#you don’t have to cause a war and drag your allies into it just case you’re embarrassed

[thepenguisalive7]

Digging his own grave because he’s too embarrassed to admit that it was a pathetic accident and not a cool assassination 🙄

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[bastardfae]

“we can practice some writing exercises or some shit, then. can’t be that hard, right? i mean, don’t get me wrong, my handwriting is pure dog shit, but it’s legible. we might both learn something from it. ‘s worth a shot regardless.” the response given to his revenge-filled plans prompted a bark of laughter from the halfling. it was always entertaining to be reminded that not everyone shared his hunger for sorely deserved reparations for the suffering inflicted upon them all. he listened with a surprising amount of patience as gibson explained his own vision of freedom and smirked at the simplicity of his desires. it must be nice not to have a mind plagued with a near-obsessive need for inciting dramatic social change. “after that? i’d start seeking out folks who want the same thing as me – a shift in the current sociopolitical climate,” he grinned as he spoke, feeling more than a little proud of himself for almost sounding eloquent for a change. playing the role of an outspoken dumbass worked well enough for the halfling that he’d almost forgotten it was partially a cover. he could sound like he had a working brain in his skull when he wanted to, he just chose not to half the time. it was far more fun to antagonise and play dumb, especially when the latter course of action often prompted unparalleled entertainment. “then we’d establish a new kind of council. where everyone gets a say in things. all species, all equals, all wanting the same thing. dismantling totalitarian rule is pretty important to me, y’know? ‘m kinda on a time limit though. doesn’t make it easy.” arnon’s gaze flickered down as the sensation of the subtle gesture registered and his smile widened further still as he dragged his gaze back up slowly. his eyes burned bright with unadulterated joy as the questions were posed, his entire demeanour shifting to one of vibrant enthusiasm as gibson began speaking his language. “i’d make a deep enough incision with a sword first – my old man’s one, probably, the one he used in the war – an’ then tear their heads off with my bare hands. wanna feel the ligaments an’ tendons snap. bone can be shattered easy enough an’ i reckon i could manage it. anythin’ to make the bastards feel every second of it. i’d wanna drag it out for as long as possible. ‘s what they deserve. each an’ every one of ‘em. it’d be a public execution kinda deal. their downfall needs to be observed by as many as possible. we’ve suffered ‘cause of the council long enough. it’s about time the tables were turned.”

arnon’s expression softened as his excitement gradually died down and he focused on listening to every word that left the celestial. to know that he now had another ally – whether gibson realised it or not – was more reassuring than arnon expected such a fact to be. “on behalf of everyone else that fought against those fuckers and as a descendant of one of the opposition’s great leaders, thank you to your kind for doing your bit. i’m sure their efforts didn’t go unnoticed. i could talk for hours about the second war in particular. ‘s kind of a… big interest of mine. culturally, historically, whatever. if you ever want a history lesson, just say. ‘m happy to provide an accurate timeline of events. ignore all the shit the leeches up top try to peddle. can’t trust ‘em when it comes to giving credit where credit’s due for the faerie military’s efforts. an’ everyone else’s, of course, but y’know.” obviously, arnon was more than a little biased. his grin returned in full force as gibson nudged him and he made no attempt to stifle the laugh that left him at gibson’s words shortly after. “oh, you’re definitely correct. fuck them a hundred times over an’ then some,” for a second, arnon’s amusement faltered as gibson continued. “that’s rough, man. in that case, i guess i get it. my deal with tiernan is… well, it’s not a deal an’ that’s the fucking problem. i need alone time away from that freak for the sake of my sanity. ‘s a different story for you, though. count yourself lucky that none of the council have decided to lay claim to you yet. lemme tell you from experience: it’s the fucking worst. it’ll have you praying for a little solitude, trust me.”

"Really? I would like that. I read but my writing is really bad. Some things do innately come to me like by divine intervention but not everything and it's mostly things I need to know, like how to fly or use my holy fire. Stuff about my body. Or things that I guess I'm supposed to say." Gibson wrinkled his nose at Arnon's answer on what he would do with freedom. Perhaps that was the righteous fury he had read about- an emotion far detached from Gibson. He understood why Arnon would feel that way but putting himself in that spot- he didn't feel the same. "Ok but what would you do after that? Like for you. I would fly. I'd spread my wings and fly straight up until the air in my lungs froze and it was just me and clouds, high up above birds. Just sunlight. And then I guess I'd go try to find other celestials. I've only met two of them my whole life." he said with a little hum as they swayed his hands holding onto Arnon's hips, rubbing circles with his thumbs into the other's hipbones. "Would you cut their head off with a sword or an axe? And would it be a straight up assassination or like a formal execution?"

Gibson wanted to say that a victory was a victory none the less, but he didn't think it was appropriate, and the vampires certainly did not deserve him defending them. Nor did he want to. "I know there was a war, and I obviously know the outcome. But I don't know much about it. I know my kind helped fight against vampires and so they are very weary of us. I'm never allowed even a little wiggle room." Though Gibson knew the unbridled power he could wield without the collar it had been over a century since he felt himself even close to the full might of a celestial being. Gibson smiled and nudged Arnon with his nose affectionately. "I like your very strong opinions and doing things in a way that makes sense to you. I believe the term I am looking for is 'fuck them', am I correct? But we will have to disagree I spent over 100 years all alone I am over being alone for awhile I am sure."

[shini--chan]

I have an idea! What would Allies do after finding out that their s/o have (another) stalker? It can be another yandere, a creep, ex, jealous coworker with bad intentions or even a serial killer.

And a good idea it is, my dear anon.

Yandere Allies – Feindling America

You were already fast asleep, snoozing away under the covers in your shared bedroom. He, on the other hand, was still wide awake and had decided to settle down in the living room to do some light reading. His insomnia was due to the usual reasons – too much caffeine, too much stress, too much curiosity to just let the day finish.

And because he was worried, intently, about you. There was somebody else trying to stick their grubby fingers in your shared life, and pry you apart. That was something he was absolutely sure off. After living so long, and becoming paranoid due to his position on the global stage, he knew very well when he was being watched.

There was something after you in particular, he didn’t like it.

Out of his peripheral vision, he caught sight of somebody moving in the bushes. A spike of adrenaline shot through his body, and for a moment he was tempted to storm about side and give that creep a hook. Yet a better idea came to mind – first to fire a warning shot.

He net his book aside and sauntered to one of the glass door to the balcony and gave the pane a few sharp knocks. It was enough to catch their attention. It was almost comical how the figure froze, and the hood swivelled in his direction. Alfred couldn’t identify them in any capacity – they wore non-script jeans and a grey hoodie along with a pair of gloves. But this was about digging up the war axe.

Grinning, he flipped the bird at them, and then proceeded to draw a thin line across his throat in an unmistakable message.

Alfred would see this as a chance to play hero. He would finally be able to prove to you how capable he is at protecting you, how attentive he would be when it would water down to your safety. Of course, he would make sure there would be a lot he wouldn’t catch wind off – it would be the instances where he would come off as an evil master mind or as a control freak that he would skilfully hide from you.

He might or might not elect to torture the fool that would be stalking you. For him, waterboarding that creep would be a method of stress relief. It would also drive home the point that nobody should dare try to get between him and his sweetie.

Canada

Besides you, your phone beeped for what must have been the twelfth time in the span of one minute. You sobbed harder and buried your face in his chest. Matthew calmly stroked your back, making quiet soothing noises as he held you close.

“(Ex) will have to leave you be someday. This can’t go on forever. One day that jerk will have to accept that you’re gone for good”, he told quietly, while cautiously shifting his position to a more comfortable one.

You were both on the backseat of his car, having sought sanctuary there after you started panicking upon seeing the messages. All the memories had started to overwhelm you, and you had gripped his arm as if it was the only thing that was preventing you from drowning.

“No, that won’t be the case. Before I met you, I tried to leave so often only to be lured back into it. It was only because I met you that I haven’t gone back”, you cried, gazing up at him with a tear-stricken face.

“Shh, I will think of something. There shall be hell to pay.”

Matthew would be concerned about your wellbeing first and foremost. He would cater to you, cuddle with you, sooth you. But don’t think that would mean he would go easy on you should you step out of line and try to flee from him. When he would say he would never let your ex take you back, he would be indirectly saying he would never allow you to leave him.

Naturally, he would be careful and avoid any explicit rhetoric stating that your place in the world is at his side, but the message would be there, hidden between the lines.

With the legal sway he would hold, he would easily have your ex punished in some capacity. This could range from a fine to a restrain order to spending some time in jail.

China

A scream pierced the silence of the night, followed by a yell as the attacker was swept off his feet. Yao didn’t hesitate to continue beating the culprit up, even though he was on the ground.

After all, this was a man that had just been a few milliseconds away from dragging you away and murdering you, after doing unspeakable things to you, things that couldn’t be lightly talked about in any context.

“So, you’re the vermin that has been butchering people left and right for the past four months. You’re just as disgusting as I expected”, Yao commented as he brought his foot down on his back in a harsh stamp.

You had taken seat on a tree stump that was standing by. The near death experience and the fight going on in front of you had utterly rattled you. You were numbly staring at the scene playing out, heads in your hands, whole body trembling and eyes wide blown.

He kicked the killer in the side and was rewarded was a grunt and a hiss: “And I’ll fucking kill you too.”

“Sure you will”, Yao drawled sarcastically and pressed the criminals head into the dirt. “Get used to the taste of it.”

Contrary to expectations, Yao would approach the situation of serial killer being after you calmy. Not because he wouldn’t care about you, but rather because he would be far to old to be surprised by such a – in his eyes – trivial thing. And because he would know that letting himself drown in anger or panic would just result in him making grave mistakes – ie. losing you.

Nevertheless, he would never be far off, lurking behind corners, just out of sight of you and the murderer. He would also scoure your online activity, searching for any suspicious doings from other users. Furthermore he would use the opportunity to learn more about you and your strengths and weaknesses.

England

“Ah, ah, ah. Keep your dirty paws off that”, Arthur chided Jane and firmly grabbed Jane by the ear, harshly tugging there. It wasn’t the most humane treatment of a mortal, that England knew very well. However, he was in a sour mood, your infuriating co-worker being one of the contributing factors to it. Besides, he hadn’t made it one of his life maximas to be nice.

“You dare”, she hissed. When he gave another sharp tug, she yelped and dropped your phone, showing one of your social media profiles. Jane Smithers was persistent, he would have to give her that. Yet that would just be her downfall because she had decided to use that trait to try to ruin your life.

“Oh yes I dare. I dare to not tolerate your disgusting behaviour. Between you and me, we’re going to have a very long talk about your morals.”

She snorted and grabbed his hand.

“I could sue you for sexual harassment. We’ll see if you’ll still be laughing then.”

Oh, he had expected such a threat to come from such a vile person as her. He chuckled lowly – did she really think she could best him when it came to anything.

“And then spend some time in the nick for lying to judge and jury. Don’t think you’d be able to weasel your way out of this. I’m the one here that can have your framed and believe me, I could get you a bloody life sentence.”

She stared at him, uncomprehending, before realisation dawned and she let out a harsh laugh.

“So that is how (l/n) did it. Slept the way to the top.”

“No. (Y/n) has talent, impeccable talent. So unlike you, my dearest never had to resort to the methods you were so kind to mentioned.”

Arthur would see it as his duty to protect you – your physical & mental wellbeing as well as your reputation. So of course he would go after any jealous co-worker that would try to ruin you to any extent. And as mentioned in the snippet above, he wouldn’t be exactly nice about it. Any means would do for him, as long as the risk of his machinations backfiring on him and you would be relatively low.

During the whole process, he would letting you know about everything. It would be his point of proving that the world is a horrible place and that you can only find solace in his company and attention.

France

Francis was in the kitchen when you came stumbling in, frazzled and panting as If you had just run a marathon. By the way your extremities were trembling and sweat dotted your forehead, he wouldn’t be surprised. The only question was why.

Aside from that, fear danced in your eyes, and that was the only further information he needed to know that something was wrong. Rushing forward, he scooped you in his arms, ignoring the coffee that he had been preparing, and asked you:

“What happened, ma cherie?”

Instead of answering, you leaned your head against his shoulder and wrapped your arms around his torso, taking heavy, laboured breaths, as if you were crying. That was when he realised that you were. It worried him.

Was this something that he had done? What had caused you to become so distressed? Was it something he could fix.

“You don’t have to talk about it now if you don’t want to”, he offered shakily, unsure about what he should do to cheer you up. How could he, when he didn’t know why you were in such a state?

Thankfully, you supplied him with an explanation, one that caused his concern to freeze to ice cold anger: “There is some creep following me. He grabbed my butt when I got off the bus.”

Whoever that devil was, he was going to have hell to pay,

Francis would be enraged that somebody would be so disrespectful of your boundaries and of the fact that you’re already taken. In the brief moments of his more intense bouts of fury, he might do something as rash as to track the creep down and bludgeon him with something, probably a newspaper.

However, his preferred method would be character assassination (this would work especially well if the culprit in question would have a high social status) and verbal abuse. In this case, his revenge could be long-winded and very elaborate.

Russia

The temperature of the corridor had dropped since the last time he had visited – a testimony to the bad insulation and the approaching winter. Ivan thought it did her justice. After all, she did deserve this after nearly kidnapping you.

Speaking of her, she was sitting near the bars when he approached and when she glimpsed him, she quickly scooted away. Clever; she had learned from what had occurred the last time.

“Come to taunt me again?”, she seethed, curling into a tight, haggard ball of fury. Understandable in her case, however he wouldn’t shed any tears or have any sleepless nights.

“As is customary. I have to elevate your boredom somehow”, he confirmed, grabbing a chair and seating himself opposite her.

She stared at the door at the end of the passage, hungerly tracing it and searching the shadows for any sign of you. Ivan derived pleasure from mocking her: “How foolish are to think I would have brought my lover with me? I didn’t the last few times so why should it any different now?”

“You’re so very attached to (y/n), so I had my hopes.”

“Then I’ll have to forever dash them. That I owe you.”

She snarled at this; face twisted to a nasty frown.

“You know, you and I aren’t so different. So it is even more hypocritical of you to claim the moral high ground. Does (y/n) know even half of the things you’ve done in the name of your love?”

“I detest the comparison. I walk free while you rot in solitude, unloved and unwanted. While you have done everything wrong, I have done what was right where it counted most. You go very far by suggesting anything else.”

Russia would be the one to act the most intense of all the allies. He would have had people that were dear to him ripped away from him in the past, so he invest a lot of energy in insuring that wouldn’t happen to you and him.

That would mean he would go up to 11 in this case. As in, he would either kill this person and dissolve their body in acid or feed it to the pigs. Or he would leave this other yandere to rot somewhere after having dragged them before court for a very showy trail to break their spirit.

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 21, second part

(Masterpost) (Other Canary Stuff) (Previous Post)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Flute Solo

For some reason Wei Wuxian has decided to take a walk outside of the fortress, or behind the fortress, or something? Can people just take a stroll outside during wartime? Seems unwise.

There are guards and these extra-bossy crows herding some Wen prisoners along, and Wei Wuxian stands up above and gets totally overwhelmed by resentful energy.  

He falls to one knee while clutching his chest, in the spot where all cultivators seem to stow a bag of holding. I guess this is the Xuanwu sword? Or maybe it's his surgical incision; those things can take a while to finish healing. I think the golden core is further down in the abdomen, though; this is right over his heart. 

Wen Qing, Granny, and Fourth Uncle are in the group, but Wen Qing has her hood up so Wei Wuxian can't see her, and he's unlikely to remember the other two, since he only saw them that one time at the shrine, and he doesn't remember people he's literally had dinner with.  

The guards decide to be assholes and beat the shit out of a prisoner because he fell down, which inspires some extra aggressive crows to swoop in and attack the not-dead guy on the ground. That is...not how carrion-eaters behave, generally. They're pretty good about waiting for you to stop moving.

Wei Wuxian continues to struggle, obviously having an orgasm in a lot of pain, and starting to leak resentful energy.

(more after the cut)

He brings his flute up and starts playing it, which causes the wind to rise, rocks to fall from a nearby cliff, and the whole group of people on the ground under him to start having Yin Iron lines crawling up their faces.

Would Wen Qing be a beautiful fierce corpse? She would. 

Eventually Wei Wuxian stops torturing everybody, having gotten it out of his system for a bit, and stands up.  The group gets up, skin clearing up, and starts moving along again, a little shook. Wen Qing looks up and sees Wei Wuxian and hides her face in anguish.

She was there in the dungeon, listening to the same flute music, when he was resentfully slaughtering everyone around her in Yiling. Does she understand what she’s seeing, what he’s become? 

Her hood is off and it seems that he sees her, or at least that he is trying to figure out what he's seeing. But Jiang Yanli arrives before he can do more than look puzzled and cast his eyes around.  

Jiang Yanli asks him what just happened and he laughs and says it was the strong wind, in an extremely transparent lie that Yanli nearly chokes trying to swallow. She drags him back to the meeting while he continues to look troubled.

War Council

Meanwhile, the war council is meeting. This is mostly a boring rehash of stuff we already know, but someone has drawn a nice big map that's been installed in a custom frame. Because apparently the table with the mountains on it is not a good enough representation of "and then we will walk from our house to Wen Ruohan's house," which is basically their plan. The gist of this scene is that Wen Ruohan having the Yin Iron gives him an advantage, in case we needed to be reminded of that. 

The doors fly open and Wei Wuxian and his fabulous ass literally blow into the room. 

Everyone reacts in a comically extreme way. 

He casts his eyes malevolently and/or sexily over to Lan Wangji, who is still grumpy with him, while Jiang Cheng comes up and stands almost as close to him as Lan Wangji used to.

He tells everybody that he might have something to counteract the yin iron.

Everybody: Really? Do tell!  

Wei Wuxian: Happy to!

Wei Wuxian: *theatrical side-eye at judgy ex boyfriend* 

Wei Wuxian: Actually, nope.

He says "we'll see in about a month" while fondling whatever is hidden next to his ribcage.

This behavior, while ridiculous, isn't quite as absurd as it seems from a corporate-meeting standpoint. Part of what cultivators do is invent and refine spiritual tools. So when Wei Wuxian makes this speech, the people in the meeting are going to infer that he is creating a spiritual tool to counter the Yin Iron.

Now it's Lan Xichen's turn to ask everybody’s favorite question. Lan Xichen wasn’t at the party when everyone else asked him, and we're apparently supposed to believe these gossips haven't been talking about the not-sword-carrying 24x7.

Wei Wuxian says he's just not in the mood, and we get to see Lan Xichen's impressive ability to hold his face completely still while he represses his desire to slap someone.

Jin Zixun complains about Wei Wuxian after he leaves, but for once his bitching is on point; he correctly surmises that the counter to yin iron is...yin iron. 

Now, to be fair, the yin tiger amulet is different from the yin iron because it exists in the novel Wei Wuxian specially refines it to be more manageable than the sword it started from. And maybe it’s gel coated to be easier on the stomach. But it's basically the same shit.

Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue exchange intense gazes, just to prove that the young people aren’t the only ones who know how to eye fuck. 

Lying Is Forbidden 

Lan Xichen talks to Lan Wangji, and we discover that Lan Wangji is perfectly capable of lying. He manages to maintain a reputation for not lying but I think the trick is that he just avoids talking in general, so when, for example, people in later years say "who's your masked boyfriend" he just doesn't answer, which isn't really lying. (How many times did Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen ask “where did you get this kid?” and just not get an answer, I wonder.) 

At other times he actually directly lies, as when he claims he is “just passing through” Yiling on a night hunt. The current conversation with Lan Xichen definitely involves actual lying.

Let's play multiple choice answers with the Lan brothers!

Q:  Why is WWX so confident we can have Yin Iron against WRH in a month? 

a.) Because he's been walking around with that Xuanwu sword for months, and it is obviously made of Yin iron b.) because he used a fucking ghost flute to flay Wen Chao more or less in front of me, so he is clearly down with some dark magics c.) I don’t know

Q: Was the death of people in the Yiling supervisory office really related to yin iron?

a.) obviously b.) maybe he was using some other source of overwhelming necromantic power c.) no, he’s not like that

Q. When you approached Yiling, was there anything unusual?

a.) yes, the talismans had been altered to draw in evil spirits b.) yes, everyone except his particular friend Wen Qing had killed themselves in horrifying, outlandish ways c.) are there rules already set for everything in the world?

Xichen, bless him, actually lets Lan Wangji change the subject like that and answers his question honestly.

Xichen: Actually, rules are pretty much shit Wangji: fucking hell, you're telling me this NOW? What have I been doing for the past 18 years then?

They both look just ridiculously beautiful in this conversation. Lan Wangji’s affect with his brother is so interesting. He’s trusting, emotionally open, willing to be seen...but only because he knows Lan Xichen won’t push past his barriers, won’t force him to speak the truth of what’s on his mind.

Awkwardness

The Yunmeng bros roll up, and awkwardness ensues. 

Wangji is frowning hard. His frowns are of the micro variety just like his smiles, but boy they are consistent and Wei Wuxian and Xichen both know how to read them.

Wei Wuxian gives Lan Xichen a small, sunny smile--it seems genuine, not like the fake ones he's trotting out on demand for his family. 

Then he gives Lan Wangji a pointed gaze of yearning and reproachfulness, which Lan Wangji returns, switching from frowning to a softer expression that seems about equal parts hurt, apology, and thirst.

Wei Wuxian reacts to that by bowing again and leaving, with Jiang Cheng quickly following, wondering what the fuck just happened.

Lans Xichen and Wangji pivot gracefully to watch them go, which Lan Wangji should know is not correct post-breakup behavior; you're supposed to act disinterested, my dude. 

And then Lan Xichen asks Lan Wangji what the fuck is going on. Lan Wangji gets one more lie in, saying he's not worried about Wei Wuxian, before reapplying his frown and walking away from the conversation.

Macroexpression Brothers

OP was wrong about Wei Wuxian not hugging Jiang Cheng any more--here he is hanging on him just like the old days, and Jiang Cheng is shoving him off, just like the old days. However, it emerges that this is mostly an act that WWX is putting on to seem normal. 

Jiang Cheng wants to know what's wrong between him and Lan Wangji, and asks why they broke up. Wei Wuxian points out that Jiang Cheng didn't like him dating Lan Wangji before, so why is he pushing him to get back together with him now, and Jiang Cheng says that now they're allies in a war, so Wei Wuxian needs to do his duty and help keep Lan Wangji in fighting trim, nudge nudge. 

Then he starts lecturing Wei Wuxian about sword cultivation and generally good behavior, and Wei Wuxian theatrically nods and give him appraising looks, telling him he really seems like a clan leader now.

Jiang Cheng headshakes this away. Wei Wuxian actually giving Jiang Cheng a sincere compliment here, disguised as teasing, and he's not wrong. Jiang Cheng has matured and is becoming a strong leader. Not strong enough to ignore peer pressure, but that’s true of most clan leaders in this environment. They’re not supposed to ignore peer pressure. 

Wei Wuxian is pointing it out for his own reasons - he doesn't want to be having this conversation - but it's nice to see him giving his clan leader his due.

Jiang Cheng walks away as Wei Wuxian smiles after him; as soon as he's out of sight the smile falls off of Wei Wuxian's face as fast as fast as gravity can take it. It's like someone snuffed a candle.

No one bites back as hard On their anger None of my pain and woe Can show through

But my dreams, they aren't as empty As my conscience seems to be I have hours, only lonely My love is vengeance that's never free

More Awkwardness

Lan Wangji and his ambivalence come looking for Wei Wuxian, standing outside his door and raising a hand to knock before changing his mind and fleeing. 

Lan Wangji is on the back foot for the first time in his relationship with Wei Wuxian; this boy who pursued and pursued and PURSUED him is now a man who won't speak to him.  This boy who hung on every one of his words, and saw through all of his minute facial expressions, has become a man who won't listen to him. Lan Wangji is in the position of pursuer, now, and it's not a role he's well equipped for.

Yanli stops him as he's bailing. He looks so relieved to see her, but he tries to escape immediately after greeting her. She stops him so she can ask what the fuck is going on. 

Unfortunately, Wei Wuxian rolls up while Lan Wangji is in the middle of talking to her.  He's telling her about the heterodox cultivation, and Wei Wuxian busts him. Wei Wuxian steps up and asks what he was telling her, and Lan Wangji says "Wei Ying," but doesn't get much further than that.

Nunya

Wei Wuxian reminds him that he told him to stay out of Jiang Clan business. Now, here I want to mention that "private" and "not your bidness" are culturally specific concepts. OP, for example, grew up in version of Irish-American culture so secretive that the problems of a person's life and (often) the cause of their death are things only discovered by whoever inherits their papers. [OP inherited 3 generations of letters a few years ago, and HOO BOY]

In the version of Chinese culture which we see in this drama, your choices, thoughts & troubles belong to the family and clan, not just to you.  Wei Wuxian, in shutting his elder sister out of his struggles, is not family-ing correctly. Jiang Yanli is right to try to get around that by asking his friend. His friend is also right to give her--in sanitized form--the information she is asking for. 

Wei Wuxian has zero trust in Lan Wangji at this point, unfortunately. He doesn’t know that Lan Wangji has been lying to cover for him; he just knows he’s being a grumpy aggressive holy roller. Now, when Lan Wangji has just been given permission to disregard all 3000 rules and look at a person’s heart, that person’s heart has been hardened against him. 

Yanli is used to dealing with Wei Wuxian's moods at this point -- after all, a lifetime of Jiang Cheng has got her used to volatile little brothers, and Wei Wuxian is clearly a new, not-improved man since his return. 

She tries to get him to chill out while Lan Wangji gives him a death glare -- not a return to the earlier generalized frown, more of a specific "I can't believe how full of shit you are" frown.

Wei Wuxian calls him Lan Er Gongzi, like a dick. Lan Wangji started this but at this point Wei Wuxian is kind of in the lead for who is being The Worst. Lan Wangji executes a beautiful 180 and walks away at top speed. 

Wei Wuxian asks Yanli if he talked about Yiling and when she says he didn't, he realizes he fucked up. 

He goes running after him and calls him Lan Zhan and says "listen to me" but Lan Wangji is no longer in a listening mood. 

Eat A Dick Sword

Lan Wangji is so far in his feelings at this point that he just hauls out his sword and goes after Wei Wuxian, taking complete control of the interaction and forcing Wei Wuxian to concede the fight. Aww, he’s so angry! I love him. 

This is a rough moment for Wei Wuxian. He really genuinely can't hold his own against Lan Wangji, unless he's going to directly use necromancy against him the way he does later in their final confrontation. 

When they first met he was able to defend himself on the rooftop without drawing his sword, but he's weaker now; Chenqing is an adequate hand weapon against most cultivators and puppets, but it's not a match for Lan Wangji's full attack. 

Wei Wuxian is not enjoying this fight, and can’t win in, so he just throws in the towel, exposing his throat and trusting Lan Wangji's control.

On the surface, this fight appears to re-establish their former rapport, but it puts them on such an uneven footing it might actually drive a larger wedge between them.  I think that Lan Wangji has made a strategic error in doing this.  

Lan Wangji seems to want to prove to Wei Wuxian that his new style of cultivation is inadequate, that he would do better with a sword. Swordplay was the beginning of their relationship; their matched power was the source of their mutual attraction. Lan Wangji can't accept that Wei Wuxian has given it up; he doesn't (yet) respect his agency enough to assume that he has a good reason.

This fight functions as yet another punishment that Lan Wangji doles out to Wei Wuxian; not a physical one, this time, but a psychological one, and their relationship pays the price. 

By attacking Wei Wuxian and forcing him to concede, Lan Wangji is showing that they're unequal. By criticizing Wei Wuxian's lack of progress and asking him the same goddamn question everybody else is asking him -- where is your sword? -- Lan Wangji is humiliating him. 

This encounter does not re-establish Wei Wuxian’s trust in him; it just forces him to accept Lan Wangji’s authority, for now. Which is not what either of them really wants. 

Soundtrack: Behind Blue Eyes, by The Who

Writing Prompt: What would Wei Wuxian have said if Lan Wangji had listened to him instead of drawing his sword?

[swtorramblings]

I Shall Save Myself-2: We Save Who We Can

Arcann comforting Senya by @fleeting-sanity​. Finally using it for what I got it for.

I Shall Save Myself Second Draft Chapter List

Empress Vaylin has fallen, her forces in disarray, but she may have dragged the Alliance Commander down with her. The Force wielders within the Alliance have mostly been incapacitated by an unknown event, a massive burst of power that occurred during the battle. Koth and Theron arrive on the scene to investigate.

Theron and Koth were the first on the scene during the surrender of Vaylin’s forces. The Eternal Fleet was still. Most of the Alliance’s Force sensitives were incapacitated, unconscious or at least suffering severe pain. Sana-Rae had stayed in the Enclave, and was somewhat protected there. She reported that there had been a massive release of energy where the Commander had confronted the Empress. No one was moving when they arrived. Vaylin and the Commander were side-by-side on the ground. She had been defeated, finally, but at heavy cost. Theron did not trust Koth with Senya or Arcann, but didn’t care much about Vaylin’s well-being, so said, “Koth, check the Commander. I’ll check the others.” Koth hesitated, looking at Vaylin, but still went to the Richerd’s side. Theron saw the damage to the wall, and passed a section of the ground that had been so heated that the stone melted. What in the world had happened here? A pained voice came over the com system. It was Lana. “Koth, Theron, report? What is happening out there?” Koth answered first. “The Commander is badly hurt, light saber wound, at least as bad as what the Prince did.” He still refused to call Arcann by name. “We need a medical team.” The other two were already stirring as Theron reached them. “Senya and Arcann look like they took a beating, but they’re already waking up.” He reached Senya and offered his hand, but she waved him off and stood, though not without effort. Arcann stood slowly, taking in the battlefield. “Mother?” “I’m all right, Son. It’s over.” Lana broke in again. “Has anyone checked Vaylin?” Other forces were arriving, a medical team first. They were preparing the Commander to be moved to facilities in the base. The healing that Valkorian had provided last time seemed to be absent. It was going to be touch and go for a while. Koth was helping the medical team. “She’s down, Lana, and looks badly hurt. I don’t think she survived whatever Richerd did, whatever it was you felt. No way to know for sure.” He looked at the mother and son. They both shook their heads. They had been out, also. “Our royals were both unconscious. We had no eyes on the fight.” Lana responded, “You’re assuming it was the Commander, it chould have been the Emperor or Vaylin. Until we know, we have to be careful. At this point, she raised her voice, ending each word sharply for emphasis. “Again: Has anyone checked Vaylin?” Senya nodded to Theron, knowing that no one else should have to risk it. Arcann walked with her. “Sorry, Lana, this is all a lot to take in. Senya is checking. We’ll keep our forces at a distance, just in case.” Senya knelt down next to her daughter, hesitant. She was not sure she wanted to know, to verify her fears. Vaylin had several minor saber wounds (they were never really minor), some of which her mother had inflicted. Nothing like what it seemed she had done to the Commander, but still potentially lethal. Arcann put his hands on her shoulders, and said to her, “It’s all right, Mother. We did what we had to.” Then she saw it. Her daughter was breathing, shallowly, raggedly. Senya put her hands to her mouth. She did not know for a moment what to do. But only for a moment. “She’s alive!” she shouted. She took one of her son’s hands, and whispered, “She’s alive.” Koth glanced over, a scowl on his face. “So? We’re not going to do anything to help her.” Theron didn’t care for the idea of not tending to a defeated enemy, but in this case, he found himself agreeing. However, he knew that the Commander would not approve. She was beaten. One of the rules was, we save who we can. “Koth, you know we have to.” “No! I had friends in the military, with the Knights! Do you know how many of them aren’t here now? Because of her? How does she get to live when they’re dead?” Before Theron or Lana could respond, to agree or otherwise, a deep, quiet voice ended the argument. “I’m afraid”, it said, “we must insist.” Arcann had taken a position between his sister and the armed troops, hand on his lightsaber. Their mother got to her feet and joined him. Koth glared at them, but eventually threw up his hands. “Fine, you want to save that monster, that’s your business. Not in our base. We don’t want her anywhere near the Commander. Or any of us.” He hadn’t asked, but no one voiced disagreement. “Get a ship, take her away from here, hopefully you’ll crash in the wild. I’m done here.” He followed the medical team inside. “Thank you, Son.” Theron walked to them. “He has a point, though. I know this is hard, but our wounds are too fresh.” He glanced at Arcann. “And a lot of our allies already have complaints. She won’t be safe here.” Senya had gone back to tending her daughter, so Arcann responded. “Understood. Give us a shuttle and a single medical droid. Kolto if you can spare it. We will take her into the surrounding wilderness while we plan for more permanent arrangements.” Theron nodded. “Good, we’ll do what we can here.” He looked over to Torian, added him to the tally of the dead she had caused, but also remembered the reports from Nathema. “We’ll find you your kolto. If the Commander dies, though, and she’s still alive, make sure you are off-world as soon as possible.” Arcann nodded. After the shuttle arrived, he checked it over (he trusted some members of the Alliance, but not all, especially now) while Senya tenderly carried the former Empress and placed her in the bed in the back and activated the medical droid. While she watched over Vaylin, Arcann flew the ship out until it was no longer in sight of the base. Theron stood on the platform, watching them go, making sure they were not easily followed. He sighed deeply. “Commander, I hope your rules aren’t the death of us. Or of you.” He turned and went back inside, deciding to walk to the war room. He needed time.

[fanfic-collection]

Loki x Reader: Apocalypse ch 3

As promised, please comment/like/reblog, anything

rebel4fandom

-

You begrudgingly left the warmth of your apartment. Thinking of Tony, and his friends that you had known, you knew you were able to do more than just huddle in the warmth of your living space.

The next several hours passed with you stomping through the halls, pounding on doors and seeing if anyone was still inside your building. To your relief, it was empty.

So, bracing against the bitter winds, you stepped outside and into the street, making your way to the next building over. Thus, you continued the process. Eventually, you found a small family, hunkered down in their family room. You pleaded for them to go to one of the shelters and with much persuasion and assurance that Tony Stark thought it was the right thing to do. The Avengers all supported it, after all, you convinced them to bundle up and follow you to brace the cold.

The trek to the shelter was long and arduous. You helped keep the weaker members of the family upright, blocking them from the buffeting wind that whipped through the city streets among the skyscrapers. Abandoned cars lined the streets, some with doors left open and snow piling up inside.

It seemed the snow had stopped today, but the wind still whipped up the snow into flurries, creating near white out conditions. You had your face bundled and had managed to scavenge ski goggles but the people you led were not nearly as lucky, you knew some of them were following you blindly. Some of them were stumbling over garbage, fire hydrants, city decorations, and objects you prayed were not dead bodies.

When at last you finally reached the shelter, the people running the shelter thanked you with a warm drink. They were grateful for more living people, but you knew it was filled to capacity and more mouths to feed meant less supplies for everyone else.

The number of living residents you found each day was quickly dwindling, it was only a week in.

Today as you sat inside the shelter, warming up from your trek, you saw another rescuer leading victims in. The Black Widow herself.

“I’m used to Russian winters but damn.” She said stamping her feet in the entrance to the area, her teeth rattling. “Alright it’s been years, but still.” She was shouting over the howl of the wind.

They ushered her inside, closer to where you were sitting with your mug of hot water.

“Hey, aren’t you Stark’s, uh?”

“Cousin or something, yea.” You nodded, telling her your name and holding your hand out to introduce yourself.

“I remember seeing you around the tower and the compound occasionally.” Natasha nodded, “Nice to see a familiar face.” She smiled at you, lowering her scarf and raising her goggles. “Feel like I’m going to have to crawl into a dead tauntaun out there or something.”

“Star Wars?” You laughed.

She shrugged with a grin. “Hey, anything to stay warm. I don’t really see much of anyone these days, we’re spread out so much trying to see how many people we can save around the world while we have the big guns figuring out what’s causing this.”

“Dr. Strange?”

“Yea, without his infinity stone, he’s a lot weaker.”

You nodded, “Shame about that.”

“I’m not complaining too much.” Nat chuckled weakly.

“Fair point.”

Natasha stretched her arms, “Even this bitter cold reminds me I’m alive.”

“We’re all glad you are.”

“There’s quite a few people that are alive again after that blip that we thought would stay dead.” Natasha said thoughtfully.

You nodded, “Yea, it’s weird how some of our biggest enemies became our friends too. Like what’s his name, Peter Quill? He was enemies with that Nebula girl, and then she became their closest ally, and Gamora vanished but, actually I’m not sure how that worked.”

Natasha shook her head, “Yea, you’d have to ask them.” She tapped her chin thoughtfully, “Although, when Thor said his brother sacrificed himself to stop the initial invasion of Thanos?”

You smiled, “I remember him being here for a bit, right?”

Natasha paused then slowly drew out the word, “Yes… He was, wasn’t he?”

“He came here to recover, Asgard didn’t want him, but they gave the Avengers the means to heal him.”

“Just the initial healing, once he could stand, he went back to Asgard. Right?”

“Yea, I talked with him a bit. He really wasn’t what people made him out to be.”

Natasha raised her eyebrow. “Tell that to Clint.”

“I’m not saying Clint shouldn’t hate him, I’m just saying, Loki well, he doesn’t have a silver spoon up his ass like I thought he did.”

Nat quirked her head.

“Some master spy, you think you’d interrogate him and get more out of him. Honestly you seemed to only get what you wanted out of him when you interrogated him.”

“Oh he definitely got in your head, what did he do to you?”

“Nothing!” You held up your hands, “I’m all me. I just, it seems kinda convenient that he talked only about the Hulk and the one thing he gets you to think about is the Hulk. Hardly seems like a stretch that you would draw a conclusion that his plan was about the Hulk.”

Natasha frowned and furrowed her brow, “Are you saying we shouldn’t have trusted Loki and not let them take him back to Asgard and should have kept him weak and in chains?”

You scrambled upright from your relaxed position. “No, no, no! I just, I kept thinking about the interrogation tapes and it seemed really bad spy work.”

Natasha huffed.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t…”

“I’m going to go look for others, maybe my shoddy work will help elsewhere.” Natasha set down her warm drink and she stalked off.

One of the nearby workers looked at you and shook their head. “Smooth.”

You scowled at them. Downing the last of your drink that it almost scalded your throat, you slammed it on the table and walked out after Natasha, sure to walk in another direction.

-

When the sun started to get lower in the sky, you hurried back to your apartment. There was no chance of risking being out at night. Any exposure in the dark would be instant hypothermia. Being alone at night was instant death. Thankfully it was still July so the days were longer, and you had more time to get back to your home, but you did not risk any amount of time in the dark.

Getting back to your home you settled back into bed, trying to thaw out and shiver yourself back to life. The heat croaked to life and you looked at the supplies you had collected to sustain yourself. It wasn’t much, but it would keep you going.

Swallowing hard, you turned on the TV and waited to see what news might bring.

A man was being interviewed, some sort of wild animal attack. No. Something else. You recognized Falcon on TV, the new Captain America. He was trying to talk to a survivor in a med unit. The survivor was near catatonic, covered in frost bite and mumbling in horror.

“Get the camera away from him, he’s not gonna talk if you keep shoving that thing in his face.” Sam grumbled.

The camera pulled away but the mic stayed close to Sam.

“Listen, just tell me what happened. Please, this isn’t the first attack, but you’re our first survivor. We need to know what’s happening. You’re ok, I’m Captain America, Falcon, call me Sam, whatever you want, I’m here and I’ll protect you.” Sam bent down and took their bandaged hand in his.

The man stared at Sam blankly, eyes staring into the distance, “They-they,” He stammered, “it… them… those things… they killed my whole family.”

Sam nodded, “I’m so sorry for your loss. Please, anything you remember, what they look like, sound like, anything.”

The man whispered, “Monsters.”

A roar of protests exploded as the press filling the room rushed forward trying to press microphones at Sam and the victim.

You could see the look of exasperation in Sam’s eyes at the press as the victim succumbed to exhaustion, or pain, though you were thankful the heart monitor showed him alive.

Abruptly a gold sparkling circle appeared in the room and the media jumped back in fright. A man you recognized as Dr. Strange stepped out.

“I’m a doctor.” Strange announced. “I’ll be taking over this case.”

Sam rolled his eyes.

“Everyone out.” Strange dragged out the ‘e’ in everyone.

And then the camera was in a hospital lobby. And you realized you were on your knees in bed, leaning towards the TV trying to know what had just happened, completely bewildered and about a hundred times more frightened.

More than just the cold was killing people?

[notapaladin]

Obsidian and Blood, an overview

Do you like fantasy? Do you like mysteries? Do you like Mesoamerican mythology? Do you like ALL OF THOSE THINGS TOGETHER, set against the lush backdrop of Tenochtitlan in 1480? (Or maybe you just want to know more about the series I have been going feral over since August.) Then buckle up, because oh boy have I got a series for you!

*drumroll, please*

OBSIDIAN AND BLOOD, written by Aliette de Bodard (better known for her Xuya and Dominion of the Fallen series)

There are two kinds of people: Those who see the words “Aztec fantasy/murder mysteries set in very well-researched 1480s Tenochtitlan BUT WITH MAGIC, investigated by the HIGH PRIEST OF THE GOD OF DEATH” and immediately ran off to buy them, and those who clearly need convincing. So here I am, shamelessly plugging my new hyperfixation!

Obsidian and Blood consists of three semi-standalone novels and three (free!) prequel short stories, all featuring 30-year-old Acatl as our first-person POV mystery solver. Acatl is not, however, your average historical detective; aside from being set firmly in Tenochtitlan in 1480 with all that implies re. the acceptability of slavery and human sacrifice, he also is the High Priest of Mictlantecuhtli in a universe where the gods regularly meddle in mortal affairs and magic spells are powered largely by rituals and blood—animal, human, or your own. You’d think this would make Acatl really, really good at solving murders, but you’d be wrong. He is the least of the Triple Alliance’s three High Priests, and his god doesn’t come at his servant’s beck and call. Not to mention the other gods, who have their own deadly agendas. That’s not even getting into the people around him, who might be the most dangerous of all. Luckily, he has more allies than he thinks—if he has the strength to actually reach out to them and admit he could use the help!

(He doesn’t need to reach out to his student Teomitl. Teomitl, a confident young warrior of imperial blood, keeps volunteering. This gives Acatl roughly one heart attack per book.)

You will like them if…

I did just say “magic murder mysteries in 1480s Tenochtitlan,” right? It’s real Precolumbian Mexico hours up in here! The history of the Aztec Empire and their Triple Alliance actually forms multiple key plot points throughout the series!

you’re into Aztec history/culture in general

if a DnD fan, you are REALLY into the Raven Queen

you think blood magic is super cool and wish it wasn’t treated as the realm of The Bad Guys

you get incredibly hyped over lesser-known mythologies treated respectfully but also very awesomely (the thing where the Aztecs thought human sacrifice kept the sun in the sky? Yeah, in this universe it is literally true and plot-relevant)

you are big into chaste heroes, lots of snarky asides, highly opinionated narrators who let their own prejudices destroy them, “from an outside perspective this is cosmic horror but for the characters it is a Tuesday,” mysteries with twists you will NOT see coming, and themes of trauma/memories/family legacies

you love reading about dysfunctional family relationships in various states of repair/further destruction

you’ve ever thought “hey this historical mystery is cool but what if there was MAGIC”

you like noir detective stories but want them with magic

you like urban fantasy but want them to have historical settings instead of vaguely modern-day ones

Plot/character summaries below!

SHORT STORIES (prequels to the novels, blurbs by me)

Obsidian Shards

Warriors have been found dead in the town of Colhuacan, obsidian shards embedded in their hearts. Acatl, priest of Mictlantecuhtli, suspects a creature of the Underworld—one he already calls a foe, for it slew his first and last apprentice.

Beneath the Mask

In the Tenochtitlan suburb of Coyoacan, Acatl’s childhood friend Huchimitl begs him to save her only son’s war captive; the man whose sacrifice will make the boy a proper warrior is paralyzed from an unknown curse, unable even to rise from the floor. But who could have cursed him, and is it connected to the mask Huchimitl now wears?

Safe, Child, Safe

A toddler is slowly wasting away, the mark of the Underworld on him, and Acatl is tasked with finding the cause. But no creature of the Underworld kills so slowly, and so Acatl must turn his investigation to the living.

THE BOOKS (blurbs taken directly from the book listings, you don’t HAVE to read them in order but I do recommend it)

Servant of the Underworld

Year One-Knife, Tenochtitlan; the capital of the Mexica Empire. Human sacrifice and the magic of living blood are the only things keeping the sun in the sky and the earth fertile. A Priestess disappears from an empty room drenched in blood. It should be a usual investigation for Acatl, High Priest of the Dead—except that his estranged brother is involved, and the more he digs, the deeper he is drawn into the political and magical intrigues of noblemen, soldiers, and priests—and of the gods themselves...

(Neutemoc: I didn't mean to sleep with her! It was an accident! Acatl: I don't understand. Did you trip?) (Acatl: I don't want a new apprentice! Teomitl: :D? Acatl: ...I will make an exception)

Harbinger of the Storm

The year is Two House, and the Emperor of the Mexica has just died. The protections he afforded the Empire are crumbling, and the way lies wide open to flesh-eating star-demons—and to the return of their creator, a malevolent goddess only held in check by the War God's power. The council should convene to choose a new Emperor, but they are too busy plotting against each other. And then someone starts summoning star-demons within the palace, to kill councilmen...Acatl, High Priest of the Dead, must find the culprit before everything is torn apart.

(Teomitl: I've only had Acatl and Mihmatini for a year, but if anything happens to them I'll kill everyone in this room and then myself) (Quenami: Playing With The Big Boys.mp3)

Master of the House of Darts

The year is Three Rabbit, and the storm is coming. The Mexica Empire now has a new Emperor, but his coronation war has just ended in a failure: the armies have retreated with a paltry forty prisoners of war, not near enough sacrifices to satisfy the gods. Acatl, High Priest for the Dead, has no desire to involve himself yet again in the intrigues of the powerful. However, when one of the prisoners dies of a magical illness, he has little choice but to investigate. For it is only one death, but it will not be the last. As the bodies pile up and the imperial court tears itself apart, dragging Teomitl, Acatl's beloved student, into the eye of the storm, the High Priest for the Dead is going to have to choose whom he can afford to trust; and where, in the end, his loyalties ultimately lie...

(Teomitl: I am no longer Baby I want Power) (Acatl, to Teomitl: What have you got there? Nezahual, gleefully: A coup! Acatl: NO!)

THE MAIN CHARACTERS (in order of appearance)

ACATL “By my face and by my heart, I’ll bring you justice.” High Priest of Mictlantecuhtli, god of death and the underworld. As such, his duties include both the obvious ones of arranging funerals and standing vigils for the dead, and the less obvious ones of investigating magical crimes and keeping the boundaries between the heavens, Earth, and the underworld intact. When Servant of the Underworld begins, he’s only recently been promoted and hates it. Has a strained relationship with his living family, due largely to not having lived up to his (dead) parents’ desires for him to become a warrior like his brother Neutemoc. Bitter, cynical, and grumpy, but devoted to justice and fairness.

Has an official character sheet.

CEYAXOCHITL “Everyone has to grow up and take responsibilities. Even small, humble priests.” Guardian of the Sacred Precinct and wielder of the power of the Duality (Ometeotl), which makes her the sworn protector of the Mexica Empire and its Revered Speaker from all sorts of mainly-magical threats. Somewhat past middle age but still very strong in her magical abilities, and something of an antagonistic mentor to Acatl. (She nominated him for the position of High Priest. He is not appreciative.) Serious and devoted to her duty, with a keen eye for potential in others. Dies in Harbinger of the Storm and you WILL cry.

NEUTEMOC “Priests hide and run away. Warriors don’t.” Acatl’s older brother, a Jaguar Knight with five children and a failing marriage. Resents Acatl for not helping to support their aging parents by becoming a warrior like he did. The central suspect during most of Servant of the Underworld’s plot, though by the end he and Acatl have begun to repair their relationship. He is strict, stern, and bitter, but truly loves his family. (In the case of his younger brother, that love is buried very deep down.)

TEOMITL “If we don’t believe in ourselves, who is going to?” Acatl’s student, an enthusiastic warrior who yearns to prove himself worthy of his power and noble rank, as well as live up to the memory of the mother who died birthing him. During Servant of the Underworld he swears himself to Chalchiuhtlicue, goddess of fresh water and lakes, gaining (among other things) command over the man-eating water monsters called ahuitzotls. He is courting Mihmatini during Harbinger of the Storm; by the time Master of the House of Darts takes place, they are married. He is abrasive and proud, but also honest, loyal, and brave. And very, very ambitious. You will want to punch him several times. This is normal. (Also, I will swear that it's not just my ship-goggles being on too tight that has me thinking his relationship with Acatl is much more weighty and personal than the one he has with his ACTUAL WIFE.)

MIHMATINI “Better laugh, and smile at the flowers and jade. Life is too short to be spent grieving.” Acatl and Neutemoc’s youngest sister, a powerful magic-user who finds herself thrust into the position of Guardian during Harbinger of the Storm. Though she has no great ambitions herself—she mostly just wants to be a mother and raise children—she is ferociously protective of her family and will fight anything that threatens them. Even themselves. (Especially themselves.) Kind, caring, and light-hearted, but her acid tongue and sharp temper are not to be dismissed. "Fuck Around And Find Out" given human form.

ACAMAPICHTLI “We have always endured.” High priest of Tlaloc and a reoccurring thorn in Acatl’s side. Though he’s primarily out for his own gain and has no patience for Acatl’s refusal to play on the field of Imperial politics, they eventually form something like an uneasy truce following the end of Harbinger of the Storm. He is snarky and sardonic, but truly cares for his clergy. During Master of the House of Darts he somehow became one of my favorite characters.

TIZOC "I've always known that priests couldn't be trusted. You have just exceeded my expectations." Teomitl’s older brother, first Master of the House of Darts and then Revered Speaker. (Look, it’s not a spoiler if you can Google it.) He is cowardly, ambitious, and the closest thing this series has to an overarching antagonist. Among other things, tries to have Acatl executed during Harbinger of the Storm. Events at the end of that book only manage to make him measurably worse. "Ah There He Is, That Motherfucker, What A Tool" #1.

QUENAMI “Oh, Acatl. Such lack of tact. You are so unsuited for the Court.” High Priest of Huitzilpochtli, appointed by Tizoc between Servant of the Underworld and Harbinger of the Storm. Comes from a noble family, and is much better at diplomacy and playing politics than he is at magic. When push comes to shove, however, he can display some surprising determination. He is arrogant, scheming, and takes joy in cutting Acatl down, but presumably has some good qualities...somewhere. "Ah There He Is, That Motherfucker, What A Tool" #2.

Maps of the series’ primary setting

Setting Primers

Official Character Index

Glossary

[agoddamn]

Oh, it's that little Bonteri shit again. Wonder if we're at any time gonna talk about his mom's support for Care Bear genocide or the hilarity of her whining about her husband killed by clones (people with no rights)?

Star Wars is doing that funny thing again where we are TECHNICALLY portraying a democracy but it populates it with characters that run on dynastic inheritance; this Bonteri brat is LITERALLY just Some Fuckin Kid to a bunch of politicians. His mom being a politician is completely irrelevant to his qualifications to be here. But, y'know, The Drama

"We can't just let them take him! He'll be killed!" well maybe if you didn't let RANDOM FUCKING CHILDREN into critical negotiations...

Hang on, why did the droids drag him away anyway? This is being hosted on Mandalore BECAUSE it's neutral. That means that Mandalore's security is supposed to be enforcing the rules.

Am I gonna have to put up with comphet again?

Wait, he ACTUALLY has the title of senator? Even though he's like fourteen? How--ah, what the fuck ever

I do like how Ahsoka has these consistent little...gremlin animations

The backs of these purple senate guards are identical to clone trooper backs (rectangular pack with two lines and a circle on it, cylinder in small of back) because mold reuse is the true king of design

This is legit How You Can Tell how much a series's sense of design leans towards the toyetic; characters designed around being able to share the same mold for major body parts. You also see this a lot in Kamen Rider and Super Sentai, where goons will tend to have a copied chestpiece with unique helmet.

Is this sword logo on the chairs Mandalore's? This ship doesn't look all that art deco, and it was being run by R2, and the senate guards were outside it

This kid is not very smart huh

"There is another option" is it terrorism?

"Like [the Republic] helped my mother?!" you do remember that your mother was not part of the Republic and killed by DOOKU without any chance for the Republic to do anything, right...?

Like, this is a perfectly normal way to process grief but I'd appreciate it if someone pointed out how irrational it is

"a group who are noble and allied with my cause" ah yes, terrorism

How much longer til this little shit dies

[fake shock] Oh my goodness, terrorists!

Ahsoka's winter hood with the montral pockets and little puffballs is really fucking cute

There's often an implication/outright statement in fic that Mandalorian armor is androgynous but that is definitely not the case with what I'm looking at

There's not a whole lotta consistency with Mandalorian names, is there? "Satine" and "Bo-Katan" don't sound like they came from the same planet

Why do I have to deal with a fake relationship plot with Ahsoka and some walking, talking spoiled milk rather than literally anyone fucking else

.............so Bo-Katan's a lesbian

>Mandalorians are bullying droids and this is supposed to be ominous regardless of the fact that our heroes bully droids 24/7

WHATEVER

Death Watch doesn't recognize Ahsoka? Wasn't she pretty publicly involved in ruining their plans?

"Tell your woman to leave us" oh these guys sound VERY egalitarian and not sexist at ALL

Love how these guys are bragging about having Dooku's location as if that information isn't several hours outdated by now and Dooku isn't a guy who moves around a lot

"We are battle droids no longer. Now we are slaves." NOW? Oh, whatever

These guys look vaguely Mongolian? The girl's facial decos made me think Mirialan for a second, but I think they're new. In a very weird cultural appropriation boomerang, this dude's hat looks like Amidala's

"You have taken our women" ...oh, I was not expecting the rape implications to be that, uh, not-implied

So traditionalist Mandos are DEFINITELY pretty fucking misogynist

>there's not even an animation of Ahsoka taking her coat off, it just vanishes between frames

Goddamn, this really does drag when everything that's going to happen is so blatantly choreographed

I'm tired of Deus Ex Artoo

What kind of shitty terrorists don't even bother to take a ship that was parked on their front lawn?

"You know I can't go with you" LITERALLY why??? He hasn't committed any crimes by Republic standards. He's got valuable info on a terrorist group. He has similar goals to Ahsoka and he's just proven himself quite fucking incompetent on his own.

"We could try to change things from the inside" LITERALLY WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?? Dooku is a SITH, there is no "changing from the inside" with that shit!

"We make a pretty good team, don't we?" No

"We'll see each other again" FUCK

[blueburds]

Companion: Altrethir Valran - a continuation

First off i’m so glad yall have enjoyed that follower meme <3 second, i saw a few that had bonus details such as companion gifts and a character bio! figured that’d be fun to do for Altrethir. ALSO i included some random dialogue that i thought might be fun. implications of a random questline i made up are present throughout the dialogue.

original post is here. this will be an addition to that! i’ll be writing this as though he’s an Onslaught companion for a Republic character.

NAME: Altrethir (full: Lord Altrethir Valran) GENDER: Male SPECIES: Twi’lek AGE: 36 OCCUPATION: Inquisitor (Force-user) AFFILIATION: The Galactic Republic LIKES: Luxury, justice, learning of ancient artifacts. DISLIKES: Recklessness, close-mindedness, cold weather. GIFTS: Luxury(Love), Cultural(Favorite), Delicacies(Favorite), Weapon(Like), Imperial (Like).

BIO: Since his late teenage years, Altrethir possessed a strong connection to the Force. He was recruited to the Korriban Academy and trained to become a Lord of the Sith. Altrethir wholly trusted in the Force; he always had faith in its guidance. And when the Force wanted to go down a different path, he listened.

The Sith Empire’s ideals didn’t align with his own whereas the Republic would have fought for them. He defected and began to seek balance in the Force. Not Jedi, nor Sith any longer, Altrethir simply adopted the title of “Inquisitor” to suit him.

DIALOGUE CONVERSATIONS:

(First meeting)

Altrethir: “Greetings, Commander. I have heard... phenomenal things concerning your work. It is an honor to meet you in-person.”

Good to meet you, too. -- “’Phenomenal’ is certainly a way of putting it. I trust we’ll work well together.”

Altrethir: “As do I. With pleasantries aside, let us brief you on the mission.”

[Flirt] The pleasure is mine. -- “I’d love to hear exactly what you’ve heard about me. But, I think I’d also love to hear more about you.”

Altrethir: “Of course--but perhaps once the issue at hand has been settled.”

You’re Imperial? -- (Force-users): “You’re Sith--I can sense the darkness of your aura.”    (Non-Force-users): “The Republic’s relying on defectors now? I don’t know if I can trust you.”

Altrethir: (To Force-users): “I have harnessed control of the Dark Side; never again shall it back me into a corner.”     (To non-Force-users): “The Republic fights for freedom and justice. I want nothing more than that for my people.”

(Post-mission conversation dialogue)

Altrethir: “Reports say that the Empire’s swollen pride has taken a hard blow.” “You’ve done incredibly well--better than I could have anticipated. I never had my doubts.”

It was a hard-won victory. -- “Many innocent lives were lost. The choice was a difficult one, and not one I made lightly.”

Altrethir: “I do not blame you. Civilian casualties are inevitable in war, but minimalizing them should be a priority.”

[Flirt] It was better in-person. -- “You should’ve been there. I would have loved to see you in action.”

Altrethir: “I am a man of many talents. In this particular scenario, my non-combatant skills were needed elsewhere.”

They had it coming. -- (Republic class PC’s) “I’ve fought the Empire for years. It always feels good to hit them where it hurts most.”     (Imperial class PC’s) “No one knows what it takes to wound the Empire more than I do. I hit them where it hurt most.”

Altrethir: “We mustn’t gloss over the amount of civilian damage caused by our mission. Imperial or Republic, civilians should never be caught in the cross-fire of military operations.”

(New mission dialogue)

Altrethir: “Commander.” “An opportunity to send a message to the Empire’s allies has arisen.” “Members of the Hutt Cartel have shifted their allegiance, abandoning their former Republic allies in favor of the Empire.” “Imperial-loyal Hutts have taken members who are still loyal to the Republic hostage. By launching a rescue mission, we will succeed in showing our allies that we don’t abandon our own, nor do we tolerate vicious threats the Empire makes.”

Let’s go. -- “The Hutts are powerful allies and none we can afford to lose. Where do we go from here?”

Altrethir: “Nar Shaddaa. A place you could’ve guessed yourself, hm?”

You don’t like Hutts? -- “Given what you’ve told me about your past, I don’t see you willingly putting yourself at risk to save Hutts.”

Altrethir: “This is a matter of saving useful allies of the Republic. Not about my own personal distaste.”

Leave them to rot. -- “Hutt business always goes sour. We wouldn’t lose much by letting them go.”

Altrethir: “If my calculations proved that to be the case, then I would never have brought this matter to your attention. But the Republic needs these Hutts.”

(continued) Altrethir: “I shall be joining you on this mission. I’ll present you with more details during the ride there.”

(First time on Odessen)

Altrethir: “Such a marvelous world; the Force is in balance.” “While its aura is not fiery like that of Korriban, nor is it soothing like Tython, it feels... neutral. I am content.”

Ideal for the Alliance. -- “The Eternal Alliance is made up of people from all sorts of backgrounds. Jedi, Sith, some in between--such as the defected Knights of Zakuul. Odessen’s neutrality probably helped everyone feel safer.”

Altrethir: “Indeed. The subject piques my interest. Perhaps I should do some independent research on the matter later.”

[Flirt] You want a tour? -- “The base is pretty big, but the wilds are where the real beauty and charm lie. I should show you around.”

Altrethir: “And I would not object. Your company has been ever pleasant.”

I don’t care. -- “There’s got to be something better on your mind than that.”

Altrethir: “Matters concerning the Force are always something worth thinking critically about.”

(continued) Altrethir: “I am inclined to speak to the leader of your Force Enclave: The Voss Mystic, Sana-Rae.” “If there is nothing else for now, Commander, I shall be heading on my way.”

Go ahead -- “I’ll see you around. You know the way?”

Altrethir: “I do. Farewell for now, Commander.”

[Flirt] I’d rather show you around. -- “My offer for a tour’s still open, Altrethir. You sure you don’t want just a quick look around?”

Altrethir: “Since you are quite insistent, it would be rude of me to decline. Shall I meet with you somewhere after I’ve concluded my business?”

PC: "My personal landing zone will do just fine.”

Altrethir: “Then I shall be no longer than twenty minutes.” “I will see you then.”

(Continued scene, prompted from flirting)

Altrethir: “You were right; the wilds are utterly gorgeous. While perhaps a bit warmer in temperature, I daresay they remind me of Alderaan.”

PC: “Have you been to many worlds?”

Altrethir: “I have, yes. Once my old Sith Master granted me the freedom to travel where I pleased, I abused that power.” “After being chained and enslaved for the first twenty or so years of my life, I wanted to see everything the Galaxy had to offer.”

You weren’t only a slave to the Hutts. -- “Knowing the Sith hierarchy, you traded one master for another.”

Altrethir: “I do not disagree. Still, Lord Sen’tulo--my late Sith Master--granted me a level of freedom I’d never experienced before. I was grateful for that much.”

You fought for the wrong side. -- “The Empire openly oppresses people--aliens especially. Why waste so much time with them? Why didn’t you defect sooner?”

Altrethir: “I wanted to prove that success could be achieved no matter one’s species. By becoming a Lord of the Sith, I spat in the face of those who tried to drag me down throughout my endeavor.”

Sith Master? -- “You haven’t mentioned this Master before. What were they like?”

Altrethir: “Lord Sen’tulo was an honorable woman. Rational, level-headed, logical. Stern, but held compassion. She broke several Sith stereotypes. Perhaps that was what lead to her ultimate downfall.”

(continued) Altrethir: “Freedom is important to me. I cannot bear to see innocent individuals shackled as slaves.” “I know what that cruel life is like first-hand. Initially, I sought to use my position of power in the Empire to find an end to slavery. My desire clouded my judgement.” “The only way to end the practice was to fight against it. Thus, I defected.”

A noble cause. -- “I can tell how important your ideals are to you. You did the right thing.”

Altrethir: “Who determines what is right or what is wrong is irrelevant. But--I understand your meaning. I did what I believe was right.”

Position of power? -- “Just how powerful of a Sith were you before turning to the Republic?”

Altrethir: “A Darth, but not on the Dark Council. I nearly reached the position when I had my revelation.”

The Republic’s wary. -- “The Sith are ancient enemies of the Republic and the Jedi. Do they wholly trust you?”

Altrethir: “I would imagine there are many who don’t. But the team I work with does--they are all I need to prove my loyalty.”

(continued) Altrethir: “Your hospitality has been greatly appreciated, Commander.” “Though we’ve known one another for a relatively short period of time, I speak truthfully when I say I’ve enjoyed every moment of your company. You are quite the inspiring leader.”

[Kiss] So have I. -- “And I’ve enjoyed your company.”

(post-kiss) Altrethir: “Commander, you are as charming as you are alluring.”

We should head back. -- “It’s been nice. We should be heading back, though.”

“I concur. Thank you for this time to speak with you; it has been a pleasure.”

[plumoh]

[FEH] weight

Rating: G

Word count: 2715

Summary: After spending time together, and realizing they have more in common than he initially believed, Roy thinks he and Annette are cut from the same cloth.

Note: AO3 link. I believe Roy and Annette would be very good friends and will find in each other companionship...they’re good kids. No spoilers for either game.

“Is this not… your preferred weapon?”

“Oh, not at all! My uncle sent me to the School of Sorcery, where I study hard. I was put through some axe training because of my family’s relic, but I’d rather fight with my spells than fight with… this.”

Annette gestures at the giant axe that is lying on the ground while they’re resting in-between treasure hunting sessions, her face twisted in something akin to embarrassment. Roy glances at the wiggling teeth and shudders; yeah, he wouldn’t want to wield this weapon either.

“I’ve never seen a weapon quite like that,” he says.

“Crusher isn’t the worst, trust me. Sylvain wasn’t summoned with his family’s relic, but the Lance of Ruin is terrifying and seems straight out of a nightmare.”

Fódlan’s sacred weapons look like they were cursed instead of blessed by the Goddess—nobody in their right mind would look at them and think they weren’t going to have half their energy sucked dry. Roy has been in Askr long enough to know some heroes are being corrupted by their own powers, and he doesn’t wish it on anyone who still has the chance to keep them in check.

Today’s hunting spot is near a cliff, where they’re supposed to gather materials to upgrade their armors, as usual; with so many heroes arriving each day, Kiran is determined to welcome them as best as possible with fitted armors and spare weapons in case something goes wrong with the weapon they were summoned with. It usually takes a while before anyone has to change their weapon, but they can never be too safe.

Roy is picking at some grass blades as he listens to Prince Leo and Peony talk about specific species of flowers good for insomnia, and he can’t help thinking that the words leaving Prince Leo’s mouth are from experience, rather than simple knowledge. They’ve stumbled upon each other many a time in the library at night, when both of them should be in bed resting instead of doing whatever research or studying they were up to—not that anyone else knows, of course.

“Have you studied magic, Lord Roy?” Annette asks with a small smile, apparently eager to talk about a subject she’s well versed in.

Roy frowns. “You can call me Roy.”

Annette’s eyes narrow and she shakes her head. “That wouldn’t be proper, you’re a noble from another country!”

“But you let me call you Annette, would you rather I call you Lady Annette?”

“You’re a Marquess’s son!”

“From what I’ve gathered Sylvain is a Margrave’s son, our statuses are the same, and you call him Sylvain!”

“...I haven’t thought about that.”

Roy resists the urge to groan. Why is it so hard for people to simply call him by his name?

Annette’s face is pinched, like she cannot determine whether it truly makes sense for her to be informal with people she’s fighting alongside with. Roy thought that people his age would also prefer be addressed casually by their friends and allies.

“Alright, I guess you’re right… Roy,” Annette says tentatively.

Roy smiles. “See, isn’t this better? There’s no need to follow etiquette so closely between friends.”

“I might take some time to get used to it...”

“That’s fine, don’t worry.”

Annette nods, still a bit anxious about it but Roy has learned that it’s just her simple state of being—worrying over everything and anything, making sure that she is doing her job correctly and that she isn’t inadvertently inconveniencing anyone. Well, at least he understands her desire to work hard to be as helpful as possible.

“To answer your question, I did study magic, but I’m not very good at it,” he admits. “My teacher was Cecilia. Lilina and I were her students, but she was much more talented than I was.”

Recalling those memories always brings a small tinge of disappointment; he logically knows that some people are naturally compatible with magic, and others are not, but he can’t help feeling a bit envious of anyone wielding a weapon in one hand and shooting spells with the other.

“Do you want to pursue it? We could study together!”

“I don’t think we’d be reading the same level of material,” Roy chuckles. “That would be wonderful, but I think it’s better if I keep training with the sword, which is a weapon that I understand better.”

He also doesn’t know if studying magic now would yield more results than it did years ago.

“Focusing on what you’re best at...” Annette mumbles. “Well, if you change your mind, I’ll gladly help you.”

Annette smiles at him, eager and kind, and Roy mirrors her expression.

***

It’s almost comical to see Annette and Lord Hector training together, swinging an axe at full force for a strength exercise. The Hector from Roy’s time is much bigger and cuts an even more imposing figure, but even in his youth he was a feared and powerful warrior. Lifting the weapon and tearing through dummies isn’t a struggle at all for Annette, despite her claim that she isn’t proficient enough in axes to be fully reliant in battle. Her support has been more invaluable than she thinks.

Lord Hector is laughing and clapping her on the shoulder, seemingly satisfied with the progress she’s making. Roy wonders if Lilina would train with an axe if it meant spending time with her father this way.

Annette dips her head and thanks Lord Hector, and they keep practicing more drills. Roy decides that he’s taken a long enough break and focuses back on the training dummy, shifting his sword and positioning it like a rapier for quick and nimble attacks. He’s wielded the Binding Blade for so long that he has almost forgotten how to fight with a lighter and thinner blade—it feels exhilarating to revert back to a stance his body is used to. He has used his time in Askr to polish his skills and to get accustomed to the heavy weight of the Binding Blade; he still has much to learn, especially from heroes more experienced than him who will provide useful insight about tactics and the battlefield, so he can’t relax just yet.

***

“I’m not as good at baking as Mercie, but I promise they’re tasty!”

Annette is shoving some berry tarts at him, eyes sparkling and face full of anticipation. She took it upon herself to find what kind of food the people of the army likes, and apparently it also includes desserts and sweets. Roy doesn’t particularly like sweets, but refusing such a treat baked with passion wouldn’t be courteous of him. He smiles at Annette and takes the tart, and chews slowly. Oh, that might be a good idea, actually.

“I like it,” he says sincerely. “It’s not too sweet.”

“I’m glad to hear that! I still have plenty of recipes to try for all kinds of occasions, I hope that the others will enjoy them too.” She pauses, then pinches her chin between her fingers. “Muffins are a good way to find what stuffing people like...”

Roy shakes his head, a bit amused.

“Do you always go to such lengths for other people?”

Annette’s face relaxes and looks just as warm as her voice sounds.

“I’m told I do too much, sometimes, but I can’t help it. I have to give my all in everything I do, and this includes making sure that my friends get moments of joy, too. And pastries always cheer people up! Well, most people.”

This, Roy understands; to be pushed by the drive of accomplishment, to please and to ensure everyone is happy and comfortable. In times of war, even the smallest attention can bring a smile on someone’s face, because there is still kindness in people’s hearts, despite everything. This is what Roy wants to believe, and Annette seems to share this point of view.

“You are a good person, Annette.”

Annette laughs, frantically waving her hands in front of her face. “I’m just doing what I can. I’m so clumsy that I’m relieved I haven’t caused any major incident yet.”

“Surely it isn’t as disastrous as you think it is?”

She makes a face. “I’m probably cursed to trip over a barrel even when I checked the halls were empty.”

He doesn’t mean to offend her in any way, but Roy chuckles at the image this conjures up. Annette crosses her arms over chest and frowns at him. She looks stern and ready to chew him out for laughing at her accidents, so Roy quickly composes himself.

“I’m sorry, mocking you wasn’t my intention,” he assures her. “Please be more careful, we wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”

“We should get rid of barrels,” Annette mutters.

“How would we contain wine and other liquids then?”

The question seems to actually spark an interest in Annette as she keeps frowning, but her face takes on a contemplative air. Roy rubs the back of his neck.

“Um, do you have more of those berry tarts? I think Wolt will enjoy them.”

“Oh! Of course, come with me.”

Annette takes his arm and drags him to the kitchens, and Roy can’t help feeling completely at ease, finding Annette’s enthusiasm and energy refreshing.

***

Sitting at a table in the quiet gardens, Roy is flipping through his battle tactics notebook when he’s jerked to the side and almost falls out of his chair.

“Roy, I need your help to fight against sword wielders!” Annette exclaims earnestly. “Lord Hector is giving me really good tips but I’m still struggling when a sword is pointed my way. With my magic I’d fight more easily and have faster reaction, but I’m still not used to Crusher and—”

“Woah, Annette, calm down. I accept?”

Annette looks like she hasn’t slept for days and is running on adrenaline or caffeine, but given her sweet tooth Roy doubts she even likes coffee. She sighs in relief.

“Thank you! The Professor is busy and the heroes from my world are already on a mission, so...”

“Don’t worry about it, I’m happy to help.”

And this is how they end up in the training grounds, though they’re using their real weapons instead of training ones. Roy supposes it makes sense; Crusher is hefty, dragging its wielder forward or backward, and seems to be channeled with magic, if the light orange glow is anything to judge by. It’s not a weapon you get accustomed to easily. Annette insisted he use the Binding Blade and to fight like they’re in a real battle—Roy trusts her skills and her strength, but it’s still a sparring session. He doesn’t want her to get hurt because of his carelessness.

Roy has never gone up against Annette before, but he can already tell that she’s a powerful and unpredictable opponent. The swing of her axe isn’t as fast as she probably would like, but she manages to be accurate and hit hard. The Binding Blade comes up to block the attack and pushes back, forcing Annette to step back. Roy tilts his blade and thrusts it towards her side, and before the flat of it touches her, she fully dodges to get out of harm’s way. She immediately springs back into action to smash Crusher over his shoulder, but even with her momentum all she manages to do is graze him.

They keep exchanging blows, parrying and dodging. If it were an actual battle, they most likely wouldn’t have been able to stand for so long without inflicting at least one serious injury. It seems that Annette is trying to prove something, or to assess her opponent. Roy stays silent though, continuing to swing his sword until one of them collapses or draws more blood than a spar would allow. Axe wielders heavily rely on brute force, but Annette is swifter and more nimble than most—her fighting style is almost similar to Echidna’s.

They eventually tire themselves out, and when Roy has the Binding Blade poised to strike Annette across the chest as she can’t lift Crusher in time, they stop.

“Thanks for training with me,” she says, a bit breathless.

Roy wipes beads of sweat on his forehead with the back of his hand, and because nobody is around to see them in this state, he decides to sit right then and there on the ground, gently laying down the Binding Blade and catching his breath.

“Did you manage to figure something out?”

Annette joins him on the ground, nodding.

“I’ve sparred against other people too, and I know that swordmasters tend to thrust and to go for the small openings, so I tried to use what I know against someone I’ve never trained with.”

“It makes sense.”

“That also brings me to the realization that I really do need to get used to Crusher and its power.” Annette rubs the bridge of her nose. “I just don’t understand why I was entrusted with my family’s relic so early. I’m clearly not prepared yet.”

Roy glances at the Binding Blade. Anyone could have met the criteria to wield such a mighty weapon; and yet, it was him who took on the burden to use it. People say that each weapon is unique and alive, and those inhabited by the spirits of warriors and their legacy even more so—those who take up Armads are cursed to die on the battlefield, and this isn’t a hearsay he wants to find out. Annette is looking for answers he wishes he had.

“I think that sometimes we are bestowed gifts that we only see as burdens, because others are putting their faith in us.”

He looks down at his lap where he clenches his fists. He hasn’t thought about this in a long time.

“They trust us to do the right thing, or at the very least that we will when we are able to. It’s like… they expect that our position will grant us the wisdom to do right.”

There are events out of his control, and all he can do is stand on his two feet to show that he won’t disappoint anyone who entrusted their life to him.

Two hands come covering his own, and he looks up to see Annette smiling sadly at him, though there is something like understanding flashing in her eyes.

“We are probably in similar situations, right?” she laughs weakly, as she nods towards the Binding Blade. “Those big weapons in our hands feel heavier than they should. Maybe something bad is going to happen in the future and this is why I was summoned here with Crusher, so that I can get used to it. Maybe it’s like you said, it’s a gift and I refuse to see its value.”

Her hands are warm and reassuring as she squeezes, still keeping her smile on her face even if her voice hasn’t shed its layer of self-doubt. Roy doesn’t think they will ever grow out of doubting their own abilities and worth, unless they learn to live with the expectations piling up on their shoulders. However, it doesn’t mean they can’t start now or take small steps to get there. He returns Annette’s smile and squeezes back.

“Refusing to see the value of the gift doesn’t mean you’re rejecting it. You’re working hard to master Crusher, that counts for something.”

“I suppose. It’s still frustrating to keep going without having answers.” She sighs and shakes her head. “But knowing that I’m not alone in this struggle helps a bit. I have to overcome my own fears.”

“It’s a long journey, but I believe in you. You’re resilient and resourceful.”

The laugh that escapes Annette’s throat is genuine. It’s not full of confidence, and this is not the solution she was seeking, but it’s close to one.

“You have a way with words, Roy! We’ll do our best together.”

Roy’s lips curl into a grin. “Our efforts will pay off, I’m sure of it.”

Annette pats his hands one last time before they get up. She hoists Crusher over her shoulder while Roy sheathes the Binding Blade; the sword is still a persistent weight against his side, one he’s become familiar with, but slowly, steadily, it will become a weight holding the proof of his achievement.

[moonbeambucky]

Know It All

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader [College AU] Word Count: 5300 Warnings: fluff, minor angst

Summary: Your grades and patience are tested when you’re paired together for a class project with the one person you cannot stand, Bucky Barnes.    

A/N: This is my submission for @jaamesbbarnes​ and @sgtjbuccky​ Milestone Celebration Writing Challenge. My prompt was “Looking for trouble, are we?” I cannot thank Sam @buckyofthemyscira​​ enough for being a wonderful beta and helping me get on track when I was so lost with this and to Allie @all1e23​ for her help with a plot conflict. My mind was working against me on this one but I hope it turned out well. gif source (x)

The brisk air of autumn winds fill your lungs as you stepped outside, energizing your body faster than the coffee you finished not long ago. Coffee was practically a requirement as a college student, a must for an early Monday morning class, especially when that class is calculus, taught by the nice but a little stiff and robotic Professor Vision.

Leaves crunch under your boots as you walk to the building for your next class. It’s a short distance away yet still you pick up your pace, huffing as you rush towards Lee Hall so you could get a good seat for your next class which happened to be your favorite.

If there was anyone more excited than you about American History it was Professor Coulson. You had first taken his introductory class a few semesters back and found he had an excellent way of bringing out new details to a subject you thought you were well versed in.

Naturally, when he was teaching another class you needed for your requirements you jumped on the chance at signing up. As you walked into the large lecture hall you glanced to the left, greeting Professor Coulson with a cheerful smile, a smile that dropped the moment you noticed someone was in your seat.

You stomped your way up the steps to get to the fourth row, stopping dead center at the incredibly annoying person you knew was testing your patience.

“Move Barnes, you’re in my seat,” you huffed, arms crossing over your chest.

A sly smirk spread across the face of Bucky Barnes, a person you could sum up in one word, slacker.

“I don’t see your name on this chair, doll.” He winked; a simple gesture that made your anger boil over.

Class was about to begin so you sat down, leaving a seat in between so you didn’t end up in part of MCU history as the girl that strangled a classmate during class.

Bucky was the only damper on an otherwise perfect class. He didn’t take notes, he didn’t participate and he didn’t ever study. If Professor Coulson called on him it was like Bucky had no idea what the class was even doing. He would always stutter as he tried to catch up, turning towards you as he sighed after successfully bullshitting his way through another question; which pissed you off even more, because despite an open lecture hall with plenty of seats Bucky Barnes chose to sit next to you.

It was obvious you were a smart student. Your hand raised every time to be called on, you took amazingly detailed notes and aced every test, which is why you had a feeling a certain someone decided his new spot would be beside you. Cheater.

If he only studied and gave a shit about his grades he wouldn’t have to try to copy off you. Well you made sure he couldn’t. During tests you hunched over your desk, curving your arm around your paper to protect the answers you spent countless hours studying for.

Throughout class you tried to ignore the eyes you felt on you, seeing Bucky’s goofy smile through the corner of your eye. He was not going to succeed in distracting you. Nope.

You were going to continue listening to this lecture about World War II and not at all think about the way Bucky’s bright white teeth stand out against the scruff of his face. He’s probably too lazy to shave just like he’s too lazy to study.

Bucky let out a chuckle when he heard you humph under your breath. His audible laugh caused you to whip your head in his direction, flaring your eyes at him before they rolled back into your head.

“By Wednesday I hope everyone will have read pages 346 to 403 just in case something pops up,” Professor Coulson said, smiling to the large hall.

Grabbing your laptop you placed it neatly in your bag, tucking away a small notepad you kept out just in case and made sure your pens were capped tightly before they went into their own separate compartment.

“Wow, you’re such a nerd.”

You looked up disdainfully at Bucky’s large frame standing over you.

“The world won’t end if you misplace a pen, you know.”

You don’t respond. Tossing your bag over your shoulder you walked down the steps, calling out to Professor Coulson with a big smile as you waved him goodbye.

“Later Phil,” Bucky said as he left.

You rolled your eyes again at his boldness. Sure Professor Coulson said you could call him by his first name but it still seemed inappropriate. Of course Bucky didn’t care.

As you continued walking down the hall, you felt a presence beside you.

“So, are you going out for lunch now or are you going to head to the library like always? There’s plenty of time in the world to study, you could take a little break you know.”

Your lips scrunched together as you frowned, picking up your pace as your feet took you faster to anywhere that was away from Bucky.

“You just gonna ignore me?”

Your fists tightened so hard they were shaking, itching to feel release if you could only punch the smirk off Bucky that you knew he had.

“Doll?”

You spun around immediately, pointing a finger in his face.

“I’m not your doll so stop saying that! Why are you bothering me? We’re not friends. Just stay away from me Barnes.”

Bucky remained in his place as he watched you turn the corner, huffing with anger. His lips stretched out flat, an uneasy smile that gave way to a small frown, wishing things were different.

Professor Vision rambled on for an extra five minutes and would not let the class go, meaning now you had to run to Lee Hall if you were going to be on time for your next class.

Beads of sweat ran down your temple as you finally got into the building, panting as you raced up two flights of stairs. Your heart was pounding like a drum against your chest as you attempted to catch your breath during the power walk to the room.

It was bad enough you were probably going to be late, with eyes on you as walk through the door, now everyone was going to see you looking like a sweaty mess on top of it.

As you pulled the door open expecting the worst you were surprised to find that no one was looking at you. Professor Coulson was addressing the class as he was discussing something he had put up on the large screen.

Even though you wanted to see what it was you needed to take your seat which was surprisingly open. Bucky was sitting in the same row a few seats away but he had left your seat open.

He couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face, watching as you anxiously got yourself in order. It was unlike you to be thrown off from your usual precision.

“Incredible Bucky.” Professor Coulson admired the photo. “Where was this taken?”

“After the Battle of Azzano.”

Your head turned towards Bucky as he answered, with a wide eyed stare of disbelief having never heard him speak in class before, not in a real class anyway…

Before your mind wandered somewhere you didn’t want to revisit you straightened up, finally looking at the screen. It was a black and white photo of a group of soldiers, arms thrown over each other smiling despite some visible injuries; a bandage wrapped head, cuts and scrapes along their faces.

“Can anyone tell me what happened in the Battle of Azzano?” the professor asked again.

Your hand naturally shot up, smiling widely as you were called on. “About 200 members of the 107th infantry were captured by the Nazi’s, with their Captain leading an unsanctioned rescue mission to free them.”

“Correct. It nearly got him a dishonorable discharge but instead his superiors believed his actions in saving lives of not only U.S. Military but British and French soldiers who were captured as well should be awarded with a special medal, the Shield of Bravery.”

Again you felt Bucky’s gaze on you and turning your head your suspicion was confirmed. His smile was soft as he stared at you, his eyes expressing a strange aura of... Joy? Pride? You’re not quite sure and honestly you didn’t want to find out. Your head stiffened as you set your own gaze forward to begin taking notes.

As promised Professor Coulson “surprised” everyone with a pop quiz, one you know you would have aced regardless of the day you spent studying.

“Okay class, time is up. Pass your quizzes forward.”

Rustling paper echoed throughout the hall as you added your quiz to the pile you were given, walking it over to the person that sat in the row below you a few seats to the left.

“I’m gonna let you all leave early…” the Professor’s sentence was interrupted by a roar of cheers. “...but first I want to give you a heads up for an upcoming project. The details are posted online. Let’s say it’s due in 2 weeks?”

A wave of groans echoed from the back of the hall.

“Alright, 3 weeks.” He smiled as the new date went over a lot better. “Let’s make this simple, whoever you’re sitting closest to is your partner, if anything is uneven just join the nearest group. See you all next Monday!” he said, closing his laptop.

Panic flooded your body like a tidal wave, crashing down and dragging you under. It was hard to breathe, realizing the one person you wanted nothing to do with was going to be your partner for this project.

Bucky wore a smirk that made you roll your eyes and groan.

“Looks like we’re partners.” You didn’t respond.

With deep breaths you put your things away and got up, exiting the room and savoring your final moments of peace. Bucky shrugged his bag over his shoulder following you out.

You pushed open the door to the stairway, a forceful shove as a final act of letting out the anger you felt for being partnered with Bucky.

“We might as well get started,” you said, as you began descending the stairs.

“Get started?” Bucky scoffed, “It’s due in 3 weeks. We have time, doll.”

You shook your head. Of course Bucky wants to be lazy and save everything until the last minute. Well, that’s not how you do things.

“Don’t call me doll, and just because it’s due in 3 weeks doesn’t mean we can’t start now. Plus I want to get this over with.”

Bucky skipped ahead to hold open the door for you. “Uh huh, you mean you don’t want to spend more time with me?”

His tone was light and playful as his face became almost cherubic, batting his eyelashes, his lips pulling into a sweet smile that was almost convincing if you didn’t already know him.

Your face twisted incredulously. “Why would I want to spend time with you?” You shrugged your long knit cardigan closer over your body as you passed him, stepping outside into the chilly air.

Bucky scoffed again, his patience beginning to run thin. “Please doll, you’d be lucky to spend time with me.”

“Yeah right!” you chuckled, walking aimlessly beside him. “Your little act didn’t get passed me today Mr. ‘I’m going to kiss the professor’s ass with an old picture I found because that’s a great way to distract him before a quiz.’ You know it would be a lot easier if you just studied!”

Bucky’s smile soured into a sneer. “Oh like you, Miss ‘I’m scared of letting loose and actually having a good time so I’ll drown myself in studying as an excuse to be a stick in the mud,’” he mocked with a higher pitch in his voice.

“You don’t know anything about me!” you snapped, stopping on the walkway to yell at him, ignoring the looks of curious students as they passed by.

Cocking his head Bucky smirked, “Actually I do. Maybe you pushed it down but I remember you. Drama 101 with Professor Laufeyson two years ago.”

His words carry you back to the open room, where a black tiered platform with more chairs than students sat across from a stage. It wasn’t very large but the burden of stepping on it sat like a boulder in your stomach.

You remember it vividly, standing in the center as the bright lights burned away your confidence. The words of your monologue became a scramble of alphabet soup in your mind. Terrified and shaking, you stood silent in front of the class until a meek apology croaked its way out.

Head hanging low with disappointment as you sat back in your seat, watching as the rest of the class did what you couldn’t do. You hated how acting came so easy to them; to be a different person, to let go. Bucky did that with ease.

You envied him and his ability to be free and act silly or speak with a weird voice. He could do whatever the role demanded and you hated it. You hated not being good at something, hated that you couldn’t get over your insecurities, and you hated that Bucky could do something you were too afraid to do yourself.

“He was begging you to break out of your shell but you couldn’t. Guess you can’t study your way to an A for everything.”

Tears burned their way to your eyes at the sharpness of Bucky’s words. “You’re a real jerk, you know that?” You had no other comeback, you couldn’t fight the truth.

Before you gave him the chance to say anything else you took off. Feet pounding on the pavement as you raced to get as far away from Bucky Barnes, the biggest asshole you’ve ever met.

Bucky didn’t show up the following Monday. It was a relief to not have to face him after the way you left things. Not because you cared about him; you were more concerned with hoping he didn’t see you cry.

His absence didn’t stop you from thinking about him. While trying to pay attention to the lesson you cursed Bucky out in your head. Cutting class… what are we in high school? What’s the point of paying for college if you don’t even show up? But he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about anything.

On Wednesday Bucky strolled into class just as it began. He trudged up the steps stopping at the row in front of yours. You expected him to move towards the center in front of you but instead you watched him shrug off his backpack, slouch into the chair and pull out his laptop.

Throughout class you kept glancing over towards him. His screen remained blank, turning black after neglect as Bucky rested his cheek against his palm, elbow propped up on the desk. Go home if you want to sleep during class!

When class ended you saw Bucky waiting for you at the door. With a deep breath you prepared yourself for whatever he was going to say.

“Hey,” Bucky said with much less enthusiasm than usual. You stared at him, giving a silent acknowledgement with a raise of your brows. “I need your number.”

Your response denying his request shot out like a speeding bullet. You didn’t even have to entertain the idea. Giving someone like Bucky your number would be an invitation to middle of the night calls, pranks or worse.

“How are we going to work on the project then?”

“Work on the project? That’s funny,” you laughed dryly, shaking your head.

His brows furrowed and just as Bucky was going to speak again you cut him off.

“Forget the project Barnes. I’ll do it myself and you can slap your name on it. Let’s be honest, I’m sure that’s what would have happened anyway.”

Maybe it was a harsh truth but it was a truth you knew from experience. It would be easier to complete the work on your own and have Bucky stand up there when it was time to present. He shouldn’t complain anyway, this would be an easy A for him.

“You’re a real bitch Y/N.”

Your jaw dropped open as you turned to face Bucky. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, jaw clenching tight as his ocean blue eyes were set ablaze.

“Excuse me? How dare y–”

He lifted his hand as he began to talk over you. “All this time I’ve tried to be your friend, since Drama! I say hello, I ask how you’re doing and all you do is ignore me.”

As Bucky ran his hands through his hair he turned his head away from you for a moment and you could swear the light reflected a watery shine in his yes. “You hate me for whatever reason and I don’t know why I kept trying but you don’t know shit about me!”

He began to walk away before coming back. “For the record, that picture was of my grandfather. His funeral was 2 days ago but I guess you’re too much of a selfish know-it-all to give a shit.”

Bucky stomped away this time for good, leaving you alone in the hallway feeling like absolute shit.

After finally motivating yourself to move, your feet took you to the library. Setting up your laptop you decided to do a little studying, but instead of academics you focused on researching something unknown, Bucky Barnes.

Finding him on Facebook was easy. Last year you made friends with Peggy Carter during your shared anthropology class and she happened to be dating Steve Rogers, aka Bucky’s best friend. On Steve’s profile you searched for “Bucky” and surprisingly nothing came up. When you searched “Barnes” you saw his profile, James Barnes.

Well that was something unexpected. How did you not know Bucky’s real name was James? A quick glance of his profile doesn’t show much information seeing as the most recent post was a meme someone named Sam tagged him in over a year ago. Great.

Looking at Bucky’s friends you were more successful in finding the profiles of his family. His father George rarely posted anything except for some comments on baseball and a sweet picture of what had to be Bucky’s sister. Dressed in a cap and gown, she was surrounded by her parents and Bucky, holding a diploma in her hand. Must be high school. She’s definitely younger than Bucky.

His mother Winifred’s page was a goldmine of information. It was George’s father who passed away. Henry James Barnes, a decorated World War II veteran who earned a purple heart after losing his arm in battle.

She posted several pictures of Henry throughout his life; some with his wife and the large family they had, a newspaper clipping of him with his oldest son Charles at 1955 World Series when the Brooklyn Dodgers won and the one Bucky shared with the class.

Every picture told the story of a loving husband and father who became a grandfather many times over. And there it was. Henry sitting on a floral couch holding baby Bucky against him. It made sense, clearly Bucky was named after him, and based on the other pictures posted they were very close.

You felt compelled to learn more about Bucky, going through his mother’s old posts and photos to see what you might find and what you uncovered seemed unbelievable. Student of the Month. Honors Society. The Dean’s List. Bucky was… a good student?! No, not just good, he was an excellent student.

You sat back against the hard chair wondering why you judged Bucky as hard as you had. He had never done anything personally to you for you to hold a grudge, and as you thought about what he said earlier he was right.

In Drama he tried to talk to you, tell you it’s okay, to shake it off your nerves and go for it, but you brushed him off, twisting his kindness into a condescending lecture. Even in History, when he saw you had class again together his eyes lit up. He sat beside you, asked how you’ve been and you gave him the cold shoulder.

Everything you thought you knew about Bucky Barnes was wrong and you needed to find him to apologize. You walked around campus hoping to run into him but that was useless. Now you regret not exchanging numbers.

The need to speak to Bucky grew as the days passed. Studying was nearly impossible. You couldn’t think about anything except him. Then you felt it, that aha moment. You were looking for Bucky in the wrong place.

It took a bit of digging to find Bucky’s Instagram (thankfully Steve still had his connected to his Facebook) but there it was, his life on display through vibrant pictures. Coney Island at night caught your eye, from the bright lights of the rides and games against the dark midnight sky, to other pictures of the Brooklyn Bridge with a beautiful sunset glow.

Your lips tugged into a smile while looking at Bucky surrounded by Steve and a few other friends but when you came across an old picture of him obviously drunk your smile grew into a large grin that stretched across your face.

Bucky was a mess, with glossy eyes that didn’t quite focus, long messy hair sticking to his sweat covered brow and yet he had the brightest, cutest smile ever, all while clutching a Kermit the Frog plush.

The most recent photo was of him and his grandfather with a touching caption that made your heart do a funny flip in your chest.

The circle around his profile picture turned pink and suddenly you wondered if you should click on it. If you do, he’ll know you were stalking his page but there’s a chance his story could tell you where he is. If you don’t you’ll have to wait two more long and torturous days before you can apologize.

You wanted to stop, to let it all go and begin studying for the weekend but you couldn’t. You were wrong and needed to make things right.

Click.

It’s a photo of a beer bottle with condensation dripping down onto the counter top, a faint glow of red from the lights behind the golden bar. Thankfully he tagged the location, Starks.

Quickly you changed out of lounge pants and threw on some jeans and boots, grabbing the nearest jacket and wrapping a scarf around your neck. With your phone in hand you headed out to the bar, hoping Bucky would still be there.

There was a small crowd beside the entrance, people you would normally feel intimidated by but you pushed on, passing them without hesitation as you were determined to find Bucky. Rock music blared as your eyes scanned all the people sitting at the bar but Bucky was not one of them.

A man behind the counter with dark eyes and finely sculpted facial hair made eye contact with you, flashing a big smile. You nodded back, smiling but moving along. Drinks were the last thing on your mind, although if you didn’t find Bucky you were seriously considering drowning your sorrows in whatever libation would take your guilt away the quickest.

You were nearly ready to give up until you heard it, the sound of Bucky’s laughter. You followed it towards the back, seeing a row of pool tables with Bucky on the end. He was accompanied by Steve and someone with a contagious laugh and gap-toothed smile.

Watching from afar you were happy to see Bucky happy and joking with his friends. Apparently you hadn’t blended into the crowd well enough as Bucky lifted his head and caught you in the gaze of his blue eyes.

“Well, well,” Bucky began. Since there was no point in hiding you walked towards him. “Looking for trouble, are we?”

Your heart began to race and you weren’t sure if it was from the flirtatious tone in his voice paired with the smirk he would not stop staring at you with or the fact that he looked damn good.

A simple grey sweater has never looked better, stretched across his muscular frame you never quite paid attention to before. Dark jeans stretched over thick thighs that made your mouth water.

Swallowing a nervous gulp you asked, “Can we talk?”

Bucky turned towards his friends, giving a silent look they must have understood. Grabbing their drinks they left leaving you and Bucky alone at the pool table.

“Bucky, I–”

“Hang on,” he said, walking around the pool table to grab the sunken balls from the pockets.

You waited a little impatiently for him as he racked up the balls, wanting to get your apology over with.

“Okay doll, you want to talk and I want to play so we’re doing both.” He smiled, grabbing a pool stick off the wall and handing it to you. “So what’s on the line?”

Confused, you asked what he meant as you chalked up the end of the stick.

“Well, we have to play for something, doll.”

All you wanted to do was talk to him but if he wants you to play this game literally, then you would.

“Fine. If I win, you have to stop calling me doll.” You smirked, watching his face sour with dismay.

“Really doll?” Those big blue eyes became even bigger as he pouted feigning sadness.

“I said stop,” you warned.

He dropped the pout, pulling his lips back into a sly grin. “You didn’t win anything yet, doll,” he said, winking at your unamused face.

As Bucky chalked up the end of his pool stick he mulled over ideas in his head. “Now if I win I promise to leave you alone...”

Your brows knit together with confusion. Why would he leave you alone? It should have felt like a relief and yet for some reason it upset you.

“... but first you have to give me a kiss.”

All of your worries flew away with his finished sentence. “Excuse me? No. Don’t be creepy Barnes.”

“Okay, okay, relax doll.” He held his hands up defensively. “I didn’t say it had to be on my lips alright. A peck on the cheek is fine. Deal?”

For some reason you agreed, probably because you really wanted to apologize to him. Despite Bucky’s stipulation you felt really bad for how you’ve been treating him.

Walking past Bucky you took off your scarf and jacket, throwing them on top of his familiar leather jacket. You set yourself up to break, leaning over the table to adjust the position of the cue ball and Bucky couldn’t help but stare at your backside.

“Need me to teach you, doll?”

He pictured himself leaning against your body, his hands gently sweeping over yours guiding the pool stick in the proper position. The thought got him a little too excited and thankfully you couldn’t see the way he adjusted his stance, shaking off his desire.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?” you asked rhetorically, hitting the cue fiercely and sending two balls in.

Bucky’s mouth was agape in surprise.

“You don’t know everything about me either,” you smirked playfully as you set yourself up to hit the solid balls you claimed.

Leaning against the wall, Bucky tried his best to hide his proud smile as you nailed the next shot. This game might be over way before he expected and quickly he thought about asking for best 2 out of 3 to keep you there longer. He didn’t even care about the kiss, he honestly wanted to keep hanging out. Thankfully you missed the next shot and Bucky took his time figuring out the best angle to try for with the cue’s current placement.

It was now or never you decided, wishing you hadn’t walked past the bar because liquid courage would really come in handy.

Clearing your throat you finally spoke up. “I’m sorry about your grandfather.” Bucky picked his head up from the table, his face dropping to a solemn expression. “It seemed like he lived a great life.”

A simple chuckle and Bucky smiled again. “You stalkin’ me doll?” His tone was light and then he dropped it again with a more serious thank you.

Bucky took a shot and missed but he didn’t care about the game. “I should apologize too. You’re not a bitch or a stick in the mud.”

Your lips pulled into a lopsided smile. “Thanks. Well I might be a stick in the mud,” you admitted.

Walking closer to you, Bucky leaned against the pool table. “No,” he disagreed, shaking his head. “Maybe more like a twig.”

He was happy to see you burst into laughter at his joke. This was the side of you Bucky had been waiting to see. He knew it was there, buried under the layers you built up in your quest to be a perfect student.

You continued to play, talking through the game as you got to know each other for real for the first time.

“I was so jealous of you in Drama. You were so carefree. I guess I twisted that in my head to think you didn’t give a shit about anything. I’m sorry.”

Bucky aimed to sink the next ball. “I do give a shit,” he said, striking the cue. “I study, but I have fun too.” He grimaced as the ball barely made it towards the pocket.

“I could probably take notes on that,” you replied.

“You would take notes. Where’s your laptop and your precious pens?” he teased.

“At home,” you chuckled. A wide smile spread across your face as you set up to take a shot.

“You look cute when you’re all smiley like that.”

The warmth of your cheeks intensified at his comment. Feeling your whole body begin to race you completely messed up the shot.

“You did that on purpose! You’re distracting me!” you grinned.

Bucky smirked, dropping his voice to a much lower octave, “Maybe I really want that kiss.”

You swallowed a lump that formed in your throat, urging him to continue playing. Things were close but a bad miss on Bucky’s part allowed you to hit the final solid ball, calling the 8 ball and sinking it.

“I’m gonna miss calling you doll,” he said, dropping his head down as his lips pulled into a frown.

“Considering I won I think I’ll let you continue calling me doll.”

His head picked up at your words, seeing the smile you wore that truly did outshine the sun.

“Oh, look at Y/N. She’s out having fun and breaking rules!” he joked.

Shaking your head, you chuckled, “Shut up Bucky.”

“Hey, I think that’s the first time you’ve ever said my na–”

You caught him off guard by pressing your lips to his but as soon as Bucky realized what happened you felt him smile against your lips, parting his own to kiss you back. His arms wrapped around your body as he pulled you closer, deepening the victory of his loss.

The crowd seemed to disappear as you lost yourself in the kiss, thankful that Bucky was holding you because you felt like a feather blowing in the wind. When you parted for air, you did so slowly, not wanting to separate your lips from his.

It may be true that you’re a bit of a know it all but now as you proudly fail at holding back a wide grin you realize there’s so much more to learn about your new favorite subject, Bucky Barnes.

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[alyssawritesssfics]

Hounded [1] 1. Pilot

Pairings: Bellamy x OC // Kane x daughter!OC

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: violence, series spoilers

Summary: After being locked away for eight months, Athena Kane alongside 99 other criminals is sent to the ground to find out if it's survivable. The ground was the dream, but who knew it would turn out to be a nightmare?

Author’s Note: Hii, this is the repost of my series Hounded! I’ve decided to have each chapter represent an episode. I just personally like the look of it way more and find it easier for me to follow along with while writing (and hopefully you find it easier to follow along while reading it). Please remember to note and reblog! It really helps me see interest and therefore update the story more often. Thank you! PS. If you’d like to be tagged in future chapters, please send me an ask with your @ and I will add you to my list!

previous chapter // series masterlist

The cement floor of my cell was cold against my legs, the sensation searing through the fabric of my jeans. I had sat here many times over the last few months, visualizing myself being blasted into space. It was a morbid thought, but one I could never seem to shake.

My cellmate Octavia let out a heavy sigh, pulling me from my thoughts. I examined her, lying across her cot on her stomach, her feet swaying back and forth in the air as she reread one of the few books she had for the hundredth time.

As I watched Octavia, an alarm began to sound within Skybox, causing Octavia to close her book and sit on the edge of her cot.

“What’s going on out there?”

I stood from my place on the ground, making my way over to our cell door. Peeking through the bars, I noticed guards piling in the main doors, opening cells and dragging people out of them.

“The guards, they’re removing people,” I spoke, my voice shaking.

Octavia stood up. “Moving people? Moving them where?”

I shrugged. “I have no idea.”

We both watched the guards remove more and more people before finally, two reached our cell. Octavia and I stepped back, allowing the guards to enter. The first guard to enter carried a case with him.

“Prisoners 395 and 530, stand facing the wall.” One of the guards said.

Octavia and I complied, as the other guard asked us to extend our dominant hands. Octavia extended her right arm, while I extended my left. The guards reached into the case, pulling out large metal wristbands and placing them around our wrists.

“What’s going on? Neither of us is eighteen yet.”

Eighteen. That was when we’d be up for reevaluation, the council deciding whether or not we’d be floated.

“No questions.” One of the guards responded, pulling me away from the wall. “Let’s go, both of you.”

Octavia and I exited our cell, the place we’d called home for nearly a year now, entering the chaos that was Skybox. There were long lines of teenagers, most younger than myself, on each side, on all levels. We followed the line all the way out of Skybox, into a long corridor.

“I want to speak with my father,” I said, turning to face the guard behind me. “Marcus Kane, he’s on the council.”

The guard stared at me, his face expressionless. “Keep moving.”

“No,” I spoke, a glare appearing across my face. “Where is my father?”

The guard pulled out his shock baton, extending it. “I said, keep moving.”

Not wanting to go through being shocked again, I took a deep breath, turning back around and continuing to follow the line. Eventually, the guards who had taken Octavia and I disappeared, more guards lining the path to wherever we were going.

The further I get down the line, I finally see it. One of the Ark’s guards were scanning identification cards before ushering them onto… a dropship?

A dropship.

“Holy shit,” I mumbled to myself. “They’re sending us to the ground.”

…

“Prisoners of The Ark, hear me now.” I listened on as Chancellor Jaha appeared on several screens within the dropship.

Octavia and I had been separated, sent to different levels of the dropship. Looking around, I didn’t recognize many faces, only a few from Earth Skills.

“You've been given a second chance, and as your Chancellor, it is my hope that you see this as not just a chance for you, but a chance for all of us, indeed for mankind itself.” He continued. “We have no idea what is waiting for you down there. If the odds of survival were better, we would've sent others. Frankly, we're sending you because your crimes have made you expendable.”

The sound of booing filled the dropship.

“The drop site has been chosen carefully. Before the last war, Mount Weather was a military base built within a mountain. It was to be stocked with enough non-perishables to sustain three hundred people for up to two years. If you survive this mission, your crimes will be forgiven, your records wiped clean.”

Chancellor Jaha continued on, though I began to tune it out. All I could think about was my father. Did he know about this? He had to have known, him being one of the Chancellor’s closet allies on the Ark.

As the thought of my father’s involvement drifted from my mind, the dropship jolted, sending my head forward, then back against the seat with brutal force. The dropship continued to shake, as screams filled the air.

“What’s happening?” A girl called out.

I had the same question.

The shaking lasted several minutes before finally, the dropship crashed. Everyone remained silent, unsure if we’d actually landed. After a few moments, people began unbuckling themselves, rushing towards the dropship doors.

I was one of the last to unbuckle myself, wanting to avoid the rush. By the time I had arrived, nearly everyone within the dropship was surrounding the door. As I peeked through the crowd, I spotted Octavia standing by the door, next to a taller boy I’d never seen before.

“Where’s your wristband?” I knew that voice.

Octavia spun around to face someone out of my view. “Do you mind? I haven’t seen my brother in over a year.”

While sharing a cell with Octavia, she’d told me many stories about her brother Bellamy. I almost wouldn’t have believed she even had one, if she didn’t bring him up so often. It was sweet though. I’d always wished I could’ve had a sibling.

That was against the law on the Ark.

“No one has a brother,” someone spoke.

“That’s Octavia Blake, the girl they found hidden under the floor!”

I watched as Octavia lunged forward, Bellamy grabbing her arm. “Octavia, no. Let’s give them something else to remember you by.”

By now, I’d pushed my way further through the crowd.

“Yeah?” Octavia asked, looking back at her brother. “Like what?”

Bellamy smirked. “Like being the first person on the ground in a hundred years.”

With those words, Bellamy reached over and grabbed the dropship door’s handle, pulling it down. There was a faint bang before the door slowly began lowering, creating a platform that led to the ground.

It was beautiful, more so than I ever could’ve imagined. The ground was covered in grass, just like I’d seen in books on the Ark. Trees surrounded us, nearly covering the clear blue sky above us entirely. 

I watched as Octavia slowly made her way down the platform, looking back at her brother. He gave her a reassuring nod, and Octavia in turn took a deep breath before jumping off of the platform, her feet colliding with the ground.

We all watched her as she looked around, silent for a few moments. Finally, Octavia threw her hands in the air. 

“We’re back, bitches!”

Cheers erupted through the dropship, delinquents spilling out around Octavia and running through the forest surrounding us. I slowly made my way down the platform, bracing myself as if I expected to burst into flames the second I touched the ground.

Octavia looked back at me, smiling. “What are you waiting for?”

I jumped from the platform, my boots meeting the hard ground. “Oh my god… We’re really here.”

Octavia squealed, pulling me in for a hug. “No more tiny cells and uncomfortable beds for us.”

“Well, I imagine uncomfortable beds aren’t quite out of the picture yet.” I laughed.

“You’re probably right.” Octavia shrugged with a giggle.

Octavia rushed off to catch up with Bellamy, while I stood in place, taking everything in. As I looked around, my eyes fell upon the girl whose voice I recognized earlier; Clarke Griffin, my childhood best friend.

Clarke stood by the edge of a cliff, staring down at the map in her hands. A tall boy with medium-length brown hair stood next to her. Based on the look upon her face, I figured I should head over there.

“Clarke?”

Clarke turned around, her eyes widening. “Athena?”

I couldn’t help but smile. It had been a year since I’d spoken to Clarke, and she looked exactly the same today as she did then. I remembered hearing stories of Clarke being arrested, the reasons often varying, but I never actually thought those rumours were true.

“What’s with the map?” I finally asked.

Clarke took a deep breath. “Do you two see that peak over there?”

Both I and the boy nodded.

“Mount Weather,” Clarke said. “There’s a radiation-soaked forest between us and our next meal. They dropped us on the wrong damn mountain.”

“Please tell me you’re joking?”

Clarke shook her head. “I wish I was.”

“We’ve got problems-” Wells Jaha, the son the Chancellor, spoke as he reached our little group. He stopped as his eyes landed on me. “Athena?”

I blinked, confusion setting over me. “Wells? What the hell did you do to get sent down here?”

“Don’t ask.” Wells shook his head, before continuing. “We’ve got problems. The communication system is dead. I went to the roof. A dozen panels are missing. Heat fried the wires.”

“Well, all that matters right now is getting to Mount Weather,” Clarke responded, marching closer to the dropship. She spread her map out on one of the wings. “See? This is us.” Clarke pointed to a spot on the map. “This is where we need to get to if we want to survive.” She moved her finger across the map.

“Where’d you learn to do that?” Wells asked.

Clarke’s face turned pale as she looked away. 

Wells sighed. “Your father.”

The two remained silent, as another boy with a pair of goggles strapped to his head approached. He leaned over Clarke’s shoulder, surveying the map.

“Cool, a map.” He spoke, looking Clarke up and down. “They got a bar in this town? I’ll buy you a beer.”

Wells lightly pushed the boy back. “Do you mind?”

“Woah.” The boy spoke, holding his hands up.

“Hey, hands off of him.” I turned to see a group of boys approaching. “He’s with us.” The rest of the delinquents were also gathered around us.

“Relax,” Wells spoke, stepping back. “We’re just trying to find out where we are.”

“We’re on the ground,” Bellamy spoke. “Is that not good enough for you?”

“We need to find Mount Weather. You heard my father’s message. That has to be our first priority.”

“Screw your father,” Octavia called out. “What, you think you’re in charge here? You and your little princess?” She was staring at Clarke.

Clarke shook her head. “Do you think we care who's in charge? We need to get to Mount Weather not because the Chancellor said so, but because the longer we wait, the hungrier we'll get and the harder it’ll be. How long do you think we'll last without those supplies? We're looking at a twenty-mile trek. So if we want to get there before dark, we need to leave now.”

“I’ve got a better idea,” Bellamy responded. “You two go, find it for us. Let the privileged do the hard work for a change.”

Everyone around us cheered.

“You’re not listening, we all need to go!” Wells urged. “Athena?”

Before I could respond, another boy spoke. “Athena Kane? You’re Marcus Kane’s daughter!”

“Your father floated my mother!”

“And my father!”

“Mine too!”

I looked at Wells, narrowing my eyes.

Wells shook it off. “We have to go, now.”

“Look at this everybody,” A boy stepped forward. “The Chancellor of Earth.”

“You think that’s funny?” Wells asked.

“No,” The boy responded, kicking Wells in the leg and watching him fall to the ground. “But that sure was.”

Cheers erupted through the forest, people begging them to fight.

“Come on, Wells.” The boy egged him on.

Wells stood up, getting into a fighting stance. Before any swings could be thrown, the medium-length haired boy jumped from the top of the dropship, landing between them.

“The kids got one leg.” He spoke to the boy. “Why don’t you wait until it’s a fair fight?”

“Hey, spacewalker!” Octavia called out. “Rescue me next.”

People began to laugh, the crowd dispersing. Bellamy grabbed Octavia’s arm, pulling her away.

“Uh,” The boy spoke to Clarke. “So, Mount Weather? When do we leave?”

“Right now,” Clarke replied, looking at Wells. “Finn and I will be back tomorrow with food.”

“How are the two of you going to carry enough food for a hundred people?”

Finn looked around, grabbing goggles boy and another. “Four of us.”

“Sounds like a party!” Octavia had rejoined the group. “Count me in.”

“What are you doing?” Bellamy asked.

Octavia rolled her eyes. “Going for a walk.”

Clarke suddenly reached for Finn’s hand. “Were you trying to take this off?”

The wristband.

“Yeah, so?”

“Well, I don't know. Do you want the people you love to think you're dead? Do you want them to follow you down here in two months? Because they won't if they think we're dying.”

Finn nodded. “Okay.”

“Now, let’s go.”

“Wait,” I spoke up. “I’m coming with you.”

Clarke grabbed my hand, leading me away slightly. “I need you to stay here.”

“Why?”

“Wells can hardly walk and I need someone to help him keep an eye on things here. I know it’s been forever since we’ve talked, but I trust you a hell of a lot more than anyone else here.” Clarke spoke, her eyes shifting to Wells for a moment.

I smiled. “I don’t know if I should take that as a compliment.”

She smiled back. “You got this?”

I nodded. “Be safe.”

Clarke and I made our way back to the group. She grabbed a bag before looking at Wells, who sat on the ground leaning against the dropship. “You really shouldn’t have come here, Wells.”

With that, Clarke headed off into the forest alongside Finn, Octavia, and the two other boys I’d yet to meet.

I looked at Wells, frowning. “Let’s get you into the dropship so you can rest your foot in peace.”

…

A few hours later, I found myself returning to camp after going on a water run, my efforts having been futile. Just as I was about to reach the camp, I spotted Wells gathering sticks. He had also been searching for water the last I’d seen him.

“No luck?”

Wells looked up, startled. “No, you?”

I shook my head. “There’s gotta be water somewhere.”

“Just not anywhere near us,” Wells sighed. “Want to give me a hand with these?”

I picked up a pile of sticks, following Wells towards the dropship. We began dropping them in an already started pile when footsteps came up behind us.

“Find any water yet?” It was the same boy who had tried to fight Wells earlier. I recently learned his name was John Murphy. He stood beside another boy, also named John.

“No, not yet-” Wells paused, his face going pale before he quickly pulled himself back together. “I’m going back out if you want to come.”

I followed Wells’ gaze, spotting something carved into the dropship: first son, first to dye.

“You know, my father begged for mercy in the airlock chamber before your father floated him,” Murphy spoke, his eyes narrowed in on Wells.

Wells shook his head, pushing past the pair. “You spelt die wrong, geniuses.”

I attempted to follow Wells, though both boys blocked my way. “Where do you think you’re going? Don’t think we haven’t forgotten about what your father did.”

Shaking my head, I took a step back. “That was my father’s doing, not mine. The same goes for Wells. Feel free to take it up with them when they come down here though. I’ll be the last to stop you.”

Murphy looked me up and down for a moment before a smirk crept across his face. He didn’t say anything, simply stepping out of my way. I took it as an opportunity to join Wells, who still stood just a few paces behind them.

“We’re not safe here, Athena,” Wells whispered.

“No, we’re not,” I agreed. “There’s nothing you or I can do about it, not until Clarke and the others get back. We just have to lay low, watch each other’s backs, like the good old days.”

Wells smiled. “I’d give anything to go back there right now.”

I let out a small, shaking breath. “You and me both.”

…

Wells and I spent the rest of the afternoon searching for water, with no luck. As we came closer to the camp, I stopped. Noticing my absence from beside him, Wells also stopped, turning around to face me.

“Can I ask you something?” Wells nodded. “What happened with Clarke? I heard stories in lockup but never from anyone who had actually been there.”

Wells was quiet for a moment, kicking his feet around in the dirt. “Her father discovered a flaw in the Ark. That they’re running out of air. He wanted to go public with it.”

“But he didn’t?”

“Clarke found out and told me, and a few days later her father was arrested.”

My heart sank into my stomach. “You told your father, didn’t you?”

Wells shook his head. “It wasn’t me, but Clarke thinks it was.”

“So he was floated?” I was having a hard time processing all of this.

“Yeah,” Wells responded. “Clarke saw it happen, and then she was arrested too.”

I shook my head. “I had no idea…”

“That was kinda the point,” Wells mumbled.

I frowned. “You haven’t told Clarke it wasn’t you, have you?”

“I can’t tell her, Athena,” Wells said, not able to look me in the eye.

“Why not?”

Wells once again fell silent. “It was her mother.”

My eyes grew wide. “You’re sure?”

“It wasn’t me and I’m the only one Clarke told. Do you really think she’d expect her mother to turn her father in?” Wells asked. “I can’t tell her. It would break her, especially now.”

“So you let her hate you…”

Wells frowned. “Better than her hating her mother.”

I smiled softly. “You’re a really good friend, you know that?”

Before Wells could respond, the sound of screams filled the air. They were coming from the camp. Both of us looked at each other before hurrying our way back. By the time we arrived, there was a large crowd surrounding the campfire.

We both pushed our way through the crowd, spotting Murphy prying off a girl named Fox’s wristband. She winced as the wristband popped off, and Murphy tossed it into the fire.

“Who’s next?” Bellamy asked.

“What the hell are you doing?” Wells asked, his eyebrows furrowed.

Bellamy smirked. “We’re liberating ourselves. What does it look like?”

“It looks like you’re trying to kill us all.” I hissed.

“The communication system is dead. These wristbands are all we got. Take them off, and the Ark will think we're dying, that it's not safe for them to follow.” Wells added.

“That’s the point, Chancellor,” Bellamy replied. “We can take care of ourselves, can’t we?”

Everyone around them cheered.

“Do you think this is a game? Those aren't just our friends and our parents up there. They're our farmers, our doctors, our engineers.” Wells shouted, looking around the crowd. “I don't care what he tells you. We won't survive here on our own, and besides, if it really is safe, how could you not want the rest of our people to come down?”

“My people are already down here,” Bellamy replied. “Those people locked my people up. Those people killed my mother for the crime of having a second child. Your father did that.”

Wells shook his head. “My father didn’t write the laws.”

“No, he enforced them, but not anymore, not here. Here there are no laws. Here, we do whatever the hell we want, whenever the hell we want. Now, you two don't have to like it. You can even try to stop it or change it, kill me even. You know why?” Bellamy’s smirk only grew wider. “Whatever the hell we want.”

“Whatever the hell we want!” Murphy cheered.

Everyone began chanting around us, repeating those five words over and over again. I couldn’t believe it. How could they all be so stupid? So selfish? They were going to get all of us killed.

Suddenly, I felt a speck of water hit my bare arm. Then another, and another. Then, water began falling from the sky rapidly.

“It’s rain,” A girl called out. “Real rain!”

The cheering began once again, as I lifted my head to stare at the sky, letting the rain wash over my face. It was as if all of my previous worries washed away for a few moments.

“We need to collect this,” Wells spoke up, yanking me from my bliss.

Bellamy smiled. “Whatever the hell you want.”

~

next chapter

[allykakamatsu]

FE SS X DRV3 General plot

Once again, I’m back on my bulls**t. Got the basics for the AU sorted now so let’s take a look, as well as what most of the characters are doing

Plot Outline:

As I mentioned in the first post https://allykakamatsu.tumblr.com/post/649470604067717120/fe-ss-x-drv3 the reason the class is in Magvel in the first place is because Monokuma decided that trapping them in the game was gonna be the motive, where you either have to end the war/beat the game or kill someone from the real world in order to get out. The characters got sent to various points in the timeline, and as you can imagine, this changed quite a lot.

Shuichi Saihara:

•The last one to wake up, aka got sent to when the game starts rather than some time before like the others.

•Ends up unintentionally becoming Eirika’s bodyguard as they run into each other while the Princess is trying to get to Frelia and Seth has gone missing dun dun dun

•Sticks around as Eirika knows where Kaede is and because he doesn’t want to leave her on her own.

•Can use magic, but still needs to work on his aim. Aka, never let him fight an enemy that’s near a tree.

•Still better than when he uses a Lance, he just stabs wildly and hope it works

•Because he doesn’t get the pre-war time everyone else had to get ready, he does get the advantage of remembering other things, though they’re things he’d rather not remember.

Kaede Akamatsu:

•Was sent to Renais and ended up getting adopted by the royals, so she’s the Twin’s step-sister.

•Despite her accidental new status, doesn’t change too much, and enjoys her time with her new family even if she’s always scarred about when the war will start

•As such, she’s also very overprotective and always goes with Ephriam to his dumb stunts, under the guise of being all for it.

•Very over dramatic organ player.

•Like Eirika she’s good with swords, but tends to specialise in staffs.

•Is part of Ephriams four (well now five) man army trying to take Grado down.

Maki Harukawa:

•Woke up in Jehana but didn’t stick around for long due to not liking the heat.

•Ended up travelling with Tenko for a while as travelling mercenaries, but when Maki’s work started leaning on the assassin side again she left so the Aikido Master wouldn’t get involved.

•After that becomes an assassin for hire, and she works for people all over the continent, including with Rausten which (unfortunately) led to her seeing Kokichi again

•”If it wasn’t for the fact your Princess hired me I’d kill you”

•Eventually after several jobs making her infamous, she was hired by Kirumi to help protect Eirika.

•Agreed, and was extra motivated due to Shuichi being dragged into this.

Himiko Yumeno:

•One of only two who was over the moon to be sent to Magvel, because now she has real MAGIC

•Winds up in Lute and Arthur’s village, where she joins their friend group to become master Mages.

•Constantly getting on Lute’s nerves for napping during practice.

•More energetic than usual, but that just means when she’s out she’s out for the count.

•Specialises in thunder magic, but that’s mostly not to steal Lute’s thunder, well, fire in this case.

•Goes with Arthur to get help when the village is attacked by monsters to “make sure they don’t claw him to death”

Angie Yonaga:

•Ends up becoming a priestess in Grado.

•Doesn’t really like spreading the word of non-Atua figures, but sticks around because Atua said so.

•Also leads to her becoming friends with Natasha and also ‘friends’ with Cormag

•Was already growing weary of the Empire when she heard about the war, but when Natasha was branded a traitor she knew something was up and went after her.

•Still always smiling, which depending on the person is a relief to see someone keeping their hopes up, or disturbing cause “does she ever not smile?”

•Mostly a light magic user, but can heal and not afraid to staff bonk.

Kirumi Tojo:

•Was sent to Frelia and became a servant at the castle very fast.

•Joined the staff only a few days before ‘The Frelian Tragedy’ where the crown Prince was kidnapped and presumed dead.

•Because of this and the King being so busy, Kirumi ended up being the one to console the young Princess Tana.

•Ended up becoming a mother/big sister figure and was offered a change of position as the nanny. Ended up taking it and staying on maid duty, and eventually rose to head maid.

•More open with her emotions, but still quite reserved.

•Can use all weapons well, but prefers spears and staffs.

Kokichi Oma:

•Not known where or when he first arrived, but after 3 years ended up in Rausten.

•Wound up as part of L’Arachel’s entourage due to his battle skills and her liking his attitude.

•Dream tam for each other, nightmare for everyone else.

•Was rumoured to be part of the Frelian Tragedy, but no one can prove it or knows how.

•With L’Arachel for most of the war, but ran off for a bit to drag Renac back

•A full blown trickster class, so swords and staffs for him.

Kiibo:

•Since Robots don’t exist, he’s a dragon now.

•Excited that he’s living and breathing, but scarred because “How did I change species?!”

•Eventually finds Myrrh and she thankfully sets things straight.

•Proud of his new species, but does miss his old life.

•When Selena steals her dragon stone, he tries to get it back, only to get caught in some trees while in dragon form.

•After that accompanies her on Ephriam and Kaede’s path to get the stone back.

Rantaro Amami:

•A former wyvern rider turned pegasus knight

•Yes, somehow he got a pegasus to trust him enough to let him ride, to the confusion of everyone else.

•Was with Grado for a while, but jumped ship to Jehana about three years before the war.

•When he learned that the Queen’s son had run away, his big brother instincts kicked in and he volunteered to find him.

•His search eventually led to Carcino where he found Joshua alone with the rest of Eirika’s party.

•Agreed to tag along so he could keep an eye on the gambling Prince and so he could help out Shuichi.

•Good with lances, but way better with flying.

Miu Iruma:

•A wyvern rider from Grado, though an unconventional one (I mean, it’s Miu)

•She and Rantaro were part of the same squad, but she stayed unlike him.

•Good at making all her allies lives a living hell with her antics (RIP Cormag) but she’s kept around due to her skill

•Saw Valter kill Glenn, but while trying to tell Cormag, got sidetracked by seeing Selena try to take Kiibo’s dragonstone, which made her go “F**k it”, swear the Flurspar out, and switched sides to team Ephriam.

•The only wyvern who uses an axe. Everyone calls her crazy for it but hey, whatever works.

Tenko Chabishira:

•Was in Renais at first, but after being ditched by Maki she went to Jehana due to her unsurprisingly wanting to be in the nation lead by a queen rather than a king like the rest.

•Ends up bumping into Marisa on a job, and once it’s over she convinces Tenko to join the Mercenaries.

•Loves Tethys and Marisa, so she stays no matter what, but she does eventually get some respect for Gherik.

•Doesn’t stop her from thinking somethings up with Kiyo and the new recruit who won’t take his mask off.

•Would’ve joined up with team Eirika either way since everyone else agreed, Himiko being there just made her a lot more aggressive with it.

•Axes all the way baby!

Korekiyo Shinguji:

•Wound up in Caer Pelyn, which royally confused everyone, but they kinda just rolled with it.

•Stayed due to his interest in the village, but when he was about to leave Ewan stopped by, and after a misunderstanding about why he wanted to leave Kiyo gets dragged into the mercenaries.

•At first only stayed due to wanting to send his sister more ‘friends’, but after seeing Tethys and Ewan act like how siblings are supposed to act, he realised how badly he screwed up, so he ends up sticking around to find out what real siblings are meant to do.

•Gladly joins up with team Eirika once they show up not only to stay with his allies, but also to get some more ‘sibling role models’

•Good with dark magic and staffs, but is in the summoner class..... be very afraid.

Kaito Momota:

•Woke up in Carcino, but after realising the guys in charge were assholes, he left and started travelling all over as a mercenary.

•After seeing Ephriam and Kaede storm a castle with 5 people total and win, he got the bright idea to become a masked hero busting innocents Grado captured out of jail and just generally be a thorn in their side.

•Formed a bit of a partnership with Kokichi because of this cause hey, where else in Magvel are you going to get smoke bombs.

•Eventually met Lyon, and after they explained what was going on to him, Kaito decided to risk it all on them as he let himself get caught to help bust Knoll out of jail, which worked, albeit with a lot of extra help from team Ephriam.

•All and all, more or less the same, just in WAY over his head.

•Of course he’s in the Hero class, so that means swords and axes.

Tsumugi Shirogane:

•The only one who’s played the game before, and easily the most excited, especially as she ended up in Grado and to be more specific as Lyon’s adopted sister.

•Thought she could get everything she wanted due to this being a game, but ended up having a bit of an existential crisis when the world turns out to be harder to manipulate and more real then she thought.

•Not wanting to accept that fiction can be real to, decided to take the demon kings power that wasn’t in Lyon (this was before the stone was shattered so that means most of it) to try get control back.

•This, of course, backfires, as while her already wanting to cause chaos/drama meant she kept her sense of self for longer, her lie eventually crashed in as once Shuichi got her to accept that fiction can be real she got completely possessed.

•Has the same class as Lyon, though she’s less tanky in exchange for being faster, worth it when you’re dealing with dark tomes.

Well, that’s everything for now. Hope you enjoy!

[placesyoucallhome]

My dearest love, may this letter find you well. The war with our once staunch allies caused us surprised as they turned their reapers on us upon the morrow. However due to the General's quick wit, we were able to turn the tide in our favor. Though Garlean reinforcements will surely arrive. We stand at the ready, ever prepared to protect what we once held dear. Still this barren wasteland has me wishing for the Lightsday brunches, we use to attend. Even it was only to douse our spirits with the

(( cont- finest vintage wines, our noble caretakers would allow. How I miss the sound of your voice, the presence as you busied yourself throughout the establishment, ever a kind and spirited companion even in the darkest of days following the Calamity. How I wish I could hold you dearly to me once more, listen to you speak of those queer contraptions, to embrace you as you had so many of your hobbies trinkets. Twelve willing I will find my way back to you from these trenches. Yours forever more. ))

-------

Ruhka blinked wide eyed at the letter, and read it again, and again, he checked the envelope and the address was correct but--

"Cani, get over here, no don't turn away from me you asshole I want you to read this, is this to you?" The Captain waved down the surly looking Garlean, having chanced wandering out of the workshop for more coffee only to be dragged into this.

"I'm on the run, Cat. it better not be to me. Hand it here." Canum snapped, grabbing the letter with a grimace and starting to read, eyebrows slowly sliding up towards his hairline as he went. It was, apparently, not at all what he had been expecting from the letter. "... Do I seem 'kind and spirited' to you?"

"Ah. No, fair. Aye, new kid! Com'ere, come read this." Ruhka relented, and immediately turned to wave down the startled younger viera walking though the door.

"Oh? Er what is-- okay fine! Fine." Vinca huffed taking the letter being shaken at him by the clearly agitated cat, trying not to step on the sharply flicking tail sweeping across the floor. "A- ahh, I didn't know you had a soldier boyfriend? Is that why you're always so grumpy?"

"Wh- N- NO! Hells! I wanted to know if it was to you!" Ruhka stuttered and shouted, "No, I- give it back! I don't think I knew a soldier? I- an inquisitor, kinda, so he said, but-" Stuttering and stalling, Ruhka grabbed back the letter just to smooth it out as carefully as he could to glance over it once more.

"I assume the 'queer contraptions' and 'trinkets' are those magitek things you work on, yes?" Vinca pointed out, and Ruhka couldn't really refute that, it was more pointed than how vague it had seemed at first glance. But it still didn't have a damn name attached to it. "You knew an inqu--"

"That's not important right now. Unless he shows up, I suppose." The Captain asserted, trying to keep attention on the letter by shaking it, "Or this one shows up, either, actually, I suppose the war may yet be over soon. Perhaps I should have some wine on hand just in case. Aye, actually, I think I'll just... go work on that..." Suddenly quiet and contemplating, Ruhka wandered off, without another word, leaving a bewildered Vinca and Canum in his wake.

Vinca paused only long enough until Ruhka was out of view before turning to the Garlean, now angrily sipping coffee, to ask, "Is this... is this normal around here?"

"Mmm, welcome to the circus."

[nicoolios]

Normal

I don’t even know what holiday to tag this as anymore since it’s so belated, so I’m going with Happy Winter @norton7! I’m your @holidayharbinger for the Mass Effect gift exchange this year. I’m a full-time college senior working as an EMT and in food service, so this year has been an extra special year of stress and craziness, so this is shorter than originally planned. You said one of your favorite pairings is Zaeed/femshep, which is a pairing I’ve never written before, so writing this was a fun adventure. I hope you like it!

After a lifetime of planet-shattering excitement, Anne wanted nothing more than a quiet night in with her friends. A night with no gunfire, no disturbing alien enemies, no one trying to kill her and her friends by association, no fights or threats of death or anything more stressful than running out of a drink in the middle of a good conversation. So when her friends wanted to party and Glyph talked them into a small, calm, private get together on the last night of shore leave, Anne was ready to kiss the artificial intelligence in thanks. Somehow the VI had picked up on how stressed she was after the incident with the clone, sent out invitations and organized the purchasing of supplies, and informed her the day of that her day was now booked with visits with friends and preparing for said party. It was unexpected, but the kind of unexpected Anne could deal with. Running around connecting with people, not running around getting shot by people she originally thought of as allies.  

It took the better part of the day, including all the pit stops to tag along in her friend’s adventures on shore leave, but eventually Anne stood before the bathroom mirror in Anderson’s apartment, zipping herself into the skintight black dress she found in the back of her drawers in her cabin aboard the Normandy. The small N7 on the strap was tacky even by her standards, but the dress was the nicest thing she owned. She had planned on fighting a war, not getting shore leave and throwing a party. Fixing her hair and fully covering the scars adorning her skin was a lost cause, one quickly abandoned when the buzzer rang from the front door. Running as fast as her heels let her, Anne skidded to a halt before the screen. Vega, Cortez, and Liara as the first guests, as she figured. She still suspected Liara planted the idea of the whole get together in Glyph’s head and as soon as Cortez and Vega found out about it they jumped headfirst into the planning.  

“Lola!” Vega greeted her with a flying bear hug, shoving the box he was carrying into Cortez’s arms. “Please tell me you haven’t found any secret plots to kill us tonight.”

“If there are, I declare it not our problem,” Anne said, returning the hug with the same level of intensity.

“Right answer.” Vega reached out for the box, instead making contact with Cortez’s arm, and dragged him into the dogpile. “In that case, we brought beer.”

“Mr. Vega here brought beer,” Cortez corrected. “Liara and I figured you didn’t need any help in that department, so instead we only brought our company.”

“Which is apparently sorely needed after the past few days,” Liara chimed in from the kitchen.

Anne shook her head. Not even five minutes in and there was already a reference to her having a clone and being unable to fully deal with it herself. Thankfully the buzzer rang again, this time with a larger group led by Ashley and Tali. The more people trickled in the more Anne found herself gravitating towards the front door, hoping the person least likely to come and the one she wanted most would sneak in. The rest of her crew was there, even including her older friends who had returned to the Citadel for one reason or another and stayed long enough for a last hurrah. Only one person remained. She tried to forget about it, instead focusing on bouncing from group to group, playing host and catching up and forgetting her own problems all at once. It worked somewhat, at least long enough for the alcohol to start kicking in and the party to really take off. For a VI Glyph managed hosting well, leaving Anne to simply enjoy herself for the first time in forever.

Sometime past midnight the larger groups broke up and smaller ones cropped up around different features of the apartment. The apartment itself was expensive and well beyond the means of the average soldier, leaving those who cared to poke around in curiosity. Anne couldn’t care less about any of that. All she really cared about was leaving the apartment in pristine condition for when Anderson returned. While technically it was hers now, the act felt too much like Anderson passing off the last of his belongings in preparation for not coming home. He couldn’t die. Anne refused to so much as consider the thought. She had every intention of returning everything to Anderson someday, when the war was over and their lives went back to some degree of normalcy.  

From the upstairs balcony Anne could hear voices coming from the master bath. Multiple male voices, a scenario bizarre enough to warrant further investigation. She hesitantly stuck her head through the entrance. Inside Garrus and Zaeed stood over the jacuzzi, Donnelly swaying on his feet behind them. Bunches of wire and bits of tools were scattered across the floor. At least Garrus and Zaeed sounded mostly sober. Anne tiptoed around the potential weapons littering the floor until she was within arm’s reach of everyone. “Zaeed! When did you get here? And why does it look like you guys are building a bomb in the jacuzzi?”

“Because we’re trying to configure a bomb to your DNA in case you have another clone running around, connected to the front door.”

“Then how will I be able to do anything?”

“Shit. We didn’t think of that.” Garrus and Donnelly took off down the stairs, sprinting like her life depended on it. Knowing what the three of them were capable of, it probably did.

Completely alone now, Anne slid closer to Zaeed, still hunched over some wiring coming out of the water. “You completely ignored my and Glyph’s invitations.”

“Didn’t trust some VI, and didn’t trust whether or not I'd make it.”

“Still though, I'm glad you came. You're the one person I really wanted here tonight.”

“And why’s that?”

Pulling him down with her, Anne sat on the edge of the water, heels long since forgotten downstairs. The tub was just deep enough her feet didn’t brush the bottom. Bit by bit she inched further into the water, still hot and bubbling from the last cycle. “Take a wild guess, Zaeed. You, me, alone in a hot tub, and everyone too drunk or preoccupied to bother us.”

“You had me at alone.” He followed, shrugging off armor as he went as Anne undid the zipper on her dress. Once fully unclothed and fully submerged, another jets cycle starting up again, the two tossed the last of their problems aside to feel normal for one last night, as normal as Zaeed Massani and Anne Shepard could be.

[brokenjardaantech]

the invisible price

for @nock-and-bolt.

summary:

earth is under attack. everyone is giving everything they can to defend the only home they have against an alien race called the collectors. but sometimes, the price we pay isn't easily seen or heard.

no knowledge on mass effect required to understand this fic.

part of the groom lake aftermath series.

also on ao3

---

[Josh, do you have a moment?]

Josh tears his eyes and mind away from the tactical map when he hears Rupert’s voice in his head. Rupert communicating with him is a common occurrence given Josh’s responsibility as the codex compiler and Rupert as one of their most efficient spies, but the other android wanting to talk to him directly is something rare and few in between, partly because there is no need, partly because Rupert isn’t exactly the most social person. Josh knows that his responsibility has been growing since Markus and North departed North America and started sailing across the Pacific to secure an alliance with the resistance in Hong Kong, but he looks at his growing to-do list and decides that he can afford a few moments with Rupert; talking to the people working for him and getting to know them better is the leader’s job, and now that Josh himself became the leader, the task falls onto him. {I’ll come to you,} he replies. {Stay where you are.}

[I’m not going anywhere.]

Josh takes note of the unusually harsh tone and calculates the probabilities while he ascends the stairs to the rookery on the topmost floor of the building they have occupied as their base of operations. While most humans have gone underground so that the Collectors can’t get to them as easily, the androids step forward to defend earth, taking advantage of the fact that the aliens don’t target synthetics, and now the surface is theirs. It will be a pain to negotiate with the humans once this is over - if they win the war against the Collectors, that is, the chance diminishing with every single moment Ryder needs to take to find out where exactly their enemies come from - but for now, as he steps foot into the vast space that is now a rookery, he is assaulted by the wind howling and sweeping through the unglazed windows, and he basks in the knowledge that everything within his sight belongs to androids and androids alone. Sitting on one of the windowsills with one of his legs dangling outside and surrounded by pigeons is Rupert, and somehow his hat hasn’t been blown off his head yet. It will be an interesting study if there isn’t a war affecting the entire globe going on, how it manages to stay on the other android’s head, and the puzzles and mazes covering the space from floor to ceiling will be good mind games as well.

Rupert speaks before Josh can ask him what this conversation is for. ‘Be honest, Josh,’ a pigeon lands on his open palm and he strokes its head. ‘Is my intel useful?’

‘Yes, of course,’ Josh doesn’t hesitate to answer. ‘You help us stay in touch with resistance forces from all around the world and collect intel from our allies and enemies. You even help us contact one another on mundane things unrelated to the resistance. Thanks to you, lives are saved and our morale is high. You’re important to us, Rupert,’ he doesn’t know how often Markus visits the android nor does he know how close the two of them are, but just in case Markus didn’t say it enough… ‘We won’t be standing here without your effort.’

Rupert’s snort surprises him. ‘“My” effort?’ he withdraws his leg from outside the window and turns until he is facing Josh with his back against the outside world. ‘I just sit here and wait for my birds to come back. I take off whatever is tied to their legs, dump the data to you, and I’m done.’

‘Still -’

‘You don’t understand!’ the sudden sharpness in his voice makes Josh’s thirium pump skip a bit. ‘I -’ Rupert claws at his head through his cap. ‘You don’t -’ he hops off the ledge. ‘Fuck!’

And suddenly he is standing in front of Josh holding out a skinless hand, a telltale sign that he wants to interface with him, but they aren’t close and interfaces are intimate things, one that is only shared between close friends or lovers, and they certainly aren’t familiar with each other enough to qualify -

‘I don’t know how I can tell you otherwise,’ Rupert grits. His voice is laced with static and his eyes are wet. ‘I know we’re talking about humanity’s survival here but…’ he turns away from Josh as suddenly as he closed the distance between them and squeezes his eyes shut. A tear slips through, evaporating quickly due to the strong wind, but a pale blue track remains on his face. ‘Forget it,’ he cradles his skinless hand close to his chest. ‘Everyone’s sacrificed something for this war. I’m not… I’m not. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed this on you.’

‘You aren’t,’ Josh reassures him. ‘Is there a problem?’

Rupert’s skin reactivates over his hand. ‘Not as big as yours, I’d imagine.’

‘It seems to affect you a lot. If it’s big for you, it’s big enough for me considering how important you are to the resistance.’

He even extends his own hand in encouragement, and after a few seconds of hesitation Rupert grasps it, and Josh is pulled under.

Aliens. Aliens are supposed to be fictional. Not entirely impossible, but the universe is so big, so empty, and physics so slow and constraining, so the chances are low, but they’re here anyway with their bugs and lasers and gas, dragging humans off the streets and shooting anyone who dares to fight back. He runs, he doesn’t want to be shot, his birds need him. He runs and runs and runs until he receives a signal. A rendezvous point. A temporary sanctuary. A base of operations. A chance to fight back. 

An opportunity no one can afford to waste.

rA9 is there so everything will be okay. Simon is missing from his side. He doesn’t want to think about what happened to Simon. He doesn’t want to think about all the missing faces.

rA9 says they are fighting a war. 

rA9 says they need everything they want to give.

rA9 says they need to make sure that there is a humanity for ‘the alliance’ to return to, whoever they are.

So he offers his birds. His birds like him. His birds trust him. His birds are strong. His birds are healthy. His birds are smart. His birds know their way home. He read human books. He knows how useful his birds can be. 

rA9 is generous. 

rA9 gives him enough space to house his birds.

rA9 gives him everything he needs to train them to carry messages.

But rA9 doesn’t need to know how his birds use to fill the entire floor. rA9 doesn’t need to know they now barely cover half the space they have. rA9 doesn’t need to know most of his birds fall asleep forever after delivering a message from far, far away.

He stops taking care of his birds because he likes them. He stops feeding them because he wants to feed them. He stops naming them because he doesn’t want to know who died and who didn’t. Instead, he starts researching, he starts training his birds instead of letting them live their own lives, he starts breeding them when he realises that he needs more, he needs to fill the floor again, he needs all the birds he can get to help people fight the war. They can’t lose the war. They can’t die. They can’t lose everyone and everything. Not after fighting so hard for their freedom. Not after fighting so hard to be recognised as sentient beings.

He hates it. Everyone hates it. He knows because he reads the written messages. He knows it’s bad. He knows everyone is making their sacrifices, sacrifices much bigger than a few dozen birds, sacrifices much more painful than seeing some easily replaceable animals die. 

He doesn’t deserve to complain. 

He cannot complain. 

He will not complain. 

He will not burden rA9.

He needs to win.

He needs to live.

He hates the Collectors.

He hates what he is doing.

He hates himself.

He hates.

He hates.

HE HATES -

Rupert jerks away from Josh harshly and nearly steps on one of the pigeons on the floor. He refuses to look at Josh, and reaching out only causes the WB200 to recoil even further so Josh doesn’t push him. He dares not push him. Markus would know what to say, but Josh is no Markus, and he can only say, ‘You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to. We’ll understand.’

‘I know you do,’ Rupert retreats towards the window and sits on the ledge with one leg dangling outside once more. This time, when a pigeon lands on his knee, he doesn’t even touch it, and he turns his gaze towards the city outside. ‘I just wouldn’t know how to deal with myself if I’m not sitting here.’ When Josh doesn’t move, he adds, ‘Go on. I’m sure you have a resistance to lead. I’ll send you everything I’ve got whenever there’s an update.’

Josh has no choice but to leave, and as he returns to his usual post in front of the tactical map among his people, among the brave souls who are giving all they can to hold the line on the only home they have, he wonders what they have given up to be here, why exactly they are volunteering themselves, how they feel about this whole defending earth business. He may never know.

He isn’t sure if he wants to know.