been like that. Pretending otherwise to justify Ragnarok’s complete shift of tone and character is absolutely ridiculous.

The Dark World borrowed from Thor’s original identity and built up from there and Avengers to create a story largely disliked by fandom and critics and pretty much everyone, apparently. Still… it had a ton of jokes. If humor was all that mattered, why the hell was The Dark World not as successful? :’D Thor hanging the hammer on the rack, Darcy tossing the keys into the crazy dimensional portal, “How’s space?” “Space is fine”, Loki’s entire prison break sequence, just about everything with Selvig? Don’t come at me now and pretend nobody found any of this funny because there were posts, memes, EVERYTHING, going around about all this. Ergo, why exactly is it that HUMOR was deemed as the one thing this franchise needed when it was ALWAYS THERE?

Thor’s franchise had its failings here and there, perhaps. Maybe they could have handled things better, like I said above. But the failings were not what Feige identified, as far as quality goes. Again, though, what we really were facing was a big ole money-grabbing scheme from a big businessman. And all the audience fell for it like lemmings leaping into nothingness.

What exactly did Ragnarok do, then, to garner my rejection, spite and absolute disapproval?

First things first, like I said above, Waititi did away with everything that gave Thor’s franchise an identity. I’m going to get this first thing out of the way, but keep in mind that this is just the start: Waititi’s movie started to make mistakes I could barely forgive it for by doing away with TWO female characters who, as I proved with the link above, one of them (Sif) was reported to have an important role in the movie before Waititi came along. The actress for the other character, Jane, had said she was “done with Marvel”, but this was misunderstood and misinterpreted by fans as “Oh Natalie Portman HATED working in Marvel SO FUCKING MUCH, that’s why they got rid of her!”, when in truth…

“As far as I know, I’m done,” she said. “I mean, I don’t know if maybe one day they’ll ask for an Avengers 7, or whatever.” She continued by saying that Thor “was a great thing to be a part of.”

Thor was a great thing to be part of. Was it just courtesy? Was it just for the press? Who the hell knows, but this hardly sounds like the VERY MUCH WORSE stuff Idris Elba said about filming the Dark World, that still warranted him returning roles in Ultron, Ragnarok and Infinity War:

“I’d just done eight months in South Africa. I came to England and the day I came back I had to do reshoots on Thor 2.” He raises an eyebrow. “And in the actual scene my hair was different, my…” He stops and gives an exasperated sigh. “I was like, ‘This is torture, man. I don’t want to do this.’ My agent said: ‘You have to, it’s part of the deal.’ ”

Idris Elba says outright, on a published interview, that working on The Dark World, that working for Marvel, is torture. And he’s still been in FIVE movies of the MCU. Please, let that sink in.

Back to the subject at hand: Natalie Portman’s reported willingness to return to the franchise implies that the popular myth that Portman didn’t want anything else to do with Marvel, as an explanation for why she was no longer involved with Thor’s franchise, is nothing but rumors without real basis. It means, ultimately, that she was kicked out just because making Thor a more romantic hero than the rest was just not the angle Feige wanted. Likewise, Thor’s other potential love interest, who was never explored as one by the movies and honestly didn’t have to be, was similarly given a very shitty deal in Ragnarok:

“I was asked, but the timing of when they were going to shoot and when Blindspot was gonna shoot — it was pretty much the same time,” Alexander told Yahoo. “So there was a conflict there.”

Things might have worked out though if Marvel had given her more lead time. “I was hoping for more of a notice from [the studio] so I could make it work, but it was a short notice thing,“ Alexander said. “They called and said, ‘Hey, by the way, would you come do this?’ I said there is no way I can make that work that fast.”

Alexander did try, but ultimately “It couldn’t happen. They were on a different continent!” For reference, Thor: Ragnarok was filmed in Australia.

For further reference, Jaimie Alexander’s show is filmed in New York. As far as I can remember, that was where she was when the Ragnarok call reached her. And all things considered, she was better off not showing up, seeing as the Warriors Three just died within less than five minutes of screentime for each of them. There’s absolutely nothing to say the same thing wouldn’t have happened to Sif.

Why were they absent, then? To please a large crowd of movie-goers who were very consistent about how much they disliked Jane’s character, how much they wanted her to die, how she ruined Thor entirely, and the stories go on and on. Turns out that, the one time Marvel decided to listen to their audience, they got rid of one warrior lady and one female astrophysicist. Funny how this time no feminists gave a shit about that, because Valkyrie suddenly was the strong female character they wanted for the franchise (particularly because she was POC and bisexual, I assume).

But alright, alright. These characters weren’t the most essential part of the franchise, and a new movie could have done without Jane no problem… she didn’t really have to be involved with Ragnarok, and I get that. She also didn’t need to be broken up with Thor just for this, though. Especially broken up without any onscreen evidence that their relationship was doomed or bad or unpleasant. The last we heard, Thor was absolutely proud of her: suddenly she’s just not with him anymore and he’s just fine with it, apparently? Just… why? How? Couldn’t they just ignore Jane altogether instead of breaking them up with a single line in such a stupid and insignificant way?

Either way, accepting Jane and Sif are gone is relatively bearable, despite I really don’t like this, despite it means taking away one character who was essential to the two original movies and another who was meant to finally have her turn to shine on this one. But heh, that’s only the tip of the Ragnarok iceberg.

Finally getting into the movie’s content: my first question is how was Thor in Musspelheim? How did he get there? When? Why? The movie asks these questions for humor. It expects you to laugh at Thor’s monologue just because, but it doesn’t really stop to consider that maybe it SHOULD answer those questions. That maybe the last time we saw Thor, in Ultron, was A LONG TIME AGO. And within that time, he allegedly returned to Asgard because he left through the Bifrost and he should have found Loki impersonating Odin ever since, especially if Loki is so obvious about what he’s doing.

But nothing indicates Thor really had been in Asgard since then. Not at all, because when Thor returns to the Observatory, he runs into Skrull or whatever Eomer was called here. Skrull isn’t a newcomer, he’s not only just taking the job: he’s been here long enough to fill the place with shit he stole from all over the world by using the Bifrost (something worth wondering about, since who the fuck was opening and closing the Bifrost for him when he went on these trips, exactly?), but also by using his new position to appeal to women. Thor is surprised and confused because where is Heimdall? Well, Heimdall’s been gone for a while. And Asgard’s become a big ole’ shrine to Loki. This, then, proves Thor hasn’t been home for a while or else he would have at least seen the building of statues and the sudden shift in the population into Loki worshippers. Where the hell did the Bifrost take Thor after Ultron, then? If it was indeed Asgard, how is it he only realizes NOW that Loki is the one ruling when Loki has already spent a few years on the throne and, if this is his way of ruling, it should have been fucking obvious he wasn’t Odin since day one, according to this characterization? (This, despite we saw he was pretty good at his impersonation of Odin in The Dark World, he only made a tiny mistake that Thor was unable to notice anyhow, so he should’ve fooled Thor just fine)

So, first plothole, first inconsistency, first example of convenience writing and it happens barely ten minutes into the movie. But alas, I need a detour. I really do.

Loki’s a complete and utter idiot in this movie. There’s no other way to describe him. I’ve always thought part of Feige’s frustration with the Thor franchise was Loki’s massive popularity compared with Thor’s. Not that Thor wasn’t popular, but Loki was the first villain to actually warrant a fanbase in the MCU (and although Killmonger more or less got a fair share of people fawining over him, I honestly don’t think it was on par with the Loki phenomenon). Loki committed a crime for a MCU movie: he wasn’t there just to build up the hero’s legacy, he was there to tell his own story. We saw Loki develop from an uncertain ally of Thor’s to an outright enemy, to a begrudging ally, all over the span of Thor, Avengers and Thor: The Dark World. Which Loki do I prefer? The first one, of course. Avengers didn’t do him many favors, and The Dark World also could have handled him better.

But here’s the funny thing: Avengers built him up as a villain to defeat, but that meant Loki had to be menacing, had to be smart to some degree, he had to be respectable. He was smarter in the original Thor, yes, and he’s smarter in the Dark World too, but still, he was worthy of a certain respect in all three movies in terms of how he was built as a character.

Ragnarok obliterated all that respect. Ragnarok reduced Loki to a joke, a really bad joke, about how narcissistic and egotistical he was. He wasn’t smart, he wasn’t competent, he was constantly outdone by Thor in just about every regard, and there was nothing for him to do other than provide the audience someone to laugh at, and someone to project all their LGBT headcanons on, after the way they built up his situation with Jeff Goldblum’s hedonist character. Not that they needed to do that for Loki to be interpreted as LGBT, the fics I referenced above pretty much establish he’s been interpreted as of every sexuality you can think of, all because the original myths did establish him as someone with a very complex sexual identity.

But the point is, people told me Loki was amazing in this movie. I heard so much about that, how he finally got what he deserved… he got to be a laughingstock? That’s what he deserved? Oh, wait, he got to play second fiddle for Thor and accepted that as his place in the world. Was that it? I don’t even care if Loki doesn’t get to fulfill all his ambitions and dreams of recognition: I do care that he’s reduced to nothing but that, when his character was ALWAYS MUCH MORE COMPLEX THAN THAT IN EVERY OTHER MOVIE HE SHOWED UP IN. Being told that THIS is how Loki should be handled? It’s the same as being told the Avatar comics did a brilliant job at characterizing Azula, when I’ve written a fuckton of critical posts that prove that’s not the case.

So, when you give me a Loki whose entire purpose in Asgard is to turn it into Lokiland? You give me a joke. You give me a laughingstock. You give me something unworthy of the previous stories that established his character, amidst many things, as a man desperate to find a place where he belonged, desperate to the point where he could commit heinous acts to fulfill his quest, which is what made him a villain in the original film. And why, oh, why would anyone do such a thing?

Well, that’s because Taika Waititi had the brilliant idea of making Thor: Ragnarok as a standalone movie. I’m not kidding, it’s all right here:

“To be honest, what I did was I tried to approach it as if there were no other films.” Waititi explained. “I wanted to make this a standalone film. I loved Thor 1and Thor 2, but if I was going to make this film my own, I couldn’t have come in and tried to make a follow up movie, to try to make the next episode. I wanted to do my own thing.”

He says he loved the first two movies, but I question that’s true. Someone who loved the original movies would have likely avoided a fuckton of mistakes Waititi made in Ragnarok, mistakes that anyone who actually gave a crap about the first movies would have considered utterly ridiculous. When Waititi decided to build Ragnarok as a standalone, he did away with EVERY SINGLE CONCEPT ESTABLISHED FOR THOR IN THE MCU.

EVERY. SINGLE. ONE.

First Thor movie: Thor’s character is established as an arrogant guy who would send his world to war just because his pride was injured. This arrogant guy gets his power stripped away from him, as punishment for his irresponsible behavior, and it’s not until he reflects on his actions and eventually takes a step forward to stop the Destroyer when he was at his most vulnerable, that Thor finally becomes worthy of his powers again. His attempt to reason with Loki works, but he pays for it with his life, pretty much, until his powers return to him.

So… how is this situation soooo different from Ragnarok’s big fight against Hela? I’ll tell you how: Thor actually displays vulnerability in the original movie, something that hits home much deeper than “OMG I HAVE UNLIMITED POWER INSIDE ME, I DON’T NEED MY HAMMER!”. His pleas to Loki have the intent to SPARE his friends, to spare an entire town of people who don’t know him and probably never will. His fight with Hela has no pleas. He just gets his eyeball plucked out and is forced to watch Hela destroy his city just so he can rage into talking with Odin (if I recall right) and then go Super Saiyan. Because, uh, the power was always inside him!

After an original movie where the power was in choices, in the choice of sacrificing himself for everyone else, Ragnarok is a movie about obtaining literal power to smash your enemy with. You tell me which is more complex and compelling for an intelligent audience.

Oh, but was it deeper in other senses? The talk about colonization and culture erasure and all that was something so new to this franchise!!!

No. It fucking wasn’t.

Movie one opens with a story about the Frost Giants terrorizing the humans and the Asgardians taking them down. The story didn’t end there, though: the story continued when we visit Jotunheim with Thor to discover it’s a completely nasty ruin, as though they haven’t recovered at all from the war and everything Asgard took from them, including a treasure as valuable for them as the Casket of Winters or whatever it was called. And amidst what Asgard took is Loki: how much clearer can the message get? Odin STOLE Jotunheim’s prince for the chance of using him to broker peace between the realms when he deemed Loki ready for said task. He took Loki as a baby and yes, raised him, but he saw that child and thought he was looking in the face of an opportunity. You’re going to tell me that’s not more meaningful, that doesn’t drive in deeper the message about how harmful this sort of colonialist and supremacist culture is (Loki was raised to think his own people were monsters, driven to madness to the extreme where he was going to exterminate his own people just to show his father that he was a worthy son? Seriously, how were there no attempts to interpret this from a post-colonialist point of view, but there are for Ragnarok?), than some dumbass exposition scene with some old paintings in walls where oh noes, turns out Odin KILLED PEOPLE?!

BIG FUCKING DEAL!

WE’VE KNOWN THAT SINCE THE FIRST FIVE MINUTES OF THOR’S ORIGINAL MOVIE!

Just, how the hell is this a big damn surprise to ANYONE? ESPECIALLY TO THOR! He was willing to destroy Jotunheim because they ruined his parade: HE WAS DOING IT TO FOLLOW ODIN’S EXAMPLE. THE ORIGINAL MOVIE NEVER SHIED AWAY FROM THIS.

Oh but the surprise is that Odin had a daughter he locked away and hid from the world because he was ashamed of what he’d done? Just… how was he ashamed? When did we see Odin ASHAMED in the previous movies? As much as they tried to portray him as mellowed out, he always acted like everything had been necessary for peace. He outright says in The Dark World that he will immolate Asgard in its entirety if need be to defeat the Dark Elves. Please, how are we genuinely pretending NOW that Odin was hiding any of what he’d done, any of what he was capable of, from Thor or from Loki or from just about anyone?

This is also the part where the original myths and themes of Norse Mythology start to debunk Ragnarok with astounding ease. Original myths that, surprise surprise, the first two movies abide by with much more respect than Ragnarok ever could.

Norse mythology is complex and rich and arguably the second most recurrent mythology in popular culture right after Greek mythology (I reckon Egyptian used to be the second but has dropped in popularity in recent years). I am far from an expert with Norse mythology, I actually am most confident with Celtic mythology, in particular the Irish Mythological Cycle, but that’s not the point: anyone who hears about Norse mythology is likely to have heard about the characters we met in Thor, and about the afterlife according to these myths.

Death in Norse mythology can lead people to different places, not too differently from how it is in other mythologies. Let’s see what the lands of the dead are like:

Valhalla is an afterlife destination where half of those who die in battle gather as einherjar, a retinue gathered for one sole purpose: to remain fit for battle in preparation for the last great battle, during Ragnarök. In opposition to Hel’s realm, which was a subterranean realm of the dead, it appears that Valhalla was located somewhere in the heavens.

Hel’s realm is separated from the world of the living by a rapid river across which leads the Gjallarbrú that the dead have to pass. The gates are heavy, and close behind those who pass it and will never return again. Hel is the final destination of those who do not die in battle, but of old age or disease. 

As these two are the only ones that matter for this movie, I figured I’d bring these up. There are of course thousands of various interpretations on how these afterlifes work, and some people say it’s not so cut and dry, but in general, it’s understood that Valhalla is pretty much an honor.

This honor was extended to Frigga in The Dark World. The only good thing about her death in that movie was that it established HOW death works in the MCU’s Asgard. She died in battle: she was given the greatest honor and sent to rest in Valhalla. The land of heroes who die in battle, fighting for their own.

Hel, on the other hand, should be the afterlife for those who die in less worthy ways, meaning, not in combat. Death in combat is considered one of the greatest honors in Norse culture, from what I’ve understood from all the stories I’ve seen that are set in Norse or Viking settings, and not dying in combat wasn’t a favorable prospect for just about anyone. Deaths outside of combat are, of course, accidental deaths, diseases, old age, you name it.

Hel should be connected to Hela, the character from Ragnarok. Hela should preside over Hel, the unwanted afterlife for so many people who would rather die in a much worthier way.

Hel showed up once before in the MCU, by the way. In the very controversial and despised Ultron. And no, I’m not talking about Thor’s weird-as-fuck delirium about Asgard. I mean in this particular dialogue…:

Natasha Romanoff: Thor, report on the Hulk?Thor: The gates of Hel are filled with the screams of his victims.[Natasha glares at Thor and Banner groans in despair]Thor: Uh, but, not the screams of the dead, of course. No no, uh…wounded screams, mainly whimpering, a great deal of complaining and tales of sprained deltoids and, and uh… and gout.

Gates of Hel. That’s a direct reference to actual mythology. He could have said that Hel was full of Hulk’s victims, just like that, but he outright references the GATES. Ergo… Thor knows Hel exists.

PLEASE LET THAT SINK IN.

When you arrive at Ragnarok, Hela is a complete mystery for Thor. Oh, you can come up with whatever in-world explanation you care to, I honestly wouldn’t bother making up one to begin with: Ragnarok is built on the premise of defeating Hela, Thor’s scary sudden sister he had no notion of, who was locked away in some weird ass prison and who happens to be called Hela, but has no connection with Hel.

None.

Why do I say this?

Because her powers allegedly are connected to Asgard.

Allegedly.

Can someone please explain why should Hel’s powers have a connection with Asgard when there was such a bloody obvious possibility in making Hel the realm she’s connected to? She’s the goddamn REGENT of Hel! That’s not even up for debate in Norse Mythology, out of all the things that can be debated! But instead her power comes from the LIVING? It comes from VIOLENTLY KILLING WARRIORS WHO FIGHT AND DIE DEFENDING THEIR HOMELAND HONORABLY?

I’m going to outright say it: Hela should have gained NOTHING from a militaristic approach at attacking and destroying Asgard. If the plan was to make Hela a big shock for everyone, a plot twist… she should have spread disease and old age through Asgard. And then people die dishonorably.

And they end up in her realm.

And she could enslave them and use their souls to fuel her own power or so.

Please, do tell… how is this not a much more myth-compliant approach than “Oh lookie she’s just this SUPER BADASS FIGHTER! And she can take down ENTIRE ARMIES all on her own by FIGHTING!” How isn’t this more consistent with what was already established by the MCU? (oh wait, Waititi doesn’t care to keep things consistent, I forgot…)

Man, I’ve played Dragon Age: Origins a fuckton of times by now and one of the saddest and truest things I’ve seen in it, which connects with my own reality, is one of the riddles on your way to the Urn of Andraste: how did Andraste and the Maker destroy the Imperium’s army? Through FAMINE. Through HUNGER. What’s more disgraceful than living to EAT? Nothing feels more dehumanizing, and I can tell you that just fine considering that in hyperinflation that’s EXACTLY what venezuelans like myself live like right now.

Why didn’t Hela starve Asgard, then? Why didn’t she do something that Asgardians simply couldn’t FIGHT against, seeing as that’s all they know how to do?

Oh, again, because Thor is an ACTION HERO! That is the identity Feige and Waititi HAD to build for him! That’s what he ALWAYS was supposed to be!

I’m going to share now one of my favorite things about both Thor and The Dark World: the way Thor finishes his final battles.

In the first film, Thor defeats Loki by destroying the Bifrost. He uses Mjöllnir to destroy someTHING, not someONE. Hammers can be used to build and destroy, Thor used it to destroy at that particular point in time. By destroying, he stopped the chaos Loki was unleashing with the Bifrost and saved an entire realm.

The Dark World? Thor isn’t the one who comes up with the way to defeat Malekith, since it’s Jane who makes the wacky portable portals stuff. Nonetheless, Thor is the one out in the fray, fighting the big bad… but how did he take down OP Aether-addled Malekith? Not by shoving a fuckton of lightning into his face, he already tried that and failed. Nope: he nailed the device Jane built. He nailed it right into the motherfucker’s chest. And then Malekith gets portaled away and killed by his own ship. Again, it’s not Thor using POWER to kill his enemy, it’s Thor using a hammer’s natural damn use to his favor. It’s Thor using his BRAIN.

THOR.

USING HIS BRAIN.

THINKING SHIT THROUGH.

USING HIS AVAILABLE RESOURCES TO FINISH A FIGHT EFFECTIVELY.

NOT POWERING THROUGH EVERYTHING LIKE A DURACELL BATTERY ON DRUGS.

People out there who complain about how Infinity War gave Thor an axe instead of letting him be powerful all on his own piss me off, I won’t lie. Because Mjöllnir was NOT a crutch for Thor. It was a tool, in all senses of the word. It’s like pretending Doctor Strange’s cloak is the secret to all his powers. The entire first movie is about showing Thor that the hammer, that POWER, does NOT define him: why the FUCK did he have to lose it in Ragnarok, and suffer about it like he’d never been parted from the hammer when it happened just the same in the first damn movie? Hell, the first movie stole ALL his lightning and thunder-related powers and he STILL managed to find true worth in who he was after that! He still learned what he needed to learn to be worthy of his hammer again! This movie, though? It rewards Thor for losing Mjöllnir, ZERO GROWTH OR DEVELOPMENT NEEDED BECAUSE FUCK IT, HE DIDN’T LEARN A DAMN THING IN THIS MOVIE by making him superpowerful just because it could. And Thor ends up winning the day without using a hammer in the way a hammer should be used, breaking with the pattern of the two previous movies: again, the identity of the original movies gets tossed away completely.

It’s not cool. It’s not amazing. It’s devoid of all meaning. Thor losing his eye just like his daddy before him? Another piece of crap devoid of meaning. Thor didn’t need to lose a goddamn eye to be “parallel” to his father, because he’s already in the position where he has to take charge of Asgard to become king, and nothing’s a more apparent parallel than that.

Funny comparison time: did you watch Lion King 2? A lot of people think it sucks but when I was little I looooved that thing with the force of a thousand suns. Now, if you did watch it, remember Kovu? Remember the part where Zira scars him, leaving him to look just like Scar? The drama at that point is that Kovu has been groomed all his life to kill Simba, just like Scar killed Mufasa. He was “chosen” for the job, and all his similarities with Scar not withstanding, Kovu’s growth pushes him to NOT WANT TO FOLLOW ON SCAR’S FOOTSTEPS.

So, when he gets the same scar but acts entirely differently from how Scar would have? When he chooses to love rather than to hate? When he takes a stand for peace rather than to further stir up war? He’s choosing to be different from the lion whose example he’s been forced to follow all his life!

When Thor fights Hela… what does he do that is in any sense different from what Odin would have done, in his shoes? Could someone perhaps enlighten me? He fights Hela, he doesn’t extend a hand to her and offer her a second chance. He fights to defeat her, he gets Loki to unleash Surtur on Asgard and destroy it with Hela in it. Oh, wow, he distanced himself SO MUCH from Odin’s legacy by, uh, destroying his homeland and killing his sister. That’s not so different from locking Hela up for eons, let alone so different from saying that he would sacrifice as many asgardian lives as were needed to end the threat of Malekith.

Oh, but Thor saved lives, didn’t he? Sure he did!

No, he didn’t. Fucking Heimdall was the one worried about protecting people. Who the hell would have saved them if Heimdall hadn’t been there? Who the hell would Thor have saved if Heimdall hadn’t protected people and created that weird underground refugee site? If Thor had arrived and Heimdall and his people had been caught all along, who the fuck would he have saved? NO ONE.

Also, this concept of “Thor saving a few civilian lives WHILE MILLIONS GET SACRIFICED” might as well apply to Odin’s destruction of other cultures because of how they threatened Asgard too. Heck, Bor’s destruction of the Dark Elves is presented in the same light too in The Dark World. Ragnarok attempts to make people feel bad about all the deaths in the shallowest way I’ve seen, because for one thing, it tries to criticize the previous movies by being oh so shocked by Odin’s massacres when everyone and their uncle KNOWS that Odin’s been killing cultures and worlds and things since day fucking one. But it basically spits upwards when it says “Asgard is its people, not a place” and… kills the majority of the people, along with the place. Just… what the hell was even the point of pretending Asgardians would be refugees rebuilding elsewhere when, on top of it all, they all died in Infinity War anyhow?

Now, let’s think about it: how many named asgardians do we know who survived Ragnarok? We know Thor, Heimdall and Valkyrie. Loki is a honorary asgardian, I suppose, so let’s say he counts. Who else? Oh, damn, no one. I’m all out.

And THIS is where Ragnarok was always supposed to improve on the rest of the Thor movies. THIS. Because in a movie that was going to kill the Warriors Three, Sif, Odin and as many asgardians as they could, you had the reasonable obligation to make the audience GIVE A SHIT. Constant criticism for the original Thor movies by less passionate fans is that they didn’t care about any characters aside from Thor, Loki and Heimdall (cue my surprise when they all survive Ragnarok, it’s almost like it was fanservice, oh my!), and that Asgard was BORING.

Ragnarok should have tried its best to make Asgard less boring. It should have tried to make the less popular characters relevant, interesting, valuable…

What did it do? Killed them all. Every warrior dead. Sif would be dead too, if Jaimie Alexander hadn’t been too busy to go to Australia. Every last one of them would be dead. And as for Asgard? As for the place we should see Thor cares about soooo much?

We saw more of Asgard in The Dark World, of their customs, of their complexities, and the majority of the movie is spent elsewhere. We saw more of Asgard, obviously, on the original Thor, where half the movie is spent there. Ragnarok’s response to that, though, is to practically spend the entire fucking movie in a literal trash planet, because getting out of there was so very vital to the movie! When, uh, ending up there was already a fucking pointless waste of time in the first place.

Let’s think about it: why exactly did we need our heroes to end up there? Hulk could have crash-landed somewhere in Asgard. Valkyrie could have been an actual Valkyrie, not a cast-out drunk trying to forget her days of glory and misery. We could have seen THE Valkyries in action, gearing up to fight a serious threat, and people would be fawning about such a huge damn female army, on par with Wonder Woman’s amazons…!

But no. We went to a trash planet instead, all to make a shitty version of Planet Hulk, which yes, I haven’t read, but the people I know who did read it say it was a complete disservice to a story that was so much more complex and serious than the trash heap we were given through Ragnarok.

And, most importantly… all to make the movie FUN. All so Thor could have something else to do while everyone died in Asgard. All so he could indeed be incompetent as defender of his realm because in the end he couldn’t save most of them. And it didn’t even matter to him that he didn’t, that’s yet another thing that pisses me off: he mourns his father a lot, spends the movie bitter and angry that Odin had died just so he can have an understandable reason to be pissed at Loki, and sure, he wants to go back to Asgard and save his people from his sister. But I can’t remember him seeming genuinely concerned about what fate awaited his friends and the people he ruled. Of course, neither did Loki, but as Loki was portrayed as an egotistical maniac the whole movie, it’s no surprise. Our hero, though, should have a bigger heart than this, right? He did before, didn’t he? He did everything in his power to get Malekith to leave Asgard alone, including risking the life of the woman he loved, no less!

But naaaaah, in Ragnarok he did a lot for his people, uh-huh, sure as fuck. That’s why he spent all his time in trashland making jokes and having fun except for most the time he was dealing with Loki, because by then he got pissed because Odin’s death is all his fault. Just like Frigga’s death. Just like everything because Loki sucks and Thor is forever mad at him. Thing really is, he has pressure to leave, but you don’t really feel it going by his attitude. If everyone you knew and loved were about to die by the hand of your unknown sibling, would you be chill, trying and failing to flirt with a girl by tossing a ball to a wall so it can hit you right back?

Thor’s entire character in Ragnarok is cringeworthy. This isn’t just because he was so vastly different from who he was back in the other two films, it’s because of how he acts, how he behaves. How he takes next to nothing seriously, starting from Surtur, all the way to Asgard’s destruction. This is the man who was actually characterized for FOUR films as someone with a sense of humor, but with a strong sense of duty and honor that makes him an even better man than Steve Rogers (reminder of the hammer scene in Ultron, Rogers can’t quite lift the hammer yet, Thor’s supposed to be a worthier man than him, according to whatever criteria Mjöllnir uses). And here? Here he just jokes around, he wastes his time, he acts like a complete bufoon as he has stupid arguments with Hulk and deals with Jeff Goldblum, and flirts with Valkyrie, and outsmarts Loki (hell knows how, considering how incredibly idiotic Thor felt through this entire movie, but that’s how stupid Loki was in it too).

The ideal way to compare how Thor was written in the original films and in this one is the romance. Where in the previous movies Thor is charming, confident, treats women with respect (he supported Sif in her efforts to prove herself on par with any man, he encourages her to survive and live to tell her stories herself, he listens to Jane’s explanations about space and offers his own stories when she wants to hear them, and so on), in Ragnarok he meets Valkyrie and acts like, again, a 14-year-old fanboy who just met the celebrity he faps to every night in his bedroom. He’s nervous, he’s giddy, he’s trying, TRYING to impress her! Before anyone chimes in to say he’s meeting his hero, of COURSE he’d be nervous… please, no. Thor is a goddamn prince, as good as a king already. Thor has met countless people in his life and treated them all with the same amount of respect. He has NO REASON to dumb himself down and behave like a fanboy with Valkyrie. It wasn’t cute. It wasn’t funny. It was absolutely out of character, that’s what it was. For he wouldn’t be trying to flirt with her, let alone so poorly, even if he’s interested in her romantically. No, he would respect her, first and foremost. He would admire her without seeming a complete idiot in the process, the same way he did with Jane. He wouldn’t be trying to impress her by acting like he’s cool, but coming off as an idiot, because he supposedly grew out of his stupid arrogance all the way in movie 1. But naaaaah, not when he meets VALKYRIE! Nope, because she’s SPESHUL! 

Give me a break.

I’m sure there’s more about Thor, but I think I’ll leave him alone for now. I already did my piece on Loki earlier, so now… two newcomers.

Valkyrie bothers me. No, it has nothing to do with Valkyrie breaking the stereotypical blonde warrior aesthetic that people expect from Norse mythology stuff, because hell, Heimdall doesn’t bother me and never did just because he’s not aryan. Honestly, it doesn’t matter in the least what color they are.

What does matter with Valkyrie is that her change of heart and motivations make absolutely no sense.

When we first meet her she’s just scavenging trash to drag to Jeff Goldblum. She’s drunk, but she’s tough as nails and she gets everything done anyways. Is it ideal? No. It feels insulting, even, considering this is how the movie chooses to portray a valkyrie and its only heroic female character. But whatever, let’s move forward…

When Thor realizes what and who she is, he goes fanboy mode. Valkyrie dismisses all reminders of her past life, and as far as I can remember, she did that at least twice. Maybe thrice, I can’t recall that much. When Thor asked her why she didn’t want to help him save Asgard, her answer directly implies she remembers perfectly well what happened the last time she dealt with Hela and she is still too grief-ridden about it to bother fighting her again. Thor throws a tantrum, Valkyrie still refuses to go along with him, all ends just like that.

But when Loki does the ONLY useful thing he did in the entire movie, as in, hi-jacks Valkyrie’s memories and makes her relive everything, she changes her mind. Why?

Oh, because she reclaimed her past? Because she had forgotten it? BULL.FUCKING.SHIT. Valkyrie didn’t forget JACKSHIT about her past! The answer she gives Thor, initially, shows very clearly that she remembers EVERYTHING and refuses to go back anyhow. Because Hela is too powerful for her to defeat. But one forceful blast to the past makes Valkyrie not only NOT feel violated, which honestly blows me away, sure she hit Loki afterwards but I wouldn’t exactly be so chill after someone got inside my head and forced me to relive my worst memory, but it makes Valkyrie decide that she wants to help Thor now. 

WHY?!

There is NOTHING reasonable that has changed since she told Thor what she did. NOTHING! She didn’t come to a conclusion such as “well shit my life sucks badly enough here, I might as well go die”, nor does she have a heartfelt conversation with Thor about how hard this is for her but that maybe she can correct the mistakes of her past if she helps him out now. No, man, this movie doesn’t need anyone to have believable behaviors or motivations, because Valkyrie needs to join Thor so she can play the Gamora to his cheap Peter Quill, and if her brain needs to be bent backwards to join this team, so be it.

Again, let’s put things into perspective: was there ANY need for Valkyrie’s character to be exactly what it was? Why couldn’t she be the only line of defense in Asgard to endure against Hela’s attack, for instance? She’s presented to us as the only representative of this really cool elite group of fighters… and she’s just doing Jeff Goldblum’s dirty work. Please… can someone tell me what was the point of doing this?

Ah, wait, I know: COMEDY. Because that was the priority established by Waititi and who knows who else, because that’s what mattered most. So, was it fun to have a serious warrior lady kicking ass in Asgard? Nah, it was fun to make her a drunkard who’d fall over sideways when collecting Thor for Goldblum because she’s drunk. Haha. Funny.

Valkyrie is wasted potential. That’s the truth of it. She could have been amazing, but as it is, I find Sif a thousand times more interesting than Valkyrie because at least with Sif I can see where she’s coming from, I can understand her storyline even without her ever being at the forefront of any movie. Question now, why did it have to be Valkyrie? Why couldn’t Sif be the one helping Thor in Ragnarok? Fucking hell, why couldn’t it be BOTH of them? Aside from the obvious “we forgot Sif existed until ten seconds before filming the deaths of all of Asgard’s warriors” explanation, it’s because you can’t make the Guardians of the Galaxy formula work with well-rounded individuals, Nope, you need broken people. And what’s more broken than a warrior who lost her will to fight? Who lives to drink, like my good buddy Oghren who I mentioned back when this post began?

Valkyrie, then, is not a full-rounded character. She’s more convenience writing. She’s a happy coincidence for Thor, because woah, what are the odds that the ONE PERSON WITH ASGARDIAN PAST would find him in trashland? They’re not good. In fact, they’re pretty bad. But that’s what the movie needed, so that’s what the movie got. And how do you get her to change her mind about fighting when she’d given up? By convenience writing. Not even a pep talk, like what Jyn Erso got in Rogue One from her dad, which made her switch flip completely and she did a 180° regarding her opinion of the war and battles between the Empire and Rebels. I complained a bit about Jyn changing her mind so easily… but compared to Valkyrie? Jyn made a fuckton more sense than that. At least you could see where she was coming from when she changed her mind. At least you could say a fiber of her being was touched by her father’s words. Valkyrie was touched by Loki’s invasion of her mind? By what, exactly? By Waititi twisting her character over because otherwise his GOTG team-up wouldn’t work?

The absolute worst part of Ragnarok is realizing that, as a cheap rip-off of GOTG, it failed not only to hold up the identity of any Thor film before this one, it failed to imitate GOTG properly. GOTG felt organic, this feels forced. GOTG felt like a good story to tell, because it was a group of renegades, pretty much, saving the entire galaxy even though they’re nobodies, even though they’re as good as mercenaries, even though they’re a team brought together by what feels like random factors (but it’s not that random because, as a reminder, all of them minus Drax were after the Orb, and in the break-out Drax joins them because he hopes they can help him fulfill his quest for revenge). Everyone in GOTG has reasons to fight, though, reasons to work together. They seem to barely stand each other, but they’re convenient for one another at the start and they bear with it.

Ragnarok fails to achieve GOTG’s success in terms of storytelling because Ragnarok featured Thor as good as begging everyone to help him. Reluctant team-ups like GOTG’s are achieved by having two or more characters work together for a common goal, or for goals that they can only achieve with each other’s help (I have used the same resource in writing in the past plenty if times as it is). But when you have to feature a character BEGGING others to work with him, this formula doesn’t elicit the same feeling. It doesn’t result in “wow, look at all these unlikely heroes working together”, it results in “aw look at ‘em helping the little guy who needed them”. Thor offers everyone a chance to fight a battle that, in general, doesn’t concern them. Hulk has nothing to gain from fighting Hela. Valkyrie has no reason to fight her again, as she’d given up and displays no believable motivation to go for a rematch. Loki does have reason to fight, but Thor doesn’t trust him and it’s not until the last 10 minutes of the movie that Thor finally trusts Loki again, just because Loki is doing exactly what Thor wanted him to.

Give me a Valkyrie who has spent AGES looking for Hela through the universe, hoping to fight her, and upon hearing she’s back, she wants revenge. Give me a Thor who tells her “hey, maybe you can avenge your fallen comrades, but there are a lot of people who are still alive that we have to save too. Maybe revenge isn’t the only thing that matters”, and then Valkyrie reasons with what her motivations had been. Give me a more HUMANE Valkyrie, and that way she won’t be here merely to fulfill the typical and criticized “strong female character” trope, whose entire character arc revolves around being a cool fighter and being the object of admiration/affection/love interest of the main character, because newsflash, that’s what happened with her. The so very despised trope of “strong female character”, right here with Valkyrie.

Was Sif any better? Why, yes, I’d say so. Because Thor didn’t want her. Because she was only friends with him, because her life as a warrior took priority over any romantic interests she might have. Because her eagerness to go down in history in GLORY makes her near suicidal in movie 1, to the point where Thor has to make her snap out of it and force her to understand her life is worth more than the stories she wants people to tell about her in death. THAT is a character. THAT is a genuinely interesting female character, who got snubbed in all the films she featured and even in the one where she didn’t, precisely because she didn’t. Because her strength has flaws, because she’s not invulnerable, because she’s prone to failure, because she has loyalties, because she lives to serve her people. Sif is Valkyrie done right. Valkyrie is, like I said, a “strong female character”. And no, that she’s bisexual makes no damn difference, especially when said bisexuality is only known to people who follow Tessa Thompson on Twitter and general fans who look for information on characters outside of the movies themselves. Either way, if she had been shown making out with a girl onscreen that wouldn’t make a difference: she’s still only here to beat people up and to be a potential love interest for Thor, because if she’d had believable, understandable, EXPLORED motivations, she’d be more than that. But she doesn’t. Her entire character revolves around those two things. And that’s a failure in my eyes.

Finally… Hela. Why is Hela a terrible villain, on par with losers like Obadiah Stane, Malekith, the cheap excuse for Baron Zemo from Civil War, Darren Cross… honestly, spare me naming them all because frankly the only ones I wouldn’t lump together with the bulk of Marvel’s villains are Loki and Vulture, but my point is, Hela was all about appearances, all about the acting pedigree of Cate Blanchett, and nothing about making her into a decent villain. Why’s that?

I’ve talked in the past about why Marvel’s villains generally fail, and it’s because they’re not built to be characters but foils. Marvel’s not so subtle approach at storytelling holds a certain principle at its very highest, and said principle is that the story is about the HERO. The villain can’t be more developed than the hero, else you’re failing the movie’s purpose. Only a few of their movies failed at this (I can only think of Thor and Black Panther as examples of not keeping true to this precept), everything else does it just fine. Why, though? Because the villains are completely generic. Because they’re here to further someone else’s storyline, and not to have one of their own.

Loki had his own storyline in his first movie. You watch his ENTIRE thought process through Thor, you see that he didn’t start off with the “I’m going to annihilate Jotunheim!” idea, it’s something that builds up as the story unfolds. You meet Loki as a troublemaker, capable of very chaotic messes such as what happens during Thor’s failed coronation, but he’s not stupid. He’s not trying to cause a war, he’s just sabotaging his brother because, curiously, Loki is right about Thor at this point in time: Thor is NOT fit to be king, and Odin agrees eventually. The simplest provocation caused Thor to wage war on an entire realm, just because he wanted to rule Asgard RIGHT NOW. Loki’s mischief revealed this about Thor, but it wasn’t done with the intent to completely ruin Thor’s life: Thor’s reaction to Loki’s scheme is what reveals that he’s not ready to rule at all.

It’s especially clear when you recall that Loki ends up facing the truth about himself during the fight in Jotunheim: Loki has no idea what his true heritage is. He knows he’s been sidelined and treated differently, but he has no clue what’s up. Where Black Panther features a Killmonger who has already come to terms with his heritage and his connection with Wakandan royalty, Thor treats us to the ENTIRE PROCESS of Loki’s slow but certain collapse. He starts off fine, but he ends up losing all sight of who he is, of everything that matters, because his parents weren’t his parents, because he was lied to all his life, because his brother was favored over him all along and NOW, in front of us, he has come to understand why.

Loki’s entire journey parallels Thor’s. Where Loki grows more unhinged, Thor is humbled and grows into letting the goodness in him shine, in letting the better traits that make him a decent man pull through while he lets go of his arrogance and his belief that he’s entitled to a throne and to everything he could ever want. Their journeys happen simultaneously, and THAT is unique to any Marvel movies. You don’t see that anywhere else. THAT is what made Thor so successful with fans: it wasn’t JUST Thor’s story, it was Loki’s too. The Dark World at least gave Loki the courtesy of a small arc of his own. Ragnarok? Jokes at his expense and a diva complex that resulted in him coming back to help Thor merely because that would mean he would be regarded as hero and savior to Asgard. How is it not cringeworthy?

But that’s not what I was trying to get to, nope. No, my point was Hela: what was the purpose of Hela, in the end?

Ragnarok, traditionally, is brought upon the world by Loki. He’s the one who supposedly ends the entire world, causes the massive fight of the gods and wreaks havoc comparable to the Christian Apocalypse. But Loki can’t do that in Ragnarok because he has too much of a fanbase and can’t be guilty for such heinous crimes, can he? Nope.

Let’s, instead, find someone else to blame everything on. Are there other options for this role? Surtur, Amora, maybe? Oh, no! Let’s go with Hela! Who IS Hela, anyways?

In one iteration of the comics, Hela is LOKI’S DAUGHTER. Never, from my understanding, was Hela anyone’s sister, let alone Thor and Loki’s. Is it that terrible to make her Loki’s daughter? Well, yes, because that’d mean Loki would have to know of her existence and that would cause more problems than Waititi wanted to handle (plus, gives too much protagonism to Loki, and he certainly did not want THAT!). So, Hela had to be something else. She had to be something personal for Thor too, but making her an old flame would be too much (despite uh from what I read she even had a kid with Thor in one iteration of the comics? So it wouldn’t have been completely out of left field?), because we don’t want Thor having multiple romances, we don’t even want him having a full romance, because that’s why the first movies failed! Nope, that can’t do.

Oh, wait a minute, I know! Let’s make Hela Thor’s SECRET SISTER! AHAHA, PERFECT! Because it’s not like he already had a brother in black-and-green clothing who was snubbed and given a shitty deal by their dad and who came back from said betrayal by Odin to destroy everything Thor holds dear. It’s such NOVEL storytelling, so unique! So unexpected! We totally never have seen this story told before!

Hela is a cheap rip-off of the original Loki. Just as the entire movie is a rip-off of GOTG. Hela TRIES, so very hard, to be as impressive and imposing as Loki originally was. Hela fails. Why?

Because for one thing, she’s a crappy retelling of Loki’s story. She has nothing new. She’s not impressive in any regards because she does nothing unexpected, nothing that makes her ANYTHING aside from a bad villain Thor needs to defeat. Loki was Thor’s friend and brother once: Hela generates no such conflict because she could easily be Odin’s former slave rather than daughter and the story would be the same. She could have literally ANY relationship to Thor and nothing would change. Why? Because her being Thor’s biological sister does NOTHING for the story. It creates no bond between them, because the bond that existed between Thor and Loki was established during AGES of growing up together. Hela has no such thing, ergo, you can’t pretend that her being Thor’s sister will amount to anything just because Odin handled her poorly (newsflash, Odin has been handling shit poorly since the first time he showed up in the MCU and most of Thor’s problems in his movies come from that, ergo this is, again, nothing new). 

For another thing, Hela is here to take Loki’s place as the complicated family member Thor needs to get in line. Hela is, I theorize, Waititi’s wish fulfillment for what he’d like to have done to Loki but couldn’t because he needed to be around to keep his fanbase appeased and buying tickets for the movie. Hela, though, was new. Hela was irrelevant in the larger scheme of things. Hela could turn into all of Loki’s “evil” and “chaotic” impulses, while Loki is reduced to narcissism and cheap comedy, and this way Hela is turned into a cartoon villain who’s only here to break everything because she allegedly obtains her power by doing so.

I already got into it before, but I guess I’ll do it again: Hela’s connection to Asgard is absolutely idiotic. There’s an entire damn realm named after her, connected to her. It’s like saying Hades from Greek Mythology obtains his powers from the Olympus. Or like saying Satan derives his powers from Heaven. No. That makes no effing sense. Therefore, destroying Asgard to destroy Hela feels stupid, and defies all logic. But they needed Hela to cause a catastrophe in Asgard, otherwise you can’t justify destrying Asgard by using Loki to, HAHAHA, HONOR THE ORIGINAL MYTHOLOGY, HAHAHAHA, AFTER ALL THIS TIME OF SHITTING ON IT AND UNDERSTANDING NONE OF ITS CONCEPTS, NOW THEY WANT TO HONOR IT, IT’S THE ONLY FUNNY JOKE IN THE ENTIRE MOVIE!

It’s bad enough that the movie fucks over Loki’s character as it does, but it attempts to make him a good, dutiful brother who steals the Tesseract from the vaults but still takes Surtur to the funky flame thing. The destruction of Asgard is ultimately done by Loki, but not really, no, it was Surtur. And not really, no, it was because Thor asked Loki to. So, in the end, it’s actually Thor who killed Asgard and his sister. But um, they were being faithful to the myths, sure.

Hela is a failure of a villain as usual for Marvel. Her story is presented via exposition, via TELL, NOT SHOW. We don’t witness the crumbling relationship between her and Odin because that would have required for her to exist since the first movies. No, we are told all about how Odin used her as his ideal tool to KILL PEOPLE!!!1 (I think I raged enough about this before, didn’t I…?) and then locked her up somewhere because she was too dangerous! Compared to Loki’s very palpable fall from grace, Hela’s character arc is absolutely insignificant. People only liked her because she was hot. That was it. Like I said earlier, Cate Blanchett’s doing. Had it been any less than stellar actress, Hela wouldn’t have garnered more than a couple of shrugs.

I guess it warrants to say Odin was probably the only thing this movie maintained close enough to the original movies (despite he was poorly written in his death scene anyhow). Odin making shitty decisions seems to be one of the main story points in Thor’s franchise, so I suppose that’s not out of line. Ironically, though, staying true to the same variable with Odin is… pretty damn old by now. All of Thor’s movies have featured Odin being controversial, doing shitty things for his perceived greater good (from stealing a child of another culture to comparing his son’s girlfriend to a goat), so Ragnarok isn’t even telling us anything new about Odin. It’s also not telling us anything new about Odin and Thor’s relationship, because we already know Thor loves the man despite it all, and whatever shitty decisions Odin made, Thor accepts them. He did since the first movie, he does again in this one. Zero new information.

As for a few more inconsistencies:

The Bifrost. Remember how Loki activated the Bifrost and destroyed a lot of Jotunheim by leaving Heimdall’s sword in place, back in the first movie? At one point in Ragnarok, the sword stays in place again and nothing happens. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. The scene could have easily happened without the sword there, too. But nope. It stayed in place for no reason, and what came from that? Nothing. Just, a completely absurd situation where, again, Ragnarok is inconsistent with the original Thor.

Another inconsistency, this time one that people laughed about becuause “it fixed the Gauntlet problem”. Reminder: the Infinity Gauntlet shows up for the first time in Asgard’s vaults in the first movie.

In Ultron, though, inexplicably Thanos is wearing the Gauntlet and saying he’ll deal with everything himself (what did he even have to do with Ultron is a pretty good question, one I still have no idea what its answer is). When this happened, people thought Loki was working with Thanos and gave him the thing. Or Thanos broke into Asgard and stole it. But ultimately, it meant Thanos had the Gauntlet and we were doomed, right?

Ragnarok “solved” this problem by featuring Hela saying the Gauntlet in the vault was fake. She knocks it over and says that’s just a shitty copy of the real deal. Fast forward to Infinity War, though…

Tyrion and his buddies fron Nidavellir built the Infinity Gauntlet for Thanos. It happens before Thanos even has access to the Time Stone. Ergo, Thanos couldn’t have made the dwarves craft THE ORIGINAL GAUNTLET and then, I don’t know, used the Time Stone to show it to Odin ten thousand years ago just to get him to make a fake version of it to put it on display for Hela to knock over later. Even if he had done that once he gains access to the Time Stone, someone needs to have at least a shred of common sense and ask themselves why the fuck would Thanos do something so pointless.

Because ultimately, a plothole becomes even more absurd when the attempt to fix it just fucks it up more more. The fake, copy of the Gauntlet, which looks EXACTLY like Thanos’ Gauntlet, existed first. It’s like saying Windows was the original when Bill Gates outright worked for Apple and got his ideas for his own business and OS through working on the MacIntosh. No, Windows isn’t the original. Neither can Tyrion’s Gauntlet be the original because IT MAKES NO SENSE WITH ANY TIMELINE YOU CAN THINK OF.

Had Ragnarok ignored the Gauntlet, nothing would have happened. The destruction of Asgard could have meant this proto-Gauntlet died with it. Thanos could have simply asked the dwarves to make him a new gauntlet because the one that existed was in Asgard, out of his reach by Ultron’s time, and simply gone by Infinity War. But oh noooo, they had to FIX THAT! Well, good fucking job, as usual. You created yet another stupid ass plothole, Waititi. Congratulations.

In short… Ragnarok’s big success comes from it being a “funny” movie with scatological jokes about anuses and orgies, for instance, with Thor making a complete dunce of himself throughout the painful two hours of movie (I don’t even know if it was two hours but it felt like an eternity to me), and let’s not get started again with what happened with Loki. The movie fails at establishing new characters anyone with common sense would be concerned about because they’re as complex and deep as a puddle on asphalt, and it fails at characterizing old characters too. The movie does its best to be funny, but the constant efforts to be funny are akin to a stand-up comedian who is desperate to make his audience laugh at whatever cost. It’s forced, it’s stupid, it’s consistently unfunny, at least it was for me. I can honestly say I laughed at zero points in time in the movie. Was I predisposed to dislike it? I’ve been predisposed to dislike a lot of things before. That the movie failed to subvert any of my expectations is hardly my fault: it was exactly every bit of a failure I expected it to be.

Because when they turned that original logo into a garbage new one, worthy of 1998 Word’s WordArt, when they released a trailer that was HUMOROUS, I knew I wasn’t going to watch something worth my while. You can make comedic stories about the end of the world, people have done it in the past, but Thor did not lend itself for that sort of thing because Ultron establishes Thor is going to be RESPONSIBLE for Ragnarok. Thor has a responsibility to the end of his world. And the Thor we knew, originally, wasn’t the type who would smile and shrug if his mistakes would cost the lives of millions of people.

This is like telling a version of Harry Potter where Harry, faced with Voldemort’s second rise to power,decides to go look for Horcruxes in casinos and strip clubs because hey that’s more fun than an endless camping trip. Well sure, it’d be more fun, but it’d make absolutely no sense and people would die while he enjoys himself and fails to find a single damn Horcrux, right? It’s also like telling me that in Avatar, when Zuko reveals Ozai is going to use the comet to destroy the Earth Kingdom, Aang goes “Oh wow… that’s a shame, huh? So, how about we go back to playing now?” instead of thinking he had to prepare and fight with Ozai to put a stop to the man. 

It’s telling me that the destruction of Asgard, of Thor’s world, of his realm and kingdom, is a fucking JOKE. And if we’re not supposed to take it seriously because Thor won’t take it seriously, the movie is a failure. I never felt like any of the previous Marvel films wanted me to take them as jokes, not even the most comedic of them. I did with Ragnarok. Because all that death, all that destruction, all the sacrifices made, brushed past Thor like water from a shower, that he just dried up and walked away. Because the destruction of his world, of his friends, of everything he was supposed to protect, indeed isn’t deserving of a serious treatment because selling movie tickets via comedy is more important. Because quality, consistent, COMPLEX, storytelling isn’t anywhere near as important as making your audience laugh.

Well, congratulations, Feige, Waititi. You guys should have been stand-up comedians instead and left movie-making to people competent enough to make something worthwhile.

This movie is singlehandedly to blame for my loss of interest in MCU matters and in the Thor franchise. I would still write the occasional story for it, I would still enjoy other people’s works about it, but right now? I’ve even blacklisted a bunch of terms so I can see as few Ragnarok posts as possible. And precisely because I want nothing to do with it have I never gotten in the way of people who do enjoy it unless they outright ask me for my opinion, as you did, Anon. If anyone enjoyed Ragnarok despite EVERYTHING I wrote here, that’s on you. I don’t need any arguments to convince me that I’m wrong and they’re right about why this movie has some worth. The contradictions, conveniences, poor characterization and lack of creativity that went into this film will not go away just because someone excuses them one way or another, so if anyone is hoping to “enlighten me” about why this movie is actually brilliant? Save it. For your own good.

So, after these twelve thousand words on why Ragnarok is the worst MCU movie for me… is there anything left unsaid, really? I suspect so, because I watched it too long ago to remember every detail. Still, I’d have nothing good to say anyhow, so it’s probably for the best that I stop now that I’ve made my case quite clearly, right?

[thecorteztwins]

Idea: Fabian/Pietro but is an Hades and Persephone AU :)

Ok, doing this under a cut both for length and content, warning for a LOT of discussion of noncon because IT’S GREEK MYTHOLOGY:

Ok, so firstly, the version of Hades and Persephone I’ll be basing this on is the original wherein he explicitly kidnaps her, he explicitly abducts her, she is not willing, she does not want to be there, she does not want to be with him, she just eventually gets used to it. I specify this because Tumblr has popularized a very sanitized new version in which Persephone and Hades are this cute happy couple and hooked up very willingly and it’s just all crazy Demeter throwing a fit. Now, I don’t think it’s bad to rewrite new versions of old stories. It’s GREAT. People have been doing that for ages, it’s why there are so many variations on myths and fairy tales. Hell, the Bible literally has books that contradict each other on how the same events went down. And a lot of my favorite works in media are just retellings of familiar stories. So I don’t MIND the idea of going “I am rewriting this myth into something I like better” in itself. But Tumblr has also spread the idea that this is “real” and “original” story, which...no, it is not. Without going too in-depth about ancient texts and translations and stuff, there is no secret older version in which Persephone ever wanted to be with Hades. It has always been a story of kidnapping and implied rape. And there’s no problem if you enjoy the new version that is popular now. I get why a lot of people would! But I just wanted to be clear on WHICH version I’m using, and what kind of content is going to be there. I’m trying to steer away from TOO much darkness here, but also not turn into cute and consensual either. I just don’t want people popping in with comments like “THIS IS WRONG, HADES WOULD NEVER/IN THE ORIGINAL THEY WERE IN LOVE/etc.” You know how people can be when your preferred version of something isn’t their preferred version/the popular version.OK, so Magneto is our Zeus (king of the heavens, lots of kids, isn’t a rapist like Zeus but he sure does enter into a lot of relationships with younger women and slanted power dynamics). Exodus is our Poseidon, he’s Magneto’s lieutenant, his second in command. He’s equally benevolent and destructive, just like the sea, and his sanity shifts like the tides. And Fabian is the third in command and thus given domain under the Underworld, considered the most undesireable of the territories. As in Greek myth, what it lacks in beauty and life (not just no living people/animals, but no flowers and plants and natural beauty either), it makes up for in wealth. The Greeks believed it was literally UNDER the ground, which of course is where gems and minerals were mined, hence why Hades was also the god of riches. In a swap from Greek canon, where Poseidon is as much of a horndog as Zeus and Hades only takes (literally) a woman once, Exodus is celibate and Fabian is...not. Fabian is, well, Fabian. And that seems counterintuitive, right? The seas are teeming with life, just as Poseidon had many children. The Underworld is by definition devoid of life, which is probably why Hades had only woman and it was his wife, and why they never (unless you scour some really obscure stuff) had any children. So, what gives?Much like Fabian started as Magneto’s favorite and first lieutenant only to be replaced by Exodus, it was originally so here too. The stoic, ascetic, loyal Exodus ruled the Underworld, as constant and true as death itself, while the ficke and fertile Fabian ruled the sea with many consorts and an endless stream of children. But Fabian decided to imitate the wrong religion and pull a Lucifer with an attempted coup on Magneto, and thus Magneto swapped his and Exodus’s positions. All of Fabian’s former concubines became lakes and streams, separated from the sea. All his children were transformed into the countless life forms that live in the ocean---the fish, the crabs, the coral, the seals, and so on. All of them once women and children. Cruel and unfair? Sure, but that’s how it goes with gods. Lots of collateral damage and people getting turned into animals/plants, mostly women who didn’t deserve it.Now that Fabian ruled the realm of the dead, Magneto also forced him to take on Exodus’s celibacy. No wives, no women, no children. No sex or fertility could fester in a realm by definition devoid of life. Fabian attempts to weasel around this law as much as he can, but Magneto makes it so that he can’t do anything with the dead souls there, and anyone living he tries to bring there will die the instant they enter. And he’s not allowed to leave. So he tries bargaining. The Underworld has metal, lots of it. You know what Magneto loves? Metal. You know what there isn’t any of up in the Heavens? Metal! Fabian will give him ALL THE IRON (because for some reason that’s Magneto’s fave instead of gold or silver, go figure) if he lets Fabian fuck again. Magneto agrees that he’ll let Fabian have ANY consort of his choosing, so long as he agrees to three rules:- He can only have ONE, and they must wed. No harem.- They must be divine or semi-divine. No mortals. This is the only bride he’s getting, so they have to last.- They must be a man. The justification Magneto gives is he doesn’t want any chance of children but actually Magneto just wants to fuck with him a little because he hates him.Fabian, naturally, turns this down because WHAT THE FUCK MAN! But as he gets more and more stir-crazy over the ages, he finally gives in, takes the bargain, and sets out on a quest to find THE MOST BEAUTIFUL WOMANLY GOD OR DEMI-GOD MAN HE POSSIBLY CAN!Magneto is amused.Anyway, Fabian watches the surface world for ages through caves, crevices, etc. Since Magneto has cursed him not to be able to actually set foot there, that’s how he sees out into the world of the living, through all the holes in the earth. He does this for hundreds of years, maybe thousands, because he’s that picky, but also getting more desperate with every century too.Enter Pietro, our Persephone, though the role he fills as a deity is more like that of Hermes/Mercury, the super-fast messenger of the gods. Fabian never met him before because he always thought himself too important to use a mere messenger, always demanding an audience with Magneto himself.Speaking of Magneto, he is the father of Pietro and his twin Wanda via a mortal woman. Giving birth to the children of a god placed a strain so great on her body that she dissipated into nothing upon their birth, and they were raised by Bova, the divine cow, until they were old enough to join the world of humans, at which point she left them with a worthy human couple who had lost their own twins. They grew up, discovered their godly powers and heritage, and joined the pantheon, but that’s another story.Anyway, Pietro has wed an elemental, Crystal, and they have a demigoddess daughter, Luna. The only time the super-fast Pietro slows down is to spend time with them (or his sister). Crystal, as an elemental, loves nature, so they’re all having happy family time in this beautiful green glade, splashing about in a lagoon with a waterfall.And the waterfall has a cave behind it, which Fabian can see from. Now, Pietro is pretty, but he’s hardly womanly. He’s got a sharp face and lean muscles and his personality isn’t what I’d call particularly effeminate, going by stereotypes. But he’s still lovely and lithe, and he fits the criteria given by Magneto---male and divine---and Fabian is DESPERATE at this point. So he sees this elfin, attractive dude and he’s just like YES THIS IS IT THIS IS DEFINITELY PRACTICALLY A WOMAN AND THIS IS THE ONE I WANT!So he tells Magneto he’s found his choice, and Magneto lifts the curse long enough for him to obtain his “bride”. Normally no one is fast enough to catch Pietro, he’s the freaking wind itself, but the moment Magneto gives Fabian the “okay” the ground opens beneath Pietro and swallows him up right before his family’s eyes. Next thing he knows, he’s in the Underworld and this huge dude in a cape is standing over him, yammering about how lucky he is to be chosen and how their wedding will be an event to remember for centuries and blah blah blah.Naturally, Pietro is less than thrilled, and punches Fabian in the face without even realizing who he is. He then zooms around the Underworld and realizes where he is, and that there’s no exit. Cue Fabian gloating about how there’s no escape for him and he’s his now. Pietro says that just because he’s HERE doesn’t mean that Fabian can touch him at all, and he does a damn good job of keeping away from the guy. Fabian is more frustrated than ever...then remembers that gods get hungry too. They can’t starve to death, but they do get hungry.And nothing grows in the Underworld. So Pietro is zooming around down there evading Fabian and all the forces he sends to capture him---monsters, Furies, ghosts, Cereberus---but he can’t escape his stomach. He’s ravenous. But he can’t find any food here. Why would there be? No one here needs to eat. As Pietro gets more and more desperate for a single scrap, who appears before him, pomegranate in hand, but Fabian.”Gods cannot starve, but we do hunger, as you do,” he says, as though Pietro needs reminding,”And I too am a god. Any food that is here is in my castle. Be my bride and---”He doesn’t even get to finish before Pietro snatches the pomegranate away and runs once again.Just like Fabian KNEW he would. He knew that Pietro would steal it and run. It was the plan all along.Pietro cracks the pomegranate open, but he only gets six seeds down before he feels the CHANGE happening. Something is WRONG with him. Has he been poisoned? Can a god be poisoned? He cannot die, but he knows he can suffer. And something feels very, VERY strange right now.He drops the pomegranate, and it rolls away, stopping at the booted feet of Fabian.”I was hoping you’d eat more before you caught on,” he says, “But you are, after all, a quick one.”PIetro demands to know what has been done to him. Fabian explains that everything in his domain becomes his when it enters. That’s why none of the other gods come here. And food does not grow here, but it can be brought here. And once it comes here, it also becomes his. Anyone who eats it becomes his---meaning, dead. In Pietro’s case, he can’t die, but it can take his godly powers. He is immortal still, but so long as he is in the Underworld, he will lack his famous speed.He can’t run from Fabian anymore. He fights him, but the larger man drags him back to his dark palace, carved from polished obsidian and basalt, coming out of the rock walls of the Underworld itself. It’s beautiful inside, so much so that Pietro is stunned for a moment in spite of his situation. This is not what he expected the dismal domain of the dead king to be; its opulence outshines even Heaven itself. He’s thrust into a plush and beautifully decorate room the size of a house, told that these are his chambers, and everything he could ever need or want is there. There’s a huge crystal tub with steaming groundwater pouring in, gilded and velvet furniture stuffed with the softest fur of slain animals, paintings (mostly of Fabian, admittedly) and trinkets and...gowns? There’s a ton of women’s clothing here?Fabian informs him he’ll playing the role of a wife, and Pietro freaks out all over again, screaming at him, throwing things, trying to attack him.This is a mistake. Fabian catches him by the throat and tosses him to the floor, reminding him that he’s not so fast anymore. And when Pietro grabs the nearest little golden statue---a smirking bust of Fabian himself---to try to beat his captor’s godly head in, he’s also reminded that Fabian has guards here, who tear his weapon from his hands and hold him back while Fabian smirks down at him in perfection imitation of the golden bust.He says Pietro will adjust. And that he’d better hurry it up because the wedding is already planned. Fabian has been planning it a damn long time, long before he saw Pietro. It’s gorgeous, it’s huge, it’s opulent, it’s over the top, and he is NOT going to have it ruined by an ungratefully reluctant bride! Er, femininely shy bride!The invites go out and Pietro’s name is on them and that’s when Magneto realizes just who it was that caught Fabian’s eye. And Wanda realizes what happened to her brother. Wanda is our Demeter figure. She’s actually more of a Hestia/Hecate combo in terms of her role as a deity, much like how Quicksilver is Hermes but is playing Persephone’s part here, and she’s his sister instead of his mother, but she plays Demeter’s role as the one person who speaks out against this, the one person who rages, the one person who grieves. She uses all her power to petition her father to go back on his bargain, but he refuses her. He’s not happy about this either, but he won’t become an oathbreaker. Not for Pietro. Maybe he would have for one of his daughters, but not the boy.Wanda tries to rescue Pietro next, but the curse of the pomegranate seeds keeps him bound there in the Underworld, one month for each seed eaten.Half a year, every year.So for half a year, every year, Wanda’s chaos powers go haywire, her witchcraft encircling the world, letting loose cold and winds and magic...and ghosts too. The reason there are so many ghost stories around this time? Wanda is fucking with the Underworld and yanking out as many souls as she can just to spite Fabian. But the wedding still goes on. Fabian still has his bride. Pietro is still trapped for six months a year, and he hates it. He fights it for centuries, even long after he knows he can do nothing. And slowly, he adjusts. He finds small but significant ways to rebel, ways to making Fabian unhappy without provoking retaliation. And some small, awful, shameful part of him...begins to enjoy that at least Fabian values him. Sees him as a treasure. Pays attention to him.The way his father never did. And sometimes, Fabian will throw some kind of attempt at real human kindness in there, something more than cold gifts of gold and jewels, something more than cold hands in the dark. Like when he let Eurydice have her chance to go back to Orpheus. That was for Pietro, because Pietro wanted it, because Pietro asked. It was admittedly not done out of REAL kindness or compassion to Pietro, but just in hopes it would make him more compliant out of gratitude. And Pietro realized he could begin to use that. To make things better for people in the Underworld in whatever small ways he could sway Fabian. He had a purpose here. He could be a hero.And so he became not merely Fabian’s new toy, but the beloved Queen to the dead, the one to whom they petitioned for aid, the only god who would ever hear their prayers. And every six months, Pietro would return to the surface world. Wanda’s rage and grief would cease, and Crystal would make the entire world blossom and bloom in happiness at his return.And Fabian would wait, knowing what was his would come back to him.Oh, and while I’m on this: Haven is Medusa. A religiously devout woman (Medusa was a priestess to Athena) who was wronged by a man and then she was supernaturally punished as a result, making her a monster/villain the rest of her life, as well as apparently pregnant the rest of her life (with Pegasus/the Adversary) and only giving birth at her death. Admittedly we’d have to change her rapist since it was Poseidon and EXODUS AIN’T ABOUT THE LIFE but yeah. And I’d make Monsoon our Pegasus, so her son instead of her brother.

[firebirds-flaming-art-blog]

Guns and ammunition.PNG

A single comic page to go along with one-shot fanfic.

Thank you @sw-seibellissima for helping edit the fic.

Description: New to the crew Vesta, a cultist survivor, is trying to quickly slot herself into a very new culture while also not letting on there is someone else living in her head. Piper may not know all the details but she’s going to try and help her fit in regardless.

Beatrix just wants to laugh at her dumb ass oblivious captain.

Warnings: One-sided OC/Canon, light fluff, domestic, introducing the bab to guns, mental illness, nothing really that extream I just wanted to write something with Vesta to see if this is something people want?

The comic without steam on her face and panels is below the fic, I don’t mind if people just reblog for the picture and not read the fic :) It’s very self-indulgent lol

“So whater you tryna say kid? You’ve never fired a gun before?” Gabriel huffed, the older sailor seeming to not believe her. Sure she was sheltered but hardly innocent.

“Nope never needed too,” Vesta answered, her single eye down at the table she was picking the paint off of. It seemed kinda silly, relying on weapons that can jam or be turned against you so easily. However, her insulated quiet behavior sent off a very different message.

“What did you crazy cultists even do all day?” Sally was hardly tactful about the question through the mystery around an honest to cog Apocalypse cult was hard to simply ignore.

“Well, there was-” Vesta started to speak but was quickly interrupted.

“Was there weird live sacrifices?! I bet there were sacrifices.” Sally sounded so proud of herself like she just unlocked a great mystery.

“I don’t think interrogating the child is going to help much,” Bea pointed out, actually giving their new guest some distance. Leaning against the wall while the rest of the crew crowded their new guest? Crewmate? Piper was being rather tight-lipped about the whole situation.

Speak of the devil.

“Alright crew, let her breathe,” Captain Piper said, motioning behind her with her thumb.

A few crewmates like Sally and Payroll whined about it but the nine bots filtered out of the tight room. The whole ship was rather tight and confined.

Vesta continued to stare at the infinitely fascinating peeling paint, anxiously playing with her golden ‘hair’.

“Yeah, hope you’re used to bots. You’re not gonna find much privacy here,” Piper pointed out with a shrug. “We run a tight ship on this tight ship.”

“It’s okay,” her eyes flashed blue for a second as her head twitched, “I-I’m used to not getting any privacy.”

“That’ll help,” Piper sat down at the table across from her. “You made quite an entrance at the bar. Scared the scrap out of those royalists.”

“They seemed pretty scared already… I didn’t know their fate was written in fire. It was sad.”

Piper chuckled, “I take it you didn’t grow up harassed by royalists then.”

“No, the cult did most of the harassing I can assure you that much. Have they replaced their Queen yet?”

“Nope, too much infighting between her remaining generals to take the throne. Her whole empire is shattered and has no way of enforcing their order.”

Vesta had plenty of questions about the topic but didn’t feel it was her place to really ask such things. Most of them boiled down to why didn’t Piper take control of the throne when she killed the Queen? She proved she was stronger, a better leader, why not simply take her claim and rule over the kingdom she hated so much and make it better? Make it her own.

Piper noticed she was quite distracted, to put it lightly. “Why don’t you look at me when we’re talking?” Her tone wasn’t accusatory, it was more curious than anything. Still didn’t help Vesta who now looked wound up tighter than a spring. Little beads of condensation formed on her face.

“It’s not just you, I don’t look anyone in the eye.”

“How come?”

“Respect…”

Piper nodded, she knew she was lying, Vesta was a terrible liar. Though she was also as stubborn as your average Shiner. Getting through her walls was like trying to dig out of prison with nothing but a rusty spoon.

“Well come on, I’ll let you use my old pistol. We gotta get you caught up with the rest of the crew.”

“What?” This actually made Vesta’s head shoot up, in surprise but still. “What are you talking about?”

“Are you planning on going anywhere else?”

“No.”

“Then you should know your way around a gun, besides, at least half my crew wants to head on home and start their lives with their cut of the water, I’m gonna need a few bots who’ll stick around once Vectron is destroyed.”

Vesta hesitantly stood up, “I don’t think-”

“Come on, I’ll show you the basics.”

Her protests died in her voice box, she couldn’t say no to the captain.

They left the dining room and went down the few steps to the armory which had a single lane set up for firing. There were a few cupboards for storage, a bench, other than that it was rather empty.

Vesta hovered around the edge of the firing lane while Piper grabbed the pistol.

“No need to look so tense, this is the easy part.” She didn’t even have to look at her to know she was uncomfortable, the air was full of tension and static, all radiating off the steambot.

Piper handed Vesta the pistol, her body relaxed as Vesta carefully grabbed the weapon. Treating it as if it were delicate as glass. Not the attitude she was expecting but whatever.

Still didn’t help much, as she aimed the pistol at the target her core was shaking like a leaf while her shoulders were far too tense to hit anything. It would do her no good in combat to be an obvious target like that.

Piper came up behind her, putting her left hand on Vesta’s left wrist and right just above her hips.

Vesta could have sworn in that instant her core was about to burst into flame, her whole body raising a good five, no, ten degrees Celsius at the contact. Her condensation problem was getting far worse though Piper was more worried about her wasting fuel and water then overheating.

Steam began to rise from her frame as Piper leaned her head just behind Vesta’s shoulder.

“You’re thinking too hard about it,” Piper whispered, trying to calm her down but found her just getting more and more wound up. “Relax your shoulders, brace your arms and core-” She put her leg between Vesta’s legs to try and separate them a little. “-Legs a little more apart, that’s a good girl.”

With that Vesta’s eye began to flash between blue and red, her head buzzing. 

‘I can’t be doing this!’ Jane cried inside her head.

‘Calm down.’ 

‘My wife, I need to find her!’ 

‘We both know she’s dead.’ 

‘She might be saved somewhere else, Vectron’s network is massive.’

‘We remember, she didn’t want to be saved.’

‘But why? It doesn’t make sense! Doesn’t make sense! Doesn’t-” Jane’s voice melted into static, her memories jumbled, corrupted, locked away or at least hidden away. It was frustrating to remember so much but also so little. Vectron was trying to protect her, protect her from herself. But in doing so she could never properly mourn, never move on. A ghost lost and waiting for a love who would never return.

In a flash, Vesta could see the red eye of Jane’s guardian and keeper. The eye of Vectron. She fired the gun in a panic.

Piper smiled, backing off a little, “See, was that so-?”

Vesta, completely flustered dropped the gun, causing herself to discharge again. This time the bullet ricocheted across the room. Nearly hitting the two steambots.

“Golly! Careful there!”

They had plenty of supplies to patch themselves up on the ship but it was best to avoid accidents.

“I- I’m so sorry. Thank you. Umm- I’m gonna leave, bye,” Vesta stuttered out, stepping away from the captain, it sounded as if two people were trying to speak at the same time out of the same mouth. Steam was still raising off her shell.

“Hey, you don’t have to-” But before Piper could finish Vesta was gone. Flustered as she rushed passed Beatrix.

Piper sighed as she picked the pistol off the ground. “So, how long have you been listening?”

“Awhile, I didn’t want to interrupt,” she said, leaning against the doorframe, trying so hard to hide her grin and failing.

“What?” Piper asked looking completely lost.

“Nothing Captain. Just give her some time, I’m sure she’ll open up to you.” She turned around to leave knowing full well she’d burst out laughing if she stayed a second longer.

Piper blinked, oblivious to what was going on. With nothing else to really do here and figuring Vesta was too spooked to really work with her she returned to her maps to set a course. Maybe she could convince the little steambot to go on a quieter mission, she knew she had fire in her, literally, maybe she was just holding back? Or something.

She had no idea how right and how wrong she was.

[littlespacestars]

About Shiro's sexual orientation and Shallura. I've heard it was the plan since the beginning and that's great but - I can see everything but the hand hold™ platonic... That hand hold got me shipping it and it seemed like even Bex and Kim shipped it. So. What happened?

Alright, these are my winded thoughts on what could have happened behind the scenes! Obviously I can’t know for sure, and maybe season 7 could change things, but this is my take: 

So, the EPs Lauren Montgomery and Joaquim Dos Santos said that it was planned from the beginning, but I believe Mitch Iverson (one of the writers) said that they didn’t get to incorporate Shiro’s sexuality into the show until more recently in the writing thanks to Bex Taylor Klaus (Pidge’s voice actress) pushing for it. Initially, executives wanted Adam and Shiro to be roommates. Thankfully that didn’t stick. 

It’s possible that they intended Shiro to be the LGBTQA+ rep since the beginning, but weren’t given the OK to openly show it. I remember in past interviews from JDS and Lauren saying that they were doing their best to push for queer representation. 

Maybe the writers added romantically coded scenes between Shiro and Allura just in case they weren’t allowed to pair him with a man while they wrote the rest of the seasons. Having a respectful and trusting relationship between the two leaders of Voltron makes sense, after-all. Because they’re co-leaders, they have to be communicating often and that could very naturally develop into something romantic. 

Also remember, the EPs have stated multiple times before that they intended Shiro to die after season 2 and not come back, but the execs wouldn’t allow them to (which brought in the whole clone plot). So, that further complicates this entire situation. I believe it was said that they wanted the scene between Shiro and Adam to be shown at the end of season 2, probably as a flashback for Shiro moments before his death (which I’m very glad they didn’t do that to their queer character, because yikes). 

But like I said, at the time they were writing season 2, they may not have been allowed to show an obvious queer relationship. So they held onto it to be incorporated later into the show if they were given the OK. 

As for Kim and Bex: That also kind of confuses me. Kim brought up Sha//ura at MomoCon 2018 (which was recent) after asking if the fans ship Allura with anyone. And Bex happily gestured to Kim and Josh while the audience applauded. I’m not sure if that’s supposed to mean anything, or if they just adore the ship. I’m thinking the latter. From my understanding, the VAs are all very supportive of shipping, so it’s possible they don’t want to alienate anyone and are just having fun. 

TL;DR: It’s possible they scrapped a romance between Shiro and Allura because they were given the OK to have Shiro be queer later in the writing process. 

Which, I can’t blame them. Even if it could come across as inconsistent writing by not having Shiro acknowledge or even bring up having someone on earth who once cared about him, it is groundbreaking to have this kind of representation. Especially in a kid’s show. Aside from Steven Universe, we really haven’t gotten such explicit queer representation for a main character in a popular children’s show. It just hasn’t been done, if hardly at all. 

But I would also like to say, until we see the last two seasons of Voltron, it doesn’t necessarily leave Sha//ura off limits in canon. I think it’s a slim chance, compared to what it originally was just weeks ago before Adam’s reveal, but we aren’t even sure if Shiro and Adam will get back together. All we have to go on is one (intense) flashback so far and we know Shiro has been away for at least two years. So, I’m looking forward to seeing it all unfold!

Either way, ship and let ship. Fandom is supposed to be fun!

Hope that provides insight and not any confusion! LOL. That’s just my take on it. Unfortunately, I can’t know what really happened behind the scenes, but maybe it will be acknowledged sometime in the future.