#not even kidding let me be the audience for your passionate speeches i am begging you | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fruit-teeth · 5 years

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American Boy

Alternate title: The Day Soldier Realized what He Was Going to do With His Life

/(Yep Soldier’s up next! Just wanna give everyone a quick warning: this one gets pretty violent at points, so read with caution. Hope you enjoy!)/

The year was 1932, June 1st, and all the school children were waiting anxiously in the hot sun to present the projects that they’d worked on all year long. Their parents were all gathered in the gym, fanning themselves or checking the clock to see how much time they had left in that sweltering gymnasium. Of course, they wanted to see the children they were so proud of say what they had to say, but no adult is exactly thrilled about having to sit through speeches written by children that are not their own.

Finally, the principal graced the stage, and he took the microphone, beginning with, “Thank you, ladies and gentlemen! The Roselake County children are all very excited to present to you their projects! This year, we instructed the children to write about things they are passionate about, and then to tell us all how their passions will benefit society. So, in alphabetical order, we will begin!” he cleared his throat. “First up is Jonathan Apperly!”

The adults applauded, and one by one, the children came up to the podium and nervously read their papers out loud to the room of adults. Jonathan wrote about his passion for airplanes and how they were important to society, Ella spoke about the importance and benefits of gardening, and Rick stumbled through an essay about water systems. There was applause each time and the occasional whistles or shouts of support from the child’s family.

However, when the time came from the principal to read the next name, he grimaced. “Uh…um, up next is…Jane Doe,” he shuffled away quickly, glancing over his shoulder a few times as if he were fearful of what was about to come.

Jane came stomping onto the stage—he was well-known around town, for all the wrong reasons. At eleven years old, he was already tall for his age and rather muscular, and this was the first time he’d ever been allowed to present a project.

His blue eyes scanned the room, silently taking in every face he saw, and he leaned forward into the microphone to begin speaking.

“The kids from the high school,” he began, very focused on what he was saying. “Are very rude and mean and nasty. I don’t like them at all! But one day, they followed me home and made fun of my hair and clothes…I was very mad. So, I punched one of them! I kicked him to the ground and pulled his hair, and the other boys tried to stop me but I just punched them too! I gave one three black eyes—”

“You can’t give someone three black eyes, dummy!” another boy from backstage snarked in a loud voice.

When Jane whirled around and angrily waved his fist at whoever dared to make that comment, the principal cut in. “Jane? Jane, please, for the love of God…just—what is it you are passionate about and how does it benefit society?”

Jane turned back to the audience, his eyes still hard and focused. “The point is I got in trouble for defending myself! I was the bad guy—but that’s why I think we all have to fight against the system!” he suddenly leaped up onto the podium, proclaiming, “Fight the system! Fight it! Punch mean people! Fight them! I’m tired of being nice—let’s all fight back! Let—”

He was cut off when the podium flew out from under his weight, and he crashed down into the row of seats before him, yelling as his face met the floor.

The principal gasped, jumping up and rushing to check on Jane, shaking his shoulder. “Jane! Jane, are you all right!?”

Jane sat up, touched his nose, pulled his hand away to look at it and when he noticed blood he began to wail pitifully, sobbing out in pain. The principal looked around helplessly until the math teacher came running over to gently lead Jane away from the scene.

The math teacher left Jane crying in the hallway, clutching a rag to his bloody nose. He could hear the other children giggling about him backstage, and he just wanted to curl up and disappear.

Just then, the gym doors came flying open, and a large hand grabbed his collar.

“Damn it, Jane!” his father’s voice came booming into his ears. “Why can’t you be a normal kid!? For Christ’s sake—I dunno why I even try with you!”

Bess came peeking over his shoulder, watching in concern. “Pa, another kid is reading,”

“Do I look like a give a shit!?” barked Michael Doe, and he yanked his son to his feet. “Come on, Bess, let’s get this idiot home,”

Michael shoved Jane into the truck, and Bess climbed in beside him. As the truck started up, Bess reached around to carefully pat Jane’s shoulder.

“Aw, come on, now,” Bess assured, smiling as sweetly as she could at Jane. “I thought you did very well,”

Jane sniffed, wiping his nose, smearing his blood all over his face. “R-really?”

Michael snorted contemptuously from the driver’s seat, and Bess shot him a look. “Pa!”

“Bess, he was awful!” Michael growled. “Don’t lie to the kid’s face!”

My Country ‘Tis of Thee began to play over the radio, and Michael turned the volume up. “You here that, Jane?” he called back to his son. “Your paper was supposed to be about benefittin’ society—you know who benefits society? The soldiers who fight for this country!” he sighed, looking out the window out at the road. “You’d make a fine soldier…you could finally put all your rage and shit to use. You ain’t succeeded in much, let me tell you, but you’d probably kill a few fellas pretty well!”

They pulled up to their house, where the shutters were rotting from the windows and the hounds barked outside. As Michael stepped out of the car, he yelled at the dogs, “Shut the hell up, you bastards! You make so much damn noise!”

Right away, Jane seemed to forget his bloody nose as he ran to the dogs, taking turns petting each other them and telling each of them how special he thought they were. Michael just rolled his eyes at the sight and went into the house, while Bess stayed behind to watch.

“You’re a good friend to them, Jane,” she remarked gently, coming up behind him and wrapping her plush arms around his smaller body.

Jane paused, but he didn’t stop stroking the dogs. “Animals are better than people,” he muttered.

“Well,” Bess considered the statement. “That ain’t totally true…there are good people, and there are bad animals. You ever see a baboon? I’ve seen them on the television, they’re nasty things! They could rip you up,”

“Baboons don’t say I ain’t succeeded in much,” Jane murmured bitterly.

Bess paused, and she sighed, rubbing at her younger brother’s back. “Yeah, yeah…I know,”

After a moment, she stood up, taking Jane’s hand. “C’mon, let's go inside. Ma probably wants to see you,”

Jane just nodded. “Okay,”

Their mother sat in the living room, draped in her shawl as she sat in the rocking chair, just as she always did. Like always, she didn’t say a word, but she smiled at Jane when he approached her, and he laid his head in her lap.

Her hands caressed his scalp lovingly as she hummed to him, and Jane knew she didn’t need words to say she loved him. Jane tilted his head up to look at her, and he sniffed, “Mama…they laughed at me. What’s wrong with me? Am I ever gonna benefit society?”

His mother still said nothing, and she rubbed his cheek, still humming. There was always a sadness in her eyes, one he couldn’t understand. His father spoke about she used to talk, and how she used to be ‘normal’, but then after one bad day, she just shut down and never said another word. Jane didn’t get it: he had bad days all the time, but he could still talk.

“Jane!” Michael shouted from the kitchen. “Go feed those damn dogs, will you!? They won’t shut up!”

Jane’s head popped off his mother’s lap, and he patted her hand, assuring her, “I’ll be back, Mama,”

He grabbed the bag of dog food and lugged it outside, scooping out some to pour into the bowls. The hounds swarmed eagerly, each wanting to get a taste of the dry dog food and occasionally licking Jane’s hands. Jane smiled as he watched them, yet it wasn’t long before something else caught his attention.

Several feet away, in the yard, a small creature moved in the grass. Jane squinted, trying to get a good look, and it wasn’t long before he realized it was a kitten.

Jane gasped a little, and he moved closer, but he went slow as he didn’t want to startle the kitten. The kitten, a little orange thing, eventually noticed Jane and acted as if it were about to run away.

“Don’t run!” Jane begged, kneeling to make himself look smaller. “I like you a lot—do you wanna be my friend?”

The kitten seemed hesitant, but Jane extended his hand, showing he was friendly and meant no harm. After a moment, the kitten stepped forward to sniff him, and Jane began to pet her gently.

She purred, moving closer and rubbing against him, her eyes falling shut. Jane couldn’t stop grinning, and he picked up the kitten to get a better look at her. “You’re my friend, now! We should go inside, I can get you some chicken. Cats like chicken, right?”

The kitten only mewed in response, and Jane stood up, scooping up the little thing in his arms. However, it wasn’t long before he noticed someone way out by the fence, and they were coming closer.

It was Matteo Cancio—a boy from an Italian family who had moved next door just a few weeks earlier. Jane had never spoken to him, but he knew his father didn’t much care for him or his family.

Matteo noticed Jane, and he approached, hands in his pockets, a smug grin across his face. “Hey, are you Jane?” his accent was so odd to Jane’s ears, like nothing he’d ever heard before. “I thought you would be a girl…”

Jane scowled. “I’m not, I’m a boy. Can’t you see?”

“Whatever,” Matteo focused on the kitten in Jane’s arms. “What do you have there, Jane? A kitten?”

“Yeah,” Jane nodded. “She’s my new friend, she—”

Without warning, Matteo yanked the kitten out of Jane’s arms and bolted away, laughing. Jane gasped, about he gave chase, screaming, “Get back here! That’s my kitten, dummy!”

Jane chased Matteo through the field behind the houses, which was very overgrown but not hard to get through. Eventually, Matteo stopped at the dirt road beside the field, panting, holding the bewildered kitten in the air. “I got your kitten, Jane!”

Growling, Jane, tried to snatch the kitten back, but Matteo held it away from him, still giggling like a madman. Matteo then held the kitten down on the road, kneeling but grinning wickedly up at Jane. “Give me all the money in your pocket, or I crush this kitten!”

Jane felt himself panicking as the kitten mewled helplessly, and he rooted through his own pockets. “I-I don’t have anything! Give me the kitten back, please!”

Matteo’s wicked grin got wider, and he poised to strike his hand down. “Wrong—”

Something then came over Jane—something snapped in him. He tackled Matteo to the ground, pinning him there and beginning to mercilessly pummel him over and over, smashing his head into the dirt road beneath him and beating down on him.

Matteo shrieked something in Italian that Jane didn’t understand, and he tried to fight back, but Jane was much bigger stronger than him. When Jane took a moment to catch a breath, the beatings ceased momentarily, and Matteo took that moment to spit blood up in Jane’s face.

“Fuck America!” Matteo yelled, tears rolling down his face. “I hate this stupid country and everyone in it! I hope all you stupid Americans die!”

Jane glared down at Matteo for a moment, just thinking over what he’d said, and then he smacked him across the face. “No!” Jane barked, almost as loud as his father was when he yelled. “Our country isn’t stupid—you’re the stupid one! We live in a land of freedom and happiness, and we are the best! But you’re too stupid to see that! You just wanna hurt people who did nothing! Well, do you know what I’m gonna do!? I’m gonna hurt you and everyone like you who hates freedom and wants to hurt the innocent! I’m gonna kill people like you—and I’m gonna do it to fight for America!”

Matteo just started up at him, his eye bruised, blood pouring from a split lip. “You Americans are all the same,”

Jane gritted his teeth, and then he stood up, only to grab Matteo and flip him up and over his shoulder, dropping him directly on his head. He landed with a smack, directly on his head, and he lay limp in the dirt, his breathing labored, his eyes pressed shut.

Jane just watched, before leaning down to spit on him. As Matteo tried to inch away, Jane knelt beside a nearby stone, calling, “Kitten? Kitten, where did you go?”

The kitten appeared out from behind the stone, unharmed but terrified, and Jane gently picked her up. “C’mon, we’re gonna go home,” he assured softly, folding her in his arms. “Let’s go,”

He left Matteo alone in that field, and he didn’t look back. What happened to Matteo is something this story doesn’t tell, but it is safe to assume that he was forever changed by that incident.

Jane, however, went home with his kitten (who he later named Liberty) and a mission in his mind: he knew how he was going to benefit society and that was by fighting for his country.

He wanted to protect the innocent and destroy the guilty, and he vowed to himself that he was forever going to be an American soldier.

Jane opened the door to his front porch, Liberty tucked in his arms, and he went inside. He didn’t notice the woman staring at him from across the street, and he also didn’t notice how she smirked at him, her golden eyes glowing in the hazy light.

“Good work, Jane,” she murmured, turning and walking back down the sidewalk.

#this one is probably my least favorite so far but #maybe you guys will like it #writing #my writing #tf2 #tf2 fanfiction #tf2 soldier #tf2 administrator #child abuse tw #animal abuse tw #blood tw #violence #origins

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akamaiden · 6 years

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Give Me Love

A/N: I must confess that I love receiving this request and I loved even more writing it! Halfdan deserves some love too! 🖤 Do you know those years that Ragnar simply disappeared and we still don't know what he did meanwhile? Well, I thought about something.

Gif belongs to: @sikanapanele

Requested by anonymous: Could i request an imagine from Vikings? Ragnar's ex wife and queen of Sweden(the reader) meets and falls in love with Halfdan but she makes him work for her trust, since she has kids

Pairing: Halfdan the Black x Queen!Reader.

Warnings: Harald is a vicious snake and impresses no one. Angst (shout out to the mothers, this may be triggering) and fluff.

Words: 2,005.

You were getting tired to hear Harald's endless speech. It was leaving you nauseous. You just want him to go away of your kingdom. But there was him, talking non stop, defending the idea of the other viking realms to join him in this stupid idea of getting vengeance upon Ivar.

You waited patiently for him to stop talking and when he did you took a deep breath before talking.

“Let me see if I understand you, Harald,” you said and watched with amusement a clearly irritation wave passing on his bright blue eyes. You didn't call him by his title. And considering that he worked really hard to get that horrible crown on his head, he wanted everyone talking to him using the word King, like if it was part of his name.

“You came into my kingdom, I offer you the best stay as possible, for you to dare to propose me such a thing?” you continued drinking mead from your golden cup.

“Yes, I know that must be hard for you considering that you were his father's…” a wicked grin appeared on his lips as he watched you intensely.

“Wife. Yes, I was Ragnar’s third and last wife. Do you have problems with this?” you asked holding your cup tighter, just like you wanted to do with Harald's throat.

“No but-”

“That’s what I thought. So Harald, I already made up my mind,” you said.

“Then tell me, Queen Y/N,” he said emphasizing the word queen.

“I’d gladly lead my man to support such a noble man like you, Harald Finehair,” you said trying hard not to laugh at your own words. “However, I wouldn't be able to harm any Ragnarsson. I owe this to their father, I won't betray my husband after his death. I know he's watching me from Valhalla and I'm sure that my decision brings a smile to his face. And this is my final decision and I won't reconsider it,” you said firmly.

How dared him? Come to your kingdom, abuse your hospitality, to ask such a shameless and filthy thing.

You knew that this may implied that he would seek vengeance upon you as well, but honestly, you couldn't care less. If that ever happened, you'd gladly leader your men to defend Sweden.

“I knew it, I fuck-” he interrupted his own words.

You stood up from your throne and slowly made your way towards him. Once you were face to face to him, you said, “Choose your words wisely, Harald.” The threat, clear as water, in your tone.

“I’m sorry, Queen Y/N. Even so I'd like to thank you for your hospitality. I'll leave your kingdom tomorrow morning,” he said. Harald knew better than to wake up your fury.

“No need to hurry, take all the time you need for your departure. Now if you excuse me,” you said and he left you alone.

“Finally,” you said to yourself and took your crown off.

You headed to your room and left your crown there. Beautiful or not, you just wore it when it was needed.

You went to your children's room but they, or even the women that take care of them, weren't there.

“Dora, where are my children? By the time they were supposed to be sleeping,” you said trying to stay calm.

Your mind pictured your boys under Harald's evil hands. But you relaxed a little knowing that he couldn't make this that fast.

“I don't know my Queen, I came to say to Hildr and Guðr that I'd put them to sleep but I found their room just like this, empty. I was waiting for you to finish the audience with King Harald to talk to you,” she said already trembling fearing your reaction.

“You should've interrupt us! My children are most important than everything, I hope you have this in mind from now on!” you said in a low and deadly tone.

“Yes, my Queen. I-i am sorry,” she said with tears forming in her eyes.

You didn't mean to hurt her, really. Dora was at your side from the very first moment you putted that stupid crown in your head, showing you a blind loyalty. She would do anything for you and your children. You'd apologize with her, but not now. Now you need to find your children.

“Kára, Sigrún I want all my shieldmaidens looking for my children at every place of Sweden, now!” you roared the last part desperate to find your sons.

You mounted a horse and went looking for them as well. You and your shieldmaidens looked at every place of your kingdom and yet no signs of your children.

You were so desperate, so scared, at this moment. You could already feel the tears threatening to fall off of your eyes. Your heart hammering in your chest in pure fear. Your sons. Beowulf and Reginleif. Your boy and girl.

Before you could notice you were yelling in pure fear, sadness and frustration. You would do anything to have them both in your arms again. Anything.

You begged to the Gods, for they guide them back to you safe and sound. It was all you wanted.

You were on the Great Hall, walking around the room non stop, you were so nervous that you stopped looking for them, because you were with your eyes swollen and clearly incapable of thinking coherently. But obviously you made sure to send all of your shieldmaidens to look up for them. Some men even offered themselves to help looking for them as well and you couldn't thank them enough.

It was late when the door of the Great Hall was opened and no one else than Halfdan came inside. He was carrying Reginleif in his arms and Beowulf was walking at his side excitedly while talking to him.

“Where did you took my children?” you roared at him.

“Mommy!” Beowulf said and hugged your legs.

You hugged him tightly and covered him with kisses.

“Give me my daughter, now!” you said between clenched teeth.

“Y/N, I can-”

“No you can't! Where did you took them? Where? I'll fucking kill you if one of them is bruised, are you listen to me?” you said interrupting Halfdan.

You took Reginleif in your arms and cried while inhaling her scent. She was just a baby, she was two years old.

You gave her to Dora and she guided her to the room she shared with her brother.

“Y/N, you need to listen to me!” Halfdan said.

“No! You have to listen to me! How dare you took my children away from me?” you said while you slammed him against the nearest wall.

Halfdan could be stronger and taller, but you were sure faster. You caught him off guard and he didn't even notice your moves before he was against the wall with a dagger pressed against his throat.

“Slow down, Y/N,” he said.

“Mommy, don't do this! Mommy!” Beowulf screamed to get your attention.

Once you were looking at him with the dagger pressed harder against Halfdan's throat, guaranteeing him to not make a move, you said, “What it's now, Beowulf?”

“It’s my fault, mommy. I'm sorry,” he said looking at the floor and playing with his clothes just like he did when he was ashamed.

“What it's your fault, babe? Tell mommy,” you encouraged him.

“I was missing father… I went running from Hildr and I ended up in the woods. I was lost mommy, I'm sorry,” he said.

You let your dagger fall from your hand and you ran towards him and knelt in front of him and took his body in a tight embrace.

“It’s okay, my heart. I'm here now,” you said caressing his blonde hair and kissing his cheeks.

“I miss him, mommy. I miss him so much,” he said between sobs.

“Shhh, don't cry. Your father is watching you from Valhalla, it's okay, it's everything okay,” you said.

Once he was calmer, he continued talking. “Reginleif followed me and we were lost and alone until Halfdan came. He defended us, mommy. There was a wolf and he wanted to eat us, but Halfdan didn't let him,”

You looked at Halfdan and he just nodded and you got lost on his dark brown eyes.

“Will you punish me, mommy?” Beowulf asked.

“I should, but I won't. I was so worried with you and your sister, I thought…” you said closing your eyes. You didn't even want to think about what could have happened to your children if Halfdan wasn't there.

“Now go to sleep, my heart. I have to talk to Halfdan now,” you said kissing Beowulf's forehead once again.

“Thank you, Halfdan,” Beowulf said and went hug Halfdan.

“It was nothing, little king. Now go and obey your mom,” he said.

Beowulf smiled and ran towards his room, leaving you alone with Halfdan.

“I’m sorry,” you said.

“It’s okay, you were worried. I understand that,” he said and caressed your cheeks lightly.

Since Harald and Halfdan came to Sweden, you found yourself really close to Halfdan. What started as you welcoming them, quickly turned into him falling for you. And you trying to deny and suppress your feelings for him. You felt like that could offend Ragnar somehow. And obviously there was the fear. What if you loved him and ended up losing him? Just like what happened to Ragnar? No, you couldn't take another strike from that force ever again.

But now, you were standing in the front of Halfdan the Black, feared warrior and savior of your children. And you owed him your own life.

“Thank you. Thank you so much, I-i war so scared, so worried,” you said hugging him.

Halfdan hugged you and kissed your hair. “I have already said, and I'll repeat. I'd give my life for you, if this means that you'll be safe. I'm just including your children in this vow,” he said.

You looked at him and found nothing but true in his eyes. He meant it. And you didn't doubt him.

You smiled to him and he simply felt his heart pounding in his chest, he guided his hands to the back of your neck and touched your lips with his own for the very first time.

And you felt your heart overflowing with passion and admiration. How were you trying to fool? He conquered your heart just being himself, respecting you, making you laugh, bringing flowers to you, and now, saving your children from a bloody death.

You kissed him like you meant it, you reached for his bottom lip and licked it slowly, asking for permission that he gladly gave it to you. Your tongues met and and danced around each other, tasting, exploring, lusting.

You broke the kiss when you felt your lungs screaming in protest, but even so his hands didn't leave your hips. You giggled against his lips.

“I was afraid,” you said looking at him.

He cupped your face with both hands and caressed your cheeks while saying, “I’m not like my brother. I don't seek for power, treasures or enemies. I was seeking for a lifemate, someone who I can trust with my eyes closed, someone that I'd give my own life to protect if it's needed. And I'm so happy to say that I found everything and more that I was looking for within you. I'm so happy that the Gods gifted me with you. I love you, Y/N,”

If it was literally any other person saying you such a thing, you'd laugh at his face, you'd know that he was lying. But Halfdan? All you saw in his eyes was true. He loved you. He truly did.

If he loved you, if he loved your children, how could that possibly offend Ragnar? He was probably feasting right now the fact that you were finally moving on, finally living your life.

“I love you, Halfdan,” you said.

You never said something being so sure.

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#halfdan the black #halfdan the black x reader #halfdan #halfdan x reader #halfdan imagine #vikings halfdan #halfdan fanfiction #Halfdan fanfic #vikings #vikings fanfiction #vikings fanfic #vikings imagine #sister wives #1k followers celebration #mari writes

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jzeeeeeeeee · 5 years

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Game of Thrones 8.06 Series Finale Recap and Review

THE NIGHT IS DARK AND FULL OF SPOILERS

This should be kind of obvious but I'll be discussing the final episode of Game of Thrones here so if you're not caught up don't read this unless you want to be spoiled!

CITY OF ASHES

Tyrion walks us into the episode, literally, walking through the ashes of King's Landing, closely followed by Jon and Davos. Ash is everywhere, still raining down, floating in the air like snow. I can only imagine the smell, if the scent from piles of burning dead outside Winterfell was bad this must be a thousand times worse considering they've always said how bad the city smelled to begin with... The horror on Tyrion's face is evident and surely echoes our own, as he walks by dead children and a near-naked burnt man stumbling out of the ruined city looking truly shellshocked. Tyrion tells Jon he wants to go on alone and heads for the destroyed Red Keep. Jon and co. run into Grey Worm and the Unsullied sentencing some Lannister soldiers to death in Dani's name and under her orders. Jon tries to tell Grey Worm that the war is over and the enemy soldiers are prisoners now, pleading for their lives. But the overwhelming loss must have had a hollowing effect on Grey Worm, emptying him of every last fuck he had to give. It almost comes to blood between Grey Worm/the Unsullied and Jon/random Northmen but Davos intercedes, quickly urging Jon to go speak with Dani directly. As Jon walks away, Grey Worm goes back to slitting throats of Lannister men like it's nothing, as if to show Jon how truly empty his fuck-tank was.

Back to Tyrion, walking around the remains of the Red Keep. He follows the steps down just like he told Jaime and sees the gigantic mountain of rubble covering the exit he had described. He starts digging through the rubble and finds jaime's gold hand. Digging further he uncovers both his siblings, dead on each other's arms. The music is haunting, a slow violin rendition of Rains of Castamere. This scene was picture perfect in it's tragedy, the bricks washing all color out of the scene save for the Lannisters. I might not have liked the way Cersei's end came or Jaime's middle finger to his redemption arc but seeing Tyrion kneeling there crying over them definitely gave me the feels.

PLAZA OF PRIDE

Arya walks past dead bodies and ruins out into the square in front of the Red Keep where the mysterious remaining half of the Dothraki are riding around on their horses, cheering and raising their arakhs in the air. We switch to follow Jon who's walking past the Dothraki and Unsullied towards massive, imposing steps of what is apparently left of the Red Keep. It makes me think of the Mayan Temple of the Sun, draped with a truly ginormous Targaryen banner. Jon looks at Grey Worm when he gets to the top of the stairs like "this is not handicap accessible". Just kidding, Jon looks at Grey Worm like he's gone as bonkers as his Queen. Dani and Drogon come flying in overhead and land somewhere behind the ruined Keep. Drogon's wings behind Dani stretch out and fold as she comes walking into the foreground. The sight is truly amazing and I've watched that part alone a hundred times. This is a powerful leader with men fiercely loyal to her returning victorious, no longer that little girl in Essos constantly on the run from assassins. There's a nice juxtaposition of the Unsullied lined up with precision thumping their spears in perfect unison, while the Dothraki are in a frenzy behind their orderly rows, practically doing wheelies on their horses as Dani delivers her victory speech.

Ok let's just stop and appreciate this character for a minute. Let's just imagine going through what she went through, it truly must feel like destiny, step by step bringer her closer to madness, all that power she has. She has a huge dragon that is closely bonded to her, she's the Unburnt not just a Khaleesi, not just a Queen. She's conquered before, and liberated before. When a character is too OP you just know they can't last... Remember the speech she gave when she named the entire khalasar her bloodriders? These men watched her walk out of fire, TWICE, unharmed. Who wouldn't kneel? They must think her a goddess! Grey Worm is devoted utterly because he was freed by Dani and he controls the Unsullied. The naming as Master of War, a great boon to him I'm sure, leader of ALL her forces now. He's still covered in the blood of dead Lannister soldiers as he steps forward to accept the nomination.

Danaerys speaks passionately, fervently as any champion of fire would. I could practically see flames dancing in her eyes as she talks of liberating the people of King's Landing. The show told me she's going crazy so I guess she must be. Jon's eyes when she starts talking about liberating the entire world... But it seems Tyrion agrees with me and in a fit of pique and anguish he casts off his Hand of the Queen pin to the ground. Dani commands the guards to take Tyrion and he locks eyes with Jon as he's walked off, with this "Your girl done gone nuts bro" face.

Arya catches up with Jon on the steps, urging him to see that Dani is a killer and he's in danger from her since she knows his true heritage. I like how he's surprised to see her, asking for its the audience what she's doing there in the first place. He doesn't even question the fact she came to kill Cersei and walks off to go find Tyrion's cell.

BROKEN THINGS

Jon and Tyrion discuss what happened and Jon can't deny what Dani did was wrong but he's trying to justify it by naming all the things she lost along the way to madness. Tyrion reiterates what Arya was saying, that Jon's life is at risk because of his claim to the throne. Jon actually rolls his eyes before sitting down to take it all in. It seems like Tyron admits he had feelings for Dani here, saying he loved her though not as successfully as Jon did. He walks Jon by the hand to the idea that she's the biggest threat to the people, especially his sisters. He lays a choice at Jon's feet, knowing that only Jon has the chance to bring this to an end.

Jon leaves to go find Dani in the Keep. Drogon is stretched outside like the largest cat ever, briefly getting up to see who's disturbing his rest but let's Jon go by without even a puff of smoke. Dani's walking through the ruined throne room, stretching out her hand to the Iron Throne she's sought after for all these years, touching the arm briefly. The ruins of the throne room and the snow-like ash in the air are the payoff from the vision she had in Qaarth's House of the Undying. She's contemplative, making a meta comment about the throne being made of a thousand blades from Aegon's fallen enemies. This is a sort of dig because the throne GRRM had described and imagined was more like the one she does here. Jon comes in to rain on her parade, angry about the Unsullied executing Lannister soldiers along with the thousands of dead and burned children outside. He seems to be giving her one last chance, begging with her to see reason. As she says her final words about building a new world and breaking the wheel I'm heartbroken because I know what's coming next without anyone telling me. "Be with me. Build the new world with me. This is our reason, since you were a little boy with a bastard's name and I was a little girl that couldn't count to 20. We do it together. We break the wheel together." He kisses her passionately this time, "You are my Queen, now and always", not breaking away like he did at Winterfell and Dragonstone, and I know the instant the knife goes in her heart he's sobbing and so am I. It's like she had plot armor her entire life... until today.

THE IRON THRONE

Jon lays Dani's body down on the ground and suddenly Drogon's there, sensing something wrong with his mother. He nudges her with his head but she's gone, and the sadness that pours out of him is an echo of my own seeing her tragic story at an end. This girl had been on this path since her birth, freeing slaves, serving justice to those who deserved it and I'm supposed to believe right at the end she decides to kill all the innocent people she came to save. Ok fine I'll go along with it for now since we're on mega fast forward this season and maybe I just missed all the subtle steps on the way to Dani's madness. Back to Drogon... He's so full of anguish he let's out a few huge bursts of fire, melting the Iron Throne down to slag. The scene was awesome in the true meaning of the word but I'm a little confused why Drogon would understand the meaning of such an act. And why didn't Jon move out of the way more? He has a weird thing with facing dragons I guess, maybe he planned on yelling at Drogon like he did to his brother. The scene ends after Drogon snatches up Dani's body in one claw and flies away, never to be seen again.

Tyrion awakes, finding his buddy Grey Worm at the door. He's led out to the Dragonpit where the Lords and Ladies of Westeros (🤷) are waiting. I have no idea what kind of time has passed but guessing from Tyrion's hair it's been a few weeks since Dani's death. Sansa demands to know where Jon is but Grey Worm insists they are in control of the city and it's prisoners. Sansa doubles down letting him know King's Landing is surrounded by Northmen. Yara makes some threat about Jon getting killed by the Unsullied but Arya comes right back at her saying she'll slit her throat lol. I think it's right around here everything becomes a bit hokey to me. After some back and forth with Grey Worm about the fate of Jon Snow, Tyrion suggests they choose a king or queen (who will ultimately be in charge of that fate). That Tully dude, Lord of the Riverlands gets up to make a speech (maybe to make a play as king?) but Sansa shoots him down by asking him to just sit, be a good boy, and drink his bottled water. Sam suggests a type of democracy system where everyone gets a say and they all just laugh at him. Just like everyone imagined, Tyrion reveals Jon is the heir to the Throne and they all live happily ever after. Wait no, actually he walks around and talks about how stories hold the world together and Bran should be King. What in the ever-loving fuck? Who has a better story than a man who came back from the dead only to find he was not a bastard at all but the heir to the Iron Throne????!!! Ok I get that he killed Dani so that's a stain on his honor but he did it to save the whole damn world. He didn't want to rule but neither did Bran! Tyrion proposes kingship to Bran in a way that sounds like a marriage proposal from the realm. Then Bran shows more emotion than he has in the past 2 seasons, he smiled a little and says "Why do you think I came all this way?" Huh? Well I had thought it was to help defeat the Night King and the White Walkers but fine I'll go along with that too I guess... I thought for a hot second he'd say "I am Groot". Sansa declares independence for the North after we get a round of "ayes" from all the other Westerosi Lords and Ladies in favor of Bran the Broken as king. I face palm but on my 3rd or 4th rewatch I see that Tyrion's cleverness did shine through one last time. He knew that giving Jon to the Unsullied would mean more war, knew Jon didn't want the throne anyway, knew that the puzzle needed solving and I suppose he did it. Jon would go to the Wall and serve a life sentence in the Night's Watch as a compromise, apparently to keep everyone from getting what they want. We see Tyrion meet briefly with Jon to explain this and he's as baffled as I am there's even a Night's Watch left. What are they watching? Season one?

A DREAM OF SPRING

Another time jump of unknown proportions and Jon is getting on a boat, headed for the Wall. He sees Grey Worm on another ship about to set sail for Naath where I can only assume he'll die from butterfly poison trying to protect Missandei's people. As Jon rounds a corner he sees Bran, Arya and Sansa are there to see him off. Hugs all around, Sansa apologizes to Jon and I can't help but think it's forced, Arya will sail West of Westeros. When Jon kneels in front of Bran saying, "Your Grace" I'm still wondering what his Targ ancestry had to do with anything and why Bran thought it was so important for him to know. The last of the Starks are going to go on their separate paths again, but hey they won the Game.

We next get a cute scene of Brienne writing Jaime's deeds in the White Book, meaning she's the Lord Commander now. This part is uber meme-able, particularly when she makes faces trying to think of good deeds to write. After a few creative truths she closes the book without writing anything about how he saved the people of King's Landing from being burned alive with wildfire. This scene also shows us Bran the Broken has taken a raven for his sigil, it's now prominent on Brienne's Kingsguard armor.

We go next back to Tyrion, the Keep mended enough to have a small council meeting in the old spot he's meticulously rearranging the chairs. Sam, now Grandmaester, brings in a book called a Song of Ice and Fire, very Hobbit of him, setting it in front of Tyrion. The rest of the small council files in, Bronn as Lord of Highgarden and Master of Coin, Davos as Master of Ships, and Brienne the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. Bran is wheeled in just for a minute so we can hear they're missing a few officers and see Sir Podrick is in charge of pushing his chair around now, making an ambiguous comment about finding Drogon just before leaving the running of the kingdom to the council (please give me a sequel of just that!). The scene ends with Tyrion starting his famous jackass/brothel joke but we never get the punchline.

NORTH OF THE WALL

Jon arrives at the Wall, which has been repaired with wooden gates. Then the most well-done cutting of scenes together happens as we bounce between Arya getting ready for her journey west, Jon's arrival and subsequent leaving of the Wall, and Sansa's coronation as Queen of the North. We see Jon moving through the wildlings and finally, FINALLY, he pets Ghost. Arya's on a ship with a huge Stark wolf on the sails. Sansa is at Winterfell newly crowned. It all ends kind of how it started, with Jon on his horse walking north into the woods, wildlings on foot following him into the future. The scene evokes a sense of adventure unknown and reminds me of the first scenes from the pilot where we first saw the wights and Walkers in action but instead of death it's life moving through these woods now.

UPS AND DOWNS

So my main reason for breaking this all down was because I've been asked over and over what I thought of this episode. Many of you know I'm passionate about this show and even now that's it's over I'm sure I'll rewatch it many, many times again, season by season. In fact, this will probably be the first blog entry I have in "Watching Thrones Backwards; maybe it makes more sense this way?"

That being said I feel like this ending was really perfect for what they set out to do. A show based on a book series is always difficult, and Thrones lost access to the written word once the show moved past the books. I've read every single book and felt that more character development could've been done here in Seasons 7 and 8, both of which would've been better with more episodes. It felt rushed without those extra moments this story deserved but instead we got what we got. And what we got in the last episode was amazing for this series, beautifully produced, imagery leaps and bounds ahead of anything else on television, well-acted, even if not always well-written.

The biggest criticism I have was that the dive into Dani's madness was too abrupt, and such a huge deviation from her character. But her last words will haunt me for all of time. "We will break the wheel together." And they did. Jon's act was a sacrifice for both of them and gave rise to the new system of electing leaders.

Time was also my enemy in this episode, I know that it opens pretty soon after the last one because there's still fires burning but as we go through it I felt less and less certain where we were on the timeline. At the Dragonpit scene Robin Aryn was much taller, does that mean years have gone by or mere weeks? Years of Unsullied occupancy in King's Landing doesn't make sense to me but ok whatever. And at the end stuff was kind of fixed like in the Red Keep and at the wall so that must've been years certainly! But Sansa was just getting crowned so did they really wait all that time to do it? I guess I'll need to wait for GRRM to help me clear that up, hopefully in my lifetime.

My other problem was that everything was getting tied up with pretty little bows, basically going down the list and checking off all the weird bets people were making online. I could've easily told you Arya would head west of Westeros, Sam would name that book a Song of Ice and Fire, and that Tyrion would never finish his joke on screen. I say "was" though because I'd rather have all these things tied up neatly than a lot of wtf moments. We had enough of those watching this series, and this being the last episode it truly was "bittersweet" so seeing storylines get sewn shut was much nicer after I had time to really think about it all. I'm over a dozen times through this episode now and it's held up amazingly well to rewatch.

Even with all the negative criticism I absolutely loved this episode. Each scene in this final episode looked incredible, Jaime and Cersei dead in each other's arms, the dragon wings behind Dani at the Keep, Drogon melting the Throne, even Jon walking off into the woods at the end. Cinematically it was successful, thematically maybe a little less so. But it made sense in a way the Dexter or Lost finales never will. Dany succeeded in the end with breaking the wheel - Shakespearean tragedy at its finest, Tyrion is for all intents and purposes ruling as Hand, Arya stopped killing everyone, Sansa's a queen in her own right, Bran is probably warging into Drogon somewhere off screen flying about and Jon pet Ghost. Team Stark FTW I give it a solid 9 out of 10!

*Picture credits to HBO Game of Thrones*

#game of thrones #got season finale #got season 8 #got #gray worm #danaerys stormborn #danaerys targaryen #jon snow #sansa stark #arya stark #brandon stark #tyrion lannister #hbo

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puckish-saint · 7 years

Note

If I may request a simple but fun idea- How do you think the OW crew sing karaoke? Up to you on how to interpret this, either separately with each character or if they had a group afternoon session to chill after a hard mission.

It’s Fareeha who comes up with theidea, when she looks out over the group after the mission, allsitting by themselves except for her and Jesse.

“Not what you imagined?” Jesseasks, following her gaze from underneath his hat. No, she wants tosay, and neither is working with him. As a young girl she beggedGabriel to let her tag along on a mission, she’d have givenanything just to sit in the aircraft on the way there, promised she’dbe quiet as a mouse. In her head it was all one glorious adventure, afellowship like no other forged in the heat of battle. But thesepeople barely know each other and Jesse, who should remember theglory days, doesn’t make any attempt to befriend them. “It’slike this is just another job,” she says and can’t chase thedisappointment from her voice. Working and living first for the armyand then for Helix Security she’s learned that war isn’t all thatthe movies make it out to be, but Overwatch has always stood for morethan that. It used to be full of ideals, of hope for a tomorrow thatis better than today. But even Jesse, who remembers, whowalked among giants the same as she has, takes his paycheck andleaves at the end of each mission.

“What’d you expect? You gottabelieve in the people if you wanna believe in the cause. And thesefolks,” He waves at Symmetra buried in a magazine on sustainablearchitecture, at Lúcio with headphones in his ears napping thestress away, at Hana texting a friend at home, and Mei who’s tooshy to make the first step. “They don’t know each other.”

It’s a well thought out conclusionfor a man wearing chaps but Fareeha has long since stoppedunderestimating Jesse. He watches and smiles and sees that nothingexcept a paycheck ties these people together. And if that’s whathas to change, Fareeha decides, that is what will change.

Most ‘agents’ of Overwatch, and shebarely can call them such in this state of affairs, don’t live atthe watchpoint. They have their own homes and lives to return to, canbarely be bothered to answer their comms when their help is needed.Apart from Winston only Mei, Reinhardt, Brigitte and Hanzo live here,because they have no other place to go or because they used to liveout of a van smelling of currywurst.

She bullies Winston into helping her gothrough a five year old inventory detailing everything Overwatch leftbehind when its people scattered to the winds. Somewhere between 480bathing suits (A box is missing, Fareeha notes, and Winston admits heneeded them for a project. She decides it’s wisest not to ask.) andan old maypole used for Overwatch’s last cultural festival, shefinds what she’s been looking for.

Brigitte helps to set things up, frompicking the lock to the common room the key to which Winston lost atsome point in his exile of half a decade to impromptu repairs on theelectronics. She likes Brigitte. They share a passion for powerarmour engineering, even in the year 2076 a niche profession, andoften spend their free afternoons comparing notes. She was around inthe old days, apprenticed to the Ironclad guild, but never made itinto the inner circle that Fareeha grew into. Now she’s right inthe thick of it, so far undecided if that is a good thing. She hopesthat with this event she’ll sway her to a favourable opinion.

And then, after facing the newOverwatch’s low budget issues and illegally downloading a selectionof titles, it’s finished.

The team bonding machine. Thefriendship device. Humbling the great and empowering the meek.

If the new Overwatch won’t be friendsby themselves, she’ll make them sing karaoke until they are.

The real challenge, it turns out, isgetting everyone to participate. Fareeha’s the first to write inthe Overwatch team chat in several weeks and that too stings withnostalgia, when she remembers the servers in the old days, full ofgroups for every member. She even remembers the language filter hermother got after Jesse joined and how long it took her to get aroundit (three weeks, after which she learned a plethora of new words thathave come in handy since).

Fareeha A.

Keep your schedules free on the 16thnext month.

Lena, predictably is the first toanswer. She may be the only one as attached to Overwatch as Fareehais.

Tracer Big mission???

No, Fareeha writes, but that attendanceis expected and she’s not taking no for an answer. Apart from Lena,only Mei and Winston acknowledge they read her message at all. Shedidn’t expect more, although she’s still disappointed when shechecks her phone again and finds nothing new. She knows for a factTalon has infiltrated this channel and finds little solace in thefact they must be as frustrated with the lack of participation as sheis. It’s time for a more personal approach.

“I think not.” Hanzo says, alreadyregretting leaving the safety of his room for a quick late nightsnack and slowly backing away through the door. Fareeha has beenlurking in the kitchen for hours waiting for him to emerge. She’snot about to let him off the hook.

“To bond as a team, the whole teammust be present.” Fareeha says, following him down the hallway.

“I am not part of any team.”

“You’re not making any effort tochange that.”“I don’t want to change that,” Hanzo stopsin front of his room, fishing for his access card. “My purpose isto find redemption, not to engage in frivolities with a band ofstrangers. Good night.”He slams the door shut, but if he thinkshe can get away that easy he doesn’t know what she’s prepared todo to complete her mission.

“If you don’t agree I’ll tellGenji you’re giving away the Nepali sweets he makes for you.” sheshouts against the closed door.

He has it open in record time.

“You wouldn’t dare.” he says butthere’s clearly no decency in a woman blackmailing him at two inthe morning. In response she takes out her phone and makes a show ofselecting Genji’s number from her list of contacts.

“Dear Genji,” she says aloudas she types the words. “I thought you might like to know thatyour brother gives away the anarsaa you put so much effort intomaking to anyone who can stomach being complicit in such acold-hearted, cruel-”“Fine, fine! I will attend yoursilly function.” Fareeha grins and puts away the phone.

“16th of next month, 6pm, the commonroom on the third floor. Snacks and drinks are available. Dresscasually.”

The next on her list is easierpersuaded.

“Of course I will come!” Reinhardtsays and promptly provides her with an exhaustive list of titles he’dlike to sing. Fareeha, loving the man like her own grandfather butknowing his taste in music, filters out the more unbearable songs sheoccasionally hears him belt under the shower. While she updates thekaraoke library and soothes her guilty conscience by telling herselfmost of the artists on Reinhardt’s list have been dead close to ahundred years and won’t mind missing a few dollars, she gets answerto a message she sent days ago.

Karaoke???? The text only reads,but it’s to be expected. The sender did so ‘from my MEKA／(˃ᆺ˂)＼'and the location puts her somewhere in Australia, undoubtedly in themech fighting domes in and around Junkertown. This is where D.Vaspends her free time when she’s not training for tournaments orwith her MEKA strike team. Through the attention she gets wherevershe goes Junkertown has received an influx of aid, from treatment forradiation sickness to basic goods like water and food. Fareeharealises more than ever that for many of Overwatch’s new recruitsthe organisation isn’t and never will be their only option to causereal change. As much as she wished it were otherwise for people likeD.Va Overwatch is a side job.

Yes, karaoke, Fareeha writes andlaunches into her pre-written speech, our conflict with Talonstretches the limits of our abilities. In order to use thoseabilities most effectively we need to build a strong unit cohesion-

While she’s still writing D.Va’snext message comes in.

When’s the party?

She’s so surprised she only deleteshalf of what she’s written in her haste to answer.

… abilities in order to usethoseyou’re saying yes?

A shrugging emoji is all she gets forhalf an hour while D.Va launches into another battle against a Junkerbuilt mech she decimates with a lot of flashy and unnecessary move.Although, Fareeha supposes as she watches the livestream, they arenecessary to rake in as many donations as possible. It’s a battletactic, even if the battle is fought in people's minds.

As the fight ends Fareeha can see Hanatexting without looking while she and her mech bow to the audience.

I make my guys do stuff like thatall the time in the MEKA program. New guys always complaining but inthe end they love it. I’ll be there

With six definite okays under her beltFareeha gets a little too optimistic. When she calls Torbjörn sheexpects him to be enthusiastic like Reinhardt and forgets for acrucial moment that he left Overwatch of his own volition.

“No,” he says and just like thather mood shatters. “You’re a good kid, but there’s nothinggetting me back in that boat.”“But ... “

Children arguing in the backgroundbriefly distract Torbjörn who deals out a few choice words inSwedish. He may have been reprimanding them, may have told them ajoke. She can never tell. While her German is passable and herSpanish approaches fluency, her Swedish has always been spotty. Theonly word she knows by heart is godis, because her seven yearold self made sure to learn to ask for sweets in every languagespoken on base.

When Torbjörn returns to the phone shehears in his voice that to him the conversation is already over.Still she owes it to herself to try.

“Reinhardt has been asking if you’llcome. He’d be happy to see you again.”

“Sentimental old lug. You can tellhim I’ll drop by sometime to deliver the new security systemWinston asked for. But don’t expect me to play babysitter for thatmovie night or whatever it is you’re planning.”“Karaoke.”“Yes,that. Too many new influences aren’t good for a man my age, child.Besides, I’m busy with a new project. Well, technically she’s anold project, but either way I can’t leave even if I wanted to. Theymight scrap the poor thing after all.”

He makes up this project purely to endthe discussion, evidenced by his ridiculous excuse that his ‘project’has followed a squirrel up a tree and can’t get down, to end thephone call. Fareeha indulges him, because she respects Torbjörn’sdecision and also because she doesn’t have anything with which toblackmail him. Win some, lose some, and with that mindset she moveson to the next on her list.

“I have sensitive ears.” is Lúcio’shalf-cooked explanation why he really can’t join the team forkaraoke night.

“Suck it up, choir boy, you’recoming.” Fareeha pokes the screen and Lúcio, several thousandmiles away, actually flinches back. It’s no secret she can beintimidating and she milks it for all its worth. If it gets everyonein the same room on karaoke night she will not hesitate to bully themthere.

“Even if I wanted to, I can’t. I’mbusy,” he tries again and lists all the pressing matters he has toattend to. “There’s the tour, and my manager is riding my assabout the new album, I’m so far behind and I need every second tocatch up. Then there is the peace march in Timor Leste, and the RoundSquare conference in the Netherlands. I’m a guest speaker for thegraduating class at the UFRJ and I haven’t even startedwriting that speech-”“You’re free on the 16th.” Fareehainterrupts because it doesn’t look like he’ll be done anytimesoon.

“You have no way of knowing that.”he says, but a hint of uncertainty steals into his voice. She savoursthe moment, lets it breathe like fine wine until she delivers thekilling blow.

“I do, because I talked to your agentand she promised to keep your schedule free.”

His look of betrayal is nothing shortof hilarious.

“You talked to my agent?Behind my back!”

But as much as he grouses andcomplains, the deal has been sealed.

Genji and Zenyatta are in the middle ofa strike to better working conditions for omnics when Fareeha stalksup to them, jet-lagged and wanting nothing more than a hot shower andthree days of uninterrupted sleep. For almost two weeks she’s donenothing but run after every wayward child of the once again fledglingOverwatch and at this point she’ll just be glad when this madnessis over.

“It sounds like a lovely occasion,”Zenyatta says and it might just be her imagination but she swearshe’s subtly trying to push her forward and in front of the cameras.A respected member of the human community seen at a pro-omnic eventwould do them some good. Helix Security doesn’t like their peoplemaking political statements but if it helps karaoke night she’llgive the cameras her best angles. “But I’m afraid I can not joinyou. More pressing matters demand my attention and our work onhuman-omnic relations must not be interrupted.”

She counted on something like this.From what she hears on the news, the people Zenyatta supports areclose to a breakthrough. But she gets a promise out of him to make anappearance the next time she plans something like this and Genji,acting as a silent shadow to Zenyatta, doesn’t need much to bepersuaded to join.

“I always refused partaking in theseevents before,” he says, “and always regretted it. It will be mypleasure to be there.”

Symmetra is less than enthusiasticabout the prospect of spending several hours in the company of peopleshe barely knows and, in some cases, actively dislikes. She switchesbetween talking to Fareeha and guiding her team of architechs ontheir latest project, a vertical farm in the outskirts of Ecatepec.After their recent loss in Brazil Vishkar has directed its attentionto the war torn North and Central America. Fareeha is no stranger tothe places outside Native territory in desperate need of food tosurvive. Surprisingly Symmetra doesn’t argue her lack of time toget out of this endeavour.

“I do not want to,” she simplysays, followed by something shouted in Telugu sounding suspiciouslylike a curse. “Overwatch’s ideals are commendable, but I do notfavour the kind of people it attracts. I will not associate withthem.”

“You like Winston.” Fareeha pointsout, but the truth is, even if she spares some passing sympathy for afellow scientist, Symmetra has no reason and less motivation to makefriends with people who are fundamentally different from her. Theonly person she regularly talks to before and after missions is Lúciobut not in the manner Fareeha tries to encourage with karaoke.

But it gives her an idea.

“No, you know what? I understand,”she says and notes Symmetra’s surprise at her seemingly easyvictory. “Lúcio didn’t like the idea either. He said it’s awaste of time and that he’s much too busy to do some sillyteam-bonding.”

She watches out of the corner of hereyes and counts the seconds. Symmetra can resist the urge to gossipabout Lúcio half a minute.

“Yet more proof how little thisstreet ruffian knows of the world. A strong team can tip any battlein their favour, it is a well known fact.”

“That’s what I told him!” In theback of her mind some mean part of Fareeha rubs its tiny handstogether in manipulative glee. She’ll show them to deny her karaokenight, she’ll show them all. “But he was all like ‘it’s notgoing to work, no one will show up’. I hate to think he may beright-”“He is not.” Symmetra interrupts and looks outacross her half-finished project like a benevolent mother about toleave her children alone for the first time. “I will attend yourfunction and ensure its success. We must not let fools thinkthemselves superior.”

And indeed, they mustn’t.

After her resounding victory withSymmetra, she doesn’t take it too hard when Zarya provides a goodreason not to come, what with the impending doom of her country and awar tipped in the omnics' favour. One more name gets crossed off, butthe next one isn’t as cut and dry.

She sits in her quarters on thewatchpoint, this small place feeling more like home than herapartment in Egypt ever did, and hovers over her mother’s contactin her phone. They talked before, in the days and weeks following herreturn from the dead, but most of these talks have turned intoarguments or cold silence. How could you do this to your owndaughter, Fareeha has asked but every answer her mother gavesounded just as hollow as the condolences she received after herdeath.

Should she invite her? Try and mend thebroken bond between them if she can barely look her in the eye? Evenher father isn’t at that point yet. They have both grieved for hermother, have tried to move on with their lives as best they could.Fareeha remembers waking up in the middle of the night to her fathercrying, trying to stay silent, to appear strong in front of hisdaughter, but breaking down little by little at the loss of the womanhe loved more than life itself.

Fareeha crosses her name off the listwithout calling. Not now. Maybe never.

But her foray into the past has givenher another name to fall back on. Jack’s long suffering sigh whenhe picks up the phone tells her he has heard of her crusade.

“Reinhardt told me,” he answers herunspoken question. “And I appreciate what you’re trying to do,god knows this lot can improve on their teamwork, but leave me out ofit.”

Back in the old days Jack would havebeen the first to agree. More, he would have helped her organise thewhole thing and made homemade snacks to go along. This more thananything drives home just how much has changed, how little of the oldguard remains even when they have returned to join the fight.

“You’re just as much part of thisas anyone else,” she insists. “You came back for a reason, Jack.Some part of you believes in what Overwatch can be. Don’t be astranger.”

But his answer stays the same. He sayshe can’t and that he shouldn’t. Says he’s too old to make newfriends, too bitter to offer anything of value. She leaves him withthe date and the place, urges him to at least consider it. Hepromises but she can’t help feeling he does so only to do her afavour and that he will put it out of his mind the moment she hangsup.

Three days before the grand event, theculmination of all her hard work to get a dozen people who barelyknow each other in the same room to sing awkward songs, Jesse strollsinto the watchpoint, a bag of dirty laundry over his shoulder andbounty hunters on his tail. He drifts, even though Winston hasoffered him permanent residence on the watchpoint, claims he’s afree soul who can’t be tied down by obligations. Fareeha knowsbetter. He’s not so different from Jack in that regard.

“Heard about your plans,” he sayswhile they solve crosswords in the laundry room waiting for thewashing to be done. “Mighty ambitious of ya, gettin’ everyone toplay along.”

“I didn’t get everyone.”

“Yeah,” Jesse pretends to beutterly oblivious to her tone, ponders another word for ‘failing toseize an opportunity’. “Torbjörn was never hot on singing, don’tget caught up over it.”“Jesse ... “

He puts the crossword aside, looks ather with his big brown eyes.

“Y’know I don’t like imposing.”And then he does that thing where he reaches behind his ear for acigarillo he stopped carrying there years ago. It’s the sameaborted motion he made everytime he was afraid he messed up,everytime someone reminded him of the gang he left behind. Everytimehe felt like before the end of the conversation someone, evenhimself, would tell him he didn’t truly belong. It’s his safetyblanket, the sharp smoke of home grown tobacco, the flick of alighter, something to steady his hands and keep him grounded.

She takes his hands in hers when hedoesn’t find the cigarillo.

“You can’t impose on your ownhome,” she says and continues before he can argue. “This is whereyou belong, you’re like a brother to me and I shouldn’t even haveto ask you to come. If Overwatch is ever going to take off again, weneed you. You can make people come out of their shell, you can makethem talk. Without you Genji would still be sulking in the clinic,Lena would never have asked Emily out, Jack would still-”Jesselaughs, holds up his hands in defense.

“All right, shortstuff, I get it. IfI’m the only one who can save this motley crew, you got my support.No need for a speech.”

But Fareeha knows it did him good tohear it.

And then the big day is there. After amonth of careful planning, of using everything from emotionalmanipulation to outright blackmail to get people to attend, it feelslike much more than a simple get-together. She puts Reinhardt andBrigitte in charge of snacks and they have the good sense to returnwith the van filled to the brim. The booze she bought days ago andretrieves it from its various hiding places, still finding thatsomeone found and raided at least one of her stashes. BetweenReinhardt, who thinks foreign beer counts as soda, and Hanzo, whodrinks to forget the fact he’s drinking, there are a few likelyculprits. Just today, though, there won’t be any reprimands.There’ll be enough tension to dissolve as it is.

As if on cue she hears the aircraftland, the pleasing hum of Vishkar’s jets and Symmetra disembarks infront of Lúcio, Lena and Emily who play an impromptu hockey game inthe hangar bay.

“Glad you could make it!” Fareehasays before the cold glares exchanged between Lúcio and Symmetra canturn the game into ice hockey.

“Of course,” Symmetra says as shefloats past like she’s on the red carpet, rather than an oversizedgarage smelling perpetually of cold pizza and engine grease. “Iwould not miss such an important team-building event.”

Lúcio misses the glance she throws himand Fareeha sends a prayer up in thanks. While she shows Symmetraaround the base, barely believing she’s run half a dozen missionsfor Overwatch and never seen it, the other guests trickle in. Theypass the gardens and listen to Hanzo assure Genji he loved his latestbatch of sweets. Fareeha winks at Hanzo and gestures with her fingeracross her lips, vowing she’ll keep them closed. But other than thebrothers the people she invited are spread out, barely talking to oneanother. It’s time to get this show on the road.

“All right, who wants to go first?”Fareeha asks with fake cheer at the not exactly overwhelmingenthusiasm. Even Hana, who assured her she knows how important it isthis evening goes well, pops some bubble gum and stays on her phone.Lena saves her life.

“Emi and I will!”

Emily looks like she doesn’tappreciate being volunteered but would do just about anything tosupport her girlfriend. Even singing a cheesy pop song in front ofstrangers with varying levels of deathglares.

The lyrics are simple, and theirenthusiasm infectious. Lena serenades Emily offkey on her knees, sorife with theatrics even Hanzo is seen hiding a smile.

Fareeha goes up next and watches, asshe sings a soulful ballad, her guests begin to relax and mingle.Lúcio, Reinhardt and Emily chat about the ideal ratio of dip todorito, Hana shows Genji something on her phone that makes them bothlaugh, and Jesse has taken on his assigned role as oyster shucker andworks to get Mei out of her shell.

After the last chords of her song fadeout she hands the microphone to Winston, knowing he’ll be toostartled to decline and too polite to pass it off to someone elseonce he’s taken it. He chooses a song rife with science puns lessthan a handful understands, but the refrain makes Mei laugh so hardsoda comes out of her nose. Fareeha jumps to her aid and whileWinston still apologises for a mishap he’s only indirectly to blamefor, she has promised Mei she’ll go up on stage with her if shewants to sing. Together they sing the lines to a tune from a Disneyfilm it turns out everyone remembers fondly. A few even sing alongfrom their seats and applaud heartily when Mei gives a shy bow afterher performance.

At some point between Reinhardt beltingModern Talking’s Sexy Sexy Lover, a song rightfully committed toobscurity a hundred years ago, trying to convince everyone to join inand not letting it curb his enthusiasm when they don’t, and Genjiand Hana laughing more than singing through the main theme of theirfavourite video game, Fareeha slips out to get more snacks and findsmost everyone has found their own little group to engage in. Peoplewho before couldn’t be bothered to exchange two words are nowinvolved in deep discussion if you really can’t love a memory.

She’s still swaying along toReinhardt’s song, mentally congratulating herself on how well thisevening is turning out even if it comes at the cost of havingterrible songs stuck in her head, that she doesn’t notice Jackuntil she runs straight into him.

“Jack!”

“Careful!”

Between them they save the tray ofempty bottles, juggling each toppling piece until they’re all inone way or another deposited on the kitchen table. He plays with abottle cap, places it on the table, then picks it up again to traceits edges, while Fareeha can only stare. Him showing up is almostmore surprising than when he returned from the dead.

“You, uh, said I should think aboutit and ... “he trails off and while she’s dying to know what madehim reconsider after all she doesn’t press. Instead she pulls twomore bottles of alcohol out of the pantry and pushes them into hishands, arming herself with a load of snacks. Brigitte and Reinhardtbought enough to feed an army and it may not be enough.

“They’ll be happy to see you,”Fareeha says in lieu of a grand speech of family and homecoming. “Andyou better think about what song you’re going to sing.”

“I’m not going to-”“Everyonesings.”

The truth of that becomes evident whenthey return to a friendly argument centering around Hanzo.

“I will not sing.” he maintains.“No one said participation was required.”“It’s karaoke,brother.” Genji says and though most of the group have only thebest intentions, trying to include Hanzo in this setting, it’sclear that he only seeks to make a public embarrassment of hisbrother.

“I am well aware of what it is and mypoint stands. I will not sing.”

Jack can slip in almost unnoticed whilethe attention lies on Hanzo’s steadfast refusal to stretch hisvocal chords. Only Jesse gives him a two-fingered salute beforeturning his attention back to the matter at hand.

“Give it a go, darlin’, we promisewe won’t laugh.”

“Do not call me that,” Hanzo snaps.“And I would like to remind you that you also have not sung.”

Fareeha intervenes before the argumentcan get serious. She leans on the backrest of the couch behind Hanzoand says, so low only he can understand her: “Sing or I may getbored and decide to talk to your brother for a bit.”

A moment later Hanzo’s on the stage,frowning as he scrolls through the music selection. He choosessomething slow and mournful, a song from a movie Fareeha rememberswatching years ago. Two lines into the song everyone has stoppedtalking. They stare open-mouthed at Hanzo who falters under theattention, but catches himself quickly to continue what just may bethe most beautiful thing Fareeha has ever heard. Genji’s eyestwinkle with joy at his friends’ bemusement. He wasn’t looking toembarrass his brother after all.

While Jesse pretends to die frominstant love Hanzo ends his song with the words “This shouldsuffice.”, steps over the smitten cowboy and returns to his seatlike nothing happened. He will not take any inquiries into hismiraculously beautiful singing voice and hands the mic to Lúcio whoby some miracle has managed to get out of singing without anyonenoticing. He slinks up on stage like a beaten dog and Fareeha swearsshe can hear him praying under his breath. Not without reason as itturns out.

Where Hanzo may have become a musicallegend in another life, Lúcio proves once and for all that justbecause one is a world-famous musician one is not necessarily good atholding a tune.

“Oh God ... “ Hana whispers inabject horror as Lúcio and everyone else in the room suffers throughhis song. Well, almost everyone suffers.

Satya’s shoulders shake but what atfirst look like tears of despair, turns out to be barely containedlaughter. Lúcio glowers at her, clearly intending to speak achallenge once he’s done - if you think you’re so good, do itbetter - but he doesn’t need to. He has barely finished thesong, somehow managing not to hit a single note throughout, when shewalks up, takes the mic out of his hand and picks a song with thecertainty of someone who has calculated exactly where to find it fromthe moment she saw the machine.

No master singer is lost on Satya butcompared to Lúcio, currently licking his wounds and being cheered upby Reinhardt and Emily, she’s more than good enough.

The more extroverted members of thegroup go on stage again and again as the evening draws and andeveryone gets progressively more drunk.

Jesse refuses to sing karaoke but canbe persuaded to sing an old country song by himself, something sweetand full of homesickness that makes everyone rethink their opinion oncountry. Half a bottle of whiskey later he goes up for karaoke afterall and makes everyone re-rethink their opinion on country music.

Genji accompanies his next renditionwith a drunk lapdance for Mei who blushes feverishly red and lookslike she doesn’t know if she should cry or proposition him. Winstonsaves her by dragging her and Satya up on stage to sing the Elementssong together. She stumbles hopelessly over ‘praseodymium’ andSatya somehow manages to passive-aggressively sing the noble gases atLúcio who sticks his tongue out and steals the last cinnamon bunfrom her plate.

Jesse, once sufficiently drunk, canbarely be kept from the stage for a few minutes and proves his skillsof persuasion when Hanzo finds himself by his side, singing a duetfrom a popular musical together.

At some point during the night Brigitteshows up and, drowned out by Reinhardt’s bellowed greetings,apologises for her work keeping her away until now. She’s promptlydragged into a top volume rendition of Night Rocker and can only getaway when Reinhardt catches Lúcio humming along.

It’s long after midnight when thefirst start to drag out the mattresses Fareeha kept ready, and cuddleup there and on the sofas, blankets spread liberally all around.Hanzo tries to excuse himself to his rooms but has his escapethwarted by a seemingly sleeping Jesse holding onto his sleeve. Hesettles down in the small space between him and Emily and Lena,muttering something about not being here to get attached,metaphorically and certainly not literally.

Hana has fallen asleep in her armchairsome few minutes ago, the snack bowl in her lap tilting precariouslytowards the floor where Winston has set up, drifting off to the lowconversations around him.

And then it’s just a handful leftawake, the casual insomniacs drifting into that liminal space duringa sleepover when it all quiets down but the energy of the eveningstill hangs in the air like smoke. Fareeha makes herself comfortablein a nest of blankets between Satya and Genji and looks to Jack whosits at the table an arm’s length away and gives her a tired butsincere smile.

“You haven’t sung yet.” she says,just to acknowledge him, to let him know she watches and notices.He’s not the ghost he fashions himself to be and if the way helooks at her is any indication, he doesn’t want to be anymore.

Mei blinks when he starts to sing, halfasleep and probably thinking she’s dreaming as she snuggles closerto Lúcio who throws an arm around her and pulls her closer.

Jack’s song is one Fareeha has hearda hundred times throughout her life. She doesn’t know its name orwho wrote it, but her earliest memory is of her father and himsinging it to her. Her mother sang it long before, when it turned outit was the only thing getting her to sleep. Reinhardt maintains hewas the one who chose it first but it was Gabriel who sang it best,crooning low and deep to her from the days of her earliest childhoodto the day they all sat at her bedside, her father and surrogatefathers, singing it to chase away the grief of losing her mother.

She falls asleep to it, the songechoing in Overwatch’s halls long after the last note has faded. Itis as it should be and she is at peace.

#overwatch imagines #ovw fanfic #pharah #mccree #hanzo #tracer #and others #participating in the grand old tradition of making a fool of yourself to gain peoples friendship #i didnt use a lot of specific songs #since its the future and they have their own pop icons #but reinhardt being into the futures equivalent of one of us digging bill murray #is canon so of fucking course I used the chance to expose yall #to the worst thing germany every produced musically #youre welcome #Anonymous

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