#the irony would not be lost on her in the bigger picture but at the time Buffy would probably be 'so what's the big deal here'

[lightdancer1]

Now that I think about it:

It really is striking given everything with that one episode that there's no plotline where Tara accidentally kills off her love interest with that blindness spell early in Season 5 and Glory steamrolls everyone because the big gun went missing. It's basically one of this 'so this is how we done fucked up, don't do that shit' storylines that's seemingly begging to be written and.....nobody actually has. It'd be a perfect knife twist and it's not like the Scoobies would let Tara just leave with her obviously evil family even after that because they'd not want to lose someone ELSE after it.

So what does happen if they have to go through the Glory arc but there's no Willow (especially twistedly funny given later seasons if the Powers That Be cough her up again at the start of the equivalent of Season 6)? Would the butterfly effect mean she'd even brain-suck Tara, which was a pretty clear bit of her power boost that made her as formidable? If that never happens and they just use the hammer sooner, does anyone actually have to die?

I can also see if the PTB did decide 'oh wait, no, this one DOES have a destiny and she needs to get on with it' that a resurrected Willow after all that would be in the usual situation most of the 'Tara comes back' fics go of having entirely valid trust issues and having the 'wait HOW much time happened oh holy God WHAT is Glory and wow' reactions to a normal year on the Hellmouth.

Canon-wise Willow's an unkillable, fanfic exists precisely to do what canon wouldn't. And ultimately Tara was, after all, meant to be the replacement goldfish for Willow's old niche, so one can very easily see the Scoobies acting at a meta-level like that and creating something of the same dysfunction from a different route because she is very much NOT Willow in any of the ways that define her. She has a rigidly defined sense of ethics, she gets a backbone that has a more consistent sense of 'happens to me bad, happens to you because I'm traumatized nobody ever remembers it for the rest of anything ever'.

It would also be a suitably ironic knife twist given the 'big gun' thing that the very expectations here that set up the ultimate Dark Lord Rosenberg thing never happening lead to the Gang winning because Buffy beats the shit out of Glory with a magic hammer when she never gets her mitts on Tara because there's no Willow for her to argue with that one day and the butterfly effects are big, she never dies....and then the PTB have Willow turn right back up in the Magic shop alive, well, and utterly ocnfused at the end of the equivalent of that season going "What the Hell was that."

I would admittedly have the Dark Willow thing happen anyway as a result of overcompensating for realizing she was killed as result of relying on someone else's wisdom with magic and it's more Dark Lord Rosenberg, as I mentioned, rather than its canon aspect and Tara gets to be the replacement Willow and it does not spark joy while Willow in turn quite reasonably has major trust and communication issues and doubles and triples down on increasingly powerful magic sans magic crack analogy until she's full-scale Dark Phoenix and people belatedly have the 'oh shit we probably should have tried talking before now' reaction.

This may well end up the one other Buffyverse fic I write, though I'd basically breeze through the rest of Season 5 in the first chapter from Tara's POV and then at the tail end Willow comes back and the hilarity ensues.

Then again it's also equally possible for Willow to simply go 'nah, fuck magic, magic killed me, y'all already got a witch, computers it is' and then the Hellmouth Hellmouths and her destiny won't be denied and the paranoia of living on the place makes her take the same path while actually struggling against it when she gets a Monkey's Paw version of her own desire to be the big damn hero, but to be able to do that she has to be able to reach the power to do so and since she is who she is, it's impossible to have the power to abruptly start being capable of making reality do what you want without it going to her head.

And given that she did at least seem to be easily replaceable (with Willow and Tara equally unreliable narrators and the truth not quite matching up with what either of them think here and the two narrative POVs here) Dark Lord Rosenberg gets to be as much a case of venting that she in a sense was the replaceable sidekick on a television show and not a main character.

Almost every other canon possibility here has done this and having 'the person I love cannot see the demon for who she is' and then 'wait, she died, I didn't mean that' because the magic misfires a little harder in a laser-guided fashion and having Tara meet her intended niche a little harder than otherwise is....surprisingly under-used.

#willow rosenberg #tara maclay #buffyverse fanfic #ideas to be written #basically 'Tara does an oopsie and has to fill someone else's shoes and realizes how unpleasant that actually is' #Willow comes back at the start of Season 6 because the PTB need her to resurrect magic and she's golden until she does #this sparks even less joy as there WAS an intended resurrection spell and it failed because she was already alive #and thus everything turns into an equally glorious trainwreck from a completely opposite angle #meanwhile Tara's basically haunted with guilt as she was never a demon but boy did she FUBAR that one spell #also leads to an inversion of usual dynamics because she *really* doesn't do damage control well #and Willow might either be very interested or very indifferent or deciding to ring up Oz and fuck off from Sunnydale entirely #if she was an actual human instead of a character it'd be the third I think #but since she's a character in a story and indifference is more wounding than malice indifference it is #I freely admit that season 9 leaves me considering the irony that Willow gets to be the chosen one once #and utterly hates it and everything about it and this is where her arc actually ends up #why does she hate it when it actually gets to be her for a change? #LBR ol' girl didn't do well with substituting for being the person driving events #she would handle being the one that actually has to do it by repeatedly trying to skip out on destiny #the irony would not be lost on her in the bigger picture but at the time Buffy would probably be 'so what's the big deal here'

[hypnotisedfireflies]

Our boy Tommy is so much on my mind lately, I don't know if it's because Gabe is so active on social media but man, I just want more of him.

You don't by any chance have any thoughts of what transpired with Tommy between when he left the fireflies and when Joel and Ellie run into him in Jackson, do you? Like the time period had to be somewhat significant if he had time to find Jackson, meet Maria, fall in love with her, and get married. In the video game, he also took a trip down to Texas to get some of Sarah's pictures from Joel's house.

Hi hi! I would love to eventually write what I think happened to Tommy in those years. In Driftersverse, he left Joel and Tess in late 2009, so I have about fourteen years of time to play with. I've dot-pointed some of my thoughts below - thank you for asking, I have no idea if I will ever write these so it's nice to share.

Some spoilers for Tommy activities in TLOU 2, nothing major:

Tommy went south from Indianapolis with Marlene, Lachie, Iotama and the other Fireflies.

Canon has Tommy meeting Eugene Lindon and I've not managed to work him into Drifters yet, but he's there.

Regardless, he had nightmares about that for years and still has them in Jackson.

Tommy, Lachie and Iotama joined a Firefly cell in Denver.

Following canon, he bombed checkpoints while fighting FEDRA, killing innocents, and tortured a general. The irony of this was not lost on Tommy, but he told himself that it was different because it was for a bigger cause than himself.

At some point, Iotama, Lachie and Tommy went through Texas to reach the Firefly research facility on Padre Island. During the journey, Tommy and Lachie went through Austin. Tommy's house was gone - firebombed - but Joel's was still standing. I reference this somewhere, I think it's in Lachie's chapter of The Ensemble.

Joel does not know that Lachie was ever in his house.

Joel was humanised to Lachie a bit more after that point. Had that not happened, he may not have been as amenable to helping Tess find him again in 2003.

Tommy left the Fireflies the next day. Seeing the old house, the photos, trying to deal with what he'd done in Denver and the violence he'd committed since leaving Joel caught up with him. This was when the Firefly fairy tale fell apart for Tommy and he stopped believing in it all. He left without a word to anyone.

I haven't really turned my mind to how he came upon Jackson and Maria yet.

He probably joined some other people going north because otherwise, I can't really reckon with him willingly going that way again.

He kind of went where the breeze blew him for awhile. He tried to do good deeds to atone, but just kept getting screwed over and having to kill to survive. 🥺

But I feel like most of those 14 years he was with the Fireflies. He had sacrificed so much to join them - separating from Joel - and he was determined to make it work. He stayed with them for years, lying to himself about the righteousness of the cause, trying to make it worthy. It wasn't something he gave up on after just a few.

He also refused so many promotions within the Fireflies. Both Iotama and Lachie outranked him after only a few years.

Thank you for asking! It's nice to get my thoughts out of my head. <3

#driftersverse #asks #tlou #tlou fanfic #tommy miller

[autumnalwalker]

The Witches' Testaments, Masterpost

The concept for this project got stuck in my head some time back as a prequel of sorts to my Solarpunk Witch Story. The idea was to focus a bit more on the "punk" side of Solarpunk and paint a picture of the effort and rebellion that went into how that world transitioned from Cyberpunk dystopia to Solarpunk... well, not utopia exactly, but something better than it was and striving toward that dream.

And because that sort of thing is bigger than any one person and I had multiple worldbuilding concepts I wanted to touch on, I landed on the idea of writing it in the form of a series of interviews with various characters who lived through that period of change.

I don't know how many of these I'll actually get around to writing, but for now, here's a tentative table of contents that at least hints at some general ideas/prompts for me to fill out later:

Forward:

The Chronicler

A statement of purpose by the interviewer.

Corporate Era:

The First Witch

The first contact between human and “true AI” outside of a laboratory setting was less auspicious than it has since been made out to be.

The Reclaimer

The irony of sharing one’s cybernetic augmentations with an AI as a means of fighting for bodily autonomy was not lost on any of those involved.

The Gardener

How does one even find nature left to heal in a concrete jungle?

The Fighter

The power of love. The power of incredible violence.

Reconfiguration Era:

The Jailor

Whether the onset of Kessler Syndrome ending space flight was the tragic death of one of humanity’s greatest dreams or a much needed wake up call is still hotly debated to this day.

The Liberator

In many circles, freeing MG onto the global net is often regarded as the transitional event from the Corporate to Reconfiguration eras.

The Architect

It was a new world and we required new ways of looking at cities.  In this way, the Reconfiguration was a very literal and physical endeavor.

The Priestess

When MG started creating what appeared to be miracles based on what we knew at the time, was it really any wonder that She began to draw both reverence and fear?

The Demon Hunter

MG is the first and last of Her kind, but She was not the only one of her kind.

Modern Era

The Coordinator

Those who would choose to live as full time gestalts are a rarity, but when it happens few are better suited to overseeing the maintenance of arcology infrastructure than one who blurs the line between human and AI.

The Village Witch

The most common calling for modern members of our order is to settle down in relatively isolated communities as living informational resources and on-call technical and environmental consultants.

The Novice

As those before us made a better world for us, we’ve made a better world for our children.  I have faith that they will make it better still.

Afterward:

MG

It is not unheard of for MG to speak directly with those who ask, but I still consider meeting with Her to be one of my life’s greatest honors.

#writeblr #my writing #writers on tumblr #masterpost #table of contents #solarpunk #cyberpunk #hopepunk #The Witches' Testaments #The Novice in the last interview is meant to be the witch from the other Solarpunk Witch story as a kid

[livisunfair]

In Defense of Lady Bird Six Years Later; Just Some Thoughts

Last night I watched Lady Bird for the first time since I was fifteen, and what I gleaned from it made me love the film even more and in a whole new way. While the surface-level message of this film is important, it’s what the film doesn’t say that makes it special to me. I think there are two different ways to view it, how they differ is why there are such strong opinions on this film. One, is Lady Bird is an ungrateful, whiny brat who doesn’t deserve anything and who uses growing up as an excuse for her behavior, and is selfish at the expense of others. The second way to watch, is to see how Lady Bird is lost, growing up, and this is a journey of self-discovery. The best way to watch, is a blend of the two. 

Viewing Lady Bird as an echo of yourself, is how we relate to her. We see the similarities between us and her, as at some point, we acted ungrateful toward our parents, even if we didn’t intend to be. We all wanted to go where the 'culture is' and escape the small town we've been pigeon-holed in. In a sense, Lady Bird serves as a dramatized character who represents our biggest flaws and aspirations as teenagers. Gerwig herself said, "nothing in the movie literally happened in my life, but it has a core of truth that resonates with what I know"--this 'core of truth' being that echo. To me, this film marks itself as a love letter to a younger self, yet a bit critical and satirical of how you behaved back then. You can tell it’s written from a mature perspective. It takes itself seriously, but isn’t afraid to poke some fun, as shown through the humor throughout the film. Growing up and being able to laugh at yourself, but still recognizing what you went through was important at the time and taking it seriously for the sake of your past self—this is what I love about Gerwig! The ability to reflect is so crucial to how we change and grow as people.

You can recognize and sympathize with Lady Bird's struggles and mistakes–But you can also grit your teeth at her actions from a grown point of view that Lady Bird is on the journey to understanding herself. This isn’t a film that tells the story of a girl being ungrateful and then regretful of her decisions and redeems herself at the end.–No, rather it tells a larger story. To me, this film focuses on the bigger picture of growth in her life, instead of just what is presented in the film, highlighting the fact that growth nonlinear. Her arc is not in the film, but it ends with the beginning of it. This film is just a snapshot of her life. It can be frustrating to see how Lady Bird’s insecurities make her hang with the wrong crowd, watching her hook up with asshole Kyle and a man at college, being ashamed of her house and status, and betraying Julie– but that’s how human growth is. We fuck up again and again before we realize it and then really try to change. This change manifests itself at the end through her hit to rock bottom. When she wakes up and realizes it’s time to shed her teenage skin become an adult. this can be seen when she starts to go by christine, and call Marion. She got what she physically wanted by going to college, but inside she’s unfulfilled. Nothing is quite how she thought it would be. Thinking she didn’t get ‘punished’ for her behavior and actions because she got everything she wanted, but in reality, her punishment serves itself on a bittersweet plate. She may have been able to go to her dream school, but at what cost to those around her? Her relationships? Herself? but the ending is the start of recognizing her faults. Lady Bird’s character speaks on the twisted irony of life; we’re never happy with what we have. And what’s more relatable than that, to a teenager? 

I love all the different themes this film highlights as well. It’s not just about growing up, but there is another theme at play; how much our parents did for us. It’s impossible to watch this film without understanding where each character’s heart lies. At minimal, Lady Bird is frustrated nobody takes her seriously, Marion is a hardworking mother who feels under appreciated and grapples with an ungrateful daughter, Larry is the mediator and wants what’s best for Lady Bird but is fighting his own battles as well. Larry and Marion are prime examples of perhaps the selflessness we should all strive for, seen when they tirelessly try to support Lady Bird, and when Larry roots for Miguel going for the same job as him. It’s the type of selflessness you can only gain when you become a parent. If finishing this film doesn’t make you feel like you need to hug your mom or reflect on your own interactions growing up, I’m not sure what will. Lady Bird’s relationship with Marion is one every daughter and mother has experienced to some degree. It’s complex, both are flawed, but ultimately love each other, they’re just not sure how to say it or show it in a way each other will understand. They are constantly missing each other. Lady Bird is headstrong, yet unsure of who she is. She behaves unfavorably but still wants her mom to like her–as we all do, or did as teenagers. While Marion has an idea of who Lady Bird should be and is grappling with Lady Bird’s differences, while tirelessly working and making ends meet for her children. But Marion is trying to understand her, an example is seen when she starts to embrace calling her ‘Lady Bird’ instead of criticizing it. At the end of the film when Lady Bird calls Marion, thanking her, we see a glimpse of who she’s starting to become. And we see Marion trying to communicate with her through the letters. It’s a start. Marion and Lady Bird are finally meeting in the middle, instead of passing each other. 

At the same time as all of this, I think this film is an excellent example of an ‘unlikeable’ and ‘difficult’ girl who should be allowed to tell her own story as well. You don’t have to condone a character's actions and behaviors to understand them. And not to sound too modern-white-feminist here, but her 'unlikeableness' comes from real flawed aspects that all women experience, and while we consume stories about unlikeable men all the time, what makes her different? She has a strong personality and it’s an unapologetic story that deserves to be told. And to the people who feel ‘So what, why should I care? What makes her special?’ after watching, that’s fine. I get where the criticism comes from. But it all just clicks for me. You aren’t supposed to walk out of this film necessarily liking Lady Bird, but understanding her. Understanding the thesis of her character; wanting to be not just loved but liked. Teenage girls man, they’re complicated and I am one. Idk I know I’d get made fun of for thinking this movie is so ‘deep’ and whatever but I just love studying the aspects of these films! Every scene exists for a reason, with no filler. Gerwig incorporates the intricacies of girlhood instead of the surface problems–in all her work too. I just had to get this all out somewhere after rewatching it again for so long. Love you forever Greta & Saoirse!

#films #reviews #rating: 5 #spoilers #rewatch #ladybird

[riddles-n-games]

The Art of War-V4

    I opened the text and the picture attached, and all of the blood drained from my face. In this photo, Emily Laughlin wasn’t laughing. She was smiling at the camera—a wicked little smile, like she was on the verge of a wink. Her makeup was natural, but her eyes looked unnaturally large, and her hair…

    Was exactly like mine.

    “What did you do?” I asked Thea again, more accusation this time than question. She’d invited herself along on my shopping trip. She was the one who’d suggested I wear green—just like Emily wore in this photo.

    Even my necklace was eerily like hers.

    I’d assumed, when the stylist had asked if I wanted to look like the picture, that Alisa was the one who’d supplied it. I’d assumed it was a photo of a model. Not a dead girl.

   “Why would you do this?” I asked Thea, amending my question.

    “It’s what Emily would have wanted.” Thea pulled a tube of lipstick out of her purse. “If it’s any consolation,” she said, once she was finished turning her lips a sparkling ruby red, “I didn’t do this to you.”

    She’d done it to them.

    “The Hawthornes didn’t kill Emily,” I spat. “Rebecca said that it was her heart.”

    Technically, she’d said that Grayson had said it was her heart.

    “How sure are you that the Hawthorne family isn’t trying to kill you?” Thea smiled. She had been there this morning. She’d been shaken. And now she was acting like this was all a joke.

    “There is something fundamentally wrong with you,” I said.

    My fury didn’t seem to penetrate. “I told you the day we met that the Hawthorne family was a twisted, broken mess.” She stared at the mirror a moment longer. “I never said that I wasn’t one, too.” 

    “Oh wow, couldn’t have guessed that one myself. You totally don’t show it,” I replied sarcastically, slow clapping in exasperation. “But funny, I’m messed up too and don’t act like this; I lost my mother two years ago and have I felt the need to enact revenge upon others involved in my life just because I was grieving? No. I can see that you like throwing your weight around  just because you can and no one’s said anything yet so you continue to do so. You do it until you get a reaction from the boys, me, because you crave it, thrive off it and in some sick, twisted way it brings you joy. Well, I’m warning you now that it’s gonna backfire and it’ll come back to bite you in the ass in the future, badly.” 

    Thea closed her lipstick and side-eyed me, then actually turned around to face me before crumpling to the counter in a burst of laughter, cackling to her little black soul’s content. I willed myself to remain calm and crossed my arms. My face was as neutral as I could make it seem despite the lip twitches. After a while, her laughter died down to quiet giggles and I tried to keep my tone even and voice smooth, devoid of any feelings when I asked as civilly as possible,  “What’s so funny?” It felt almost impossible to hide the spark of anger.

    “It’s just that. Don’t you see the irony of your statement? You reacted, meaning I won. I got what I wanted by those standards. Face it, Avery, you don’t have it in you to manipulate or play our games in the way we know how. You’re not one of us, you never will be. If  you don’t adapt quickly, you won’t survive what’s to come; this, this is just the start.”

    At that, I snapped. I was done playing nice, being the ‘bigger person’.  Thea was pushing at my limits and I could get pretty angry when I wanted to, which seemed like a sensible option. My rage felt unparalleled at that moment and yet, I breathed in deep, still trying to look unaffected as she dissolved into another fit of hysterics. My arched brow started to spasm irritatedly and I pursed my lips before lifting my heel and slamming it down with full force on her foot. Her snickers stopped immediately and a pained yelp escaped her. She looked at me furiously and I simply looked at her with a merciless smirk; I’d finally gotten her to shut up. How’s that for ‘Emily’s incarnate’? What a smug thought but then, that still wasn’t a compliment.

    “Whoops, sorry. I lost my balance there for a sec,” I grabbed my purse from the counter and started to walk away towards the bathroom door and when I was close, I stopped, listening to her heavy pants and hisses when she tried to move. Calling out, I said, “Thank you for this talk, it was very insightful. For the record, Thea, you helped me find my inner Emily. I appreciate you for activating it. How was that for my first performance as her replacement? I do hope I delivered.” 

   She didn’t reply, just let out a little strangled gasp. Thea was still in shock to do much. Good. “Just know that’s your only warning to not mess with me unless you can take it.” I didn’t look back as I pushed open the door and stepped into the hallway. I was done being seen as a tool, a mystery, puzzle, whatever; I was not going to be used by anyone else. For the rest of the year that I was here, I would make that clear. Crystally. 

#avery kylie grambs #thea calligaris #the inheritance games #tig #pissed avery #woke up and chose violence #thea regrets her life choices in the end

[truckreincarnation]

questions and theories || yuliya || trial 4.2 || re: avery, attn: germain, esmee

Yea there is. So much going on in here. Of course, some of the revelations that have been revealed have been concerning at best, though it also is much easier to break things down now that she has a vague idea of everyone’s whereabouts. Or at least, to a certain degree.

It doesn’t make things any better though on the other hand, what with the possibility that this may once again, just be another accident. A well-meaning to some degree accident, but one that had also backfired so horribly.

… Ah, that’s a thought. It probably is even humorous for the king by this point, seeing how they all don’t even have to try to murder each other without resulting in someone’s death. Or in this case, two. How utterly infuriating and…

Powerless. No matter how much strength they all would accumulate, it doesn’t change how powerless they all are still here. The irony isn’t lost on her. But she has time to gripe over this later, not while on the trial grounds. There’s no time to waste here, as there’s other things she also wants to discuss briefly.

“If all else, there was something I wanted to address and ask. Even if it’s also quite the stretch. But speaking of the books from the library that have been mentioned, I want to bring up the books left over in the lounge as well due to the relevance of their topics. 

We’ve established that for a majority of that time, Frank was in there with both Esmée and then Germain respectively. Germain, at any point did you see Frank reading any books while you were reading yourself? I suppose the same question can be extended to you as well, Esmée, though I know you wouldn’t know what Frank may have been doing anytime before 7:30. I suppose that does open the question of what he may have done during that time then.”

A small window of opportunity for… well, not much really. But maybe she’s just trying to think of who may have been reading those books then. It doesn't change the fact that for at least a solid hour, no one can really confirm what Frank may have been doing in the lounge itself.

As for Avery’s questions though, or perhaps speculations, it’s enough to have Yuliya hum a bit to herself in thought. There’s some things to consider here, even if the bigger picture hasn’t entirely formed yet. But it’s enough to get her to start reconsidering a few things if all else.

“Speaking of the third ping, if Shroud confirmed that there was an ‘arcing electrical spark’ from both Frank and Luz, would it also be possible for it to be an electrical shock from the motive? While for Frank I doubt that would be the case considering 3/4th of his alone time has been confirmed to be used up, for Luz it’s still a plausible possibility, considering her’s involves lying about her feelings. I can’t say I’m entirely certain though.”

She pauses here, still brainstorming in her head even as she does not have much else to offer about the explosive information there.

“So far though, I don’t… doubt the theory of it being one of the three that were simply caught in the explosion. Rue did also confirm to us that in the case of an explosion with a high quality barrier, they tend to be ‘explosive’ in return. At least, that was what was clarified.”

#Yuliya #ch4 #trial4 #submission

[elandlover25]

Ultimate FNaF Timeline - Part 3: Post-Purple Guy

Fazbear Entertainment was dead. 

There is no need for you to return to work next week, as Fazbear Entertainment is no longer a corporate entity. 

All debts had been paid, all assets redistributed, the company was outright dissolved. Even the memories of the horrors that had happened there started to fade away in the public consciousness. 

The people were gone, too. William was dead. Henry was gone. A whole generation of young Emily’s and Aftons had lost their lives to the horrors of the pizzeria, all of them collateral damage to the man in the bunny suit. Everyone the company had ever touched was dead and gone. 

Well, all except one. 

Pay your child support, you deadbeat! 

I’m keeping the diamond ring! 

I also set the house on fire! 

Clara Afton. 

She’d been there in the early days, back when things with William were good. They’d had the perfect home, a thriving business, the ideal family. But shortly after their youngest son died, things started to change. 

William had become distant, lost in his work, obsessive. She had watched him change from this irritatingly brilliant man that she had fallen in love with to a drunken monster struggling to hold himself together, and despite her trying to reach out to him in those desperate days, he was just too far gone. 

Admit it. You wanted to let me in. 

For her sake she had to leave the relationship. And from there she largely faded into obscurity. A mystery from William’s past, a footnote in his history. That was fine for her. She wanted to leave that part of her life behind. She’d tried to move forward, never wanting to hear the name Freddy Fazbear again. A time defined by mistakes and broken promises. 

But then the paperwork started to arrive. As Fazbear Entertainment began to close as a corporate entity suddenly, her mail was flooded with notifications, requests, obligations. She had been there since the beginning, helping William in the early days of his business, and now as a shareholder and sole living member of the Afton family, all copyrights and trademarks of both Afton Robotics and Fazbear Entertainment passed onto her. Memories of this past life that she had long left behind. 

Looking at the blueprints, the contracts, the memos, she felt old wounds begin to reopen. The regrets of a happy family that had been torn away from her. William had always been brilliant. That’s what had attracted her to him in the first place. But he’d also been too blinded by obsession and pride. He was too jealous, too petty, too unable to actually see a bigger picture. 

But now holding the paperwork that contained decades of heartbreak and trauma, she realized it was her turn. She was holding the power. This was her chance. And one thought resonated in her head. 

“I will put them back together. I will put them all back together.” 

She would be the one to rebuild this family, to rebuild the pieces of that shattered life, to reclaim the kids that Fazbear had stolen from her. 

But how? 

Looking at William’s work now laid out before her, she knew that he had been onto something. Collecting remnant, robotic humanoids, digital conscience transference. The pieces were all in place. They were just scattered, fragmented. It was almost like there were too many ideas going in too many different directions. It was such an important idea that she reiterated that point to herself. “There were too many ideas going in too many different directions.” 

That said, there had to be a way to save it all. She just needed to put it all back together. But how? 

To rebuild her family, she would first need to rebuild the franchise that had stolen them away from her. With ownership over the characters, their licenses, the technology patents, and the Fazbear name, she converted the corporation back to an LLC, a structure for smaller businesses that are usually family owned. 

The irony was fitting. 

From there she would need remnant and lots of it. Remnant was the key. Clearly, in the later years of his life, William had been using Circus Baby’s Entertainment and Rentals as a remnant farm, sending robots to kids’ birthday parties in the hopes of nabbing bits of the stuff here and there. 

But clearly it wasn’t enough. He had, what, like four, maybe five animatronics going out every week? No, it was a decent idea. But to get the remnant they required, it needed scale. Dozens, hundreds of animatronics all out there, all gathering remnant from unsuspecting customers. 

But to do that would require help, something William would never ask for. William had kept everything in-house. His obsession with control limited him. Clara, though, she wasn’t nearly that precious. A plan like this required partners, people outside of Fazbear to do the heavy lifting. 

So she contracted a mid-size delivery company, DLZ Shipping Solutions to help build replicas of all the original animatronics. And with meal delivery apps being all the rage, why not an animatronic delivery service? Order one to celebrate your birthday, your Halloween party. How about a 4th of July picnic? 

We’ll invite Liberty Chica and Firework Freddy over. 

She would make sure that they made skins for every occasion. Chocolate Bonnie’s for Easter, Shamrock Freddy’s for St. Patrick’s Day, Dia de los Muertos Chicas. 

And thus the Fazbear Funtime Service was born. 

That’s right! With the Fazbear Funtime Service you’ll never be alone again. You’ll always have someone watching your back! 

Was it ridiculous? Absolutely. Was it a sellout? No doubt. 

It was exactly the sort of thing that William would have hated, but it needed to be done to get enough remnant. Normally, the novelty of ordering an animatronic wore off after like what? One, maybe two times? But with new skins for the holidays, suddenly you had yourself an animatronic perfect for every occasion. It would keep people hooked. It would keep them ordering the latest and greatest that Fazbear Entertainment LLC had to offer. And all the while they’d be collecting and returning the remnant back to her. 

In a word, it was brilliant. 

There was just one problem with it. No one trusted the Fazbear name; the company’s brand was still mud in the public eye. No one would want to hire animatronics from the restaurant franchise known for murdering children. Nothing kills a party quite like the threat of death, you know? 

So she needed to find a way to discredit the stories that had come before. She needed to win back the public’s affections, reactivate some nostalgia for the spooky stories of their childhoods. 

She needed a game. Multiple games. 

They lied to us. They lied to all of us. They told us that the whole point of this VR game was to undo the bad PR done by a rogue indie game developer. But that’s not true at all! Those indie games were designed to conceal and make light of what happened. This isn’t just an attempt to rebrand. It’s an elaborate cover-up. 

Struggling game developers were a dime a dozen online, most working on their magnum opus between shifts at the Dollar General. So she found one, Steve. Just picked him out of obscurity. The right mix of desperate and doofus willing to say and do anything for a couple extra bucks. And he fell right in line as expected, delivering stupid little things with dumb generic names like: 

Mangle’s Quest 

Balloon Boy’s Air Adventure 

Five Nights at Freddy’s 

Bad gameplay with even worse graphics. But hey, they got the job done. 

People were suddenly talking about the clues inside of these things, searching for the hidden lore. They were actively making jokes about dead kids at pizzerias. Her husband’s twisted history of serial murder had suddenly been reduced to a mere Nancy Drew mystery to be solved. 

The plan had worked. Fazbear was suddenly more popular than ever. 

Things were going shockingly well. Her takeover and reboot of the franchise was full and complete. Suddenly infused with cash, she built the largest, most ambitious project yet: 

Freddy Fazbear’s Mega Pizzaplex 

William had always been so visionary, but always thought so on a small scale. He was careful to a fault. Not her though, she knew that this latest project needed to be big. It needed to be flashy. It needed to be a palace for children, a place that got people talking and checking out the latest in Fazbear products. So with a steady supply of remnant flowing in, it was finally time. 

The stage was set. 

It was time to get to her real goal, literally rebuilding a family. 

March 2035 

The first was obvious, the crying child, her little boy, the one that was the first to get ripped away from her. She’d seen down in his bunker that William had gotten very close to replicating artificial humans using animatronic technology. And so that’s exactly what she would do. Rebuild her boy from the ground up using robotic parts, his shaggy brown hair, his favorite striped shirt, even down to small details that no one would notice like the Band-Aid on his left knee. William’s research had even found ways of making animatronics that could bleed and process food, making them virtually indistinguishable from a typical human. He would never have any idea of what he actually was unless he was explicitly told. 

The only things that could possibly ruin the illusion were any overrides to his internal systems. If something were to say, interfere with the cameras that he had in his eyes, or cause some sort of a core reboot to his hard drive or X-ray his metallic bones. Then yeah, he would be exposed. But otherwise, to the outside world, he was just your typical normal human boy. 

She worked down in the bowels of the Pizzaplex, giving him life. But it was one thing to build him, it was another thing to help him remember his identity. He died so young, so early in their history that there were no preserved memories for him, no documentation that she could just download into his digital brain. So bit by bit, she trained him, forcing him to remember who he was. 

In a corner of the room she even made a makeshift dinner table, a reminder of their happier days. The family recreated: two brothers, a sister, a father, and the mother at the head of the table. The one in charge, the one in command, the one bringing all of this to fruition. 

But this progress was admittedly slower than she would have liked. At first, he could only communicate through ones and zeros, then rudimentary drawings and crude letters. But bit by bit, images of his past life started to come through: balloons, colors, houses, bears and faces, birthday parties, all for me. 

Gregory was alive. 

As the robot boy embraced her she felt a warmth that she hadn’t in decades. This was the joy that she’d been working towards. This was all what it was for. Her son, back in her arms again. The plan was working. 

She had to keep going. 

Next was William. If the family was truly going to be put together, she would need him. And she knew exactly where he was: in the ruins of that old Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza Place where Henry had trapped him. In fact, that’s specifically why she insisted on building the Pizzaplex over the sinkhole; it’s the best place to hide what her true intentions were with the entire operation. 

Digging through the wreckage, she found him. He was right where she thought he’d be. Seeing the putrid shell of the Springtrap suit, though, was not something she was prepared for. The rotting corpse of William Afton was disgusting. Scorched flesh fused into the fur lining, hollow black sockets where eyes once were, a smell that reeked of burned carbon and bloody iron. He was no longer flesh, he was just the tangled sinews of a creature that was once called human. How far this brilliant man had fallen. 

It was clear that her work was cut out for her on this one. Afton was practically lifeless. The man may not have been able to die, but it was about as close as he could come. And his body would need a lot of reconstruction, replacement arms and endoskeleton reinforcements were the top priority, maybe pulled from their new line of Glamrock animatronics. She’d have to see if they had any spare Bonnie parts lying around that they could steal. In the meantime, though, she threw the husk that was once her husband into a life support pod infused with an aerosolized remnant to help keep him stable. 

But more important than recovering his body was recovering his mind. In his current state, he was comatose, an empty shell. Severe brain damage starts at temperatures over 108 degrees Fahrenheit (or 42 degrees Celsius). And years of repeated fires had burned his brain to goo. Gone was the brilliant, frustrating mind that had drawn her to him in the first place. 

But she had a plan. 

Unlike her darling boy Gregory, Afton had found ways to record his consciousness. Fundamentally, the brain is only a series of electrical connections, after all. So why couldn’t you replicate that in the form of a standard circuit board? In essence, you could create a digital consciousness. And one thing she knew about William, he was nothing, if not cautious. A planner, someone who had backup plans to backup plans. 

And sure enough, there it was. Buried in piles of animatronic CPU’s, a record of Afton himself. But she needed someone to test it. 

Someone was definitely here during the night. It had to have been the client. I mean, they sent us that stuff in the first place with no explanation. Told us to scan it. Said it would expedite the process so we wouldn’t need to program any pathfinding ourselves. 

Unlike the other games that she’d paid to have made in the past, this one had a different purpose. This wasn’t about VR, it was about getting William back up and running, spreading his virus to the masses. 

You acknowledge that Fazbear Entertainment is not responsible for accidental digital consciousness transference, real world manifestations of digital characters… 

She hired a new developer, Silver Parasol Games, to scan the boards and bring her husband into the system. And because of the immersive nature of VR, William’s consciousness would be able to merge with the player, giving him a new body, a new agency. There was just one complication. Afton’s hold wasn’t as powerful as she had hoped. He wasn’t able to gain complete control. 

The first trial run, Jeremy, was so desperate to escape from his grasp that he sliced his own face off with a paper shredder. Messy. Afton’s followers were reluctant to say the least. 

But it was the second attempt that looked like it had the potential to kill two birds with one stone. 

Enter, Vanessa. 

Mrs. Afton wanted a surrogate daughter. Her darling Elizabeth would have been a young woman at this point if she had lived. Clara wanted someone who wasn’t Elizabeth, but could be just like her. 

Could she have rebuilt her like Gregory? Sure. But she decided against it because she wanted an actual mother-daughter connection. (Well, that and it would be redundant, narratively unsatisfying to have two robot kids in the same family). What could she say? William had put a lot of tools on the table for her to use and she was planning on using them all. Plus, Elizabeth had always been loyal to Daddy. It was time to give her a second chance, a true choice. And Vanessa seemed to be the perfect candidate to fill the role. 

Your dad’s name was Bill? Your dad didn’t play fair, did he? He used you to make your mom look bad in court. He manipulated you. I know your mom [CENSORED] after she lost the custody case. 

I was supposed to be a good girl. 

She started as a QA tester at Silver Parasol Games, the VR game development company that was part of Clara’s plan to bring back William. But more importantly, Vanessa checked all the correct boxes. 

Right age 

Blonde hair 

Green eyes 

A fondness for flowers and the outdoors 

In many ways, it was her daughter all over again. Except it wasn’t just looks and personality. What really mattered was Vanessa’s mind: underconfident, coming from a broken home, motherless, able to be manipulated. 

Yes. She would do nicely. She would be the one to save dear old Daddy, just as the real Elizabeth would have wanted. 

I will make you proud, Daddy. 

While testing the VR game, William’s digital consciousness is merged with Vanessa. Oh sure, she fought, fragmenting Afton’s code into a series of tapes hidden across the game, trying to do web searches to regain control of her life. But it wasn’t enough. She was weaker than Jeremy. She was a thrall that, despite occasional moments of lucidity, had to obey. 

And with Vanessa, it was a two-for-one deal. Clara was getting her daughter back while also bringing her husband one step closer to reactivation. She just had to make sure that Vanessa was headed the right way. 

The reborn Gregory was an expert hacker. Part of the benefits of being an Afton and a robot. So Clara had him keeping tabs on Vanessa, hacking into her emails and trailing her therapy sessions to ensure the future Elizabeth was falling in line. If any of the therapists started to ask too many questions, they were promptly…dismissed from their positions. 

And while Gregory kept tabs on Vanessa’s personal life, Mrs. Afton made sure to clear a path for her professionally. With Silver Parasol’s collapse at the hands of the anomaly, she then had the possessed Vanessa bring the contaminated circuit boards to DLZ Shipping and the Fazbear Funtime Service. 

More glitches, more remnant, more Afton. 

But it was her last move that was the best. In a true masterpiece of poetry she brought Vanessa over to be chief security officer at the Pizzaplex, a true family tradition to don the hat and badge. And all it took was a recommendation from the top as well as some emails marked for deletion. 

Sure, Vanessa didn’t have relevant experience for the job, but when it comes directly from the CEO, does it really matter? 

Husband, son, daughter. 

A corpse, a robot, a human. 

All that was left was Michael. Poor, troubled Michael. The boy that killed her youngest, the one that would spend years trying to make his guilty conscious right again. A self-professed protector. 

While she knew she needed him to complete the family, something told her that the problem had already solved itself. Something had shifted when using Glamrock Freddy to excavate the buried Pizza Place. 

I have been here before. I found myself for the first time when I cleared the path. I have changed. My friends are here. But I can protect you. I AM NOT ME. 

Maybe it was the remnant that had coursed through Michael’s veins. Maybe it was the spirit of Michael living on as a protector. But he was there somewhere inside of Glamrock Freddy. She could feel it. 

And just like that, she’d won. She’d done it. Sure, there were still some kinks to work out. Some final brainwashing of Vanessa, some rehabilitation of William. But they were there, finally. All together again under one roof. The Aftons reunited. A happy ending. 

And that’s how it could have ended. That’s how it should have ended. Had it not been for a few unanticipated developments. 

For one, something was just wrong with the Pizzaplex, almost as if the entire building was haunted, possessed. Puppet plushies hiding on ceilings, behind crates, places that had no earthly way of belonging. S.T.A.F.F. Bots with greasy tears down their eyes, acting like they were being puppeteered by some sort of a nightmare. Even their sounds had the echo of nightmares long passed. 

It was as though a guardian spirit of the past refused to move on. As long as her husband was around, it too, would linger. Only now it wasn’t just in one body, but it was in the essence of the building itself. She had heard stories of houses built on burial grounds getting possessed by angry spirits, but she’d never assumed that it could be real. Then again, in a world of living spirit metal and mind-controlling viruses, who was she to be so judgemental? The whole thing was ridiculous. Why would this be the line that she refused to cross? After all, the Pizzaplex was built over the burial ground of angry spirits. 

But it was the power cords that finally convinced her that something was wrong. Suddenly, these cords were striped black and white, just like the Security Puppet from generations ago. 

The very foundations of this place, the materials and wires that constituted it, were rebelling against her. Against the Aftons. Against the quest to bring them all together again. 

And it was being helped by something else. Something slithering through the building. Maybe they were connected, she couldn’t be sure. But a Blob of living wires could be heard oozing through the walls, stealing pieces and parts of the old animatronics showcased in Rockstar Row. She could only assume that it was a byproduct of all the remnant she’d been collecting. From Afton’s testing she knew that both light and dark remnant existed. One of positive emotions, and the other created from anguish, anger, agony. 

Perhaps this…this thing was an amalgamation of all the darkest parts of the pizzerias’ history, a collection of the hatred still housed inside these defunct endoskeletons and exosuits. 

As long as it was left alone, it seemed to be harmless. But if any Afton outside of Michael got too close, it would lash out wildly. Even young Gregory, looking to punish the family that had been complicit in its horrible creation.

Little did Clara know, though, that Gregory should have been her biggest concern. That bringing the family together would have some unforeseen consequences. 

Gregory was normally the goodest of boys. Clara had literally built him that way. But lately, he’d been disappearing more and more often, disobeying her orders…requests. She knew that he loved playing on the arcade machines once the Pizzaplex closed, being so good as to top the leaderboard on practically all of them. But lately he was nowhere to be found. 

She suspected his absence had to do with Glamrock Freddy’s failed performance the other night when he malfunctioned on stage, almost as though the core programming of Freddy responded to seeing this rebuilt small boy. Almost like it awakened something inside of him. 

She’d have to make sure that Vanessa was on the lookout for him, but she’d soon come to learn that Vanessa wasn’t enough. Whether it was the influence of the nightmare Puppet or a reawakened hatred of animatronics seeded deep in Gregory’s code, something had caused him to rebel, to rip apart each animatronic in the Pizzaplex. 

Bit by bit, this boy was tearing down the empire that Clara had so painstakingly built, freeing Vanessa from her mind control, destroying the remains of Afton in the basement, setting Glamrock Freddy loose. 

As her carefully created world crumbled around her one more time, she began to plot her revenge. 

She would have to bring them all to RUIN. 

The End…?

#gaming

[queenshelby]

The Last Semester – Part 26

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Words: 1,991

Warning: Smut, Pregnancy Mentioned

Four months had passed and you had finally moved in with Cillian and Charlie who had become too much for his mother to handle.

After several letters to and from Nadine’s lawyer, it was decided that Charlie should have the choice. He was old enough and, unsurprisingly, he chose to be living with his father full time.

But full time didn’t mean that he didn’t see his mother. Whenever he wanted, he organised to see her and stay over at her place, probably around once or twice per week and all he had to do was to inform Cillian.

For Hendrix on the other hand, not much had changed and Nadine and Cillian were sharing custody which, for once, had started to work now that Nadine had finally met someone else.

The irony in it all was that it was your father who had introduced them at school pick up. He was a single father whose son attended the same school and, just like your father, he worked in theatre.

‘How nice, an invitation from your ex’ you said as you opened the mail over breakfast.

‘To what?’ Cillian asked almost surprised.

‘Her partner’s new play’ you said somewhat perplexed, causing Cillian to laugh.

‘Who would have thought that this would ever happen, eh?’ Cillian chuckled and you nodded in agreement as, suddenly, the doorbell rang.

You remembered that Cillian had invited Enda and your father over to discuss the premier of their own new play the following, but your father had been sick so only Enda could make it.

‘Look at you two with matching slippers’ Enda laughed as he walked in to the kitchen and noticed that you both started to look like an old married couple who was shopping at Primark.

‘You know what it’s like man. First, they move in, then they take over all of the cabinet space and then they start buying you clothes like this’ Cillian chuckled as he looked down at his fluffy Easter Bunny slippers, causing you to give him a nudge of disapproval.

After you offered Enda a coffee and Cillian had gotten the initial small talk out of the way, Enda started to discuss the play and then his birthday weekend in two months.  

It was his 50th birthday and he had booked a large cottage in Kerry for a long weekend. Amongst two other couples, Cillian, you, your father and your stepmother were going to join him and, whilst you thought that this might become awkward, you were also really excited about it.

‘I just wanted to talk with you guys about something in advance’ Enda then said as he brought up the getaway.

‘Lorraine is pregnant’ Cillian then said with a smile, referring to Enda’s wife who, herself, was only in her early thirties.

‘How did you know?’ Enda then asked.

‘Her boobs have gotten bigger’ Cillian said with a serious voice, causing Enda’s chin to drop and Cillian to break out in laughter.

‘I am just fucking with you man. She didn’t drink at the pub the other night’ Cillian then explained before you both congratulated him.

‘I thought I should tell you in advance, because this might be a bit of a sore point for you guys and I can understand if this bothers you, being around not one, but two pregnant couples for my birthday’ Enda explained, referring to your miscarriage and the fact that, to the best of his knowledge, you hadn’t fallen pregnant again yet.

‘We appreciate that Enda, really’ you said before giving him a hug and telling him how excited you were for Lorraine before asking him a bunch of questions. You knew that Cillian’s brother’s wife was also pregnant and it was indeed going to be a weekend full of baby talk for Enda’s 50th.

After you talked about pregnancies and babies for a while, you decided to leave Cillian and Enda to it as they had more to discuss about the play and Enda had warned you on numerous occasions that Cillian would get quite exhausted during times of on-stage performance.

***

Just as you walked out of the room, you could hear Enda ask Cillian in private about your plans to have children.

‘I know the pregnancy was an accident but, are you guys trying again?’ he then said quietly and carefully.

‘No man, we are not trying. We’ve been together for less than a year, there is no rush’ Cillian said, causing your mood to sadden slightly.

Whilst you didn’t want Cillian to know, the news Enda had broken to you that morning was difficult for you to digest.  

You weren’t trying, yet you knew that you would be excited if you were to fall pregnant again.

Cillian was an amazing father to his boys and, just last night, you found several pictures of him with them when they were babies.

He looked so happy and so content and you wanted to experience this for yourself and with your own children. The photos made your heart melt and fill with an unfamiliar warmth. He was outright beautiful in them, holding his boys, caring for them and loving them the way he did.

***

Later that evening, Cillian received a text from Charlie telling him that he would be staying with his mother for the night.

‘No kids tonight, do you want to go out for dinner?’ Cillian asked as he looked up from his phone just as you came walking out of the bathroom.

‘No’ you said, biting your lip as you approached Cillian.

‘I have a different idea, common’ you said as you took Cillian by the hand and began leading him upstairs, forgetting your robe on the floor.

‘I think I might like whatever idea you have’ Cillian chuckled as he followed you into the bedroom, where you turned around and pressed yourself again him, kissing him deeply and passionately.

‘Oh, I most defiantly like your idea’ Cillian said eagerly before taking off his t-shirt and pulling your body even closer to him, enthralled by the feel of your skin against his.  

As you kissed, you began to pull Cillian’s shorts down over his hips until they dropped to the floor. His rapidly-swelling cock pressed against your smooth pussy now while you wrapped your arms around another and kissed hungrily, tongues slithering into one another's mouths.

‘God, I love you so much, Cillian’ you moaned through your kiss. ‘I'm so in love with you’ you added, showing your affection.

‘I love you too, Y/N’ was his reply and your hands wandered freely around one another's bodies now, exploring and groping eagerly.

‘I want to taste you’ he then exclaimed and he didn't wait for an answer but simply pushed you backwards until your knees touched the edge of the bed and you buckled with a gasp at his directness, falling onto the bed.

You had barely bounced on the mattress before you spread your legs wantonly, inviting Cillian to lick your already wet pussy. As he leaned in, you reached down and used your fingers to spread your netherlips wide, exposing yourself to him. Your coral-coloured inner pink glistened, begging for Cillian’s tongue.

You moaned loudly and shuddered as he finally pressed his mouth to your pussy, snaking his tongue inside you. You tasted sweet and Cillian felt your legs wrap around his shoulders while your hands tangled in his hair, rocking his head. Cillian’s hands clamped down on your thighs, pinning you to him while he began to lash your slit mercilessly. There was no foreplay involved, he just wanted you as wet as possible for when he fucked you.

‘Oh God, Cillian’ you gasped, almost doubling over as he tortured you. ‘Fuck, you're going to make me cum’ you groaned.

You pushed up with your hips suddenly, crushing your pussy to his face and gripping his head tightly. Your groan of pleasure was guttural and shameless as you came and Cillian couldn’t believe how quickly you had cum.

‘Three fucking minutes, I am good’ Cillian smirked as he looked at his watch but, before he had time to think about anything else, you pulled him up to your face and kissed him, hard. Your tongue plunged into his mouth, tangling with his as you tasted yourself greedily. Your hips ground against his, your sopping pussy hungry for Cillian’s swollen, throbbing cock.

‘Fuck me, Cillian…I need you inside me’ you groaned after you pulled back from the kiss, your eyes flashing with lust.

‘Fuck me and make me scream as you cum inside me’ you then said eagerly and desperately.

‘You want me to cum inside you?’ Cillian asked somewhat surprised by your request and you nodded before pulling him close for another kiss.

‘Yes, please…’ you then huffed out and Cillian nodded and pinned you down, your loud moan all he could hear as he pressed his cock head between your slippery lips and sank deep inside you.

You pressed back up against Cillian, taking him in to the hilt. Your hands grabbed his ass cheeks and you began bucking voraciously.

Cillian looked down into your eyes and you stared back into his intently, lost in one another. He slid his cock in and out of your pussy, which flexed and gripped him tightly as you established a heated rhythm between you. Your legs wrapped around Cillian’s waist and you rocked against him.

You made no attempt to prolong your lovemaking, you just wanted to cum together. You could feel the sweat on your bodies as you fucked, panting as you stared into one another's eyes. The sticky, wet sucking sounds of Cillian’s member pushing back and forth inside you made you both wild with desire. His balls slapped against you as he pushed harder and harder, propping himself on top of you with his hands.

‘Oh god Cillian, yes’ you gasped, your eyes wide, your whole body shaking as your orgasm washed over you. Cillian pressed desperately, trying to reach as deep inside you as he could, knowing very well why you wanted him to cum inside you.

He arched his back as that tingling, boiling fire welled up in him and he clenched his teeth as he strained, calling out your name.

You crushed yourself on to Cillian, crying out loudly, your pussy devouring his seed as he filled you with rope after rope of his warm cum.

As the warm sticky fluids covered your cervix, your nails raked along his back. You almost wailed as you came, eyes squeezed shut while you worked your pussy around his cock. You pulled Cillian down to you and you kissed deeply and lovingly, expressing your deepest emotions for one another and you never wanted this moment to end.

‘I love you’ Cillian then said as he finally sagged down on top of you and you hugged him gently, almost purring as you whispered in his ear about how much you loved him too.

Your lips planted soft kisses along his neck and shoulder while your fingers caressed his back. He still moved slowly in and out of you and you squeezed the last drops of cum from him with your pussy until, eventually he pulled out and slowly rolled onto his back, bringing you with him to lean against his chest.

‘So, I assume that you want to fall pregnant again?’ Cillian asked, his heart still beating fast.

‘Yes…uhm…do you?’ you asked knowing that your question came a bit late as you looked up at him with pleading eyes.

‘I think I answered this question when I came inside you’ Cillian chuckled before he grabbed a pillow from the floor and propped it beneath you.

You looked at him somewhat confused and he grinned.

‘Just making sure it stays in, eh?’ Cillian laughed before giving you another kiss.

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[mxgilray]

I... have some thoughts on the Loki finale. It was not what I was expecting, but I'm still hopeful for season 2.

This felt like a meh finale, like how a lot of season finales felt in Spring 2020 when they unexpectedly quit filming and had to cut things short by a couple episodes thanks to the pandemic. Only this was the planned out finale, they should've given a bit more oomph. I'm quite a fan of exposition and character development usually, but all the dialog was centered on He Who Remains, so it felt like our main characters were just side pieces.

Plus, the final "cliffhanger" of Mobius not knowing Loki and the statue of HWR replacing the Time Keeper statues felt quite lackluster. Not sure how they could've made it hit harder, but it didn't deliver the "oh shit" vibes they intended, but maybe that's cuz Mobius not remembering Loki has been an expected plot line on tumblr for half the season so it wasn't a blindside.

I get the point of the Sylki kiss. From what I've seen on tumblr so far I feel like the nuance of Sylvies actions was lost to most people (both Sylki fans and antis just Didn't Get It). It wasn't a big declaration of love like the fans are grasping onto it as, and it wasn't shoving selfcest into the canon to keep the heternormativity like antis are accusing it of being; it was Sylvie using Loki's attachment to her to trick him. She needed Loki out of her way, and she knew the only way to get past him and get He Who Remains' tempad was through emotional distraction. She used his love against him and betrayed him, a kiss was simply the most efficient way to do it. I did a whole post last week about Sylvie's feelings towards Loki, but to sum up I firmly believe that while Loki harbors some romantic feelings for Sylvie, she feels strictly platonic towards him, but is very aware of his attraction. She took advantage of his care for her to get the upper hand during their fight. Heck she even foreshadowed it herself in ep 5. "There are more important things than friends" "like taking down the TVA" she told Loki that taking down whoever is behind the TVA comes before everything; it's priority #1 in her book, above friendship or love or trust. Loki proved that his priority now is the greater good of the universe not her revenge, so Sylvie has no use for him anymore (partners only when it's convenient, because she is a Loki and that's how emotionally stunted Lokis behave).

I would like to point out the irony of her being worried about Loki betraying her, only to turn around and betray him. It's in the realm of "people who cheat assuming their partner is cheating" / "not using a turn signal when changing planes to avoid being cut off because when you see someone else use their signal you tend to cut them off", it's assuming other people will behave like you do. Sylvie feared in ep 5 that Loki would betray her in the end because she knew if it came down to it she'd betray him. But the thing is, he's actually grown past that. Loki is finally thinking about how his actions can damage others, not just his own wants and needs. Sylvie saw this moral change in Loki, realized there was no chance of getting him back on the blind revenge boat, and decided to exploit his newfound selflessness and emotional attachment to get him out of her path.

This whole season Loki has been maturing emotionally and growing into the best, most heroic version of himself. Sylvie, on the other hand, still has that deceptive, selfish, can't trust anyone persona that every Loki develops to combat insecurity. She hasn't had the emotional growth needed to see the bigger picture, she's still trapped in her own self centered mindset. As such, she disregards the impact her betrayal will have on Loki, the impact killing HWR will have on the universe. She doesn't even take a beat to consider whether revenge is still the right path cuz she doesn't practice self reflection yet; revenge has always been the goal and she refuses to give herself a chance of changing her mind. I hope in season 2 she'll get some character growth, now that her 1 goal has been accomplished.

Now on to Mobius. I enjoyed his scenes, I wish we'd been shown more of what he did to reveal the truth to the rest of the TVA. Again, I feel like too much time was given to HWR's monologing and not enough was spent on the other characters so Mobius and B-15 got very little screen time to display their plan. I am happy Mobius got the opportunity to throw Ranslayers betrayal back in her face, and his attemp at attacking her...my boy you work a desk job you ain't no fighter, she used to work in the field collecting variants, you had no chance. Also, where the F did she go??? I kept expecting her to show up at the end of time but she didn't. Where did Miss Minutes send her??

I'm sad Mobius doesn't know Loki anymore, but I can't say I'm surprised. I've got a few different thoughts on what the heck is going on with him and the TVA:

Sylvie accidentally sent Loki way back to a time early on in the TVA before HWR created the Time Keepers for anonymity. As such, this is a past Mobius who has yet to meet Loki or even learn of Loki's existence. If this is the case, then I think Loki and Past!Mobius's interaction at the end of ep 6 will be the catalyst for him becoming a Loki expert. The 63 branching timelines Mobius and B-15 are discussing before Loki interrupts are from some currently unknown disaster that'll be a plot line in s2. (This is my least favorite theory, but nevertheless a possibility)

HWR was correct when he said that if Sylvie kills him and destroys the TVA then another variant of him will just start it all up again. This variant didn't care to remain anonymous, hence the big statue of him, but kept all the memory wiped variants working there. Because time is a chaotic bitch, the changeover from one HWR variant to another may have been near seamless at the TVA and just involved a quick memory wipe of anything relating to the Time Keepers, Loki and Sylvie, or knowledge that the TVA are all variants. The 63 branches may be thanks to something Renslayer is doing like killing all the HWR variants in existence in order to negate the need for the TVA. The branching could also be from Sylvie's revenge still, we have no idea how much time has passed between her killing HWR and a new HWR taking over so the branching she caused could still be an issue.

There have actually been multiple TVAs running simultaneously, each in their own multiverse. Each one employs memory wiped variants, each one is in charge of a certain subset of timelines, and all work under the one HWR. Sylvie used HWR's tempad to eject Loki back to the TVA, but she accidentally sent him to the TVA of a different multiverse not realizing that's a Thing. The 63 branching timelines Mobius and B-15 are discussing are indeed from Sylvie killing HWR, but there's only 63 as opposed to the countless we saw diverging from Sylvie's perspective because this TVA only sees branches on timelines within their own multiverse. Mobius doesn't know Loki because he isn't our Mobius and in the multiverse he works in maybe Loki's aren't as much of an issue because none of them ever escaped the TVA like Sylvie did (or none of them have Tom's face so he doesn't recognize him as a Loki). If this is the case, then Loki is gonna have to find his way back to his own multiverse in order to be reunited with his Mobius, and that could end up happening thanks to Renslayer. Miss Minutes gave her a file that I suspect only HWR should have access to. Maybe it was tempad coordinates for other multiverses? It took til the 31st century for the multiverses to be connected despite Tony figuring out time travel in the 21st century because travel between universes is much harder, maybe HWR is still the only one who knows how to do that. (If this theory is correct then all the time travel done during Endgame was through timelines within one multiverse) Also just thought of this but what if the reason there are so many extreme variations of loki that grew to adulthood is because the criteria of "sacred timeline" is different in each multiverse. Classic Loki and maybe President Loki and Kid Loki are from the same universe as MCU Loki, but red haired Loki, Croki, Boastful Loki, etc are all from other universes. Think about it, Classic Loki, 2012 Loki, and MCU Loki all have an exact identical path up until their nexus event (or death in MCU Loki's case). I think other than identifying as female, Sylvie's childhood was identical as well and that her nexus event was coming to terms with her adoption as a child, which erased the catalyst of 2011 Thor's plot and would've changed everything for her future path. Had her adoption remained a secret and she grew up on asgard, I believe her story would mirror MCU Loki's. It mildly hit me weird that there would be such wild variation amongst Lokis, even with him being a shapeshifter, because there's a rigid sacred timeline (that supposedly the MCU movies have all adhered to) and they all felt like too big of a divergence to have been left unchecked so long. If boastful Loki was telling the truth about getting all 6 infinity stones then he should've triggered a nexus event as soon as he got more than the 3 he is "supposed to" interact with, unless in his multiverse the sacred timeline criteria is different. Another theory: the agents employed in each TVA are from multiverses other than the one they're working in. It would make sense, keep them from running into their own past by fully detaching each agent from their home timeline/universe. So the Principal!Renslayer that B-15 found will never in any future become the TVA judge we know. The one we know maybe came from the universe Loki got sent to, and that's how the two of them will end up crossing paths again.

#loki series #loki spoilers #loki #lokius #sylki #sylvie laufeydottir #mobius m mobius #tva loki #time variance authority #loki meta #mcu #marvel

[bearlytolerant]

Pace and Ortega prompt maybe? 👀 When they talk to me about things that reminds them of me.

Fandom: Fallen Hero Series

Pairing: Pacey x Ortega (Chargestep)

Rating: T

Word Count: 1335

AO3

Let Go

Coconut and chocolate. Who eats that without the little almonds? What is it without the slight crunch? That third flavor? Especially if you’re going to choose that over any other candy bar. Ortega peels back the wrapper, takes the first bite and it’s weird and soft and not what he likes in a candy bar.

But it’s not about the candy bar.

Her hair was as red as the wrapper last time they hung out at this place. A dark, dank hole-in-the-wall bar on a karaoke night. She was spinning, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. Spinning and dancing and taking bites out of her stupid, disgusting Mounds bar. She’d played acoustic and sang all the wrong lyrics to Riptide. The irony not lost on him. All that was before—

“I thought you hated those.”

They're the only ones in the bar other than the bartender working somewhere in the back. Too early for the regulars.

Ortega glances up at her, his bar half eaten now. Her hair a pretty baby blue and shorter and he likes the way it’s still blunt but not even. One side hanging half in front of her face, accentuating that curve of her jaw as she stares at him or the tip of his ear at least, dull green eyes lined with dark circles. Though, it's hard to tell in the dim light. Usually she hides that behind a layer of makeup. Hides that she’s not sleeping—or not well anyway. And she hasn’t smiled at him. Not like before.

He slides the second candy bar her way.

“I used to,” he says.

“Used to. You say it like you didn’t judge me every time I ate one. What made you change your mind?” Her fingers—nails bitten down to the quicks—pluck the candy bar up and hesitate before cracking into it.

She used to keep her nails filed and painted with little stripes or stars. A bit of chipped paint remains on the middle finger of her right hand. At least she still paints them sometimes.

“You,” he says.

“Me?” She takes a bite out of the bar, chocolate already smearing at the corner of her mouth.

Another piece of her old self. Messy spills and ease of presence. Was it part of the charm or part of an act?

He braves a touch. Something new for them. Another shift. Just a small one. A gentle, methodical placement of his thumb.

“You got a little—“ He stretches, reaching.

She watches, waiting. Holding her breath.

He thumbs away the chocolate. Captures her gaze. Much is unchanged and somehow she seems unreal. But her skin is so warm.

Alive.

“Ricardo. I think you got it.”

He withdraws reluctantly. Clears his throat. “Yeah. I think so.”

“Why don’t you just say it.”

“Say what?” He throws his hands up in his defense.

“Whatever it is you're thinking. I know you want to say something.”

“I missed you. That’s all.”

“Missed me? I don’t—“

“Look. It wasn’t easy for me when I thought you were—“

“Dead.”

“Yeah. That.”

“So you consoled yourself with Mounds bars? No wonder you’ve gotten a little thicker.”

“Jealous, I've got a bigger ass than you?” he retorts. It comes easy, the exchange of friendly fire and he can almost forget that she was ever gone.

“You’re so stupid.”

There it is, that hint of a smile, like she wants to be happy but it fades as quick as it comes. Slivers of sadness waver in her eyes and in the quiver of her bottom lip.

“I’m starting to think you really like stupid.”

“Don’t kid yourself.” She takes another bite and that sadness slips away.

“For what it’s worth, they reminded—remind me of you. You were always eating them. Always getting them for people even though everyone hates them.”

“That picture you have painted of me in your head must be real pretty.”

“Could never compare to the real thing.”

With a scoff and a roll of her eyes she slides the rest of the candy bar out and crushes the wrapper in her hand. Tosses it towards the trash bin near the bar and sinks it in.

“Wanna know a secret?” Pace leans in closer and he has a mind to kiss her chocolate smudged lips.

He leans in closer too. “Yeah.”

“When your fave candy bar is one everyone hates, you never have to worry about your favorite things getting stolen.”

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

She laughs. Really laughs. Eyes lighting up like morning dew on the grass. Then she quiets down, expression relaxed and almost content. They both take their final bite. She swallows and the steady melody of a song he doesn’t quite know reverberates through his body.

“Not as dumb as eating a candy bar to remember someone by.”

“What would you rather I do? Snuggle up in your old Sidestep fanclub merchandise?”

“Yes. Eating spoonfuls of chocolate ice cream with one hand and downing energy drinks with the other, sobbing on the couch, while Criminal Minds plays on the TV in the background.”

“Well, sorry to disappoint. Besides, you only like period dramas,” Ortega says.

“I hate that you know this about me. And I hope you never tell a soul.”

“Never,” Ortega says with a grin.

“Why don’t I believe you?”

“Scouts honor—“

“Have you ever even been a scout?”

“Does it matter?”

“I guess not.” She glances towards the tinted window and runs her fingers through her hair. “It’s all just words anyway.”

He also crumples up his candy wrapper. He turns and shoots his shot at the bin but it bricks off the rim and tumbles to the floor.

“Ah, so close.” A cluck of her tongue. “What a shame. Better luck next time.”

“So there will be a next time.” He smirks.

“Isn’t there always?”

“Hard to keep away, huh?”

“Incorrigible.”

“And you’re evading.”

“It’s what I do best.”

“Ah, but I thought you weren’t Sidestep anymore?”

A frustrated growl and her hands smack the table, shoving her chair back. Stands on her feet, pacing near the exit. She rubs her arms incessantly like a draft suddenly blew in.

He stands too and goes to her, reaching out to take her hands and hold them. She can’t or won’t meet his gaze this time. Keeps herself half hidden in the haven of her hair.

“I hate when you push me like that.”

“Like what?”

“You’re doing it again. Prying, pulling, pushing and then laughing at me. Teasing, maybe taunting. I don’t know. Whatever the fuck this game is.”

“Game? And it’s not at you—“

“And you know all the right things to say that leave me all mixed up and inside out and I hate–I hate it. It’s complicated and it sucks.”

“I don’t mean to—“

“Just shut up and let me try to say this. To say that I like you—being with you and yeah—it is hard to keep away. It’s especially hard when you get my stupid candy bars and eat them with me when you don’t even like them. When you find ways to make me feel perceived and wanted and—gah—“ She swallows the next word.

“Pace I—“

His sentence is static as she breaks free from his hands and cups his face. Greets him with warm lips pressing into his and he’s reactionary. Hands wrapping around her waist and tugging her in closer, parting her lips with his tongue and allowing this moment that he’s waited forever for. She still tastes like chocolate and coconut but it’s good like this. Real good. Not as a candy bar but like this. A little weird. And a whole lot of sweet, soft, and delightful lips.

She pulls away too fast. Too soon.

He’s left a bit baffled. His heart a bit bruised.

“Valuable,” she whispers like it’s some sort of curse.

Then she sidesteps away and slips out the exit.

#fhr #fallen hero retri #don’t squint too hard at this #I don’t know when it takes place #some random private moment idc #I just wanted to write banter and a pace trying to articulate feelings #Chargestep #Tegetti #Pacey (Pace) Peretti #Ricardo ortega #bear writes

[ryuichirou]

Can you make your top 10 aot characters that have a good development? Like Eren and Reiner are considered to be the best characters as 'characters' themselves

Anon… dear Anon, you’ve been waiting for like a month I think, I’m so sorry. I took this ask waaay too seriously lol, but yeah, I can’t postpone it for any longer…

I know you asked for top 10, and this is a numbered list, but I wouldn’t call it a proper ranking, so the place doesn’t really matter all that much. Otherwise this list would’ve taken even longer, I’m very serious about lists, it seems lol

Before I start I want to mention (just in case): I feel like “character development” isn’t always about becoming better at something. Sometimes you can become “worse”; sometimes you can get “better” and then fall back to your old ways. It’s just how the character changes, and the trajectory of that change can be very different for different characters.

1. Eren. I can talk about Eren for hours and hours, and I have talked about him a lot, so I’ll try to be quick this time.

Eren’s journey is very interesting and enjoyable to read. He’s such an unusual main character. So aggressive at first, unlikable to some (not to us lol we adored him since day one), loud and stubborn. But it’s super cool to watch this hurricane of a person, especially as he gets calmer, starts controlling his emotions little by little, learns more stuff and understands the situation around him better.

I think I’ll talk about how perspective and knowing a bigger picture change the way character acts a lot in this post, but Eren is an ultimate example of this. He got every single thing: past, present, future, drilled in his head at one fucking moment. He didn’t get a bigger picture, he got the biggest 5d picture with special effects. And he had no one to share that with: he had to deal with it himself, knowing that he himself is the reason for everything that’s happening. It makes my head hurt to even think about that lol It’s cool and unnerving to watch Eren, who’s used to be such a fireball of a character, to just get… quiet and apathetic. We don’t know what he’s thinking about, we don’t know what’s going on anymore, even though his emotions were always the most obvious thing about him. It’s almost scary.

And the interesting thing about it is that nothing really changed about his feelings, at least I think so. Ultimately, the only thing he wanted is for his friends to be happy and live long lives, and who knows, maybe he saw that the “freedom” he was initially seeking for himself doesn’t really exist. This is up to debate and definitely not for this post though lol

2. Reiner. Ohh Reiner. He was one of the characters who wasn’t all that interesting to me personally at first, but as he got more and more complex and emotional, I fell in love with him more and more. This isn’t a numbered list, but he is definitely one of the best written characters. And what’s cool about him is that we see the reason for him being the way he is throughout the story: why he wanted to become a hero, why his mental state got so bad, why he was conflicted, why he got so depressed and why he was able to take responsibility for his actions. I love it when the story breaks its characters, and Reiner is certainly one of the most broken ones. His lower point (when he almost killed himself + cried and asked Eren to kill him) was very beautiful and painful to read, because we know why he feels that way and we know how smug and brave he was at the very beginning of the show/manga. And we know that it was all a lie, which makes everything even tastier.

And as much as I love broken characters, I’m kind of glad Reiner found strength to continue fighting and to take responsibility for his actions (to some degree, at least). Not only he saw a bigger picture, he actually learned how to live with it. I’m so happy they discussed the Marco incident with Jean, and that after Annie told that it was her who took his gear, Reiner stood up and said that Annie was following his orders. He also apologized to Annie for everything he did to her and Bert.

Basically, Reiner went from wanting to be a hero to acting like a hero, then to being an actual hero to Marley and feeling like shit anyways, then to just being a human being, something like that. And that scene with his mom hugging him and being happy for him being alive is actually a very sweet and satisfying moment. Especially considering how much Reiner wanted to die lol

3. Zeke. I’ve talked about it in one of the replies about ch137, but I love how Zeke went from “I shouldn’t have been born” to “maybe small moments of happiness make everything worth it” at the very end of his life (what a cruel irony to realise that just before you die). Not only the character develops and changes, our view of him changes as well: I think Zeke was universally hated when he first appeared, but then he became more fun (dude’s too charismatic), and then he became sympathetic and vulnerable. All of this was always inside Zeke, but it was hidden since Zeke is a lying snake. See, Zeke is smart, but he’s super sure that his views are the only valid ones and that his idea of freeing Eldians is the only solution. His views are surprisingly black and white: I suffered, Eren suffered and our dad is bad. And no one challenged his beliefs until they walk through Grisha’s memories with Eren in ch120-121, and then he realized that Eren didn’t suffer at all and their dad is actually just a person who really regretted being a horrible father to his first son. I love that he got some closure with Grisha because he held that grudge for his entire life.

4. Grisha. He has a rollercoaster ride of a development lol: at first he was an innocent boy, then he became an angry boy, and then he kind of calmed his anger down for some time? But after learning what actually happened to Faye, his emotional wounds got open and all that rage blinded him again. And then, after being outed by Zeke, he lost everything, but had a harsh realization that by being driven by his anger only, he completely forgot not to be a shitty dad. He basically had a second chance in life, with a much better perspective about what’s going on, but now he has his younger son’s ghost haunting him and telling him to do thing he never thought he’d do. At different points of the story Grisha feels both like a mastermind behind things and like a pawn who doesn’t have a choice even if he just wants to live a peaceful and happy life with his wife and kids. The irony of him killing a bunch innocent kids when this whole story started because he got his little sister killed? Delicious. Oh, and I really love the fact that he realised that he screwed up as dad and apologized to Zeke. He loved his kids a lot: Zeke, Eren and Mikasa too (he called her his daughter after all).

5. Erwin. Way more interesting than people give him credit for. He’s mostly adored for being a badass, but he also has his own flaws that he had to deal with. He’s like a moth that’s drawn to the light, but right after burning himself and dying he kind of did “the right thing” that he had to do as a commander. Now, for me it isn’t really about Erwin ending up doing “the right thing” to be honest: we would probably adored him is he ditched everyone and ran to the basement because his selfish desires ended up being more important to him. But that scene where he confessed to Levi that he really wanted to find that basement and just told him everything about his capricious and selfish childish desires, talked about how he lied to everyone including Levi basically just to prove his dad’s point… it was beautiful, because it was basically “I have to do it, haven’t I? But I really don’t want to”. His character development is interesting in a sense that at first he was getting gradually more and more psychotic about his dream, doing crazy things even when he knows it might not be the best choice possible (like him risking his life instead of staying behind), but at the very end he stopped to think and… well we know the rest lol

6.  Armin. I remember people saying that Armin is just a narrator-like character who is here to explain thing (I probably thought so too at first), but this is so unfair. It’s easy to make someone like Armin into this trope, and to leave him being a very one-dimensional dreamer who’s smart but naive. And Armin is so much more than that. Throughout the story he has a lot of “I should have been the one who died” moments, and I love that this is such a prominent issue for him, but he still got over it somehow. Armin was kind of lost at the beginning, but found his role. And wow, he had to go through it again after he was chosen instead of Erwin, because the burden on his shoulders just got 100 kg heavier lol He also got less naïve and more cunning with time and got much better at emotional manipulation, I think. While preferring a dialogue over violence, Armin still isn’t pure, and he acknowledges that constantly, especially after his first kill, and things got even worse since that point, which definitely changed him. But his violence-loathing (kind of…) core is still there.

Armin ended up playing a much bigger role in the story than I thought he would be, I really love it. He has his moments of weakness, but he still pushes forward and takes responsibility and does his best. Oh and let’s pretend that the Annie thing never happened, it doesn’t contribute anything to his character anyway.

7.  Jean. I think Jean is the first character who starts showing character growth, and I believe his development is the reason he was Isayama’s favourite for some time. Tbh, I don’t find Jean annoying even at the very beginning: yeah he’s selfish, but he’s self-aware about it, he’s a realist. And he’s still a realist, but his conscience wouldn’t let him just have an easy life while everyone else’s suffering. I always feel like Jean is a spoiled mamaboy, so it’s great to see him showing that he can put others before himself. He also had an inner conflict similar to Armin’s: is it right to kill innocent people if you have to? Is it ok to kill not-so-innocent people because they’re against you? I really like this theme in SnK just in general.

8.  Gabi. It’s no secret that I adore Gabi lol, and I think her character development is great. She was in her element when we first met her: she was confident, she was doing her best and succeeding, she knew the world around her so well, and then Eren took everything from her. People like to hate Gabi for killing Sasha and for being aggressive on Paradis, but I think it’s great that she didn’t have an overnight change of heart. It’s great that Isayama showed us her shock and her raw emotions, it’s more than natural for a child with her upbringing, even if it’s messed up. But I love it when stories take characters that are great at what they do, and they take them out of their element, to show them at their worst: lost, angry, broken and confused. I love that she understood everything herself and not because Falco told her “hey they’re people too” that one time. She had to go through this hell to figure everything out, and I think it’s great.

9.  Historia. Historia was one of the least interesting characters for me (and for a lot of people, Yams included) at the beginning, and tbh I think it’s brilliant: we never saw anything in her; she was just a waifu material who’s nice to others. It felt fake and boring, well, because it was indeed fake and boring, and to this day I cannot believe that that was the entire point. I love how Ymir made Historia realise that she needs to think for herself, but what’s interesting about all that is that after Ymir left, she almost came back to her old habits. Which is also a development, and a very interesting one. The end of S2 was a high point for her (when she told Ymir that she isn’t scared of anything when they’re together), and then there was a very low point (when Ymir left), and then a high point again (when she remembered Ymir and Frieda and decided to act upon her own desires). She’s one of my faves now because of all that… It’s sad she didn’t have a bigger role post-timeskip, but I still appreciate her story for what it is.

10.  Oh god this is so hard to pick one and this post is already so long… can I just give you a bunch of quick honorable mentions?

Annie (who was a loner that couldn’t really trust anyone but ended up showing her vulnerable and emotional side), Hange (started out enthusiastic and eager to learn more only to meet more pain and disappointment, crumbling under the pressure, but ultimately remembering her amusement with titans), Levi (granted it’s very subtle, but him going through Kenny’s death, Erwin’s death and his promise to him, realization that he’s been killing people all this time and other stuff fascinating and huge leaving a mark on him), Ymir (who got hurt and decided not to trust anyone anymore and to act selfishly, but ended up sacrificing herself anyway lol)…. God, these short description sucks, they can’t describe them properly. Also there are so much of them that I think have good development, and I’m 100% missing someone… but I think I’m done for now. Katsu I’m sorry for making you read all this.

That you for this ask, Anon <3 and sorry again for being so late

#replies #snk meta

[jd-loves-fiction]

could you write a soulmate au drabble with agent whiskey or din? thank you <3

🌙 i made the reader female i hope that's alright 🥺 but i really enjoyed this idea :)) also this is a genuinely interesting idea to me that I'd love to expand on if y'all are ever interested on a full one shot or something ❤️

[16:10] "You really ain't gonna make this easy, are you, sweetheart?"

"You're gonna have to try a little harder, cowboy!" You shout back to the man currently shooting at you, clutching the arm one of his bullets managed to graze.

“Just give up, darling!” Agent Whiskey tries again to coax you out of your hiding spot and into his arms.

You don’t answer, instead running out of your hiding spot and hoping that he’s turned away from you. He’s not.

The moment his eyes catch your form running from one cover to another, Whiskey reaches for his lasso, remembering to keep in on the non-lethal setting, per his boss’ order to bring you in alive.

The rope catches your ankle, throwing you off your feet and into the snow covered grow. You immediately try to stand again, which makes Whiskey give out a frustrated groan before he sends you hurling towards a nearby tree, knocking you out instantly. He feels a strange, harsh tug at his heart as he watches your limp body hit the ground.

"I'm sorry, sugar, I know that's gotta hurt." Jack throws you over his shoulder more gently than he usually does to enemies. He can't find a reason for it though.

You wake up what you assume is a few hours later, aching all over and groaning at the excessive amount of lights in your face.

You attempt to move your arms, only to find that they're tied to the chair you're sitting on.

You assume you're about to be interrogated, but the room you sit in would make you think otherwise in a different context.

The room is completely white, all the walls and the ceiling, even the floor. A large reflective window stares back at you. Or at least you think it's a window, could just be a big mirror. There's also a table with a chair in front of you and maybe if you try to knock it over you could-

The door opens and in steps the man who had chased you. You can see it even without turning your head, not wanting to show him how lost you are. But you do feel the need to scoff, purely due to the situation, and not due to something in you, as your heart feels weirdly tight in the man's presence.

He walks slowly towards the vacant chair in front of you, boots clicking against what you assume is something like concrete. You keep your head lowered as he sits, legs spread while he has an arm on top of the chair, clearly meaning to establish some sort of superiority, but you won't have it. This is what you excel at.

The agent looks you over for a moment before taking off his hat and placing it on the table behind himself, exposing his curly brown hair that looks way too soft and his eyes bore into you with such intensity despite they're apparent softness-

"Are you comfortable?"

The question throws you off completely. What the hell?

You glare at the man after getting over your initial shock, figuring out that he's serious.

"Can I get you any--"

"Can you just get to the point?"

Whiskey blinks at your bluntness for a moment, before shaking his head. He looks back at you, meeting the fire in your eyes with the curiosity of his. Your fire wavers at the dept before you.

"Just tryin' to be polite, darling. I'm a gentleman, you see." The way he nods his head as he speaks let's you know he would've been tipping his hat in that moment if he hadn't taken it off.

"A gentleman, huh?" Your voice drips with mischievous intent at first, then with poison as you grow bitter while your back and head keep pounding as a reminder of how you got your ass handed to you. "Not very gentlemanly to hit a woman, is it?"

The unnamed agent leans back, seemingly to get away from the hostility you exude.

"I really am sorry, sugar. I do feel bad for it." Why though?

"But how about we start this again?" He offers amicably before you can comment on the absurdity of an agent being regretful of hitting their target. Woman or otherwise.

"You can call me Agent Whiskey. What can I call you, sweetheart?"

"Cola." The man is once again surprised, but also interested, by your answer. But he nods.

"Alright, Cola, who do you work for?" Jack doesn't expect a straight answer, it just doesn't happen. But you seem determined to surprise him.

"A woman named Poppy. That's all I know, it's all I've been told." You have to admit, that expression does look good on him. The wide eyes, raised brows, slightly parted lips.

"How is that all you know?" Jack swallows thickly as you adjust your position, leg brushing his and lighting a fire beneath his skin that he'd felt before when carrying you back to headquarters. Are you just always hot or-

That question answers itself, he thinks.

"Listen here, Agent," Your voice is silky smooth as you lower your volume, hoping to appear mellow and helpless. You know his type of guy and how they work. You also decide to pointedly ignore the stutter of your heart and the sudden heat on your cheeks at his close proximity when he moves, as expected, closer. "I don't work as one of her goons, or something. I'm a mercenary and I work for myself. So, yeah, that's all I know about my employer."

Regret settled on the pit of your stomach at your own callous tone. What are all these emotions, that feel yours but also distant, disconnected.

"Can you let me go now? I have work to do."

Agent Whiskey leans back once more, crossing his arms and sighing. This was much easier than he had pictured, given how hard you fought back when he attempted to capture you.

But he still needs to get some more answers out of you.

"Let's make a deal, shall we?"

"And why would I do that?" You sigh, rolling your eyes in exasperation.

"You wanna get out of here, right sugar?" He offers, lip curling just slightly into what looks like a cocky smile to you. Your blood still sings at the sight of it. "Plus, we can trade secrets."

Your brows furrow. What secrets could he possibly have that would interest you? Perhaps something negative about Poppy to try and get you to change sides.

"If it's about Poppy, save your breath. Whatever it is, I already know."

"Not quite." Jack comments, southern drawl dripping like honey before he moves his chair closer. You get distracted by his sweet voice before the scrapping of the metal chair breaks you out of your haze and you lean back and away from him. He seems apprehensive because of this, lowering the hand that had reached out to you.

"You ever wonder about that little symbol on your arm?"

You look down at the limb he points at, your upper arm, wrapped in a bandage which is stained red. "You mean the one you shot?"

"I already told you I'm-"

"Doesn't change shit. What are you implying?"

"It's unfinished, isn't it?"

"Why do you say that? Could just be a choice I made." You instantly turn defensive at what you interpret as a know-it-all tone. How can he be so sure he knows literally anything about you?

The irony of the fact that you feel as if you know everything about him, despite truthfully knowing nothing at all, isn't lost on you.

Jack begins shedding his dark blue suit jacket, placing it on the table behind him. He then starts rolling up his sleeve on the same arm as the one of yours he shot. You would've blushed if you weren't so interested in what he has to say.

A dark symbol is revealed on his tan skin, just as seemingly incomplete as yours. The ink shifts slightly, like moving mist, as the agent shuffles closer.

It looks almost like a still wet, watercolor painting. And you know that, on your arm, there's an identical symbol.

But you still motion for Whiskey to at least untie your one arm. He unties both, upon seeing that you had no intention of hitting him, at the moment. Your legs are still tied but that's not what you want to focus on.

You look at the dark ink on your arm, just below the bandage. It's bigger, larger than it's ever been before. And it matches his.

You slowly raise your arm, watching as he does the same. As you do, the symbols complete themselves just as slowly.

Until your palms meet his warm and rough ones and you're sure the images look whole now, but all you can look to is his deep brown eyes.

You feel the pull from before, tugging at your heartstrings and burning up your blood like dynamite, slowly waiting to explode in an outburst of affection you wish to avoid.

Slowly, carefully, as if approaching a wild animal, Jack intertwines his fingers with yours, squeezing in reassurance.

Poppy will be left waiting for your return for a long while.

#agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey #jack daniels #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels x you #jack daniels x y/n #jack daniels x female reader #agent whiskey x you #agent whiskey x y/n #agent whiskey x female reader #kingsman #statesmen

[nethandrake]

how would you like to go?

stevetony. marvel’s avengers. rated m. canon divergence. 2.3k words. 

also on ao3.

*****

It’s only when they’re sitting in the escape pod, staring into the vast depths of the galaxy, does Steve let everything sink in.

It’s one thing to wake up seventy years into the future but another five more? Steve’s starting to wonder if he’s always meant to be propelled forward in time, meant to be a nomad, a traveler. Destined to be a Man Out of Time.

He almost snorts out loud. He can imagine what Tony would say if he knew what’s going on in his mind right now. A drama queen, he’d call him. Or maybe just this once, he’d indulge in Steve’s overdramatic musings. He would.

Then again, Steve supposes five years is better than another seventy. He doubts he can go through all that again, of the possibility of losing his loved ones to time. Not to mention the fact that the reason he even lost those five years is because of Monica Rappaccini. Monica who was once on the Avengers’ side (or he supposes, used them for her own needs), who captured him to harvest his blood, who kept him hidden from the world for five years. Just the thought of her sends him reeling.

He knows there’s more to the story, more he needs to know, should know. Then again, maybe he doesn’t need to know. He’s going to die soon.

“Well,” Tony begins next to him, cutting through Steve’s thoughts, “since we’re gonna die anyway, you have any… I don’t know… Last confessions?”

For a brief second, every fiber of Steve’s body freezes before he’s turning to look, turning to see, turning with a flicker of hope. It dies when he sees Tony’s gaze trained on the constellations around them.

This is the perfect time for Steve to tell Tony, to tell him how his heart skips when he’s near, to tell him how much he adores his boisterous rambling and his sleepy eyes and arresting smile, to tell him how his soul longs for him and only him. Time is running out for the both of them, after all.

But like the coward Steve is, he doesn’t.

“Your jokes,” he settles on instead, airily like it’s nothing. “I just don’t get ‘em.”

That grabs Tony’s attention, turning as Steve speaks. Steve almost wavers at the sight of Tony’s face.

Tony’s as beautiful as the last time Steve saw him. The only sign of aging on his face is the heavier weariness behind his eyes. Despite the front he tends to put up, Tony always seems weary, be it from the all-nighters he pulls or from carrying the weight of the world on his back.

Steve’s pretty sure his supposed death has a hand in it this time. He’s not sure what to make of that. Neither can he comprehend the odd flicker in Tony’s expression before it’s gone.

“I know,” Tony replies, a smirk playing on his lips and a twinkle behind his eyes. “I read your diary.”

An involuntary chuckle tumbles out of his lips as Steve shakes his head and turns away. He knows it’s a joke, meant to distract the both of them from their impending doom, but he couldn’t help but find the irony in it.

He does keep a diary, several even. His current one tucked behind his encyclopedias while the rest are kept in his bedroom back in New York. As curious and nosy Tony can be, Steve doubts he’d go as far as to snoop around his room.

He thinks that should be the end of that, this confessing thing. That this is how it ends between the both of them – together in the confinement of a stranded escape pod, floating in space, surrounded by the second most breathtaking view he has ever laid eyes on.

But then Steve remembers the last five years, five more years of his life wasted, and decides that this is it. He shouldn’t take this to his grave, take this to his grave. Not when Tony’s right here, not when he’s here, older and wearier but as beautiful as the last time bright brown eyes met his.

“I’m in love with you,” he says, easy like breathing.

The speed at Tony whips his head around is absolutely comical, even more when his eyebrows start climbing up his forehead.

“What?”

Steve straightens in his seat. “You heard me.”

Tony’s eyelids flutter, his expression still in disbelief. “I— I must be going deaf because it sounded like you just told me you’re in love with me. Which can’t be right because—”

“Nope. You heard me right.”

Tony blanches. “No.”

Steve scowls. “Yes.”

Tony shakes his head. “No, no, no, no. Nope. You’ve gone insane. Absolutely insane. Is it the lack of oxygen? Or maybe five years in—”

“You know,” Steve interrupts wryly, “I’m starting to wonder if you even read my diary.”

If Steve thought Tony’s eyes were already as wide as saucers, they get even bigger somehow, his cheeks flushing crimson.

“But— But— You can’t! You can’t—”

Steve cocks an eyebrow in response. “I can’t what?”

Tony’s jaw clamps shut.

It feels like an eternity, both of them staring each other down in silence. Steve should’ve predicted this. Of course, confessing his feelings for Tony wouldn’t be smooth sailing, but he always expected to either have his feelings reciprocated or otherwise. Tony’s reaction doesn’t indicate on which side he falls in. It’s terrifying, not knowing.

Steve’s well-acquainted with the unknown, learnt to stop fearing it over time. But sitting next to his best friend, the man who he loves with all of his heart, waiting for said man to tell him how he feels for Steve, is on a whole other plane.

Finally, Tony breaks the tension, his eyes flickering down as he sighs heavily. “Steve— You… You don’t—”

“You can’t tell me how I feel,” Steve argues. “And I know what I feel about you. I've known for a really long time now.” He pauses, leaning forward to cautiously slip his hands in Tony’s, and lowers his voice into a whisper. “Hey. Look at me.”

Tony does, shy and guarded and nervous. Steve readies himself. He’s waited years for this moment. He needs Tony to know before they lose their breath, before he has to watch Tony die.

God, he’s going to have to watch Tony die.

He clenches his jaw, whiling the sting behind his eyes and that terrible thought away.

He won’t think of that now. Not when he’s so close.

“I’m in love with you,” Steve confesses. “I’ve been in love with you for years. Probably since we first met. I’ve loved you before I knew what I feel for you is love. And even after all these years—”

“Well, you were in a coma—”

“Tony.”

Tony nods, looking chastised. “Right shutting up now.”

Steve gulps. He had more to say, to tell Tony, to declare. But after Tony interrupted him, all the words he’s been wanting to say shrivels up.

Something heavy settles in his chest, something Steve knows all too well. Something he has feared all these years of secretly loving Tony from afar.

Steve sighs, dropping his hands in his lap and hanging his head in resignation. “You know, it’s okay if you don’t feel the same for me. I get it. It’s just that you said something about confessions and I just thought—”

“No!” Tony exclaims so loudly that his voice startles the both of them. He clears his throat, bright chestnut eyes shining as they roam Steve’s face. Once again like the delusional optimist he is, Steve lets himself hope.

“No,” Tony repeats, this time quieter, softer, and all too loving. “I do. I do feel the same about you. I’ve been in love with you since we met too.”

Steve doesn’t know who moved first but before he knows it, there are chapped lips pressed against his, arms snaked around Tony’s armored waist, and Tony’s gauntlet-covered hand cupping his cheek.

Steve has envisioned their kiss countless of times before, picturing various scenarios and sensations. But he never expected to be stranded in space half-naked, to have woken up from a five-year coma, to be on the brink of death. Neither did he expect to feel the stirring in his chest, the warmth coursing through his veins, the taste of coffee to be strong on his tongue, to even taste salt at all.

His imagination has nothing on this kiss. Nothing at all.

“Wow,” Tony breathes out when they break apart. “That was…”

“Nice?”

“A long time coming,” Tony amends. Steve huffs at that. “But still nice too.”

Steve grins against Tony’s lips. “I’m glad.”

Tony mirrors him but just as quickly, the smile slips off his face. He blinks his glistened eyelids as his grip on Steve’s cheek slackens. “Jesus, Steve. I really missed you. I missed you so much. I was so lost without you. Those five years… Fuck. Steve, if I knew—”

“I know,” Steve replies softly, drawing him closer to press their foreheads together. “You always come for me. No matter what. You would’ve found me eventually.”

Tony snorts. “No offense but you were asleep. You wouldn’t have known even if an asteroid hit the satellite.”

“Still. You found me, Tony,” he counters. “You rescued me from being potentially struck by an asteroid.”

“Five years, Steve.”

“Better late than never.”

“I guess so, yeah.”

Tony’s frowning, looking unconvinced. Steve’s well acquainted with Tony’s issues when it comes to love, be it for himself or letting others love him. Countless times, he’s tried to change this, change his mind. This time, he’s going to make him see.

“Thank you,” Steve murmurs. “Thank you for coming for me. For saving me.”

This time, the smile that spreads across Tony’s lips is soft. Genuine.

“Like you said, I’ll always come for you.”

This time when they kiss, it’s hot and desperate and all so good. Heated hands paw at his body, skimming from his neck and down his shoulders before settling over his bare chest. Steve could barely suppress a shiver as he feels thumbs brush against his nipples, gasping at the touch. Tony takes advantage of that, deepening the kiss to slip his tongue past Steve’s parted lips.

Steve’s about to take the plunge and demand Tony to remove his suit (because fuck, if this is their last moments, he has to know what it feels like to have Tony under his fingers for the first and last time) when he hears someone clear their throat. Someone who is definitely not either of them.

With a jolt, Steve snaps back and opens his eyes, meeting Thor Odinson’s smirk.

“Of course it would take a dire situation for the two of you to act on your feelings,” Thor remarks, amused as he hovers outside the escape pod. He doesn't look like he's even aged a day.

Steve blinks, his lips parting to speak when Tony beats him to the punch.

“Hey, Thor,” he says cheerily, as if he wasn’t just making out with Steve seconds ago. “Fancy seeing you out— Oh hey, we can actually hear you.”

Thor puffs his chest like the arrogant Asgardian he is. “Well, I am a god. It is to be expected.” Steve barely suppresses a snort. “It is good to see you both in good health, especially the good captain.” His grin broadens, trained on Steve. “Though he doesn’t seem to feel the same.”

“I am,” Steve half-lies, trying his best to hide his arousal and annoyance. He shouldn’t be upset. He and Tony are being rescued from their date with death, after all. “It's good to see you.”

Thor's grin widens.

Tony snorts. “Don't mind him. He’s just upset you interrupted us from having life-affirming sex.”

“Tony.”

“I see,” Thor says, his gaze darting between the both of them. “I suppose I could leave you both here to indulge—”

“No!” Steve exclaims, almost jumping up to his feet and dropping Tony onto the ground.

“Seconded,” Tony chimes. “I mean, as hot as it would be to fuck in space—”

Steve starts, burying his face in his hands as his cheeks begin to burn. “Tony—”

“—I’d rather we do it somewhere we’re less likely to suffocate.”

Thor chuckles. “Then it’ll be my pleasure to escort you both back to Midgard.” He tilts his head in Steve’s direction, his smile softening. “Welcome back, Captain.”

As Thor begins to push the escape pod back to Earth, Tony settles back into his seat, pinning Steve with a tentative expression. He looks absolutely ravished, his lips pink and wet and god, he has to hold himself back from jumping him again. Steve should’ve done this so long ago, should’ve asked him to remove his helmet so he can mess Tony’s hair with his fingers.

“You meant that right?” Tony begins.

“Meant what?”

“What you said. About being in love with me. Because you know, we were about to die and—”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “Have I ever said anything I didn’t mean?”

Tony purses his lips. “Well, you do say a lot of shit when you’re mad.”

“Do I look or sound like I’m mad now?”

“No. But then sometimes you joke—”

Steve exhales exasperatedly before reaching over to lace their fingers together. It’s not the first time he wishes Tony would shed his armor, not the first time he wants to know how it feels to have Tony's hand in his.

“Does it look or sound like I’m joking now either?”

“No. But—” Tony pauses, frowning. “Don’t look at me like that.”

Steve leans forward, his lips quirk to the side. “Look at you like what?”

Tony huffs, crossing his arms over his chest as he juts his nose to the ceiling. “Like… Like you’re in love with me.”

Steve rolls his eyes, chasing after Tony’s fingers again. This time, the glove parts, revealing a weathered hand. It’s warm.

“That’s because I am.”

The mock annoyance melts away from Tony’s face, making way for a blinding smile.

#stevetony #stony #marvel's avengers #steve rogers #tony stark #marvel's avengers spoilers #*fic #you know i had to ;)

[sockablock]

(start) - (previous) - (next)

Chapter 4: Just a Parlor Trick

“—and this is your room! Or it will be, soon, once we get your stuff moved in.”

A blur of curls flew past Nott and dove headfirst onto the bare mattress. Two-feet-two of little halfling boy sprung up, danced around in a circle, and surveyed his new kingdom by bouncing on the bed.

It was—as Nott would be the first to admit—pretty bare at the moment. Caleb had already taken all of his belongings, but there hadn’t been that much to begin with. Aside from the bed-now-turned-trampoline, there was just an oak wardrobe, and a rug. The only other fixture of note was the window, framed by thin blue drapes, currently open and letting in the sea breeze.

“What do you think, Luc?” Yeza grinned from the doorframe. “How do you like it?”

“The ocean is so cool!” Luc’s hair flew around in a storm as he jumped. “And the people—there’s so many people, Dad! That big turtle at the restaurant—his back had a pipe in it!”

Nott felt the ghost of a touch on her arm. When she caught Yeza’s tentative expression, she forced herself to relax into it.

The illusion had held so far, hadn’t it? And besides, her husband already knew the truth.

“It’s okay,” she said quietly. “It’s okay. I’m okay.” Then she gave her son a smile. “And what do you think about the house, sweetie? Do you like your room?”

Luc, mid-air, gave this some thought.

“It’s smaller than my old room,” he said. “The window is bigger. Can I put my pictures up?”

There was a box of posters somewhere in the moving van. Apparently, some time in the last three years, Luc had gotten incredibly invested in a semi-popular cartoon series featuring a team of adventurers who solved mysteries in the Marrow Valley. Yeza had told her during one of their rare reunions that the clerk at the store was all but giving them away; something about increasing promotional awareness.

“Of course you can put your pictures up, Luc.”

He beamed a freckled, toothy smile.

“I like it, Mom! Can I put them up now?”

— — —

Jester hummed cheerfully to herself as she made her way through the streets of Nicodranas.

The novelty of such an act was not lost on her, and not just because she’d spent most of her life indoors—the last time she’d hurried down a road like this, it’d been under much less enjoyable circumstances.

But Jester had more tricks up her sleeves these days, and skipping between street merchants and bustling crowds, weaving through the Opal Archways in the middle of rush hour, she was certain she could hide from any watching eyes.

She squeezed the picnic basket in her arms, packed tight with the best pastries money could buy. She’d keep an eye out, too, for that little sidewalk café that did the strawberry-mango drinks Momma liked, though Jester suspected that her mother was just feigning enthusiasm to get her to eat more fruit.

The stoplight above flickered twice, then turned green. She looked both ways, then skipped across the street.

Maybe she should make a stop for sandwiches. And flowers, while she was at it—and over there, a book sale! Now that Jester was finally back home, with the Chateau such an easy walk from her apartment, every weekend she did her best to bring the whole city to her mother’s boudoir.  

Not that—and here she giggled at the thought—Momma needed any help there.

The Ruby of the Sea was busy, after all. Just not too busy for her little sapphire.

— — —

The thing was, Essek’s mother was busy.

She was always busy, and with good reason at that; for longer than Essek had even been alive—and how much longer before that, gods knew—Deirta Thelyss had been the Umavi of Den Thelyss, and therefore a permanent and immovable fixture in the intricate political dance of the Kryn Dynasty.

In another life, perhaps, Essek might have followed in her footsteps and joined her in running the country—though, if she got her way, there was a good chance that he ultimately would. But, as the Dynasty and Empire so far had managed to maintain a tenuous hold on peace, currently there was little need for a person of Essek’s particular talents.

The irony of that statement occasionally made him want to laugh, though he didn’t much feel like laughing now. It had taken a considerable amount of willpower to even drag him over to his desk, and there he sat with his forehead to the surface, lamenting that going back to bed hadn’t solved his problems.

Why was Mother bothering to attend the upcoming Clovis Concord Gala? Not a single one of these coastal cities was closely allied with the Dynasty, and the sheer geographical distance between them made the two nations vaguely aware of each other at best. In fact, Essek had chosen Nicodranas specifically because of how little the Bright Queen cared about it.

Which meant the unavoidable fact of the matter was that Mother was coming just for him.

The wood of his desk was cold on his head. If she were here now, she’d tell him to sit up.  

Actually, she’d probably say much more than that. If Verin was telling the truth—and his brother had always been on his side when it came to Mother— fending off another round of her attempts to force him home would only be half the struggle.

He kicked his chair back and listened to the way his wheels slid across the floor. Distantly, he could just make out some muted shuffling coming from the kitchen, and he had to remind himself that it was probably not a burglar, but Caleb.

Today was his second day in the apartment, and the man would probably need a few days to settle in. Though, Essek noted with a hint of satisfaction, Caleb seemed like a very efficient person. He’d actually…quite enjoyed their negotiation last night, despite how long it ended up being. For just a few hours his fear of an impending maternal maelstrom had been staved off by the way Widogast sometimes quirked his eyebrow while he was reading, or by the way he’d gently tap the clip of his borrowed pen with his thumb…

Essek had let him keep it, afterwards. He hadn’t even considered doing otherwise.

And as that thought crossed his mind, his restful silence was shattered by a crash.

— — —

“Knock-knock, Momma!”

“Ah, Jester! Come in! Close the door behind—oh, bother.”

This was immediately followed with the sound of air snapping to fill a void, then another minor explosion accented by four scrabbling paws.

“Nugget! Oh, Nuggy, I’ve missed you so much—”

Marion Lavore hiked up her skirts and gently side-stepped the slobber on the floor. She made her way back to her chaise lounge just a moment after Jester peeled herself from the dog.

“He’s getting quite big,” her mother said, artfully removing the exhaustion from her tone. But two decades of living under Momma’s roof gave Jester all the hint that she needed.

“Oh, I want to take him back, I really do, but the apartment doesn’t let us have dogs.” Jester sank into a plush sofa with Nugget wagging his tail at her heels. He put his head in her lap and drooled.

“And…your luck with finding a…a new apartment?”

“We’ve all been busy, Momma,” Jester sighed. “Beau is working all day long to set up a new library by the Quay, and Yasha disappears all the time even though she’s…feeling better now. I think it’ll be a while until everything’s calmed down and we can look.”

Marion pointedly did not think about the many curtains that Nugget had already eaten in three months.

“Ah, well. I understand. And how are you doing, my sweet?”

Jester giggled. “I’m doing good! I’ve been drawing and painting a lot by the sea, and keeping busy with other arts and crafts. Did you know people on the Internet will buy dozens of tiny clay dick statues? The Traveler thought it was very funny.”

Her mother’s expression was an ocean of calm. “Oh, is that…is that so? Well, I’m glad to hear you’re finding ways to…spend your day.”

“I brought some to show you!”

“Oh, how...lovely…”

“Some paintings, Momma.” Jester set aside the picnic basket and fished around in her knapsack. The bag was a horrifically pink mess of burlap and loud, jangly pins. Jester had to shove aside quite a few rolls of brushes and capped paints as she searched.

Marion watched her work with interest. “Well, even if you had brought a…the statue, I would—oh, Jester. It’s beautiful!”

Jester beamed as her mother took the canvas, gingerly like it was—and it was—fine art.

In her hands, a stunning landscape of the sea beside Nicodranas at dawn, pale pink light glancing off the tide and a thin breath of sun just above the water.

“It’s for you, Momma!”

“Oh, Jester, I couldn’t possibly—”

“Take it.” She laughed. “I have lots more at home, but this one’s my favorite so you should have it.”

Decades of living with a burgeoning artist had taught Marion not to hug the piece to her chest, though she quite wanted to.

“I’ll hang it up, then. In a place of honor,” she said seriously. “Maybe heading up the stairs? The light there is lovely, and that way I know the most important people will get to see it.”

Jester’s smile could have swallowed up the world. “Thanks, Momma.”

“No, thank you, my sweet. Now, come. What else have you been doing? What’s new and exciting with your…what did you call yourselves? The Mighty Nein?”

Jester helped her mother lay out a feast’s worth of pastries across the coffee table. Nugget eyed the bounty like a lit fuse until Jester also produced a chewing bone, which he gleefully snapped up and began to gnaw.

“I wanted to make sure we didn’t have a repeat of last time, so I stopped by a pet store,” she explained, munching on a strawberry tart. “And we’re all doing good! Caleb’s move went well, and Nott’s family just landed.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful,” her mother said. “You know, it would not have been a problem for them to stay with me. At least while they got settled.”

“I know, I know, but I think since she already had a place, she wanted them there, you know? And anyway, she said she didn’t want to impose.”

“Of course,” Marion nodded. “And perhaps the Chateau is…it would be a bit unconventional for a family to stay here, hm?”

“We did it!”

“We did, but we are an unconventional family.”

Jester laughed, then brushed a few crumbs off her skirt. “What have you been doing lately, Momma? Any news? Any interesting clients?” She waggled her eyebrows for emphasis.

“Well,” her mother smiled faintly, “actually, I…might have something interesting to tell you. I was, ah…well, I was invited to a party. To sing, but also as a guest.”

“What?!” Jester threw her hands in the air. “Oh, Momma, that’s amazing!”

“I, ah…might decline.”

Jester’s elation vanished instantly. “Oh, Momma. Is it…the outside…?”

Marion shrugged. It was a decidedly unrefined gesture, and left a little crinkle in her robe. “I’m just…well, you know I’ve made a little progress since you got back, but…I don’t know. I’m not sure I’d feel so comfortable being in a place like that alone.”

Jester reached across the table to pat her mother on the hand. “I understand. It’s probably just a dumb party anyway, I’m sure you won’t be missing much!”

“It’s…well, it’s the 400th Anniversary Gala of the Clovis Concord.”

“Oh, man.”

“Tell me about it, dear,” Marion sighed.

There was a moment’s pause, filled with the sound of thoughtful chewing.

And then:

“What if we went with you?”

Marion blinked twice.

“I beg your pardon?”

— — —

They left Luc in his new bedroom happily slapping tape to the wall. Yeza had been worried that this would damage the paint when they’d eventually have to take down his posters, but Nott reassured him that getting back the safety deposit for this apartment was already a lost cause.

“There was a…small incident,” she said, as he poured her tea, “involving electricity. And…a mild fire.”

“Oh, man. Did you guys blow the fuse box or something?”

Nott debated whether or not exploding a microwave with voltaic bolts fell under that category.

“Mm, yeah, it was something like that.” She watched him sink into the chair across the table, paying special attention to the way his glasses bounced on his nose.

He hadn’t needed glasses three years ago. He hadn’t been quite so pale, either.

“So, how is your friend Caleb?” Yeza asked, tilting his head slightly at her silence. “Is he alright? Settled in and everything?”

Nott quickly scrounged up her smile. “He is! Actually, his place is really nice. Cheap, too, from what I’ve heard.”

“Oh, that’s great,” Yeza sipped his tea, leaving a little half-crescent above his lip. “I was worried about him. You told him for me, right? How much I appreciate this?”

“Of course I did. And I told him plenty that he didn’t have to, but he really insisted, and…well. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t happy that he did.”

Yeza put a biscuit in her hands. “We’ll send him a fruit basket, then. With pineapples! Heck, I should send one to all of your friends, for pitching in for the plane tickets. They’re really kind.”

“They are pretty great, aren’t they?” Nott took a bite, coating her tongue with chalky crumbs. “They’ll probably be around at some point—they want to see you and the boy again.”

“Is the tall one still around? With the pink hair? I liked him.”

Nott gave a laugh. “I’ll tell him you said that. It’s been quiet these last few days, you know, so it’ll really be great to have the company back. Not that—oh, gods, not that you and Luc aren’t—”

“I get it, I get it,” Yeza shook his head. “Don’t worry. Like we said over the phone, right? It’ll take…there’ll be an adjustment period.”

Nott set her mug down on the table. Her smile was a little less firm now.

“You and Luc are here,” she said again, quietly. “You’re here, but I…I’m talking about my friends, I shouldn’t be saying those things, should I? I…should focus on you two—”

“Hey, no, Veth. Not at all.”

“But it is unfair,” she sighed. “I…sweetie, I’m so happy to see you, and the boy, but now that…Caleb’s gone, and the two of you have moved in, a…a part of me, an awful part of me, already misses—”

“Veth, it’s okay—"

“It’s not, I mean we’re married—gods, wait, I’d never betray—”

“Veth.”

A hand touched her shoulder. Yeza’s voice was low and soft. “Honey, it’s okay. It really is okay, and I…I know. It’s complicated. I know. We haven’t been a family for a while—and none of that is your fault, it just isn’t. It’s just…been a tough few years, for us, but also especially for you. I doubt I could’ve survived what you’ve been through, after all. And things have changed—I’ve changed, I mean—I snore again, and I’ve gotten used to Edith helping around our house, and…I guess what I’m trying to say, is that it’s only natural…it’s only fair, that you’re allowed to change too. It’s okay. We talked about this, right?”

“Right,” Nott murmured.

“So it’ll be okay. We’ll make it work. And it’s still you, right? You still love me, right?”

She felt herself nod. Then, gently, “I didn’t stop loving you.”

“Well, that’s good. Neither did I.”

This time, she risked a glance up, and saw his smile. Yeza’s smiles were always a little lop-sided, smushing his freckles, and crinkling one eye. She’d made fun of that when they were younger, and let go of a breath when she saw that hadn’t changed.

As she exhaled, she gave a nod. Then a chuckle.

“Right. Right. Of course we will. We’re…probably going to have to enroll Luc in school. It—it’s summer now, but when autumn swings around…what is he? In first grade? In second?”

Yeza laughed. “This fall will be his first year of school.” Then his eyes widened. “Oh, gods, it’s his first year of school. He…I don’t even know if he’s ready, if he’s…wait, is it different in Nicodranas? Are there tests? Is this a good school district, I—I didn’t even check—”

This time, it was Veth who stopped him. “Relax,” she said, and poked Yeza’s nose. “His dad is the most brilliant chemist in the world. We can look up all that other stuff.”

She brushed his cheek with her other thumb. “Like you said. We’ve got this. We’ll make it work.”

— — —

It had started with a recipe for blueberry muffins.

It had ended, more or less, somewhere around the time that Caleb realized neither he nor Essek owned measuring cups—and anyway, the blueberries were looking a little mushy so maybe he should wait until next week to surprise the Brenattos, that way he’d have a chance to get better ones, even though their move-in day was technically today—

And at that point, Frumpkin had jumped into the cabinet, dislodging what sounded like years’ worth of unused pots, knocking down an avalanche of dusty pans.

The last skillet clanged like thunder as it spun to a stop on the floor.

“Mist. Frumpkin—”

Ever the cat, Frumpkin deftly wove out of Caleb’s grasp and darted for the counter. He perched himself unblinking at the edge of the sink and licked his paw, as if for emphasis.

Caleb sighed. He crouched down to reach for the nearest displaced kitchen implement, a stock pot.

“You know,” he began, exasperated, “you could at least help me out with this mess.”

“Is that so?”

He whipped around so quickly that his head hit the handle of a drawer. One hand flew up, he startled, “Miste—Essek?”

His landlord raised a curved eyebrow. With the mid-afternoon light streaming in through the windows, the purplish tint to Essek’s complexion was something akin to a dusting of twilight. His hair was half-tousled, like it’d been mussed by something, and his hand lingered on the doorknob.

“I…my cat,” Caleb managed. “That is, er. I apologize. Deeply. For the commotion.”

Essek looked him over. “I thought we had agreed on silence last night, no?”

Caleb hung his head, and he could feel disappointment coming, undoubtedly with despair on its coattails.

“I have broken the terms,” he said mutely. “I…I am sorry. I understand what that means.”

His gaze clung to the polished floor. Which was why he missed it when the heavy stock pot took on a faint, shimmering, blueish glow. And then the saucepan began to shine. And then a wok, a spatula, a bowl—

All of the fallen cookware slowly began to rise through the air. As they moved, a parade past Caleb’s amazed expression, slipping by Frumpkin’s outstretched paw, each individual pot righted itself, formed into lines, then were quickly and neatly whisked away into the cabinet above.

The doors clicked as they shut.

“I…but that—what spell was that?”

Mentally, Caleb kicked himself. He should’ve apologized.

But Essek only chuckled. “Oh, that was just a parlor trick. An idle curiosity about the…shall we say, limits of gravity. Particularly regarding how easy they are to break.”

Caleb scrambled up to his feet. “But I have never seen control like that on such a grand scale before. Your spell, it—Telekinesis only controls one object at once.”

“Well,” Essek allowed himself a smirk. “Telekinesis is a watered-down version of what true dunamancy can accomplish. I will say, even getting that far was impressive. I have seen your documentation.”

“Gods,” though, Caleb noticed, there was not a trace of resentment in his tone. “Here I thought our transmutative literature was the most advanced there was.”

Essek shrugged. “Please, do not misunderstand me. It is good, for Empire wizards, especially. Until then, I had been under the impression that your lot only excelled at evocation.”

“We are a dab hand at necromancy too,” Caleb said dryly, “if the stories from twenty years ago are believed.”

This actually won a laugh. “Maybe I am the one being too cruel. It was your people who pioneered the earliest manipulations of air elemental magic, no? It is truly an interesting method for conquering gravity.”

“Yours is better,” Caleb said, before he could stop himself. “If you think that a parlor trick, my friend, I hesitate to ask else you could accomplish.”

“Why hesitate?”

And then, Caleb blinked. Somewhere in the distance, Frumpkin nudged his shoulder, but in that moment, all he could focus on was Essek.

“I…excuse me?”

And with that, the spell was broken. Essek slid into a kitchen chair.

“Nevermind, nevermind,” he waved his hand. “And please. Do not worry about that mess. I am not so unreasonable to think that accidents can never happen. Just, ah…you have been a wonderful roommate so far. In the future…?”

“You have my word,” Caleb said. He slipped the carton of slightly-mushy blueberries behind him.

“Excellent,” Essek nodded. “Well. If that is settled, I might sit here and, ah…get some work done?”

Caleb, dense as he was, got the message. “I just—of course, I will be gone in a moment, I’ll just put these things away—”

“No rush at all. I am not in any hurry.”

And indeed, whether or not Essek was just being polite, it did seem like the man was…a bit distracted. Caleb had no right to poke into his business, which was a violation of Section II, Subsection IV anyway, but he couldn’t help but ask Frumpkin to take the tiniest peek at Essek’s face.

Something was bothering his landlord. And for once, still basking in the afterglow of powerful magic, Caleb was almost sure it wasn’t him.

He found out just as he was heading to his room.

“Might I, ah, ask you a question?”

Caleb had enough composure to turn around at a normal person’s pace.

“Yes?”

Essek ran a hand through his hair. “Actually, it…it is more of a favor.”

“Oh,” said Caleb. And when more was required, “Yes?”

“Yes already?” He blinked. “But I did not say what it was.”

“I meant,” Caleb amended, leaning against his doorframe, “please describe this favor to me.”

“Ah,” said Essek. “Right. I, er…”

How in the gods’ names was he supposed to phrase something ridiculous as this?

“I wonder…” he tried, “that is…if you might…would it be…are you perhaps…are you busy this weekend?”

Whatever he was expecting, this absolutely was not it.

“I—no?” Caleb said, out of pure shock. Then he shook his head and added, “I do not think so, no.”

“Ah,” said Essek. Somehow he seemed even more uncomfortable now. “That is…excellent.” It did not sound excellent. “If…well, if that is the case, then…do you think you could…help me with something?”

Caleb waited patiently. “With something?”

“A date.”

“A what?”

“No—not—oh, gods, I am doing this wrong.” Essek actually put his head in his hands, and Caleb once again had to throttle his own surprise.

Then, in a move made by a part of him so bold he didn’t even know he still had it, Caleb re-entered the kitchen and down in the seat across from Essek.

“I think, perhaps you should start from the beginning.”

Essek nodded miserably. He breathed in.

“You are right, Caleb.”

He breathed out.

“So. It’s like this…”

— — —

✨ Ko-Fi Link in Bio! ✨ | Requests are OPEN

#thanks so much for reading!! #critical role #critfic #fic #shadowgast #fanfiction #fanfic #critrole #long post #SUCH a long post im so sorry if the break doesn't work yall tumblr is like that sometimes hfjgk #jay writes #now what are the chances of that #nwtcot #modern au #text #<3333333333333333

[tjlikesprettythings]

Guys it’s only been a few days since my macriley obsession started and I already decided to write a bunch of stuff floating around in my head...I’m ruined! I’m not part of AO3 yet so thought I’d just share my craziness here! Enjoy the madness or ask me to stop. 

________________ Desi starts noticing things slowly, she always knew that they were close. Riley was kind of like Jack’s replacement in Mac’s life she deduced in the beginning. She liked Riley, she was smart, could fend for self, and honestly felt she had nothing to worry about because she seemed highly principled, hell she went to jail trying to change the world. But as time passed, she started to see just how Mac looked at the other woman.

It was how his eyes would find her in any situation, look for her approval. She didn’t believe in jealousy, it was such a useless feeling, but she couldn’t help but think about these small encounters that she noticed. So, of course, the voice in her mind started to question if there was more to this, did she need to worry? She decided it was her trying to come up with excuses to run because she had done this before. 

But she couldn’t deny the fact that during their double date, there was a look on his face as he watched Riley and Aubrey. She also recalled him muttering “what kind of name is Aubrey anyway?” under his breath when they had finally spoken about Riley’s new live-in boyfriend. She chalked it up to him being a protective older brother. Riley, Bozer, Matty, and Jack were his family, she understood this much. 

It would build up slowly like after Riley moved in and she would come over after her day was done to find them laughing casually to some sci-fi movie that they had watched, or it would be the two of them shouting at each other playfully while playing video games or that they would be attempting to cook dinner together, each with a task and laughing when the other failed miserably. An easy banter that flowed so naturally. Riley always seemed open with her, smiled and welcomed her, gave them space. But it was the time they spent all together that gave away to the fact that she was the third wheel to Mac and Riley set not the other way round. 

As they ate take out, Mac spoke about everything and Riley seemed to keep up. She didn’t look bored, if anything she hung on his every word and would challenge him or bring him back to earth when he veered from laymen with a wise crack and a roll of her eyes.

“How many times do you think you watched Die Hard with Jack?” Mac asked eyes trained on Riley.

“Son, when I was a kid or now?” Riley laughed, “I definitely got you beat in that department, I’m sure.”

“There’s no way! I will bet you...something when I think of it.” He laughed harder.

“Deal! I need another Mac gadget. That wifi signal booster you built me came in handy.” She said taking a swig of her beer.

Desi watched almost enchanted, she hadn’t seen this Mac in a while. The silly beautiful blonde genius that she fell for. It wasn’t easy for them like it was for him and Riley she realized and it tightened her throat a little. He’s never made her anything, has he? She later rationalized that it made sense that they would be comfortable with each other, they’d had more time to adjust. Yea, that’s what it was.

Even when Riley ran away to join him at Codex, she said to herself that it was because they were friends and if she were honest she was glad that Riley did so he wouldn’t be alone, that she had his back. Why couldn’t Desi have his back? Why couldn’t she see the bigger picture and trust Mac? But all that did was proved her point more. Mac and Riley were a package deal. Could she have a relationship with a man that had another woman he was in a co-dependent relationship with? Could she be with a man that she didn’t fully trust? But she did trust him, didn’t she?

Until that moment with Codex, she thought it was all one-sided attachment from Mac but when she looked at Riley’s eyes when they thought it was Mac who blew up, she recognized the look of devastating loss. Well fuck, Riley Davis had feelings for her boyfriend. She chose to file it away for another time when she had time.

The next few days just drove the matter home to death really. Mac had asked for some time to be alone, he had just lost his only remaining family, but the person who he didn’t ask space from was Riley. Of course, her living in the house made the situation complicated. But she knew in her gut that the person who he needed was Riley to get over this. If there was anyone that could ground him it was Riley.

So when they were in congress fighting for his mother and aunt’s vision, she made a point of telling him she knew him too. He did smile at her then but it didn’t look as brilliant as when he would later smile at Riley who sat proudly as he spoke his argument towards the climate issue and the new green deal. What’s one more lie that’s what she told herself anyway. 

She couldn’t be mad at Riley, she really couldn’t. Riley did her best to steer the respectful road, she no longer sat close to Mac, she kept her distance and even told Mac she would be moving out soon, that she had found an apartment that would be available in a week’s time. That night Mac was in a terrible mood to the point that she decided to go back to her place. She felt sorry for all of them really. She just had to prep herself for what she knew had to be done, but there was a part of her that continued to rationalize all these events. 

Everything really came crashing down when they were on a mission and he had to choose between her and Riley. She’ll give him some credit that she thought he did hesitate for a millisecond but ultimately he went after Riley. She almost laughed at the irony of the situation. Fuck what a spectacularly horrible feeling she felt spread across her body at that moment and it had nothing to do with her pending death. 

Russ was able to save her, and Mac saved Riley. She watched as he held the smaller woman close to his side checking her over, concern, and devastation was written all of his faces. He hadn’t glanced over to her yet. The funny thing is, it could’ve been seconds but when you’re the one feeling like a fool it sure feels a lot longer. She felt the familiar anger come alight. 

When they finally got back home and did their debriefs and written their reports, she decided to go over to his place. Riley was in the hospital for observation. It was no surprise that Mac was only home for a quick shower before he’d be back in the hospital. 

“This isn’t working.” She said flatly crossing her arm across her chest, needing the protection. He just sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, so he wasn’t going to fight her on this. 

“No, it’s not. I wanted it to, believe me when I say that. I thought our own thing could be enough. But I think we both deserve better, you especially deserve someone better.” He said sincerely. 

“You’re right I do deserve better, I deserve someone who can trust me fully, I deserve someone who will fight for me the way you fight for her.” the words slip out before she has a chance to stop them. She’s not this person who fights over a man or belittles another woman, but the anger and hurt take center stage for a second and she loses control.

He looks confused for a second, then as if the realization of her words really hit him. “I’m sorry Desi.”

She chuckled, “We never stood a chance. You didn’t have room for me.” finally voicing what she’s known for a while now. “It’s always been her, hasn’t it?”

It’s as if he’s figuring all of this out for the first time, which just made it all the more shittier. How could she even be mad when they were so oblivious and respectful and willing to just bury it to keep each other in the status quo. “Fuck! Are you serious Mac?! Do you not realize that it’s Riley! That you’re in love with her?!” she runs a hand through her hair which slowly makes it’s way to her lips and she starts to laugh eve though her eyes sting as well.

“Desi…” Mac takes a step forward, but she steps away from him holding up a hand to stop him. Giving herself a second more she clears her throat, swiping away at the tears that spilled over. 

“I know,” she simply says. Because she does, he’d never hurt her intentionally but doesn’t mean this doesn’t hurt. “Mac, get your shit together or you’ll lose her. Tell her how you feel before she buries how she feels about you.” With that, she walks away from his place. He doesn’t try to stop her, and she’s glad that he doesn’t. 

Later when her heart cools and she has a chance, to be honest with herself. She actually is happy that Mac found someone who fit him in every way. She made a pact with herself to follow her gut next time. She tries to stay away from the hospital but decided she owes Riley at least the courtesy of a colleague. 

She’s not surprised to see Mac next to Riley’s bed holding her hand to his lips. She decides that maybe it’s best to just give them all the space. So when Russ looks at her in the lobby with understanding, she realizes that they were all just in a Shakespearean level tragic comedy. But hey that’s life, full of woderful moments and losses.

#macriley #riley x mac #Desi #macgyver #angst #fanfic #i'm ruined

[findapennyloseapenny]

James Ironwood is going to turn up again, and he’s going to be working for Salem. Hear me out.

So this is a possibility I toyed with in one of my first posts on this blog, and as I’ve been thinking about it more and more and rewatching the Atlas arc, it’s something that I’m becoming more and more convinced of. Let’s start with the basics. Ironwood was in Atlas when it fell, and that was, shall we say catastrophic. Enormous crash, followed by flooding. Definitely shouldn’t be survivors, right?

Except that that isn’t really how this show, or most shows, work. People survive a lot of intense injury in RWBY. Cinder got fucking flash-frozen and dropped several stories after her Aura broke. RWBY goes out of its way to signpost when someone is dead. It wants that emotional beat to hit hard. It doesn’t want ambiguity. Take Pyrrha, disintegrated before our eyes. Take Penny, first dismembered, then with that heartbreaking framing of her blood falling of Crocea Mors. Take Clover, gorily impaled. Even with Adam, who fell offscreen before his death, was obviously and bloodily stabbed all the way through his chest (twice) and hit a rock very hard on his way down. The most ambiguous they’ve ever gotten was Watts, but they made a point to show that Cinder had taken extra action to make sure he burned alive before Atlas finished falling. The show took time out of a very packed episode to show us his shadow, lit by flames as he screamed.

Notice that they did not take time to give us a similar shot for Ironwood. It’s the contrast between Ironwood and Watts that makes me most certain that he’s alive. They could’ve spared a few seconds to give us something similar for Ironwood, and they didn’t. So I’ll be astonished if he doesn’t make it out alive.

Watts actually contributes another piece of evidence to this theory. Between his death, Emerald’s defection, Hazel’s death and defection, and Cinder betraying Neo, Salem lost a lot of known, well-developed characters from her inner circle in a very short time. The only people she has going into Volume 9 are Mercury, Tyrian, and Cinder, and they aren’t exactly a well-rounded team. Tyrian and Mercury are bruisers, from a plot-perspective. They take orders and carry them out. They don’t make plans, they don’t have resource networks, they aren’t particularly good infiltrators or ambassadors. Cinder’s only slightly better - she makes plans, sure, but she’s impulsive, self-serving, and bad at seeing the bigger picture. She only brings a slightly wider range of resources to the table. This is not a team that provides a varied enough rogue’s gallery for very long, especially if Mercury or Cinder defect as well (which is extremely possible). This only stays her inner circle if the show is about to wind down or Salem is about to get blown out of the water for a bigger bad guy.

So, is the show about to wind down? Realistically, if they want to wrap up their plot threads and themes in a tidy, satisfying fashion, which I’m confident they do, the minimum number of volumes I think they could do that in is four. Volume 9 deals with Wonderland and sets the stage for RWBY in Vacuo, Volume 10 deals with Vacuo, Volume 11 sees a return to Beacon (and possibly a late game switch big bad switch from Salem to someone else, probably the gods), and Volume 12 sees the defeat of the big bad and the resolution of the show. That’s assuming an absolutely breakneck pace from a show that has consistently been content to take its time - relatively speaking at least, given how short each episode is. They spent a whole Volume dealing with the trauma of the Fall of Beacon, advancing the characters and barely touching the overall plot. I don’t think they’re going to speed run this.

All this to say, at minimum, we’re three-quarters of the way through the show, and I think two-thirds to halfway is more realistic. Salem can’t take point in any plot that involves societal conflicts, and I don’t think they can hang three more volumes of those on Mercury, Tyrian, and Cinder. Salem needs to expand her inner circle. Now, most likely, that will include at least one new character from Vacuo. Maybe people who’ve read the CFVY books already have a likely candidate in mind, I don’t know. But one person isn’t going to be enough to fill all the roles now left empty on Salem’s team, especially one person that we don’t already know, who has to be built up for us and fleshed out and sold to us as someone competent and scary and worth giving a damn about.

So why not sidestep some of those problems and dust off the perfectly good dictator they’ve still got lying around?

Let’s go beyond the fact that Ironwood is alive and without an obvious role in the plot while Salem has a job opening. What does Ironwood get out of teaming up with Salem? What does Salem get out of taking him on? What do we, the audience, get out of seeing this on our screens?

Let’s start with the first one. Ironwood has had a very taxing forty-eight hours. He has seen his precious Atlas destroyed and reduced to rubble. He has seen every one he ever counted on betray him (and with good reason, but I doubt he sees it that way). He has gone from being one of, if not the most powerful mortal man in all of Remnant, to having absolutely nothing. Who does he blame for this? Salem? Maybe, but if he puts the sole blame on her, that means he has to keep fighting her, something he has already decided is impossible. He made a desperate, terrible, appalling plan to avoid that outcome, and it failed utterly. He doesn’t believe she can be beaten. He will certainly blame her some, but there is a much more convenient target for the bulk of it - one that is easy to plaster it on, one that thwarted him directly, and one which he believes he can have revenge on.

He is going to fixate on Team RWBY and their allies. If they’d just listened to him, if they’d just fallen in line and done what he said, then Atlas would be safe and the relics would be well out of Salem’s reach. Their opposition led directly to his plan’s failure. He doesn’t even need to bend the truth for that, only ignore the parts that he has already been content to ignore - that his plan was fundamentally flawed from the start, both in its means and its ends, and that if he had instead listened to RWBY, much of this tragedy could have been avoided. But Ironwood isn’t going to blame himself. It is a very, very hard thing for someone as proud and self-assured as Ironwood to do, to look at himself honestly and acknowledge that he fucked up, really badly, and that the consequences of that fuck up will haunt him until he dies. It is a very hard thing for such a proud man to humble himself and try to make whatever amends are within his means, to apologize to those he wronged and strive to help them, even knowing that they may hate him forever no matter what he does, and be justified in doing so.

He will take the easier choice, the same kind of easier choice he has been taking the whole show, and shift his guilt onto someone else. He will blame RWBY. He was more than willing to sacrifice uncounted multitudes of people under his care to protect Atlas, and maybe the world too, for awhile. Now Atlas is gone, and as far as he is concerned, the world is doomed. What does it matter if he helps Salem hasten that along a bit, as long as he can avenge his city?

Salem, for her part, will find an exceptionally canny tactician, a deeply charismatic leader, and a man of nearly unshakeable determination, all wrapped up in a nice, emotionally unstable, easily manipulated package. Maybe he doesn’t have the tech-savvy that Watts did, but he has everything else, and so much more. She could find all sorts of uses for him.

And we, the audience, will get to see it all unfold. We will get to see the fall of James Ironwood from a principled, well-meaning, staunch defender of Remnant, a bit over confident in himself, a bit flawed, a bit narrow in his focus, but unquestionably heroic, to a dictatorial, desperate tyrant, willing to sacrifice anything and anyone on the altar of his own ego, a man who hits rock bottom through his own arrogance and cruelty and, when offered a shovel, starts digging even deeper. You thought the Tin Man lost his heart this volume? You haven’t seen anything yet. By the end of this show, there will be no one more tragically, brutally, painfully hollow then James Ironwood.

I wonder if, near the end, he’ll think about Lionheart. I wonder if he’ll still have enough of the man he used to be left to shed a single, bitter tear at the irony.

#rwby #rwby meta #james ironwood #rwby salem #oh boy this got long #obviously this is a lot of conjecture about a show that routinely blows my expectations out of the water #but this feels very right to me