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lsdunesarchive · 10 months

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L.S. Dunes (MCR, Coheed, Thursday, Circa Survive) Dissect Their Debut Album Past Lives Track by Track: Exclusive

The supergroup's members offer insight into the LP's 11 tracks

Photo by Mark Beemer Words by Jon Hadusek

November 11, 2022

Supergroup L.S. Dunes have just dropped their highly anticipated debut album Past Lives. The LP’s release consummates a five-headed collaboration between like-minded musicians who are cut from a similar cloth: My Chemical Romance’s Frank Iero, Coheed and Cambria’s Travis Stever, Circa Survive’s Anthony Green, and Thursday’s Tim Payne and Tucker Rule.

With such a wealth of combined talent, it’s no surprise that the 11 songs on Past Lives are a tour-de-force of post-hardcore. The album is especially rewarding for those who are familiar with each band member’s past work. On each song, you can catch sonic idiosyncrasies and easter eggs that inevitably trigger a pang of nostalgia. For example, Iero’s catchy chord progressions will perk the ears the MCR faithful. Meanwhile, Anthony Green’s impassioned vocals make Past Lives mandatory listening for Circa Survive fans.

The collective consciousness tends to pigeonhole supergroups as lesser projects — a distraction from each member’s day job, half-baked collabs, etc. — but L.S. Dunes put in the time and work to make their debut album more substantial. Just take it from the band members themselves, who offered up a track-by-track breakdown of Past Lives exclusively for Heavy Consequence. Their remarks reveal just how much care and effort went into the songwriting and recording process.

Stream the entire Past Lives album and read the track-by-track breakdown from L.S. Dunes’ individual members below.

“2022”

“2022” is probably the most personal song that I’ve ever written in my life. Every time I get to the verses of that song, I get a lump in my throat like I said too much. I never want a song to hurt or worry anyone, but they also cannot be a place that I hide in. Working on yourself and getting better is a slow process. “2022” is a reflection on the patience that’s required of a person during the process of recovery, when you’re conditioned towards the hunt for immediate gratification. There are moments when you’re fighting for your life, moments when you don’t think you can keep going. In those moments, I always need to tell someone — because that support you get from people who believe in you can make a huge difference. — Anthony Green

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“Antibodies”

“Antibodies” started as the first group of riffs that I sent in. It was also the first group of riffs that were sent around in general. After receiving a joint text from everyone, I decided to sit right down and work on a riff. I have a tuning that I have used on a few songs in the past; I tune the low E up to F. It makes for a really cool approach at playing the low E open while barring the rest of the strings. I went straight to that tuning. I wanted to send something unique but still catchy. I respect all the guys so much as musicians and wanted this to work, so mentally, I was like.. “You gotta send something good!” No pressure, right? As everyone added their parts to the song, it was clear we had a chemistry. Eventually, this would also be the first Past Lives song that Anthony added vocals to. Which blew our minds. And here we are. — Travis Stever

"Grey Veins"

I stumbled onto the intro bass line for “Grey Veins” one night, but I I was playing it in the upper register. It was this really quirky little riff and I actually thought it might be a bit too left of center to even bring to the band. I had already convinced myself that they’d hate it, but I figured I’d send it anyway just to see if it sparked any ideas.

I remember immediately after sending it in the group text, probably at like 3 a.m., everyone reacting to it with such excitement. We had all been at the edges of our seats waiting for ideas to be sent and everyone jumped on it immediately. Tucker added the initial verse beat, and then Frank came out of nowhere with this absolutely perfect verse/chorus progression and it actually blew my mind. Hearing Travis’ leads and verse melodies, then Anthony’s vocal ideas and lyrics really brought this little idea to such crazy places. It’s honestly still hard for me to wrap my head around. — Tim Payne

“Like Forever”

This was one of the first ideas I sent out to the band. Everything was still so new to all of us and we hadn’t really fallen into an actual writing process at that point, so I honestly wasn’t sure how the other guys would approach this. I had a loose structure, but this was really more of a collection of bass lines than anything else. Writing on bass can be tough, because I’ll hear certain drum beats, dynamic shifts and melodies in my head, but that doesn’t always translate to others. And if I’ve learned anything in life, it’s that verbalizing music ideas is literally impossible.

So, you just have to put things out there and have faith in the people you’re writing with. The craziest thing is that all of the drums, guitars, and vocals were a million times better than anything I had imagined! It was a huge moment in the band for me and really allowed me to let my guard down and just throw ideas out there, knowing and trusting that we somehow already had a collective voice even after only a few weeks. — Tim Payne

“Blender”

This was a riff that I had been kicking around a little while, never quite sure where it fit in with any project that I had going on. I could never quite finish it. I think when I don’t know where a song belongs, it’s hard for me to lace it all the way up. But when L.S. Dunes came into the picture, I brought it to the band and it just fit in so nicely. Anthony was never scared to sing over anything, which is such a rare and exciting quality to have in a singer. Then Tucker and Tim backed the riff so flawlessly that it started to take on a whole world. When I hear this song now, I always think of Tucker saying, “It feels like speeding down a desert highway at dusk,” and it transports me immediately. The finishing touch was Travis hitting all the perfect harmonies on those guitar lines. He really is a master at that. — Frank Iero

Photo by Consequence

“Past Lives”

I love this song. I love the lyrics. It’s one of my favorite drum-songs on the record because there’s basically no cymbal hits, besides hi-hats, until the end. The riffs on guitar and bass were so infectious to me that my job was to not step on them. It became very apparent, very quickly that I wanted to do that robotic, old-school, punk hi-hat to follow the strumming energy of the guitars. The verses are haunting and I wanted to come up with a beat that was just as jarring. I had been working on this pattern between the kick and floor tom with a sort of quirky hi-hat pattern that spoke to me right from the start because of the song’s frantic energy. I felt the bridge needed to be super sparse tom hits to give the listener, and myself, a much needed break to catch your breath. The end is my favorite part because it all hits the fan, hitting as hard as I can, like it’s the last song on earth. — Tucker Rule

“It Takes Time”

Easily, one of the coolest songs that I’ve ever been a part of. Writing this right now reminds me just how lucky I am to be a part of it. This was the last song I recorded. A lot of the song drum-wise is exactly the same, other than the “B” part of the verse and the bridge, as our first demos we did over a year and a half ago for it. The interplay between the drums and bass in the verse brings me an infinite amount of joy. I couldn’t be happier with how the bridge turned out. Will Yip (Producer) is also a ripping drummer. We worked very closely on coming up with a super cool beat for the bridge that hadn’t even been written yet musically. I trusted Will’s intuition and damn, was he spot on. Anthony’s vocal performance on this gives me chills. The dude is endlessly talented and I’m so grateful to walk the earth next to him and the rest of these amazing human beings. — Tucker Rule

“Bombsquad”

I heard that intro riff and knew the drum part had to be sparse to accentuate how damn cool that guitar part is. There’s a lot of space in the song, so I wanted to make sure the snare sounded massive. I used this solid steel 8×14 drum made by Greg Keplinger. There’s a stamp inside the drum that says “Not Fragile” and I think you can hear why on the intro.

Fast forward to Tim adding this colossal bass line that literally made my arm hair stick up. Anthony and Will Yip came with the bridge which is one of my favorite parts of the record vocally, as Anthony sounds possessed in the best way possible. Big drums, big riffs, and big love for this song! — Tucker Rule

“Grifter”

The group of riffs I sent to everyone for this one was all based on the verse portion. The rest of the stuff was all to favor that part. Will and Anthony did some really cool stuff with arranging the riffs to make what was once a bridge, a chorus. It really brought out unique qualities in the song. My verse part is a strange open D-riff. It’s going to be lot of fun live, as it’s challenging technically. I especially love the interplay of the bass and guitars in the verse. Above all of it, there are the catchy ear worm melodies that Frank and Anthony added to really draw you in. — Travis Stever

“Permanent Rebellion”

I love being in a studio making records. It’s the ultimate high for me. I remember we were doing pre-production in NJ over the summer before heading out to PA that fall to record with Will Yip and this was just a song that popped in my head while we were demoing and fine-tuning all the other stuff for the record. It popped in and wouldn’t leave and every time we had a free minute or a break that day, I would starting playing and working on this song. Tucker was the first to ask, “What is that?” To which my reply is always, “I have no idea,” hahaha. And so, maybe 30 minutes before the end of that day’s session, we all decided to not pack up and try and hash this song out. I know it can be stressful, but in my experience if a song comes up at the very last minute of a session, you always record it. I don’t know exactly why. Maybe it’s the universe giving you a gift. But for some reason it always ends up being a special song, if not the best one of the session. Something about the immediacy or the reckless abandon of having no time to overthink. You just go on instinct. And, as it turns out, “Permanent Rebellion” was the first single released for the record. — Frank Iero

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“Sleep Cult”

Well if “Permanent Rebellion” was the last minute addition to the first day of pre-production, then “Sleep Cult” was the last minute addition to day two; the final day of pre-production. — Frank Iero

Our thanks to L.S. Dunes for providing us with an exclusive track-by-track of their new album. You can purchase Past Lives here.

#ls dunes #l.s. dunes #m: anthony green #m: frank iero #m: tim payne #m: travis stever #m: tucker rule #lsd: 2022 #in: nov/22 #t: photo #t: video #t: text #t: review #ph: mark beemer #p: consequence #archive[ane]#how have i NEVER read this!! such a good read #Spotify #Youtube

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ecoamerica · 24 days

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Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

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etherealdizzle · 3 years

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DBD Danny x Frank x Male Reader

I have a request, Frank and Danny(Ghostface) are soulmates, but they recently found out that a male survivor reader(that is new to the entity’s realm) is also their soulmate.

Trigger Warnings: Violence

When you’re born, the mark on your wrist appears. It slowly fades into existence. Once you’re ten, the mark is clear. It’s a pair of initials. Different for everyone. Some people have one, some get two, and very few get nothing. What are the initials for, exactly? Simple.

Your soulmate.

Those who are born with a mark search their whole lives for the person they are meant to be with. Often, they travel all across the world, searching. Some get to meet them. They get to love and to be loved with the other half of their soul. Nearly everyone gets initials. But not everyone gets to meet their soulmate.

Frank Morrison figured that would be his fate. He was stuck in a shitty town with the same group of people. He’d been moved from adoption home to adoption home, never staying in a new place for long. He hadn’t met his soulmate. So, he figured it was time to move. That was until he met a girl named Julie.

Their friendship bloomed into a series of theft, violence, and eventually murder. The group now found themselves in the Fog, a new realm away from the real world. While some accepted their new fates, others were dissatisfied. The marks on their wrists stayed, reminding them of a lost love they would never find.

Frank had two marks. Two initials. Two people he would never get to see. Two people who he would never get the chance to love. He was angry. He kept his marks covered, hoping to forget about them and begin his new life. The life that took his soulmates away from him.

But others didn’t stop searching. Danny Johnson believed the Entity was on his head. He knew it would bring his soulmates to him. He was right. For one of them, at least.

“Danny Johnson,” He introduced himself to the man standing before him. The man’s eyes widened, jaw opening slightly in shock. “...What?”

Frank scrambled, nearly tearing the fabric as he tried to take a look at his wrist. D.J. But maybe it was a fluke, like so many times before. Initials were unique, of course. Frank reached forward and grabbed Danny’s hands. Danny pulled back, but stopped his effort once he saw what the man was trying to do. And Frank saw it. In black text read ‘F.M.’

Frank slowly looked up, eyes still wide, and let out a shaky breath. “It’s you…”

✯ ✯ ✯

It was hard at first. Danny was clingy, and Frank was still processing. But now, they two were in love and they couldn’t be happier. Danny was definitely the more affectionate of the two, but that didn’t mean Frank didn’t care for him. He just showed it in a different way. Less touchy and more words. Danny didn’t mind. As long as Frank was happy, he was happy.

But both of them felt like something was off. Sometimes, the initials burned. Danny didn’t mind as much, just pulled his costume over his wrist and pretended it wasn’t there. But Frank would sit and stare at it. Two letters. An initial. A person. Someone was out there, alone. Were they searching, too? Danny trusted in the Entity to bring the missing link to them. Frank wanted to believe. All he could do was ask.

He asked, and the Entity listened.

✯ ✯ ✯

“Please?”

“No.”

“Pretty pleaseeee?”

“No.”

Danny rolled his eyes. “Why not!?”

Frank crossed his arms and looked to his lover. “Because I don’t even think they exist here!”

Danny huffed, upset. “Maybe we could ask the Entity…?”

“I doubt the Entity would give you a cat.”

“If I asked nicely!”

“No.”

Danny heard the ringing bells in his ears. He sighed, deciding to move the conversation to another time. If Frank had anything to do with it, the conversation would never come up again. The ringing came again and Danny winced, the loudness of the bell something he would never get used to.

“You gotta go?” Frank asked, uncrossing his arms. Danny nodded, and Frank stepped closer to his partner. “Have fun,” He grinned, kissing Danny gently.

“Always do, boss,” Danny winked, waving goodbye as the Entity took him into a trial.

It was Autohaven Wreckers. Ghostface liked it, it had lots of cover for him to hide with. But he also hated it because it was open as well. He just had to figure out where to go. He crouched, moving and making his way until he heard a noise. A voice. He didn’t recognize it. Using the tires as cover, he leaned to see who it was.

“I don’t even know how to repair this,” It was a man. He talked to himself, standing over a generator. He began to connect wires, but the generator exploded. He sighed, trying again. He wasn’t someone Danny knew. He was new! Ghostface had a different way of greeting new survivors to this world.

Danny ran at him, jumping on him. The man landed on his back with a thud, grunting as the air escaped his lungs. “What the fuck!?” The man yelped, trying to push Ghostface off. But it was no use. Ghostface had his legs on either side of the men and pinned his arms down, holding them above his head. He was stuck. The man struggled for a moment, but realized there was no use. He gave up, looking angrily at the killer above him.

Ghostface chuckled. He liked seeing their reactions to his unusual greeting. Danny studied the man. He was well-built, with a face Danny could only describe as handsome. And attractive. And beautiful. Okay, he had a few ways to describe him. Danny flipped his arms so he could see the initials. Actually, it was a pair of them. The first read, ‘F.M.’ … Wait. What? Danny shook his head, thinking of it merely as a coincidence. He read the other one. ‘D.J.’ …

Yes!

The Entity had listened! It brought him the last piece of his soul! And what a beautiful piece he was. Ghostface released his tight grip of the man’s arms, and the man began to rub the sore spots. Danny grabbed his own mask and pushed it off his head, smiling at the man before him. “Tell me - Am I better or worse than you were expecting?”

The man looked to him with confusion. “What are you talking about…?” And once Danny revealed his markings to the man, he understood. “O-oh… well… fuck…” The man said, unsure what to say.

Danny grinned. “I’m your soulmate! Oh! We can go on dates together! Go on strolls, you can watch me kill your friends! It’ll be great!”

The man was still processing. “You’re… my soulmate?”

Danny simply nodded.

“And what about-”

“Frank Morrison! You’ll love him, he’s great!” Danny got off of the man, putting his hand out. He grabbed it, and Danny helped pull him up. The man was shaking, and Danny felt responsible for helping him out. He slung an arm over the man’s shoulder and winked. “Don’t worry, now that you’re my soulmate, I won’t hurt you.”

“And the others?”

“I can’t promise anything.”

✯ ✯ ✯

There was no way for Ghostface to show Frank to the man. All he could do was give him a description of Frank and hoped he could figure it out. Danny kissed him on the cheek, perhaps a little too eager, and pushed him down the hatch. And thus began the search.

He hadn’t found him yet. He saw a pig, a cannibal, twins, a plague… He was starting to give up hope. But then, he found him. At least, he thought it was him. Matched what Danny had told him.

Frank spotted him. The man was hesitant to walk towards him, scared it wasn’t him. But Frank broke the distance between them. He pulled his mask off, smiling gently at the man before him. “Danny told me. I can’t…”

“Can’t believe it either, huh?” The man laughed. “Never thought I’d find my soulmates here, of all places. Was hoping for a little more romantic qualities.”

“It’s as romantic as we make it,” Frank flirted. “Speaking of, wouldn’t it be better with just us two?” Frank slipped his mask on. “Wait here.”

The man waited, slipping into cover every once in a while when he saw his teammates. They’d probably figured he’d died already. To be quite frank, he sucked at looping. Wasn’t good at it yet. Perhaps Danny and Frank could help him.

“There,” Frank tossed his mask off, grinning at the man. “Isn’t that better?”

The man nodded, unsure what to say. “So… we’re soulmates, right?”

“With Danny,” Frank agreed, stepping closer to the man.

He hesitated, freezing up. His heart was pounding. “S-Sorry… just…”

“I get it,” Frank reassured. He placed a hand on the man’s shoulder. Testing. Once he saw he was allowed, he moved it down, gripping his waist. “It’s not like how you imagined it. Me neither. But you know what?” His other hand found the man’s waist. The man felt his heart slow. “At least we found each other. Some don’t get that much.”

The man nodded, putting his hands on either side of Frank’s upper arms. “I’m happy to have found you, Frank.”

“I’m the lucky one.” Frank leaned forward, closing the distance. He pressed their lips together and was happy once the man kissed him back. He meant it, too. He was lucky. Hell, he didn’t deserve this. He would never take it for granted.

✯ ✯ ✯

Danny met him with enthusiasm. “Frank told me you kissed him!” Danny practically tore his mask off. He pulled off the best puppy dog look he could.

The man chuckled. “It’s your turn, then, right?”

Danny agreed, practically jumping on the man as he smashed their lips together. It was sweet and rough at the same time, but it felt so good.

The man knew he had his hands full with these two.

#dbd #dead by daylight #dbd frank #dbd legion #dbd ghostface #ghostface #danny x frank #frank x danny #ghostface x reader #male reader #mlm #poly

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fowl-fox · 3 years

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I know I keep asking you all these random questions, but- in AF, it always irked me that we never learned about Fowl Sr.’s return to Fowl Manor, given that he was recovering from being in a coma (I know his amputation sight would have been healed by then, but I don’t think he would have been strong enough to walk on a prosthetic for a while- he probably used crutches for a bit). Like... what was that like for the Fowls. I know that the books never go into it, but I would have hoped that it was a brief period of the Fowl Family being just... happy to be together again, even as they were having to dramatically restructure their lives again to adjust to the head of the family being home again, especially for Tim and Angeline. Any thoughts or headcanons or what-not?

Ask as many questions as you like! (That goes for anyone else as well.) It gets my brain going and motivates me to start writing things. Also sorry this took a bit, I've got medical crap going on rn.

As usual, I'm gonna toss this under a Read More, because boy, did this get long, I apologize. And I'm going to warn you, a lot of this delves into how I feel about Artemis' relationship with Tim and Angeline overall. But it's those feelings that drive most of my headcanons, so I feel like it's best to talk about them.

Let's start with Artemis Sr. and his state of being after rescue. I'm gonna pull some quotes from my copies of The Arctic Incident and The Eternity Code throughout my pondering, please bear with me.

At the beginning of TAI, we're given a laundry list of ailments Fowl Sr. has when he's dragged out of the water in the beginning of the book:

"Though the man's clothes were relatively intact, his body had not fared so well. His bare hands were mottled with frostbite. One leg had been snapped below the knee, and his face was a horrific mask of burns."

"He'll lose that leg for sure, (...) A couple of fingers, too. That face doesn't look too good either."

When it's Holly's turn to drag Fowl Sr. out of the water, his heartbeat is dangerously low, due to deadly cold water. We know she kept him alive, healed the chest wound caused by the blunt force of the shell Butler shot him with, as well as a blinded eye that wasn't mentioned previously, but we're not really told anything else, which I suppose leaves it up to our imaginations as to what ailments he's left with.

We know he lost his leg, but did he lose some of those frostbitten fingers? Frostbite doesn't fuck around (Mayo Clinic link, if you'd like), and while it's not mentioned, it would be likely his captors would have had to amputate a few of those as well, to prevent the dead tissue from eventually killing their meal ticket. His face was severely burned from the explosion, how extensive was the scaring after everything was said and done? We know magic can heal scars if that's what the magic is told to do, but Holly probably wasn't worried about that in the moment, and she makes this statement:

"I got him," she gasped, "One live Mud Man. He's not pretty, but he's breathing."

So even with Holly doing what she could, it sounds like Fowl Sr.'s condition was still really rough. Rough enough to need prolonged medical attention. He'd spent nearly two years in a coma before waking up in Murmansk, and the ordeal of his rescue was enough to throw him back into a coma, as we're told in The Eternity Code.

Except wait a minute. In Artemis Jr.'s diary excerpt, we're given some information that contradicts the previous book.

"It had been over two months since Holly Short used her healing magic on his battered body, and still he lay in his Helsinki hospital bed. Immobile, unresponsive.

The doctor's could not understand it. He should be awake, they informed me. His brain waves are strong, exceptionally so. And his heart beats like a horse. It is incredible, this man should be at death's door, yet he has the muscle tone of a twenty-year old.

(…) Holly's magic has overhauled his entire being, with the exception of his left leg, (...) He has received an infusion of life, in body and mind."

(...) my father had no need of medical attention. He simply sat up, rubbed his eyes, and muttered one word: 'Angeline.'"

So now Holly's magic apparently healed everything but the lost leg? What?

I love the Artemis Fowl books, but I will always be a little frustrated with their inconsistencies. But you know what? It's great for giving yourself permission to play around with your headcanons. If Colfer changes what he wants when he wants, I certainly won't feel bad about doing it.

I'm going to go with the TAI and say that Tim was still in a really rough state after everything. Ignoring that supposedly his muscles were fine, he'd still have to learn how to walk on the prosthetic. And tbh, I'm just going to believe that his muscles weren't magically perfect. Maybe easier to build back than they would have been without the magical infusion, but there was definitely gonna be work involved. And that's ignoring probable mental trauma. He was in a coma for a large portion of his captivity, but there was a brief period of time where he was conscious, with captors that maybe couldn't kill him, but definitely didn't treat him well (though it sounds like he was being a difficult captive, but yeah, of course, he's a Fowl lol.)

(Detour Thought: My mental picture of Artemis Senior has always involved heavy facial scarring, especially on the side of his face where the damage was apparently bad enough to blind him.)

But to get back to your original inquiry (Jesus, Blue, I am so sorry at how badly I've dragged this out) I do like to think there would be a period of recovery and restructure that would involve the Fowls getting to be a happy family together. Great potential for a hurt/comfort fic, if you ask me.

I'm going to be frank, (and this opinion puts me at odds with the fandom at large, I know) - from my interpretations of the books overall, while Artemis certainly had a strict upbringing with parents who were usually busy and definitely irresponsible, I never got the sense that it was a loveless childhood. Nor did I ever get the sense that Artemis feared his father as a person, but rather that he feared disappointing him, which at no point are we told ever actually happened. I've read these books a million times, I've never found anything in them suggesting Artemis ever disappointed his father, nor that Tim was ever actually cruel to Artemis. Strict, yes. Overly formal? Definitely. But not cruel.

Now, the fact that he felt he had to jump through so many hoops to maintain his father's approval? Bad parenting, Tim. Also, don't encourage him to be a criminal mastermind, maybe. But also Artemis is an over-achiever by nature, which Tim just either didn't clue in on or more likely imo, thought it was in Artemis' best interests as an heir of a criminal empire to be that way.

Aside from Tim and Angeline later suggesting he try to be more 'normal' and let go of his criminal tendencies, and that one incident of Angeline pulling a guilt trip (all of which is a whole other thing I won't get into rn), Artemis' parents speak positively to and about him. I just honestly think they don't know how to be actual parents, which, being aristocrats, tracks. They function almost more like older siblings after TAI, really, which isn't exactly great, but it could be worse.

We know his father used to read to him regularly when he was little (ending with a kiss on the head, which I always thought was sweet) and we know that Angeline was always warm and available to him whenever possible (until her grief-stricken dementia set in.) Artemis has a moment of angst at how strict/formal his upbringing was compared to the twins, but overall he generally speaks positively of his parents, and he loved and missed them enough to risk his life several times for them. Even when he's frustrated by their joined presence making it harder for him to conduct criminal activities, he still misses them and thinks about them often when he's away from them.

Which yeah, that's what this all boils down to for me. Artemis just wants time with both of his parents, and Artemis Sr.'s recovery, in my headcannon, would absolutely allow for that time he so desperately wanted, deep down. Assisting in the physical recovery, using the down time to really talk and catch up (without mentioning his fairy adventures, of course.) It would be a drastic change and awkward to adjust to initially, but overall I think it would be good.

And as for Tim and Angeline? I think there would be of course the joy of being reunited with the love of your life, because Tim and Angeline are absolutely soul-mates. But I also imagine there were many, many conversations of regrets and questioning how to move forward as a family from this point. Angeline seems to defer to Tim as the one who makes decisions for the family as a whole, but she isn’t afraid to give her input. I bet they were scared, in a way, because not only has everything changed, but the future is uncertain. They have to restructure their whole life, and while overall the changes are positive, they’re not going to be easy.

I also feel like it would be difficult for Angeline in particular because while Tim returning is a joyful thing, she now probably has some self doubts. Why did she fall apart so tremendously, at the expense of not only her well being, but her son’s? While she isn’t the best parent, I imagine Angeline will always carry heartache about her time in the attic and how she forgot her own son. And to an extent I bet Tim does too, because it was his disappearance that triggered it.

And now I want to write a fic about all of this, which I guess I'll add to my pile of ideas I've been playing around with.

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I'd definitely like to hear more thoughts on the matter from you if you have them!

#fowldom #artemis fowl #fowl senior #angeline #this is long #but i've put a lot of thought into this even before being asked #so here you go #headcanons

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darylandbethfanforever9 · 3 years

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Devil’s Backbone

Chapter 3

AN: I hope everyone is enjoying the story so far, and thank you everyone who has commented, reblogged or liked the story :)

Story Rating: Explicit, 18+

Warnings: Smut, violence, flashbacks of past sexual assault, descriptions of torture and racial hate. Not Tony Stark friendly.

Relationships: Bucky/OC, Steve/Natasha, Billy/Wanda/Grant, Sam/Sharon, Clint/Laura, eventual Clint/Yelena and Frank/Karen Page.

Summary: In the aftermath of the Blip, Bucky struggled to find his place among the world and the Avengers. However, when he is sent on a mission to Madripoor to investigate a mysterious woman, he starts to realize maybe his past isn’t too far behind him. Co-Written with WalkingPotterGirl14.

The girls at the Red Room would whisper about the Winter Soldier. He was a ghost story, a tale whispered to keep them in line by warning them if they didn't succeed in the classes or missions, that the soldat would creep into their room and kill them.

She remembered seeing those cold eyes watching her and over girls when he had come to the academy to train one of their classes. He had thrown a young girl called Polina Paseka across the room after she failed four times to do a pirouette in ballet class.

She frowned as she tried to make sense of how the Winter Soldier had escaped the Red Room. It was rare when someone was able to make it out, almost impossible. She decided to call Carter and inquire about the soldier. Her interest was piqued by the man. Maybe she would know something.

Bucky and the others returned to the compound to inform Fury about the black ops team that the Power Broker had sent to kidnap Isaiah and Eli Bradley. The man must have been hellbent on creating the serum after Zemo destroyed the ones that Dr. Nadler had created. "Hill is identifying the people who were sent to kidnap Isaiah and his grandson. Two of them have already been identified," Fury announced grimly. He pulled up two images of two men, one of whom that Bucky recognized instantly. Jack Rollins. He knew him from being there at the Ideal Federal Savings bank when he had his mind wiped by Pierce after trying to kill Steve, Sam and Natasha in Washington D.C. "You might remember the guy on the left, Barnes and Rogers. That is Jack Rollins, former member of the STRIKE Team. After fleeing the U.S., he settled in Madripoor and began working as a mercenary for the highest bidder. Tomas Calderon is a former S.H.I.E.L.D agent, who was fired after killing a group of Inhuman refugees in Nairobi, Kenya," Fury explained gravely. He paused for a moment before glancing their way. "Rogers, Wilson, I want you to ask Carter if she knows how long this mystery young woman has been living in Madripoor. See if there's a gang war brewing over a power struggle. Barnes, Barton and Maximoff, I want you three to talk to Russo, Karen Page, Murdock, and Curtis Hoyle. See what they know about the Power Broker," the director instructed. They nodded and all left.

The first thing Ana decided to do was renovate the whole damn penthouse that the Power Broker owned. She ordered new bedding, a new mattress, and a nice bed frame. There was no way in hell she was sleeping in his bed. She followed suit with the rest of the apartment, glad to have all this control now. The next thing she did was arrange a meeting with all the criminals who lived in Madripoor. She was putting down some rules. She was no saint - far from it - but no way in hell was she tolerating slavery, sex trafficking, and fucking child molesters and pedophiles. She knew Madripoor thrived on crime, but she was going to be instilling some rules for everyone. She personally called off the bounties on the Winter Soldier, the Falcon and Baron Zemo, from what she had heard around. She had no quarrel with them at the minute. Her main focus was going to be ensuring the Red Room remained shut down. She didn't want anyone else to go through what she had gone through. No child deserved that horror. The buzzer rang then, and she answered the call immediately. She had a feeling that a few of them were going to be aggravating. But she had dealt with worse people. "Miss Liukin, this is Conrad Mack. You wish to speak with me about a beneficial arrangement between us?" The man asked politely. She smiled slightly. "Please come in, Mr. Mack," she said smoothly. The door was unlocked and locked behind him. She might have her bodyguards, but she wasn't defenseless by herself if Conrad decided to play dirty. Two could play at that game. Conrad Mack entered the living room. He was a handsome man in person. He had dark brown eyes, but there was a sharpness in them, like an eagle, always watching. He was wearing casual, but smart clothing. "Mr. Mack, it's a pleasure to meet with you. I've heard a lot of things about you," Ana said warmly. The man offered her a charming smile that showed perfect white teeth. "The pleasure is all mine, Miss Liukin. I have to say that I'm impressed by your bloodless takeover of Madripoor. If you don't mind me asking, what inspired you to take over Madripoor from the Power Broker?" She smiled at his question, as she sipped from her glass of red wine and Conrad drank from his glass of whisky. The man was a gangster, but he did have morals. She decided to give him some of the truth. "The Power Broker wished to recreate the Super Soldier serum after Baron Zemo destroyed the vials that Karli Morgenthau stole from him. But he wanted me to kidnap a man called Isaiah Bradley and his grandson…I presume you know who he is?" she asked meaningfully. Conrad nodded, his smile turning to a grimace. "Yeah, I know who he is. My grandaddy fought with him in World War II. The US government threw him in jail and took his blood. He escaped during the eighties and settled down in Baltimore," the man said bitterly, well aware of America's racial discrimination against African-Americans. Ana nodded at his answer as she looked at the Monet art that decorated the walls. She disliked racists fiercely. "Then you understand why the Power Broker had to go, Conrad?" He lets out a quiet nod at that. "As I've said before, I'm not a saint. I've done some horrible things. But I draw the line at people dragging innocents back into their dirty hands. For years I had no control of what I was able to do, and now that I do, you can bet I'm going to make sure that no one else gets hurt like that." Conrad smiles to that. "That's very noble of you." Ana snorts and shakes her head. "Not noble. It's called being a human. However,…I'm not a good person too. And the reason we're here is because of that." She comes over to him, leaning against her chair. "I know about your little business on the side here. You thrive from the drug community here, don't you?" "If we're being honest, it is one of, if not the most, profitable business you can have in Madripoor." "On the brink of a collapse the city would be if that whole system decided to go belly-up," Ana states, holding her glass in her hands. "Which is why I'm willing to offer a truce with you. An agreement, of sorts. If you keep a low profile and continue your business, I'll make sure it can still run with the people here and the cops won't be on your ass. I know how hard it can be to stay on the downlow but I'm willing to compromise on that as long as your guys don't interfere with what I'm trying to do." Conrad raises an eyebrow. "You're very interesting, you know that?" She raises an eyebrow back at him. "How so?" "You're like the opposite version of what you say you are. You're trying to be good but also trying to keep crime going…it's a strange contradiction, if you will." Ana shrugs her shoulders, walking over to where he sits. "We all have our contradictions. But the main part here is making sure your business can still run despite those contradictions. So…" She holds out her hand to him. "Do we have a deal?" Conrad looks at her hand for a split second before extending outwards, shaking it firmly. "We have a deal."

Talking with Karen, Frank, Matthew and Foggy had gone about as well as Bucky had been expecting. They didn't know that much about the Power Broker except for the fact that he just wanted to have as much power as possible, simple as that. They had stumbled into them when Fisk had gone away to jail, leaving his powerful empire in the city free for the taking. Due to the power vacuum, the Power Broker had tried to break in.

But luckily, they had come in at the right moment to stop him from taking over, before he had escaped off to Madripoor. Bucky truly wondered what went through this man's mind to make him think like that, that he could suddenly own everyone just because one man got arrested. But then again, the man was clearly unstable. If he wanted to still create more and more super-solder serums for the world to use…there was no way he would allow that. Secretly, Bucky really hoped this new mysterious woman had killed the Power Broker. Hell, maybe even taken over herself. If she was willing to help Sharon out and let them know about Isiah, she at least had some sort of morals compared to the original man. But he also had a feeling that Fury, if he did find out who this woman was, was most likely going to send them after her. So maybe he'd get the chance to meet her after all. A part of him still couldn't believe that he had seen Ana at a coffee shop…it was such a small world. A part of her still felt so familiar, and at the same time he couldn't remember where he had seen her before. He was thankful that the Wakandan's had gotten out all the trigger words in his mind but damn it, he wished he had his whole mind back. Something he would just have to live with for now.

Was this a stupid idea? Probably. Could Fury walk in at any moment? Most likely. But Natasha needed to know. She had to know if this woman was alive truly or not. Maybe she would get lucky, and they would be able to swing around this situation. Maybe the woman who had come into the facility wasn't even close to her. When Nat and Yelena had destroyed the Red Room area, they had been able to access their system remotely to be able to view who had died and who had lived from the program. She had never checked for her to see if she was still around. But this time was better than no time. She typed in the name quickly, searching through the files before she lands on the one, she had wanted. And her shoulders sink as soon as she reads through the file on the computer screen. 'Anastasia Liukin. Dead – complications of operation.' "Oh, thank God," Natasha breathes out, running her hand through her hair. This at least said that she was gone. Maybe she would be able to get out of this alive. But something still didn't sit right. A part of her didn't think that she was dead. If it wasn't her…then who? She bites her lip, glancing deeper into the file.

"Fuck it," she said finally, before delving further into the files. She found information on Anastasia about the year she was born. The young woman had been born on July 10, 1995 in Voronezh, Voronezh Oblast, Russia in the aftermath of the Soviet Union collapsing. Her mother had died when she was five years old, and she had no one else to raise her. She was then placed in an orphanage until the age of seven when the Red Room had approached her under the illusion of being taken to a ballet boarding school. There were no other records of her aside from the file about her dying from an operation. The reasons for the operation were redacted, but deep-down Natasha knew the reason. 'I had to do it. I had to protect Yelena. She was too soft for the Red Room despite all the training we put her through,' she thought rationally, ignoring the pang of guilt that pulsed through her.

Sharon was honestly trying to keep herself calm as she drove to the penthouse that was owned by the Power Broker. She hadn't seen the mysterious woman again, but she had told Sharon to call her Ana. Now, she was driving there and was stunned by the sight before her very eyes. The building itself was amazing and very spacious, but the apartment was even better. She was shown into the penthouse by a bodyguard and kept her face neutral as she was greeted by none other than Ana. "You wanted to see me?" She asked politely. Ana smiled at her calmly as Sharon sat down on the comfortable black velvet sofa. The living room was very spacious but had a homey-vibe around it. There were framed photographs on the mantelpiece. "Yes. I was wondering if I could buy some of the Art Deco paintings and sculptures in your art gallery?" Ana asked curiously. Sharon blinked in surprise but nodded and leaned forward. "I'll be happy to sell you them, Miss Liukin," she said reassuringly, stunned that the woman wasn't going to kill her for helping Bucky, Sam and Zemo escape from the Power Broker. Speaking of the man, she hadn't seen him around Madripoor for the last couple of days. She wondered if finally, someone had killed him for having too much control and power. Considering Ana was in his penthouse, she had quite the feeling it had something to do with her, since the man had been tied up by her not that long ago. "Then I'll see you tomorrow morning. I'll enjoy doing business with you, Sharon," Ana said kindly, her voice genuine. Sharon nodded as they both walked out, seeing that the whole penthouse was being renovated. At Sharon looking, Ana smiled as she put her bottle of water down on the coffee table. "This penthouse belonged to the Power Broker, and it didn't give a welcoming feel. So, I decided to have the whole house renovated, including an indoor ballet studio, along with an indoor swimming pool, a library, and many bedrooms," the woman explained amusedly. Sharon smiled before saying goodbye and Ana watched her leave. She had to admit, it seemed the women had the strength to stay around – and wasn't planning on leaving anytime soon.

Bucky was annoyed with himself. He felt like he had seen Ana before and not at the coffee shop. It was irritating to say the very least, as he walked to the conference room, where Fury was holding a team meeting. He entered the room, sitting next to Steve, Sam, Clint and Wanda as Billy and Grant joined them. He wasn't surprised to see Scott Lang and Hope van Dyne being in the room but was wary about seeing Bruce and Tony in the room. Both of them, along with Natasha and Yelena, despised him. He didn't blame Natasha for hating him - he had tried to kill her three times, and had attempted to apologize, but she had refused his apology. "Now that you're all here, I have news about the mystery woman who infiltrated the compound. We ran her through Interpol, MI6, FBI, and the S.H.I.E.L.D database and found nothing on her. She's unknown to us," Fury explained gravely, his face betraying nothing. "So, what you want us to do then? It's pretty obvious that she's dangerous if she escaped the HYDRA base, and they had her in cyrostasis," Tony questioned suspiciously. It was Steve spoke up. "That doesn't necessarily mean that she's dangerous, Tony. She's most like been forcibly placed in cyrostasis. We did uncover some possible information," Steve informed Fury, who looked interested as he looked at the man. "What did you and the team find out then?" The director inquired curiously. He was clearly wondering if the young woman was a threat to them. "We did some digging - plus Sharon called us this morning. The Power Broker might possibly be dead, as he's not been seen for at least three days. He was last seen Monday night, and had arranged to meet a young woman to discuss kidnapping Isaiah and Eli Bradley, so he could use their blood to recreate the Super-Soldier serum. According to Sharon, the young woman refused to comply, and a fight broke out," Steve explained quietly, his voice not quite disapproving at the young woman's actions and possibly murdering the Power Broker. "She was the person who told Sharon about the attack on Isiah." Fury looked thoughtful and looked around at everyone who was sitting at the table. Natasha and Yelena were silent, but they were clearly hiding something. "Is there something you'd like to add, Belova and Romanoff?" he asked calmly. Natasha nodded. "There is something I'd like to add, Fury." Natasha stands as she grabs the file of Ana, placing it on the table. "I did some digging on this girl with the file that we found in the HYDRA base in Siberia. As the ones who shut down the Red Room and the areas surrounding it, we are allowed remote access to the former directory of agents that we've had interactions with. It turns out that Ana has actually died from an operation due to unforeseen circumstances," Natasha states. "At least that was what her records state." "Hold on." Bucky stands from where he was, gesturing to the file. "That's impossible. We've been doing our own research and there has been some steady evidence that she's still alive." "Barnes, I remember her. She's gone." "That's impossible because I saw her literally days ago," Bucky says angrily, but he holds back his temper to a point. He didn't want to let go of his own morals because Nat's words contradicted his own. Her brow raises in shock. "You're-wait, what? How the hell did you-" "She was in a coffee shop," Bucky states, crossing his arms against his chest. "A couple days ago before heading off. I didn't learn the girl's name, but she looked exactly like Ana. There's no mistaking it." "You're insane, she's gone!" "No, she's not!" "ENOUGH!" Fury yells, his booming voice causing them to jump in surprise. They both turn their eyes to where Fury was breathing heavily, his head down, clearly trying to control his own temper. He takes a moment before looking at the two of them. "Sit both your asses down now!" The two Avengers do as he says, knowing that if they pissed him off even more there'd be more than just yelling coming their way. Fury starts to pace before he looks to them. "From what I see, we have several problems here. One is-" His phone suddenly pings, and he pulls it out quickly to glance at it before cursing under his breath. "Now we got even more problems," he mutters, putting his phone back in his pocket. "Just got word from H.Q. Apparently, the original Power Broker is officially dead." Silence rings throughout the room. Bucky knew it. He just knew it.

"Again, now we got even more problems," Fury continues, running a hand along his head before looking to them. "One, we have some mysterious woman that broke into our damn base and now is missing. Two, we have a power dynamic clearly underway in Madripoor, and another young woman there that we don't know about looking to take over. Third, we have two goddamn conflicting arguments about a girl that we don't even know about. There’re too many things here for us to even come to a proper conclusion. I'm over this fighting that we got going." "Then what do you suggest we do, sir?" Natasha asks, raising her brow. Fury sighs and then nods back at the team. "What we do best – undercover. But there ain't no way I'm sending a whole team after this girl. If the Power Broker is dead, that means she's a serious threat, regardless if she'll hurt us or not. She's got friends in high places. Only one of you are fit enough to do a proper undercover mission of this high of a status." His eyes turn directly to where Bucky was. "And that's you, Barnes." His brow raises in surprise. "Me?" "I can't think of someone better than the former Winter Soldier. It can't be Nat or Yelena with personal ties to this said mystery woman, but we don't know how much she knows about you possibly. It's the best option for us going forward. I'm not about to let any other goddamn intruder come in, so we need to find out who this woman is as soon as possible, and if she's taking over as the Power Broker." Bucky was quiet for a moment, letting his words mingle. He wasn't wrong. He most likely would be able to find her the quickest and see exactly who this woman was. "Plus, you've literally seen her before," Steve agrees lightly. "If anything, that'll only help you try and find her again." "I think he's got this," Sam states, agreeing. Bucky rolls his eyes and glances at his friends. "It's alright, guys. I'm fine." He always knew that the ones who were on his side tried their best to show their support for him, but something he just wanted to prove it himself. He turns back to Fury. "I can do that, sir." "Good, glad to hear it." Fury stands and grabs the file. "You leave as early as tomorrow. We want to make sure we handle this with care but as quickly as possible. Don't want to linger any longer. Pack your belongings – I'll inform Sharon that you're heading to Madripoor and you're undercover there." "Sounds good," Bucky responds, standing. "Meeting adjourned," Fury concludes, getting up and heading out, pulling his phone as he does so. Bucky hears Tony groan as he stands, sighing. "He's making a mistake sending you out." "Tony, we don't need this right now," Steve responds, trying to shut down the fight before it even began. "How can you even trust him to do a good job? He was literally part of HYDRA, the place that this mysterious woman is even coming from!" "So are Nat and Yelena and you trust them," Wanda points out from where she stands. "They at least had a head on their shoulders to sign the damn accords." Steve sighs and shakes his head. "I'll never be able to prove to you that Bucky is a good man, but that's your loss. It's not like I'm not surprised Nat is on your side after she did what she did." At Nat's confused expression, Steve snorts. "Don't show me that look, Nat. I know that you agreed with Tony to lock Bucky up is a psych unit even before he was pardoned. I know you don't want him here just as much as Tony doesn't. You don't need to say anything." Bucky runs a hand through his hair stressfully. Good god, this wasn't how he wanted his mission to start out.

#Bucky Barnes x OC #Bucky Barnes faniction #Dark Bucky Barnes #steve rogers/natasha romanoff

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thecarnivorousmuffinmeta · 3 years

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October and the Alternate History of Europe

I recently got into a fascinating PM thread on FFnet with Njchrispatrick about the alternate history of Europe given the events in “October”. It is, in fact, so interesting to me that I asked permission to rephrase their discussion and post it here.

While I know my history better than most, I will be the first to admit I’m hardly an expert, and explained part of why an in depth focus on history was missing from “October” is that a) Tom lives in a very insular society and does not realize this about himself and is in for a very rude awakening now that he and Lily are off to Ubik b) because I am not ambitious enough to pretend I can rewrite the history of Europe (let alone the world) given the monstrously strange events in “October”.

While fascinating, it’s also not really the point of “October”, which deals more readily with the societal issues facing the wizarding world vs. this alternate world history.

Njchrispatrick gave a very nice, very in depth, look at Europe given the events of “October” and what be going on in the outside world (even consulting a history professor). Below is rephrased, paraphrased, and reordered a bit for cleanliness and cohesiveness (as this was over several PMs).

If the war ended in early Summer 1942 (based on when Azrael seemed to have intervened) then it was shortly after a string of victories that made it look like Germany would come out in front. This was over a year before Normandy and many believed WWII would have dragged into a war of attrition.

This was also after the Soviets offered a peace treaty signing off much of Ukraine and Belarus to Germany due to Stalin being very uncertain of Soviet victory, plus Vichy France (the puppet French government) had been well-established and the German stronghold in the West was powerful.

The Nazis hadn't accepted the treaty, but since that time Russia had been pushed even further back so they'd offer even more, So, although the war ended, certain events would still be heavily in Germany's favor and the post-war treaty would be more favorably pro-German (and although the Nazis are gone, many of the legitimate grievances of the German people, including several territorial claims, would remain).

Germany would definitely keep its pre-WW2 borders including Austria and the Sudetenland. With the might of Germany still present, and now led by conservative Prussia, there would be certain demands made

Given Germany's well-entrenched hold on France, Germany would likely only release them in exchange for keeping Alsace-Lorraine, the region it had held pre-WW1 since taking it from France in 1871. Poland would be forced to cede Danzig--or at least hold a referendum vote which would undoubtedly return them to Germany--and possible the other ex-German regions like Posen. Stalin would be forced to relinquish some territory in the Baltic, both due to Russia's losing at that point in time plus Britain and America not trusting him. Perhaps this would be requested by Germany as a trade for releasing Posen to Poland. The Netherlands and Belgium would go free but, again, I expect Germany to either keep Luxemburg or at least turn it into a "protectorate". Bohemia and Moravia, which were taken from Czechoslovakia, is trickier. Apparently, to be frank, Britain and France didn't care much about the smaller nations and were of the mind that smaller countries belonged under the control of stronger ones, and Germany had a vague claim on the region due to it being part of the Holy Roman Empire, the original German Empire (in case you don't know, the HRE was the First Reich, the German Empire was the Second Reich, and the Nazis named themselves the Third Reich as a result).

If the Nazis just vanish, I don't think a West-German democracy would emerge, at least not for a while.

There was actually a substantial part of the German government which disapproved of Hitler--more his foolish tactics than the antisemitism, sadly--and in the early 40's they attempted to overthrow him.

Had the Nazis vanished, Germany would've likely ended up with a Prussian military government--better than the Nazis but still not ideal.

A Prussian-led Germany would likely become a constitutional monarchy a bit like Britain. The Junkers (Prussian aristocracy) were deeply monarchic and favored a weak democracy, if any, and Germans weren't fans of democracy after the abysmal prior attempt.

Britain would allow it in order to bring stability in hopes of Germany standing against the Soviets, as well as the Kaiser's role being distinctly anti-Nazi. The only obstacle would be Churchill, who was unwilling to accept any surrender, but it’s unclear what he’d do. He would definitely oppose the growth of any German territory. The Kaiser would have some wartime power, but otherwise be not much stronger than the British royal family. This would come with the stipulation of Germany becoming at least mostly democratic.

The Nazis would likely be blamed on the southern Catholic mindset (since Hitler was Austrian and began his power grab in Bavaria) and there would have been a massive cultural crack-down on Southern Catholic and French ideals, similar to how Jews and Communists were scapegoated for the loss in WWI.

That said, with the war only being 3 years long and with the Nazis being purged, I imagine Hitler would be viewed as a strong leader who went too far and who united Germany but was a big racist. Somewhat like a worse Churchill.

He definitely shattered the German economy but they'd be able to stabilize faster than their neighbors.

The knowledge of the Final Solution would horrify people, but without it actually happening the sympathy would be lessened, plus many pro-Nazi people would see it as Allied propaganda. Germany in the 60's and 70's would likely be a conservative-leaning but highly advanced nation with one of the strongest economies on Earth, if not THE strongest.

Without the war to expand its influence, America would be a wealthy but culturally minor power similar to Japan in real-life.

I imagine post-WWII Germany would also be tolerated because there was still a lot of Soviet fear and a dominant, militaristic Germany was still better than the Soviets in the eyes of many, especially since pre-WWII France (the only other major continental player) was weak and post-WWII France was in tatters.

The Nazis would be gone, but fascism would probably remain as a legitimate government structure, since fascism was a French-created concept that was popular in the Netherlands, Germany, France, Belgium, and the US, to name a few. So while the Nazi branch of it would be gone, it wouldn't have been near-eradicated like today. And we'd definitely see a less liberal, still Euro-dominated world in the aftermath.

The Soviet Union would be much more brittle.

The USSR's success was highly attributed to its role in WWII, and a perceived loss (as this would be, since a peace treaty in 1942 would make everyone certain that Russia was about to lose) would tank Soviet support. This would make it much harder to spread into Eastern Europe--the Baltics, Poland, and the Balkans would be German-dominated and Russia would have a hard time breaking through. Either the Soviets would collapse, become a large but stagnant state that would eventually turn non-Communist, or would declare war on the post-war Germany and likely trigger a European coalition. Italy's only real request would've been north African colonial holdings and perhaps keeping Albania. They were a much less important Axis member but also hadn't faced any serious losses.

The funny thing is, I realized, is that the post-war world in your story is actually very much like what would have happened if Germany won WW1 - German domination of the European economy, a weakened Russia, an Eastern Europe basically puppets of Germany, and the return of the German Empire. The only difference is that the European colonial empire still probably would've collapsed.

Njchrispatrick also asked about the Japanese and Italian fronts and how much/when/how Azrael intervened there.

To be honest, it’s been so long since I’ve read it that I can’t honestly remember. It would be just like him to forget Japan though. Azrael is a good, but often shocking short sighted and flawed, man.

#world history #meta #headcanon #opinion #njchrispatrick #october

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lovelykhaleesiii · 4 years

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Tension

Pairing: Nomad!Steve Rogers x Reader

Words: 2,658

Summary: It seems that as the world turned against their beloved Captain America, Steve would turn against you.

Warnings: angst, swearing, mentions of cheating, mentions of physical abuse, short time jump.

A/N: this came out of nowhere that NO ONE asked for, but APPARENTLY I now have a thing for Steve, wow... Specifically Nomad!Steve if you couldn’t tell :o Hope ya’ll enjoy x (PLEASE DROP SOME FEEDBACK, would be much appreciated!!!) Don’t mind the shit writing!

In the eyes of the public, Steve Rogers was a national treasure, a hero, and above all, righteous. Many refused to believe he was even capable of any wrong doing. “He’s Captain America, for god’s sake!” many would reason with.

You’d met Steve during your time working for S.H.I.E.L.D as one of the leading Doctors working alongside Bruce Banner. Eventually, you’d befriended one another, only to fall for each other. There was something about him, that just lured you to him. Perhaps his subtle charisma or charm, was what probably made everyone admire Steve.

And just like the public, you held the belief that he was incapable of evil... That was until he fell out of touch with the Avengers, from the whole ordeal of the Accords, for Bucky, Zemo and so forth. That whole saga had triggered something in his persona that slowly began to change day by day, as he plunged deeper and deeper into this rabbit hole he’d dug up for himself. His priorities, emotions and most importantly his beliefs shifted from what you’d felt used to. It was definitely clear to see that the man you'd once grown to know had become buried behind this somewhat of a stranger. Of course, there were times you alone, would have seen another side of Steve come about. Hints of jealousy, rage and even fear.

Nonetheless, it made you think, if this sudden shift was just the final opportunity Steve grasped to embrace himself as he truly was. No longer upholding the facade that the public, the army or that S.H.I.E.L.D had created in the first place, that he for countless of years would compare himself to some sort of a circus monkey. Yet, despite the indifferences Steve was facing, he still chose to be with you.

One by one, he’d begun singling out the Avengers, with the exception of the small few who firmly decided to fight by his side from time to time when necessary or called upon. It seemed he’d begun to suppress the entire philosophy of the Avengers: the belief that they were indeed Earth’s mightiest heroes...

He started to deepen his focus on taking up more missions, including some that the government had tried to neglect, mostly missions important to him. Succinctly, this meant less and lesser time spent with you, and vice versa, lesser time with Steve. You’re overthinking had caused you to feel as though it was his way of distancing himself.

He became unkempt, untidy: as though he no longer felt the need to care for himself. His hair grew out into some sort of a mane, his beard had fully grown, and from all the missions he was completing, the non-stop training, action and movement, he became somewhat bulkier. As his life intensified, it seemed his body grew to adapt to his: looking sturdier, stronger, as if mirroring his level of resilience. However, it also seemed that his new look made him seem less approachable, as from comments of the public regarding their affection towards their their beloved Captain America, had also began to deter. However that was untrue on your half. You loved Steve no matter the odds faced, and the undeniable fact that the both of you encountered yet pushed through so much adversity, his looks were certainly the least of your problems.

Thus, he knew you well from the start, like a book he’d read multiple times. Much like himself, he knew you were not one to shy away from confrontation. Steve knew you’d want to confront him about his unusual behaviour as soon as he'd step through the door, and to be frank it seemed he didn’t care what you had to say. Most nights he'd either arrive late enough for you failing to stay awake, already fast asleep, or other nights, you’d wake up without him laying beside you. For the days that you’d managed to keep awake long enough to hear him hustling through the door, just in time to have the showdown with him, he’d brush you off. Most of the time he’d only spare a second to just look at you, too busy raiding the fridge for some food, or excusing himself to take a shower. It felt that he was on repeat, in an attempt to excuse himself, the words “I’m tired Y/N-”, “Not tonight Y/N-” would be enough for him to then just to slump his body right onto the bed without another word, often his back turned towards you, his face turned away from yours.

And it was because of this, and as your attempt of teaching Capt a “lesson”, you’d sleep on the couch, away from him. Trying to make him guilty, as selfish as it may be... As these slow weeks went by, your agitation grew by the minute. The tension was brewing and you knew you’d erupt soon, whether Steve listened or not... He was going to get a mouthful.

That was until Natasha showed upto your rundown, shared apartment. Now that you guys were constantly on the move, there was no point in locating a permanent residence. Whatever space could provide sufficient shelter that was enough for Steve, then it was enough for you, no questions asked.

However, it was unusual to have guests, that including which ever remaining Avengers Steve continued to work with to show up, especially unannounced. It would mean something serious, however whether it concerned Steve or not was to be determined.

“Nat what’s up? Is Steve okay?”

“H-He’s fine Y/N. It’s just-”

She stopped midway, and couldn't help though longingly stare at you. To be frank, deep down it felt like a goodbye look you'd give to someone you know you won’t be seeing in a while. Trying to take in every final detail of that person. She seemed so anxious, which considering it now, was very unusual for Natasha. It was rare for someone or something to rattle the Black Widow herself.

“God, come in Nat-” Hastily you moved aside for her to freely walk through. She’d taken one last worried glance over her shoulder, as if concerned that she’d been caught or even followed, before you’d shut the dark wooden door closed completely.

“Nat this really isn’t like you, and you’re starting to worry me. Sit down, please. Is there anything I can get for you? Some tea, coffee-”

“Steve’s cheating on you!”

The words immediately escaped her mouth, and she couldn't tear her gaze away from you. She felt the need to comfort you, although it seemed she didn't know how and for that remained in her seat.

As for you, you could feel the sudden, sunken drop of your heart. Undoubtedly, you disagreed, gently shaking your head against her claims, trying to think logically, you felt this couldn't be true at all.

“But Steve’s always so busy on missions and-”

“Y/N please... You’re smart enough to know-”

“Know what Natasha? That Steve, the guy I’ve known for all these years, for all the shit that WE faced, would leave me for who?”

And immediately from her pocket in her jacket, she threw down what seemed to be a photograph right onto the coffee table. You felt your body freeze, not wanting to reach and decipher the image yourself. You kept your focus on Nat, as she slowly rose from the worn-down couch.

“I tried to convince him, tried to persuade him that he should be the one to break it to you first. He wouldn’t listen Y/N... And as your friend-”

Taking her quick steps towards you, raising her hands up firmly to hold you as she began to rub against the sides of your arms. It was the closest to support that she would show.

“I couldn't let you be kept in the dark.”

***

That evening felt forever long: as the minutes and hours went by of you bitterly awaiting for Steve... Not even certain if it was one of those nights that he’d show up or not.

You sat huddled up tightly to yourself on the couch, the image held in your hands as you’d examined it over and over again, thoroughly scanning over the faces. Seemed he found some time for a bar, probably out of town, sitting in the distance at the back away from the crowd, the table full of empty bottles of alcohol, along with some brunette making herself comfortable on his lap. You’d never felt so repulsed in your life, just the sheer thought of Steve seeking out an affair physically made you nauseous. Whatever happened to that righteous man you’d loved, was sadly now long gone.

What made you most upset was that smile... As clear as day, Steve had a smile struck upon his face, his hands lingering all over her body. It was that sort of affection and attention you’d been craving for so long, and yet some stranger had beaten you to it... You felt gutted, absolutely humiliated to have been so blind to Steve’s intentions. You’d trusted him that deeply, enough for him to have taken it for advantage.

The sudden rattling of the keys unlocking the door, had snapped for your attention, shifting your focus on the hallway, waiting for Steve to show.

“Up again I see. Y/N I’m really not in the mood for-”

“You cheated on me-”

Now that caught his immediate attention, and rather than dragging his focus away from you, those icy blue eyes were all over you.

“What did you say?”

“You cheated on me... You cheated on me with some other random fucking girl. And you didn't even have the decency to come clean!” Voice raised high enough for the tenants on the other side of the wall to hear, you rose from your seat, threw the image down without breaking your focus on him.

Looking down at the photograph, he knew exactly who the source was, and didn't question it. He remained as quiet as ever, burning the image into his memory, reliving that exact moment before he’d looked back unto you.

“How long? Is she the only one you’ve been seeing or have you made this a habit?”

“C’mon Y/N...”

“How long Steve?”

Uneasily he sighed, uncertain to answer although he felt now that you knew, there was no point in denying the truth to it.

“5 months-”

Taken aback, the hot streams of tears began to fall not out of sheer sadness nor the fact that your time with Steve, you knew had come to an unfortunate end, however you were somewhat relieved. This burden, this constant neglect was finally no longer something tomorrow would bring.

“That was all I needed to know...” Not wanting to share another second in his presence, you turned bounding towards your room, desperate to just pack enough of your essentials to leave without any arguing. You had nothing more to say, nothing more to do except leave.

“Y/N come on! Will you just let me explain-”

Mimicking you, Steve followed you into the room, in an attempt to snatch your focus, whatever you’d shoved into your bag he took out, buying him some time to talk.

“Explain what Steve?! That you’ve been lying every fucking day about where you’ve been, what you've been doing or more like who you’ve been doing? You kept me stuck in here, all alone, leading me on this entire fucking time, for 5 fucking months Steve? And for what?!”

With whatever mundane strength you had against the super-human, you tried to shove Steve away from you. Although little was achieved of that. Purely out of anger, you just felt your words did not amount enough to the anger coursing through your veins.

“Y/N it’s been months since you’ve done anything to reach out to me, what was I suppose to do? Everyone kept expecting so much of me, so much good. Even if I screwed up just this one time, it’s the end of the fucking world. And where were you? I lost you when I lost everyone else. All it’s been is just you following me around, acting like nothing’s changed but it has and you can’t keep denying it Y/N!”

His broad stature towered over you, a part of you intimidated that he’d lose himself to his volatile emotions, just as he did these past months. You felt you could no longer predict Steve, and that frightened you greatly.

“Listen to yourself Steve! You’re blaming me for not caring when I’m the one staying up all day and night, waiting for you. And when I do try to make conversation all I'm met with are your pathetic fucking excuses... No actually your fucking lies, Steve!”

And that was it, whatever you had left remaining in your bags that Steve hadn’t managed to throw out, you snatched and manoeuvred yourself around him heading for the door. The fierce grip on your forearm however wouldn't allow you to take another step. Rapidly turning to face him, as you tried shrugging him off, shaking your arm held tightly, you’d feel yourself bruising underneath his grip. His strength overpowered you, even if he simply held you with his one hand, however that didn't stop you.

“Steve just let me fucking go! You’ve-”

“Enough!”

And strike! The sudden backhanded slap, forced you out of his grip, as your body collapsed to the floor. Your cheek began to burn, you could sense the dense palpation and heat of the strike brewing beneath your palm as you tried to conceal your face from anything else you feared might come from Steve. Although in the seconds after, nothing more. Peering through your fingers, despite the tears swelling in your eyes from the sudden pain, you could make out Steve standing where he stood, just staring down at you, his breathing heavy.

“Y/N- B-Baby, please-”

Hastily kneeling down beside you, his hands reach towards your body wanting to help you, to cradle you, he knew that wasn't the best option. He did something terrible and it only took him a split second to know that. He had to approach you carefully, not wanting to frighten you any more in any possible way.

“Y/N, baby, I’m s-so sorry-”

His voice now tender, yearning for your forgiveness yet sounding broken. You felt frozen in your tracks, trying to support your half lying body, your palms leaning against the floor as you intently gazed towards Steve. No emotion was struck on your face, although with Steve... His concerned eyes now looked familiar more than ever before, like how they used to look at you whenever you’d enter the room. He’d noticed the injury to your cheek, and was able to figure the amount of brutal force he'd just unleashed unto you.

“Y/N, b-baby please! I-I could never forgive myself, I could never-”

“S-Steve I have to go...”

In turn, now his eyes had swelled with tears. You rose immediately from where you fell, and reached for your bag off the grown, pacing straight for the door.

You didn't dare to look back, not even feeling the temptation of wanting to. All you could hear was the broken, muffled cries of Steve, as he buried his face in his strong arms, rocking himself unable to stand his ground.

He could nor would he ever forgive himself. From the start he vouched that hurting you, losing you, not protecting you would be his greatest downfall. And this day he’s actions had spoken for just that...

Walking out of the building, stopping yourself by the door, you had no clue what step was next. Whether you’d ever see Steve face to face again would be a mystery. However it seemed that the tension of the world had just melted away for now.

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sophi-s · 3 years

Text

More of that redemption AU!

At long last!!! It's finally here! That took a while but with ten pictures to make and an essay to write it had to XD

I'd like to say a couple things before starting. First, the following content features angst, blood, injuries and images that may be viewed as disturbing by some people, I apologise in advance. You've been warned. Second, I'm accepting any asks about this AU and I'll try to answer them to the best of my ability. Third, for those who haven't seen part 1 yet, you can find it here.

That being said, let's get into it.

When Abaddon freed Azrael, the Angel of Death understandably had trust issues. He was sure the Destroyer is trying to deceive him again. Since he was still in a rough shape after his imprisonment and the run-in with Straga, his former friend got him out onto a balcony to let him catch a breath of fresh air and there try to persuade him that he has no ill intentions this time. The negotiations however, were stopped before they even began.

The two archangels were caught together by an unfortunate Demon Sorcerer. Unfortunate, because Abaddon didn't want any witnesses just yet. The poor sod barely registered what hit him.

In that moment Azrael believed that his friend could've returned after all. He just jumped the unsuspecting demon without a second thought. The Destroyer would never just off his own soldiers when each was priceless in these trying times. But this kill fueled Destroyer's bloodlust and triggered Abaddon's first ever loss of control ever since he turned to Light again. When he realised what's happening, it was too late to stop it…

As short as it was, it nearly cost Azrael his life. For Abaddon, losing himself so easily was like a slap to the face with a wet rag. He'd almost killed his friend and could've done nothing about it but watch like a prisoner in his own body. It was… scary. For the first time in way too long he said - and meant it! -

Abaddon realised that the Destroyer inside of his head is still displeased with the steps he's taking and actively seeking to ruin his plans. And that makes him dangerous to both friends and foes. He couldn't take any chances and risk if it were to happen again. Needless to say, he peaced right the hell out of there. This is one of the main reasons he didn't reveal himself to Uriel until she found out herself. He didn't want to repeat the mistake he made with Azrael. But after their first meeting, find out was exactly what she had in mind (for those who don't know what I'm talking about in this paragraph, here's a fic I wrote a while back).

To be frank, Abaddon wasn't actually sure what on God's green earth he's doing and what he's trying to achieve (aside from figuratively spitting into Lucifer's face) but he knew he couldn't keep flying around and causing random violence, even if it was giving everyone the impression that he's completely out of his mind (which wasn't far from the truth) and more or less satisfying his darker counterpart, keeping it mostly quiet and content. He couldn't win this war alone. Abaddon was thinking about making allies with anyone he could or at least rallying the last of Heaven's forces. Unfortunately none of this was easy to accomplish. He was the Destroyer after all… No self-respecting angel would stand beside him without a good reason which he didn't have. Eventually, he decided to put the power Lilith bestowed upon him to use. To some extent, he started to understand Death. Once you view necromancy as a tool instead of an abhorrent crime against the natural order, it doesn't seem so despicable anymore. "Ends justify the means" yet again. Still, Abaddon was reluctant to resort to resurrecting corpses. Though, for different reasons... It reminds him of the promise he'd made a long time ago. One he broke out of cowardice.

Even with a small army of the living dead, the task Abaddon had designated for himself was going to be challenging. But this particular archangel is nothing if not one of the most stubborn creatures in the Universe. He was going to do whatever it takes to see it to the end. Even if his sanity and control he once held over his fate continued to slip through his fingers and slowly but surely leave him. Every day he lives through, his mind remains in the perpetual state of a constant struggle between the Light and Dark in his soul as he strives to fight the evil that has taken root within him.

And that will be it for now (I ran out of space, goddamnit 😂). If I have any new ideas I'll make sure to share them. Feel free to ask like I said above!

I'm gonna have to take a break from painting. It was draining but damn if it wasn't satisfying! Especially the last one. I'll have to sit down and finally write this fic cus I'm a dumbass who is insecure about the garbage I make even though some people still love it 😆

(Also, on the side note, screw that sword and all those bloody runes. They look amazing but painting them sucks ass XDD)

P.S. I found a song I associate with that fic :D

"Not gonna die" by Skillet, it's rad as heck.

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dmclemblems · 2 years

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hello i know this is very late and i believe this isn't a scan/translation blog anumore, but is there anyway the raw pages of the Yuuna Takanagi Thracia manga could be uploaded?

Hey! I'm so sorry, I never got a notification for this ask and didn't check my ask box the like... maybe two times I hopped on for a few seconds during the time I was away.

I'm not sure if you'll even see this at this point since it was sent ten months ago, but we haven't dropped that manga project! We do plan to work on it and we've been working on Oosawa again. If you were worried about us having dropped the FE5 manga and wanted the raws because of that, that wasn't the case and we're hoping very much to work on that! My team's translator is, afaik based on what we discussed when they joined the team, very active here with translation for FE. You can find them here!

Unfortunately I also have to rescan all of volume two because lucky ol' me apparently had a piece of hair stuck in the scanner when I scanned it, so almost every page ended up with that piece of hair on the page. Fabulous, I know. Pretty sure we can all agree we don't want my piece of hair being part of the story.

I know it seemed like we dropped everything, but I'll post a bit of an explanation under the cut about what happened for anyone else who is still around. I'm going to be a little vague because some of the details are personal, so I'm not going to mention which team member had what problem and I'm not mentioning any names, but we had very very very extreme circumstances in our lives that prevented us from working on the mangas.

Please also be warned there may be some slightly triggering terms in here, so please be careful!

Basically what happened to start out is that one of us had a housing situation. They were living with a friend and then for a few months a homeless shelter. After that a lot of things in their life had to be managed and whatnot once they were living stably, so working on the manga just wasn't really possible.

By the time that was all sorted out, that member needed a break from the mess. Unfortunately one of the other team members disappeared without a trace by then, and though I searched for them on all social media I knew they were on, they didn't seem active on any of them.

When Covid began, one of us lost their job. To some people that may not matter much, since there are definitely people who live with family and can get support and whatnot. For this member though it was tough and depressing as well as very stressful. Naturally the manga wasn't a priority at that time, and with Oosawa pushed back, that also pushed Thracia back a lot.

Eventually, we started to work again until the cleaners got busy (those two chapters that happened and then nothing after for a while), and then some really serious accusations came to my attention from a friend of mine involving a borderline pedophilic incident (to which I use "borderline" because it involved an 18 year old as the target, so legally speaking they weren't underage, but obviously that's still really concerning to learn about and demanded my attention). One of my team members was aware of this pedophilic behavior and was a friend of his, deciding to turn on him after deciding they didn't like him anymore and were having trouble getting along with him. I learned that this person was fully aware of his behavior for months and didn't alert the 18 year old until personally deciding they didn't like this man anymore (who by the way was I believe about 28). The 18 year old realized quickly that the excuses the team member gave them were not adding up and contacted me. To be frank, this whole thing took a lot out of me, and I now have a new cleaner in the team replacing any and all work done by that person. I was lucky to have learned about this at all tbh, because the 18 year old wasn't even aware afaik that this person was a team member of the manga project we were working on. It was handled between us as friends and not because of the person being a team member, but the fact that they had been a member at all was a big NOPE for me.

Unfortunately after having that all worked out, I was exhausted so took a bit of break, and of course since we'd just lost a member (who I had already parted ways with anyway due to differences to put it simply, so the above incident was after that), that set us back all over again.

During that time, one of us had a young death in the family. While I personally lost both my grandmothers in the span of all this time mentioned, it's natural to expect to lose grandparents eventually and I was able to get through it okay. However, this incident involved a young girl (I believe 19 years old) in the family. Suffice to say, I understood that was no position to be in to work on our projects.

I'm sorry we've had so many delays and I wish we didn't end up releasing a single FE5 chapter before getting so stuck. Unfortunately that's what happened and honestly hell I might be forgetting some of the stuff in between it all because so much happened and we just didn't have the energy or motivation to continue for a while.

I've since gotten two new cleaners who have made stellar progress and I really hope this time we can actually finish Oosawa and move on to FE5.

#JD Ask Replies

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ickeyandmian · 3 years

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oops here are some thoughts on 11x08 regarding Frank and Terry’s storylines

Spoilers ahead

Please bear in mind that these are my thoughts and interpretations. I understand others may not feel the same, and that the themes in this episode could have been difficult or painful for some, nonetheless I’m going to delve into what I took from it.

I didn’t come into season 11 expecting to care about Frank but for me, his mental decline has been one of the most interesting storylines of this season, and arguably the most interesting storyline for his character throughout the show as a whole. What sticks out for me mostly is the care that the writers have clearly taken in setting up these final moments of Frank Gallagher’s swan song. This is a hard topic, it’s hard for viewers, who have developed a love/hate relationship with the man over the past 10 seasons, it’s hard for those who may have experienced loved ones suffering from dementia, and it’s a hard topic to write sensitively, especially for a character like Frank who has toed the line between villain and hero since day one.

But I do feel the writers are taking that care. It’s a slow burn, it’s not something that has come out of nowhere. It feels justified, developed, and with every episode we see those clues and those symptoms build and build and we know that there’ll be no lucky escape this time.

Frank has always had strong ties to his environment, he proudly belongs in the southside and that is heavily linked to his own selfhood, as we saw in 11x01 and his ramblings of the Gallagher’s history in Chicago (a questionable topic in terms of its accuracy). But that’s all being taken away from him. We’ve seen the gentrification of the south side, the threat of the Gallagher house being sold and now, in the latest episode, something so small as the renaming of a school is enough to threaten that wavering sense of his identity that Frank has been slowly losing as the series goes on.

Memory is a fickle thing, especially when it betrays you. The smallest things can trigger a stream of thoughts buried deep in the back of your mind and at this point, Frank relies on those triggers, because without them he ends up wandering the streets in the dark, calling out his kid’s names in a desperate attempt to simply find his way home. He talked fondly of his school days and, though he may or may not be fully aware of it, there’s a real fear that that’s going to go too, that he’ll forget.

If the school has a different name, what will ignite those happy memories again?

So he falls into his old ways, it’s political correctness gone too far, it’s a ploy by the woke millenials to specifically target people like Frank, to take away everything from him, to rewrite a history that he’s terrified he’ll one day forget and will be gone entirely. It’s a painful irony to watch his devout duty to remember battling against the inevitability of his regressing mind. Which is why, when it comes down to it and he’s standing in front of the panel of judges, we see that it was never about the naming of the school. It was about the memories he has, the ones he can still pick out of his muddled mind and share with a room full of strangers and about the responsibility we have to remember the past.

And when Frank says there are ‘Gallagher memories embedded in every inch of that school’, we see the hint at the bigger issue at play here. Selling the house, a place that’s much more befitting of that statement than an elementary school. Without it, will Frank remember his family? His childhood? Will he forget Monica eventually too? The house is the last rickety foundation of Frank’s memories, and I’m equal parts excited and anxious to see what path his storyline goes down should they sell.

Now Terry.

Terry’s was a story about closure. But this is Shameless, and we were never going to get a neat and tidy resolution. It’s gritty and it’s complicated which is part of what makes this show what it is. There’s a lot here that felt significant, though it’s hard to tell if it’s intentionally so or if, as a fan, I’m reaching as always to desperately explain every nuance of what we are given of Mickey.

The driving force of this episode is that Terry Milkovich fucking sucks.

We know that, have known that for 10 seasons, and Mickey knows that, but Mickey is in the unique position of being both Terry Milkovich’s son and the face of a people he hates. Though we all would have loved to see Mickey turn his back on him for good, I’m glad we didn’t.

Family is family, and that is something that has been ingrained into Mickey since he was a child. It’s something that’s been weaved into the show from the start, from Mickey defending Mandy from an alleged assault no questions asked, to Mickey’s brother’s helping him kill Frank, again with no questions asked.

This has been discussed countless times by people much better at words than I am so I won’t labour the point, but we’ve seen the strength of Mickey’s sense of duty, the agony it causes him and how he does it anyway. And in this episode, we got a glimpse at that relationship from both sides.

The exchange between the two of them ‘You’d have made a have decent son…’ Vs ‘You’d have made a half decent dad…’ felt genuine in a way I wasn’t expecting. Not much was said, and what was said was laced with insults but the intent was there. Terry, racist, homophobic, vile, evil Terry in an undignified moment of vulnerability in being taken care of by the person he tortured and abused, is forced to face that fact. I’m not saying he feels remorse, or guilt or anything resembling that, but he’s aware of the situation and he responds to it. All he has left are his scathing words. He uses them, Mickey fights back and they’re left at a ceasefire.

It’s an exchange that sums up their years of history, and the fact that they had that conversation together is so important to the closure of their story because it’s an acknowledgement. It’s Terry admitting that Mickey was useful to him, then and now, and it’s Mickey finally getting to say what he’s always wanted to his father, just the two of them, without an audience. We then see Terry open his mouth and we, as an audience, wonder for just a moment if there is going to be more, maybe Mickey does too until it’s clear that Terry is just ordering Mickey to continue feeding him, to continue to be useful.

It’s interesting that in this small gesture, we see that Mickey’s usefulness in the situation outweighs Terry’s hatred of him, something that’s never happened between them.

And I believe from Mickey’s point of view, he understood that that’s as close to an apology as he’s going to get. But I also don’t think he was looking for one. He said himself, he wants to be better than Terry, and every single action he’s taken since then has proved that he already is.

I think I would have loved if this storyline had been given the time that Frank’s has, if it had been built up gradually, rather than the show treating Terry like a cartoon villain who in later seasons just seems to come and go when necessary, and then trying to squeeze whatever moments of sincerity they could from Noel’s gut-punching acting choices. (The look on Mickey’s face at the end is one I won’t be forgetting soon).

The death was shocking. I’m still figuring out how I feel about it. But it’s interesting to see that it’s Terry’s evil nature that is ultimately what killed him. His racist attitude chased away the first two carers, he bullied and harassed them until Ian and Mickey were forced to find someone white in the hopes his attitude would be different. Had he not driven the first two away, maybe he’d be alive. I would say he was undone by his own fatal flaw, but that would be implying Terry deserves the fanfare equal to that of a Greek hero. Instead, it’s simply an evil old man finally facing the consequences of his actions.

As they say in Oz, ding dong, the witch is dead.

#shameless spoilers #11x08 #TW dementia #TW death #Shameless #Frank Gallagher #Terry Milkovich #this got long oops

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sweetcresta · 3 years

Note

I've been following your conversations about Ian in 11x09 and couldn't help to share my thoughts about this as well. Please feel free to ignore me if you've had enough of this topic. :)

Personally I didn't feel so bad about Ian's behavior in this episode, though it certainly would have been nicer if he had been kinder and more understanding from the beginning. For me it felt like Ian needed to go through a mini-arc in which he learns that sometimes he needs to put his personal feelings aside in order to be there for Mickey. In other relationships, Ian tends to be the one who constantly does this (to the extent that he sometimes forgets himself), but he is not very good at this when it comes to Mickey. This is mostly a good thing, as it is not very healthy if one party in a relationship feels that they are not allowed to experience and express their feelings properly. However, Ian's incapability to put his feelings aside with Mickey sometimes hinders him from being a supportive partner to Mickey.

In 11x09, I think that the feeling in question is Ian's absolute HATRED towards Terry. Terry has hurt him, Mickey and Mandy in countless ways over the years. Terry is the influence in Mickey's life that has often kept them apart (internalized homophobia, Mickey's criminal tendencies etc). Moreover, 3x06 probably played a key role in triggering Ian's bipolar disorder; it is unlikely that he could have completely avoided it, but the onset happened to him at a relatively young age.

As such, there is probably no person Ian has hated so much as he hates Terry, and consequently he does not understand Mickey's reactions to his death (and to be fair, Mickey himself doesn't understand them, as understandable as they are). In Ian's mind, such a hateful person does not deserve an inch of Mickey's grief and he is probably a bit pissed off with Mickey for grieving such a monster, in addition to his feelings of hatred towards Terry. But what Ian needs to learn is that whether he likes it or not, and whether Terry deserves it or not, Mickey IS grieving and Ian needs to put his feelings about Terry aside in order to be a supportive partner. I think he gets there, eventually, after all those insensitive comments. Ian can be, and has been, rather immature in an emotional level when it comes to Mickey (always prioritizing his own feelings and not taking time to properly examine what Mickey might feel), but hopefully 11x09 helped him to open his eyes to this and he gets to be a better partner to Mickey.

i actually think this is a really good analysis of another prospective.

in my original post i acknowledged that it may not be OOC for ian to act so disconnected from it because we’ve seen that he’s detached himself from monica and frank for a long time. it just does not align with how i see ian, ya know?

i see ian as a very understanding, compassionate person, who has had his selfish moments. i see him as someone who was the only one to grieve monica when she passed. i think those two things are what make it hard for he to believe he could he so cold toward mickey when terry passes.

but it’s conflicting because i also do believe what you’re say, that ian doesn’t believe terry deserves any of mickey’s grievances... and that ian, at times, has been more concerned with his feelings on something than mickey’s feelings/reasons. i just think if that were the case in the writers eyes the show could have written it/played it waaaaay better. i think if ian actually said something like “hey, your dad doesn’t deserve your tears,” that would have been a million times better.

i also hope too that after the finale scene ian continues with his compassion and sees it for the complicated thing it is.

thanks for analysis! i enjoyed reading it.

#ask #people are gonna come across my blog and think i’m crazy for taking this in depth about two fictional characters 🤣#THEYRE REAL TO ME

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ecoamerica · 24 days

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youtube

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

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aristotleandchipotle · 3 years

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Neji x OC ‘Opal Eyes’

Neji x OC [Chapter 4/?] “Caged Birds”

WC: 1,327 words

Naruto fanfiction

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Tadashi watched carefully, leaning forward in shock as the final punch was landed. Naruto sprung from the ground mid-Neji-lecture, punching Neji square in the jaw in a bait and switch that no one expected. Naruto stood over his opponent, victorious over both Neji and his fatalistic philosophies. Tadashi watched in shock as Neji was taken by stretcher off of the Examination Court. She couldn’t believe the match she had watched. Her mouth hung open in disbelief. Neji... lost?

Tadashi held herself, shivering in the stands as she thought of the information Neji had shared with the crowd. The knowledge of the Hyuga’s cursed seal wasn’t something Tadashi had ever expected him to reveal. She didn’t know... she didn’t know the secret that Neji was hiding behind his Hitai-ate. She felt sick.

Tadashi stood suddenly, making her way towards the aisle.

“Where are you going?” Kaito asked from beside her.

“Yeah, the main event hasn’t even started yet!” Kyo added from her other side.

“I... I have to go,” Tadashi excused herself as she pushed through the row, groans of protest rising from the people she passed. For her, the main event was over.

Tadashi bolted down the stairs, turning down a hall that she knew would eventually lead her to the infirmary. She walked cautiously down the long cement hallway, peaking through the small, rectangular windows in each of the doors.

Finally, she came upon the closed door to the infirmary, but unfortunately, someone had already beat her there. Tadashi peered through the window, noticing a relative of Neji’s was speaking with him. Tadashi slid to the side, hiding herself behind a wall. She waited. Three minutes passed. Then five. Finally, the man, who bore such a striking resemblance to Neji it could only be his uncle, left. But she wasn’t hidden completely. The older Hyuga man turned to her, looking more curious than anything as his eyes locked on her own. Tadashi froze, pinned to the wall in his white-eyed gaze. She pressed herself closer to the wall, as if she could somehow make herself blend into the concrete surface. If Tadashi were being honest, she’d realize that this man scared her. Really scared her. His aura, his eyes, the way he held himself, he was just like her grandfather.

“You might want to wait a moment before going in,” he said, his voice was much gentler than she had expected. She gulped, and then nodded, glued in spot as she watched the Hyuga man walk back towards the stairs. Tadashi waited for a long few minutes, unaware of the atmosphere she was walking into. Finally, with an anxious sigh, Tadashi entered.

Neji stood far across the room, staring out of the one of the small windows that allowed a small streams of daylight in. Tadashi tried to see what he was looking at, but from her angle all she could see was the sky. She cleared her throat loudly, closing the door behind her.

Neji didn’t so much as jump, but turned quickly, eyes widening slightly in surprise. Had she actually caught him off guard?

“What are you doing here?” Neji asked, skipping over the pleasantries.

“I-” what was Tadashi doing here? “I watched your match,”

“And?”

“And I’m sorry,” Tadashi blurted, clumsily, “I’m sorry I didn’t know where your anger was coming from,”

Neji’s mouth hung open slightly, but Tadashi pushed on before he could yell at her.

“I’m sorry I gave you such a hard time at the academy,” Tadashi confessed, guilt and sadness taking her over. She certainly hadn’t meant to make anyone’s life harder. Tadashi’s intention had always been justice, but there was a fire there that she had unknowingly been throwing fuel onto for years.

Neji stared at her for a terrifyingly long moment, before closing his eyes to take a deep breath. Today was full of surprises for him. Still depleted of chakra, Neji leaned against the wall with a grimace. When he looked back on his time at the academy, and after, his attitude had always been that of jaded disillusionment that started the day his father died. Neji had become a cold, closed off person who hid behind the ideas of brutal honesty and fatalism to get away with being cruel. Some of his ugliest moments had provoked Tadashi’s fury. He had never felt guilty, sharing his frank opinions. Not until Naruto.

“Maybe I deserved it,” he said to her with a chuckle, “sometimes,”

“Sure,” Tadashi said, falling back on her teasing nature. She felt lighter somehow, her anger for Neji dissolving slowly as they spoke. “Only sometimes,”

“What about you?” he asked.

“What about me?”

“T-Tadashi,” Neji stumbled over her first name, realizing this was probably the first time he’d said it. Neji watched a pink blush crawl over Tadashi’s face, likely due to the name slip. “You just watched me air my family’s most shameful secret in front of the entire village,” he groaned, walking painfully towards the hospital bed. Tadashi jumped forward, grasping one of his arms with both of hers. Neji shirked away from the contact, but reluctantly let it happen as his chakra reserves were still depleted. His muscles screamed as she helped him hoist himself onto the bed.

“Are you okay?” She asked, assisting him into a sitting position.

“Yeah,” he nodded, “Could you get me some water?”

Tadashi moved to the other side of the infirmary, where there was a sink and a stack of small paper cups. She filled one of the cups with water and brought it over to Neji, who took the cup gratefully.

Neji gulped down the water before handing the cup back to her. She walked back to the sink.

“So why are you so ready to deal out justice?” Neji asked as she refilled the cup and brought it over to him.

“I’m not,” Tadashi glided over the question without hesitation.

“Well,” Neji took another sip of water, “That’s not true. Whether you admit it or not, you’re angry too,” the evidence hung in the air, unsaid but felt between the rivals. That’s why I trigger you-or maybe-that’s why you trigger me.

Tadashi remained quiet, chewing on her lower-lip as anxiety sent pin-pricks up the back of her neck. She leaned on the wall beside the hospital bed, arms crossed. She had never been the kind of girl to monologue along at any stranger who would listen. But Neji wasn’t a stranger, exactly.

“My family’s really traditional, too,” Tadashi said, with a shrug. “Nothing as... extreme as your clan, but some things remain the same,” she said, her gaze making it’s way to the ceiling light. She stared until it hurt. “My family comes from a large territory to the West of here, the Land of Yin. My branch of the Family has always been responsible for the Political Liaisons between Konoha and our land.” she explained.

“In other words one day when my grandfather is gone, I’ll be expected to end my career as a shinobi and take up his political position. My whole future was planned out before I was even born,” she muttered that last part under her breath, but Neji caught it. Tadashi could feel a deep, dark emptiness throb in her chest. “I don’t come from a shinobi family, but being a ninja has been my only freedom,” She wondered, was she trapped as well?

Neji took another sip of his water, closing his eyes in thought.

“Maybe we can change our destinies,” He offered, answering her unspoken question.

“Do you really think that?” Tadashi examined Neji’s eyes. Neji spoke confidence into everything he said, a finalizing clip to the end of his sentences that said ‘don’t fight me on this’. This time his tone was dreamy, and confused. Maybe he had a concussion from that final punch to the jaw. Did he hit his head on the way down?

Neji shrugged.

“If Naruto can, then why can’t we?”

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

IT’S EXPOSITION TIME

Ahhh finally a wholesome scene between these two kids. This chapter took me so long to write, mostly because I went back to re-watch the Chuunin exams Arc.

Also Tadashi’s family’s name is Akechi and she’s a Scorpio.

Hope y’all enjoy!!

-Aris💖

#neji hyuga #neji hyuuga #hyuga neji #neji x oc #neji hyuga x oc #hyuuga neji #naruto #naruto fanfiction #naruto OC #Naruto Rewatch #neji hyuuga x oc #Opal Eyes #animeoccomm #opal eyes

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weirdochick56 · 5 years

Text

Mr. Evans- Chris Evans AU Chapter Twelve

Teacher!Chris Evans x Student!Reader

Warnings: TeacherxStudent relationship. Slightly Underage reader x adult teacher. Explicit language cause of course. Angst. Fluff. DEPICTIONS OF ALCOHOLISM (it’s not that descriptive of that in particular). A scene with verbal and a bit of physical abuse. Heartbreak. Overall sadness. Seriously, if any of these topics are triggering to you in any way, DON’T READ. If you are sensitive read with care, please!

Disclaimers: I don’t condone relationships of this kind this is for entertainment purposes only. I don’t own “You Make Me Feel So Young”

Word Count: 4, 865 words

A/N: I just wanted to thank @roonyxx for giving me the idea of an angsty dad scene. Please show the blog some love! I hope you enjoy. ( :

Read Chapter Eleven Here!!

***

(Gif isn’t mine! What an adorable cinnamon roll, omg I cannot!)

After you drink an aspirin for your horrendous headache, you invite yourself to a fluffy white towel from the closet, walking towards the bathroom.

It’s modern but fairly small and you absolutely love it. It’s cozy.

You close the door behind you, turning the water on. You wait until it’s lukewarm before taking off Mr. Evans’ shirt.

The water is gentle against your muscles, relaxing them after a very stressful night and you can’t help but release a small sigh of relief under your breath. A warm shower is exactly what you needed.

You can’t find any female products in the shower so you use Chris’s shampoo and body wash instead, making sure to get all the products from last night off your hair and lathering your body up with his body wash until you were squeaky clean.

By the time you’re done, you smell like him completely and couldn’t feel more satisfied with yourself for it.

You turn off the shower and step out, wrapping the towel tightly around you as steam floats out from behind you.

A knock at the door startles you.

“Sweetheart?! I have clothes for you,” he calls from the other side of the door.

You nervously pad your way over to him, the effects of the alcohol long worn off and with them your bravado. You didn’t know if you were ready for him to see you half-naked.

When you finally gain courage and open the door, what greets you is not what you expected. Mr. Evans is dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a plain white tee, looking tasty as ever, but he’s not facing you.

No. Instead, his back is to you, his arm completely extended out, as he holds the items of clothing for you to wear as he avoids looking at you.

“Uh, I don’t know if it’ll fit you, but it’s all I have. I’m pretty sure the dress will but the uh- panties are a bit tougher to guess. And I have new toothbrushes in the cabinet if you want to brush your teeth.”

Your heart swells at how much of a gentleman he is as you hold back the urge to kiss the crap out of this man. This also ignites a weird urge in you, though. To test his boundaries. How far was he willing to go to hold back? Because if he felt about you even remotely the way you felt about him, it wasn’t much.

The steam from your shower blows into him and a small smirk quirks his lips upwards. “You used my body wash.”

You grin, leaning against the door. “And your shampoo. No wonder you always smell so good,” you whisper to yourself.

He laughs, teasing. “And now you smell like a boy.”

“No,” you deadpan, dropping your voice a few octaves. “I smell like a man.”

He freezes, licking his lips lightly. “T-take the clothes, sweetheart.” His voice cracks slightly.

You tilt your head to the side, curious. “Why aren’t you looking at me?”

He breathes out a humorless laugh then shakes his head, growing stern. “You know why,” he rasps impatiently.

You hum in acknowledgment, learning you still love being able to affect him like this. Which is exactly why you take your sweet ass time reaching for the clothes.

“How much of a gentleman are you, Chris?”

His eyes screw shut at the sound of his name and you’re almost certain he whispers a small fuck under his breath. Your chest swells with pride.

“Y/n,” he growls. “Take the damn clothes.”

You ignore him, desperate to test out just how much restraint he had. So you stalk closer to him, making sure to press right up against him, barely brushing your towel-clad chest with his arm and bringing your lips closer to his neck, brushing them slightly. You were giving him the tiniest bit of feel of your touch but depriving him of everything else he could have all at the same time.

“How long will you be able to hold back?” You breathe softly against his ear.

You feel him shiver beneath you, his hands tightening around the clothes until his knuckles turn white. His eyes are screwed shut and he’s clearly struggling to control his breathing.

“Y/n,” he grits out. “Take the clothes right now or I swear-”

You don’t wait for him to finish, planting a quick peck on his cheek before stepping back.

“Okay,” you quip perkily. He releases a small sigh of relief as you snatch the clothes from his hand and hurriedly push him out.

Once he’s left, you press yourself against the door, biting your lip to hold back the huge beaming smile from sorting on our face. Your heart raced in your ribcage and your veins thrummed with adrenaline.

Teasing him was exhilarating.

...Plus, great payback for that little stunt he pulled this morning.

As you get dressed into the brand new pair of panties he handed you and the pretty white summer dress, you can’t help but wonder when you became this.

When you gained enough confidence to pull something like that off. When you chose play over work. When you stopped giving a dead rat’s last shit about consequences.

When you decided what Mr. Evans made you feel was worth all the risks you were taking.

I mean, it didn’t really matter when. It mattered how. And the how, now that was far harder to pinpoint...

The dress he’s handed you is knee-length and beautiful. The fabric is soft and the lace design is intricate and tight in your chest area but doesn’t take away from the breezy and elegant minimalism of the skirt which rests nicely against your legs. You don’t put on your heels, but you carry them with you.

The panties fit you well enough and you can’t help but blush thinking about how Mr. Evans knew what you were wearing underneath the dress right now.

After you finish getting dressed, you brush your teeth quickly and then step out of the bathroom, drying your hair with the towel.

The rich and delicious scent of coffee wafts to your nose and guides you to the kitchen where you find the most endearing scene ever; Mr. Evans flipping a pancake to the sound of some song on the radio.

He sings along softly under his breath.

“You make me feel so young You make me feel as though spring has sprung And every time I see you grin I'm such a happy individual”

You smile softly upon seeing him look so domestic. You weren’t used to it. He was always reading or teaching when you looked at him and you can’t help but think that he would make a wonderful husband and an even better father. You could already tell.

Your chest swells with a sweet sentiment at the image but you suppress your hopeful thinking, not wanting to keep your hopes up just to get them painfully shot down.

“Is that...Frank Sinatra?” You jest instead, brow raised.

Mr. Evans spins around to face you, a huge smile on his face. It freezes there when he spots you though, quickly twisting into a frown.

You frown, too, looking down at yourself self-consciously. “Is it that bad?”

He snaps out of it, shaking his head frantically. “N-no sweetheart. It’s just-” he clears his throat, looking away momentarily to regain composure before looking back at you. “That dress belonged to my ex-wife.”

You purse your lips, gently approaching him. “I can take it off it it’s too-“

“No,” he cuts you off. A small smile, sad but sincere, grows on his face. “It looks good on you.”

“Are you sure?” You murmur.

He smirks fondly down at you. “She was really into clothing and fashion. It was one of her greatest passions to share it with others. It’s what she would want. That beautiful dress going to waste it- she would’ve hated it.”

You smile softly. “She sounds like a great woman.”

He nods, a bittersweet kind of endearment lining his handsome face. “She was.”

You gaze at each other for a few seconds more before you grin teasingly. “So...you like Frank Sinatra?”

“Sure do, sweetheart.” He winks.

You snort. “Old man.”

He places an exaggerated hand over his heart, gasping dramatically. “I am not an ‘old man’!”

Laughter immediately tumbled from your lips at how ridiculous he looked.

“I will have you know, miss, Frank Sinatra is not only for old people. It takes a very special kind of person to truly enjoy his music.”

He turns off the stove and turns up the volume of the radio, approaching you with a ridiculous skip to his step.

“You and I are just like a couple of tots Runnin' across the meadow Pickin' up lots of forget me nots”

He’s incredibly off-tune in his singing but his steps go so suprisingly well with the music, it’s actually pretty comical.

You giggle as he holds his hand out, gently placing it in his. A small yelp tumbles out of your lips as he quickly tugs you to him, placing a hand on your waist benevolently swinging to the music.

“I can’t dance-” you try to explain hurriedly, flustered and trying to pull away.

He shushes you gently, squeezing you closer.

“Don’t worry. I can. You’re a fast learner, just follow me.”

You hesitate initially, but end up nodding and placing your hand neatly around his broad shoulder and the other in his.

He’s slow in his moves at first, deliberate. You watch him closely, barely keeping up.

“Mr. Evans I really can’t-”

“Okay one, I told you it’s Chris. And two, yes you can. It’s easy, you’ll get it. Look.” He says it with such confidence, it’s hard not to believe him.

He guides you again, warm hand still placed on your waist.

You watch intently and even though you stumble over your own feet at first, you eventually get into the swing of it.

Sort of.

“The moment that you speak I want to run and play hide and seek I wanna go and bounce the moon Just like a toy balloon”

The soothing sound of his voice singing along to the Frank Sinatra calms your nerves and you really concentrate, following his steps fairly decently.

“There you go,” he mutters proudly, suddenly accelerating the speed of his swings and steps.

“You make me feel so young You make me feel there are songs to be sung Bells to be rung And a wonderful fling to be flung”

Eventually, you fall in sync with his steps and you’re both twirling around the kitchen like a pair of lunatics. You swing your hips lightly like him, gaining a bit of confidence and he watches you with a small smirk.

A carefree smile subconsciously spreads over your lips, all broad and happy and you relish in the feel of his warmth and safety and just him- because just once every three seconds wasn’t enough. Especially when he makes you feel so loved.

Mr. Evans spins you a few more times as the song comes to an end.

“And even when I'm old and gray I'm going feel the way I do, today Because you make me feel so Man I just feel so You make me feel so young So young”

And when you least expect it, he dips you.

Laughter bubbles from deep within your chest as your hair falls back, the tips brushing the floor, your knee bends instinctively over his hip as you grip onto him tighter. You tremble beneath his touch when you feel his warm breath fan your chest softly. Mr. Evans swiftly brings you back up.

Your hair sweeps back on to your face, you’re out of breath and joyful laughter is still bubbling from your lips when you come face to face with Mr. Evans.

“That was so bad,” you breathe, softly panting.

He smiles against your lips, gaze locking with yours. “It was anything but, sweetheart.”

You smile back bashfully, suddenly aware of how close you were.

Your hand was still enveloped in his and the other still clasped firmly around his shoulder. His arm was still wrapped around your waist, his chest heaving against yours.

“I loved it.”

Your smiles slowly but surely slip off as you both gaze longingly at the other’s lips, minds thinking alike.

A familiar pressure begins building in your chest. You try to push it down, numb it, suppress it. But the pressure builds and builds. Your chest expands and your lungs shrink until you can’t breathe.

His eyes are so goddam beautiful. His face so gorgeous. His soul so brilliant.

“Sweetheart I-” his voice falters and he swallows audibly.

You can’t hold back anymore.

The moment was too spontaneous, too warm, too loving. Too natural. Everything about it felt right. Exact.

“I love you,” you breathe- easy as air. And then you can’t stop because you realize; you’ve been holding this back for so fucking long. Too fucking long. “I am in love with you Mr. Evans.”

Your lungs flood, your chest concaves and you can’t breathe. Anxiety claws its way into your brain, loud and obnoxious.

Suffocating you. Slithering around your heart and squeezing tightly. Stealing the breath from your lungs.

His eyes widen and he’s clearly taken aback. His lips part and his breath catches.

And for a mere second, a beaming smile spreads on his face, full of genuine joy and elation- before it's gone and you’re left completely confused, dread falling over you like a bucket of cold water, icing the blood in your veins.

It all stops for those few seconds. Time slows down and it feels more like an eternity before he speaks into the now tense atmosphere, breaking away from you abruptly.

“D-don't say that,” he croaks. “You don’t love me.”

The air rushes out of you in one big, disappointed breath. Pain at his words curls in your stomach.

“Yes, I do,” you reaffirm confidently, desperately seeking to close the distance between you two.

He instantly steps back, eyes watering. “Stop, sweetheart.” He begs.

You can’t though. You’ve never felt more right in your life than when you say you love him.

You pin his gaze with your own, eyes earnest. “I love you.”

His eyes flicker with anger. “No, you don’t.”

“But I do,” you breathe. “I do. I do and I just- I tried to fight it but I couldn’t because you’re incredible.”

He screws his eyes shut. “Stop.”

“You’re passionate about everything you do and kind and loving and for the first time in forever-“

“Stop.”

“For the first time in forever, I feel like I am alive. Like I am safe and loved and wanted.” Tears are now streaming down your face at the raw powerful emotions coursing through you at this very moment. And at the core truth in your words.

You finish closing the distance between you, tenderly reaching out and taking his hand in yours. He flinches softly but doesn’t make a move to step away.

“You-” you breathe uneasily, trying to find the right words to make him see. “Tell me it’s not just me. Tell me you feel the same, please,” you sob softly, tears dribbling down your chin. “I know you do.”

He watches you with anger and hurt but not importantly; with love.

Love.

That’s what he’s been watching you with this whole time! Love.

Your heart sings with joy for a second, but that’s before he’s ripping his hand from your grasp briskly- like you have a contagious disease or something.

“Stop! Just stop Y/n,” he growls. “Stop saying that. You don’t love me. You can’t.”

At this, your own anger flares.

“Yes, I do! You can’t tell me what to feel,” you snap.

His eyes flicker with an untamed wild that you’re not familiar with as it is so unlike the one that you bring out of him; the one you brought out in him is much more tender. Much more wild with passion and care. This one...it’s fueled on frustration and anger and hurt.

“We need to stop before this becomes too much.”

You can’t help but laugh dryly at that, pain gripping at your heart once more. “It already is too much, don’t you see?!” You motion around you aggressively. “We are already in too deep! So just-“ your voice softens. “Just let us feel what we’re going to feel.”

His eyes are unfamiliarly cold and calculating when they regard you. “No.”

You feel as if you’ve been stabbed in the heart, the color draining from your face. “No?”

“No,” he repeats, more firmly this time. “You-you're right we’re in too deep. We need to stop,” he releases in a huff, unable to formulate much else. Unable to formulate a reason for why he was destroying you right now.

And just like that, your heart was shattered to pieces. More tears, warm and overwhelming, prickle the backs of your eyes. You hold them back with as much strength as you can muster.

“Are you-“ you can’t breathe. You feel faint. Your world is falling apart right before your eyes.

“What are you saying?” You regret uttering those words as soon as they leave your lips. Probably because you already knew the answer to your own question.

He cracks and his face falls. “Sweetheart, we’re dangerous. We’re a ticking bomb just waiting to explode in our own faces. We-“ he falters with a deep rasp, staring deep into your eyes. “We both know how this is going to end if we continue like this. I already-“ he cuts himself off short, face struck. Like he’s said too much.

He’s broken your heart and now he’s turning the pieces to dust and never in your life have you felt such excruciating pain.

You hold onto to the small sliver of hope you have within you, though. “You already what?”

You look at him and you know your eyes are telling him exactly what you feel. You’re pleading with him. To take the chance. You’re offering him a chance to redeem all of this. You know what he’s going to say but he knows you need to hear it from him.

Please, please don’t do this to me. To us.

You can only hope he’ll respond. Though deep inside you know that’s not what’ll happen.

It doesn’t make it any less painful though.

He exhales deeply. “I’m saying that I’m stopping this right here. I-I can’t take advantage of you like that.”

Your face flushes with rage, unable to express your hurt any another way. “You can’t truly think that you’re taking advantage of me, Chris!”

He smacks the counter harshly and you jump, startled. “But I am! You’re-“ he once again snaps his mouth shut, running a frustrated hand through his hair, messing the strands up and licking his lips.

“I’m what?”

“You’re a child!” He bellows. “You’re...I’ll ruin you,” he breathes desperately, unable to conceal his frustrations any longer. “Don’t you see that? I- I’m going to destroy your innocence if we continue on like we are.”

He purses his lips, his face twisting into one of complete agony and your own heart clenches in recognition.

“I want you to,” you whisper-sob, the pain you were feeling right now suffocating. “I don’t care if you destroy me if it means being with you,” you cry desperately, tears streaming down your face one after the other.

“Do you even hear yourself right now? This is toxic. This- we can’t continue on like this. And you can’t love me.” He sighs deeply, face so filled with pain, it would’ve knocked you off your damn feet if your own pain weren’t already doing that. “We can’t be together, Y/n. We’re living in a fantasy world. One where what we’re doing is- it’s against every rule society has instilled!”

You can’t help it, you grow so frustrated you have to scream. “Fuck society! You can’t- what we feel,” you say firmly even though everything in you is struggling to not disintegrate into pieces. “What we feel is real. This- us, we're real,” you breathe. “You know we are.”

He looks so agonized, your heart squeezes in your chest and all you debate whether to smack him or hold him. “We can’t,” he whispers shakily.

You purse your lips, wanting to say so much more, wanting to shake him into sense but deciding for your own sake you weren’t going to beg him anymore. It was clear he didn’t want this. You pick up your shoes.

“Then that means you can’t love me either,” you whisper shakily, trying your best not to collapse right here right now with the heaviness of your heartbreak. “But I guess it’s too late for that, isn’t it?”

Your chest feels so crushing right now, it’s hard not to give. So you spin on your heels, making a beeline for the door before he can respond.

“Sweetheart-“ he calls, hand touching your arm like he’s done so many times before. Except this time, nothing about it was warm or comforting. All you feel is a prickle of anger sizzle under your skin where his touch was situated.

At who or what, you didn’t know yet.

You quickly step away from his hold, not even sparing him a glance. “Don’t call me sweetheart,” you mumble coldly. “I’m not yours to call that anymore.”

And then you walk out, your heart nothing but dust and your soul incomplete- leaving him there hopefully feeling the same.

Your walk home is grueling and you struggle so much to keep your composure. The perfect little houses perched on perfect little hills and perfect little streets irritated you more than usual and you felt like throwing some of the rocks laying on the road at them.

Your feet were still bare, but you didn’t bother putting your heels back on. Too much work.

The gloominess that loomed over them was significantly more abundant than usual and your chest burned with a wave of unreleased anger. Anger you were just too goddamn exhausted to release. Too heartbroken and hopeless.

You just wanted to hide in your room and cry. That’s all you fucking wanted.

When you get home, though, you’re shocked to find your father lounging on the couch, watching a football game on tv.

The sound of the door slamming shut alerts him of your arrival, and his eyes snap towards you immediately.

“Y/n,” his voice is gruff and his eyes narrow in suspicion. “Where the hell have you been all night?”

Great. You were already emotionally drained. This was the last thing you needed.

You throw your keys into the bowl near the door, expertly avoiding his probing gaze. “I was at Margo’s Dad,” you mumble quietly, hoping the curtness in your tone will keep his questions at bay for now.

He hums unconvincingly, eyes still watching you closely. “Are you sure?”

You turn to face him, deadpanning. “Yes, dad. I’m sure.”

He rises from his seat, approaching you slowly. “Really? Because I called up Michael and he said he hadn’t seen you there yesterday,” he pauses at the mention of Margo’s dad, bending slightly down to your level to peer menacingly down at your own gaze. He continues sardonically. “In fact, he said there was a family emergency he and his family had to attend to. So please, Y/n, tell me where it was you spent the night if not at Margo’s? And I expect the truth this time.”

Your nerves skyrocket at the intensity with which he asks this, and you swallow thickly. “I-”

It takes a few seconds before you fully gain your composure again. “I was at another friend’s house.”

His face flickers with anger and he grasps your wrist tightly. You yelp in shock and the tiniest bit of pain, eyes flying to his with surprise.

“Do you take me for a fool, Y/n?”

Your own anger flares as his words. You were already so emotionally rattled with what had just occurred with Mr. Evans- absolutely devasted, and to have to deal with this bullshit right after...it was too much.

“Let me go, Dad,” you grit out, trying so desperately to hold onto your tranquility. “Please.”

He’s never been like this with you. Never been physical. Never demanded anything. Never cared enough to do so. And this man- he wasn’t your dad. Your dad was the shell of a man he used to be, sure, but he wasn’t violent, he was stoic, monotone. Numb. Never...angry. Or furious like he was now.

“Not until you give me the answers I asked for. So answer me, goddamit! Where. The. Hell. Were. You. Last. Night?” he growls in between clenched teeth, hold tightening just a bit more with every word that left his mouth.

His breath stunk of alcohol, not enough where he wasn’t himself, but enough so that you could tell he’d downed at least three or fours shots of tequila, and you grew uneasy with each passing second.

“Dad, seriously. You’re hurting me.” You grimace, trying to tug yourself free once more, but he refuses to let you, only holding onto you more firmly.

His face twists into a disappointed frown that did a poor job of hiding the simmering fury boiling his blood. “You know something? I try so damn hard with you, Y/n. I really do. And this is the thanks I get? My daughter, sneaking off to God-knows-where to do God-knows-what?!”

“Dad-”

“For all I know, you could be out there, sluttin’ it up and I wouldn’t have a damn clue! Is this who I raised, Y/n?! Huh? A whore?” his face is beet red, a vein pops from his neck from the exertion of his screams. A bit of spit flies into your face and you flinch back, tears burning the back of your eyes and nose.

If you were heartbroken before, this completely destroyed you. The fact that your own father thought of you like this...it felt worst than anything you might’ve thought imaginable.

“Dad, stop. Please,” you beg quietly through a cracking voice. You tug at your arm harder, desperate to flee from his hold. From his words, which pierced straight through your already-shattered heart. “Please. I just want to go to bed.”

He scowls with disgust before finally releasing you with briskness. “A disgrace is what you are, girl,” he spits with repugnance. “Your mother would be ash-”

At the mention of your mother, you explode, unable to hold back the tears steadily running down your cheeks and blurring your vision. “My mother was kind! She was selfless and loving. She would’ve never laid a finger on me. She never would’ve-”

“No, your mother is dead!” He roars back, silencing you instantly. “Your mother was the love of my life, the most incredible woman I’ve ever met, but she is dead. She is gone forever and she can’t have a say in how I raise you. You must live with that. So long as you are under my roof, you will not conduct yourself in this manner, Y/n!”

You stomp your foot like a small child who’s getting reprimanded unfairly, your chest aching impossibly despite your insistent and raging fury. You were so done. With your dad, with society, with everything. So fucking done.

“Since when do you care about me dad?! Huh?!” Now it’s your turn to step up to him, poking at his chest harshly. “Because, for your goddam information, I have been living with that. Every fucking day of this miserable fucking life I’m barely surviving. You aren’t raising me. You never fucking were.” You point to yourself vigorously, looking him in the eye. “I did that. I fucking had to, because guess what, dad?” you spit the word ‘dad’ out like it’s bile in your mouth. You step away from him, face hard as stone, eyes cold and inaccessible. “You didn’t care enough to.”

“So please,” you growl. “Spare me this bullshit. And spare me your phony concern and sudden want to step up and be a father. Because it’s too late for that.”

His nostrils flare with rage. “Are you fucking serious? I lost one of the people that mattered to me the most, Y/n. What the hell did you expect to do? To be okay? To get over it? I lost my wife,” his voice cracks with pain and for the first time in a long time, you get a glimpse of emotion from underneath all the suppressed pain. A crack in the facade that only drives you even more mad with frustration and anger.

You sob harder, unable to control yourself from exploding at him.

“I lost her too!” you bellow, tears coming down harder and faster than ever before. Your voice, raw with pain. Your stomach clenching in a pathetic attempt to keep your knees from giving out beneath you.

“After all these years, you still don’t get that. You lost your wife but I lost my mom. S-she never got to teach me about makeup. O-or how to walk in heels. She never got to give me advice on boys. She never-” you swallow thickly, a lump already forming in your throat at your own words. “...got to hold me and tell me that everything was going to be alright. I never got that,” you wail, pain curling like a vice around your every word.

Your chest heaves with your effort and you clench your fists beside you.

“So, yes, dad! That is exactly what I expected you to do! Because that’s what dads do! They’re there for their children. They’re strong for them. Instead, I had to be strong for both of us. I was six when she died, Dad,” you breathe desperately. “Six. And I had to hold both of us together so that we didn’t fall apart. Do you have any idea what that did to me!? No, you don’t. Because you’re never here!”

You furiously wipe at your tears, gaze pinning his down with a strength you had no idea the source of.

Finally being able to get years of agony off your chest leaves you drained but satisfied in some way. Glad. Relieved.

Your tone lowers significantly with the drain of your energy.

“So no, I won’t tell you where I spent the night because you don’t have the right to know. You don’t.”

You turn on your heels to flee as quick as possible before he speaks again, voice low with what you can only guess is guilt.

Ha, of course. Now he feels bad.

“Y/n wait-”

People in your life do that shit way too much.

You pause mid-step but don’t turn around to face him. “Just- go back to drinking and watching your game dad,” you rasp exhaustedly, sluggishly making your way back to your room. “It’s what you do best anyway.”

Read Chapter Thirteen Here!!

***

Guys I’m crying. Those last bits with Mr. E and the dad were so intense to write but like the dancing to Frank Sinatra brought my heart so much joy and I’m just...

A Special Thanks to:

@bombsandsparkles

@meowsekai

@godohammers

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And of course my forevers!

@jessikared97

@ladyofletters67

@lilypalmer1987

@sammykb1994

#Chris Evans #chris evans au #chris evans imagine #chris evans one shot #chris evans x reader #teacher!chris evans x student!reader

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manicpixiedreamhag · 4 years

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So I truly don’t think I’ll be watching Netflix’s Cursed. The premise sounds interesting, and I love women with swords, but the history of one of the creators, namely Frank Miller, is so...complicated and unsavory that I really don’t think I’ll be able to separate the artist and the art enough to enjoy the work.

Frank Miller is one of those comic book creators whose influence is felt throughout the entire genre. Don’t believe me? Christopher Nolan’s Dark Knight trilogy is based off of Miller’s rendition of Batman. Needless to say, he is an important voice who has positively contributed over the years. He also, however, is super duper problematic.

I’m not going to sit here and pretend to be a Frank Miller aficionado. I don’t remember whether or not I actually finished watching Sin City. I do understand that his portrayal of women is problematic in that *from what I understand, don’t quote me, I might be wrong* they’re usually sex workers who die terrible deaths. What I did discover, through the comment section of an article reviewing Cursed, is that he was/still is (?) super duper extra-islamaphobic, to the point where he put out an entire self-claimed propaganda comic book about a man who is most definitely not Batman going around torturing and killing muslims. Yikes.

So Miller had lived in NYC off and on for a few years prior to 9/11, and was living there at the time of the attack. Needless to say, it was an extremely traumatic event (for literally everyone), and to make matters worse, Miller had already experienced some of the worst the city had to offer, having been robbed multiple times. I’m not excusing his following actions at all, but I am quite certain he had some form of PTSD. Please remember, I am not an expert on any of this, but I’ve known people who have spent time living in violent neighborhoods and once you get mugged a certain number of times, it does something to you. And really, it makes sense that he was/is? like this. His version of Batman isn’t just gritty for gritty’s sake. It’s the kind of gritty that has tried to be a decent person and stop what they perceive to be a threat, only to come to feel after years of fighting that the threat is everywhere. Miller’s Batman is jaded, and on some level just as evil as the threat he’s fighting against because he has ceased to be part of humanity. So Miller started out writing his islamaphobic propaganda as a story of Batman fighting Al Quaeda. Okay, sure, cool cool. Superman and Captain America fight Nazis. Okie-dokes. However, in the five years he spent writing “Holy Terror, Batman!,” the story got more and more extreme, with Miller eventually in 2010 dropping the Batman part completely and just opting to call it “Holy Terror!”, stating that it was “no longer a DC book.”

Indeed, it really was not anything any self-respecting publisher would want anything to do with. The finished project, which was universally panned by literally everyone, was one giant letter of hatred toward Islam, not just terrorism or Al Qaueda. Not!Batman goes around torturing every Muslim he can find in an effort to prevent some terrorist conspiracy, in what Miller has proclaimed to be intentional propoganda. During the aftermath of its release, he claimed "I'm too old to serve my country in any other way. Otherwise, I'd gladly be pulling the trigger myself." Since then, he has expressed regret for the angriest book of all time. "When I look at Holy Terror, which I really don’t do all that often, I can really feel the anger ripple out of the pages... I don’t want to wipe out chapters of my own biography. But I’m not capable of that book again."

So I mean, great, he realizes he was having an angry white dude moment. That doesn’t really change the fact that he literally tried to get all the other angry white dudes to go beat up any Muslim they could get their hands on. And given the current times we live in (2020 ya’ll. It’ s rough), even though his actions took place a whole 9 years ago, they’re still part of the history of this sentiment of hatred for the other that has caused this country to implode. In short, I don’t think I can sit here in the year of our Lord 2020 and watch a tv show written by a man who tried to contribute to our current godawful state of affairs by encouraging intolerance of anyone. Will I continue to watch and enjoy Batman? Yes. Why? Because, and I realize this may be splitting hairs, but the Dark Knight movies are Christopher Nolan’s. POC have been doing this for years with creators such as HP Lovecraft, who are insanely talented artists but are terrible human beings. You take their art and reclaim it for yourselves . But I do think I will be giving Cursed a miss, seeing as how he’s tied directly to it. Plus, I read an excerpt from the book and it was…..meh. You want some well written women written by a not-terrible white dude who’s actually really feminist? Read The Witcher Novels. *

*I swear I am the only person who has actually read these books.

#cursed netflix #nimue #katherine langford #frank miller #islamophobia

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homenum-revelio-hq · 4 years

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Welcome to the Order of the Phoenix, Taylor!

You have been accepted for the role of non-biography character LYDIA AVERY with the faceclaim of Margot Robbie! We were excited to see your discussion of nice doesn’t always equal right and how Lydia’s motivations throughout her life stem from this constant need to be liked. We love a good underestimated character and we think Lydia will be able to help the Order immensely with her knowledge! So happy to have you apart of this roleplay!

Please take a look at the new member checklist and send in your account within 24 hours! Thank you for joining the fight against Voldemort!

OUT OF CHARACTER:

NAME: Taylor

AGE: 28

TIMEZONE: EST, Toronto time

ACTIVITY LEVEL: I try to check the dash and discord every day, but I’m probably low to mid activity. I usually post one or two times during the week and then catch up on the weekends.

ANYTHING ELSE: I’m pretty good about all triggers, though I would appreciate a heads up with any suicide mentions. As long as it’s tagged or I’m prepared I’m good though!

CHARACTER DETAILS:

NAME: Lydia Augustine Avery

AGE: 25

GENDER, PRONOUNS, and SEXUALITY: Cis Female, She/Her & Lesbian

That doesn’t mean she won’t flirt with a man to boost their ego. Men treat you so much nicer when they think you might sleep with them! Sometimes she wonders why that is, but then she remembers it’s probably one of the reasons she loves women so damn much.

Her sexuality was never exactly a secret, though it’s not something she flaunts in this day and age. Though as a teenager she had been a bit confused about her lack of interest in the men who thought she was so lovely. The hands she’d let grope her as a teenager, the cocks she’d found mediocre. She figured that her preference was as fluid as her personality; she wanted to be liked by everyone, and therefore she must like everyone, right? It took her a minute (she’s a bit slow in most things), but eventually she realized that she really only liked women. They’re truly lovely, aren’t they?

BLOOD STATUS: Pureblood Half-blood.

Lydia’s mixed wix and muggle heritage means that she is not biologically related to the mother that raised her, Colette Avery, and is a half sister to Margaret. But while Lydia knew she was a bastard child, she didn’t realize she was a half-blood! Even Colette was unaware until recently that her husband was unfaithful with a dirty muggle of all things! Alphonse’s affair lasted more than a few weeks while travelling with a woman in France named Delphine Marchand. She worked in a bakery and loved to figure skate. Her pureblood father knows nothing of her muggle mother’s heritage, or much of her history in general - and when she finds out he gives Lydia next to nothing in terms of knowledge of her mother, in fear that Lydia would have the urge to venture into the muggle world he saved her from to find her.

HOUSE ALUMNI: Slytherin

“What? A nice girl like you, you’re not from Slytherin!”

“Slytherins can be nice! I take offense to that, sir.” Lydia grins back, her face not showing an ounce of what she claimed - though she had a skill for always appearing unflustered and approachable. A thick skin was needed when you were kind to everyone, a strength that people often forgot. The man takes her charm as flirting, a common occurrence and leans against her desk.

“Really, I can’t name a single Slytherin I’ve known for being so sweet.”

“Well then you haven’t been hanging around the right people. Besides, now you know me!”

ANY CHANGES: Nope

CHARACTER BACKGROUND:

PERSONALITY:

Without knowing Lydia you may assume she’s unapproachable. The perfect poise, plush pout, sacred name, and during school her emerald green banner colours, tend to give the stereotypical impression of a mean girl. But Lydia Avery is far from it.

One of Lydia’s key goals in life is to be liked, and in her experience growing up, the best way to be liked is to be kind. She genuinely enjoys making people happy, and through this has gained a warmth and a charm that disarms many. Not a stranger to compliments or generous acts, she’s the first to make a pot of tea for a group or start doing dishes as a guest.

Many have taken advantage of Lydia through the ages, as along with her kindness she has a dislike for confrontation and will rarely call someone out as being rude or manipulative. In her teenage years she was the seat warmer or the errand runner, and as a secretary for a powerful Ministry man she hasn’t really grown out of this just yet. There’s a meekness to her willingness to do someone else’s dirty work, and she’s easily talked into situations that she might not be if she had a stronger backbone.

Despite her lack of confrontational skills, she’s grown a thick skin. A bit of I’m rubber and you’re glue inner philosophy, she tends to take words as just words. With snarky comments given to her over the years from her “mother” Colette she has an inner belief that insulting people don’t actually dislike you and almost anyone can be won over. It’s naive, but it’s helped her stay relatively optimistic! While insults like Lydiot are demeaning and she definitely doesn’t like them, she’s a fantastic actress and it rarely shows on her face when she’s upset or thinking negative thoughts. Her self-consciousness is internal and there’s power in appearing unphased by cruelty (though some may think she’s just too dim to understand it was insulting in the first place - and to be frank, sometimes that is the case).

This ability to hold a facade is one of her greatest strengths. Lydia has been acting her entire life! A family secret since she was born, allowing Colette to bounce snarky underhanded comments at her with the appearance that she was unphased has set her up as unexpectedly valuable. She’s able to charm the right people, and quietly observe unnoticed. She’s able to keep a straight face with a creep’s hand on her knee, and recite lines without stumbling. Her charm, mixed with her attractiveness, work as a glamour and despite being someone in the room that almost everyone notices - most of the time she’s hidden in plain sight.

BRIEF OVERVIEW OF FAMILY:

Alphonse Avery, Father - Shopkeep, A Very Spellbinding Book Shop

Alphonse Avery is a proud man. Not because of his riches, but because he’s built what he has from the ground up, no thanks to his drunken, gambling father. Raised in a wealthy home, he remembers what it was like to be waited on by house elves and invited to banquets, but also recalls losing it all during his days in Hogwarts. Sometimes he is even still bitter about it all, he often butts heads with his father whom he rarely speaks with anymore, and sometimes with his brother Albrecht who still puts Lydia’s grandfather in high regards. Though he isn’t a muggle sympathizer, Alphonse thinks there’s more than just pure blood that makes someone worth looking up too.

Colette Avery, Step-mother - Shopkeep , A Very Spellbinding Book Shop

Colette is not an unreasonable woman. Honorable even, raising the outcome of her husband’s affair. She loves her husband, but it wasn’t to say they always saw eye to eye. Their marriage was an arranged one, and therefore they don’t particularly show the chemistry expected of a loving partnership, but when it comes to supporting her family she’ll do what’s best for them. Even when Lydia is looking up at her with blue eyes that don’t match their own, a sharp reminder that at one point in her life she hadn’t been good enough. She’s curt with Lydia, and never shies away from constructive criticism or feels the need to sugarcoat. The fawning she does over Minnie is something Lydia has always longed for growing up and when she can please Colette it’s a good day.

Margaret “Minnie” Avery, Half Sister

Minnie has alway been the pet of the family. Colette’s true born daughter, the favourite, the rightful Avery. While this might make any other person resent their sister, Lydia adores her little sister. While others may call her mousey in her looks, she’s wickedly smart and can always make Lydia laugh with her slightly dark humour. She has the same eye for politics, but while Lydia had always been one for schmoozing, Minnie never bothered and instead has always had a sense of self worth that Lydia has been proud of her sister for.

Albrecht Avery, Uncle - Death Eater

Alphonse’s younger brother. A true believer in his father’s beliefs that everything bad that has ever happened to them is because of muggles or muggle borns, and doesn’t understand Alphonse’s lack of sympathy towards his father. It wasn’t a crime to gamble, after all! The mudblood that won their family fortune was a no good, rotten thief. He had to have cheated, after all. How else could he have won that game? No way he’d been more talented or intelligent then an Avery! While Albrecht and Alphonse don’t always see eye to eye, Lydia has known her Uncle Al her entire life. Loud, outgoing, demeaning, and cunningly cruel with underhanded compliments. Lydia and her sister have rarely felt comfortable around their uncle - who found the fact that his brother had daughters just another point to why he’d done better than him.

Arcturus Avery, Cousin - Presumed Death Eater

Arcturus and Lydia were always the closest in age. She’s always seen him as the closest thing to a brother she’s ever had, and when she finally reached the age to attend Hogwarts she’d been delighted that she’d made it into his house too! Her older cousin always had the confidence of his father, and as he aged, his bossiness grew more and more. He knew all of the tricks to get Lydia to do his bidding - though it didn’t take much really - and his treatment of her resembles gaslighting. Cute nicknames one moment, insults the next. Building her up just to knock her down. Leaving her out of the fun just to make her want to be included. As she’s aged she’s grown less comfortable with his values, but she doesn’t realize that Arcturus or his father are Death Eaters.

Delphine Marchant, Biological mother - Muggle

There’s not much to be said about Lydia’s birth mother. She doesn’t know anything really at all. The woman is a faceless entity, but Alphonse has been smitten in his short time trying to woo the french woman in the bakery, who always smelled of cinnamon. She doesn’t remember Alphonse, or even Lydia - for he’d done her a kindness and wiped her memory clean before stealing her child.

OCCUPATION:

Formerly a washed out actress, she now works in the Ministry as part of the Wizengamot Administrative Services as secretary for the honourable Wizengamot Judge Perryweather, a member of the High Court of Magic

ROLE WITHIN THE ORDER/THOUGHTS ABOUT THE ORDER:

It’s all so new and fresh, she’s barely a member - still in the affiliate stage. This is the closest Lydia has ever been to having a mind of her own and standing up for her beliefs. Honestly, this is the closest Lydia has had to realizing she truly has beliefs! It hasn’t fully clicked what exactly she’s doing and what sort of risk she’s taking. That being said, I think she’s going to be intoxicated by the sudden realization that she can make choices and have thoughts that don’t simply parrot what she thinks other people want to hear, and when that starts to unravel who knows what’s going to happen??

That being said, it’s going to take something big for people to take Lydiot Avery seriously in The Order!

SURVIVAL:

Lydia is lucky enough to have a good family name and a Ministry job. Her heritage is a secret, and as Judge Pennyweather’s beloved secretary she’s practically invisible. She resides in a small studio flat in London, not far from the Ministry where she lives alone and sometimes

RELATIONSHIPS: I’m not exactly sure what people have in mind but here are a few possible ideas!

Maurice Creevey

A person who is practically the opposite of people-pleasing Lydia, it was Maurice’s pirated broadcasts that brought the fact that there was truly a rebellion fighting against everything that is happening without waiting for the slow-moving and corrupt bureaucracy. Lydia rarely says anything that might upset anyone, but when she meets the muggleborn who fights it all with words broadcasted out to the world she can’t help but like a moth to a flame. She could learn a lot, but it also might get her burned.

Branwen Yaxley

Branwen scares the shit out of Lydia. In your face, opinionated and bigotted, she’s not exactly Lydia’s cup of tea. Her worst fear is that Branwen (or anyone really) truly finds out about her muggle mother, but it doesn’t stop her from treating the woman with the same kindness and showers her with the same amount of compliments that everyone receives. Though Lydia’s sure that one of these days a comment on how lovely her hair looks today might end her up with a black eye.

OOC EXPLORATION:

SHIPS/ANTI-SHIPS:

I don’t have any particular ships in mind, but I’m personally open to anything. Lydia is a sucker for attention, and takes any form of it as good. She wants to be liked by as many people as possible, which means she’s a bit of a pushover and can be easily taken advantage of. I’d love to see this either taken advantage of, or for once someone to stick up for her and show her that she’s worth more. Or both? Both is good! I’m down for it all. Unrequited love, heartbreak, fluff (though not too much fluff that’s boring!)

WHAT PRIVILEGES AND BIASES DOES YOUR CHARACTER HAVE?

Despite the new found information that Lydia is not actually a pureblood, she has lived her entire life with the privilege of being one. A strong family name means something in wizarding Britain and up until recently she could stay safely on the sidelines without worrying about who won the war. She’d still be safe and sound no matter what. But now her sense of self is dwindling even further, fragile as it already was with the title of bastard in her mother’s eyes, Lydia is now seeing the world as what it truly is - and realizing why her father had kept it such a secret for so long. Not even his family would really understand, would they?

And while Lydia is kind to everyone she meets, it doesn’t necessarily mean she’s always understood her privilege and can be rather dim in the area of realizing how truly well-off she’s been all of these years. Her Slytherin school mates, mixed with her pureblood family, and her lack of heroic or confrontational nature means that up until now she’s never stood up for her beliefs - and she’s been in a place where she’s never had to really have them. It’s selfish, that she’s suddenly turning to the “good guys” as a mix of self-preservation and a realization that there are no innocent bystanders. This war affects everyone, and she had to be a sudden target to realize it.

Also, unrelated to blood, but Lydia has always had the privilege of being pretty. It’s vain, she knows, but as far as she is concerned listening to a pretty girl try and be humble about their looks makes you want to punch them in the nose - so she isn’t going to point at hidden pores or say she needs to lose weight when she knows she doesn’t. Lydia learned very early into puberty that there is a sort of power in being attractive. People like you more, it’s just a simple fact, and Lydia wants to be liked! And so she’s always used this key attribute to her advantage. Batting her eyelashes, sending a splendid smile, and maybe wearing a low cut top if she really wanted to distract you. It’s unfortunate, and she doesn’t believe she’s really more valuable than anyone else for it, but hey! If it works, it works.

And history told her, it usually did. Sometimes too well. Lydia’s keen ability to read a room and be able to charm people sometimes works a little too well, and men often can’t keep their eyes off of her assets. While she sometimes uses this to her advantage, it’s also fairly revolting that many men treat a woman more kindly if they’re attractive. They’re pigs. And while she doesn’t think all men are that way, she’s met enough to be wary of them until they prove their respectability!

WHAT ARE YOU MOST LOOKING FORWARD TO?

The most job interview of job interview questions! I’m just looking forward to being in a group that I’ve been told is so creative, fun and accepting. I’ve heard nothing but good things for months but wanted to make sure I had an idea for a character that would give me the muse to do this place justice!

PLOT DROP IDEAS:

Lydia isn’t the type of person to see her value in a fight or organization like the Order’s, so I don’t see her as being a fully fledged member right away. Her just trying to reach out to someone being like “Hey, I know a thing! Maybe it will help!” is a big step for her, so I think it might be a gradual initiation that makes her a full member after a few intel drop offs.

That being said, I think once she’s done a few intel drop offs, Lydia gets hooked on being valuable and important and having morals and beliefs, and I would love for her to prove her worth or someone to challenge her place. Lydia is not someone you automatically see as valuable or a team member worth having so making her step out of her comfort zone and show her worth in a situation like that would be super fun! Risky initiation anyone??

ANYTHING ELSE? Nope!

EXTRA FOR NON-BIO CHARACTERS:

PAST:

Lydia Avery has almost always had a secret. From the day she was born, her secret had been kept; or as her father would put it, their family secret. You see, while her father Alphonse loved his wife Colette dearly, it did not mean that he had always been faithful. So when he brought home a beautiful baby girl one stormy evening from his ventures in France - freshly plucked from her mother’s arms (a well casted obliviate to spare her from the heartache) - Colette was less than enthused.

“She’s an Avery!” Her father had argued. His duty to take care of his own. Colette allowed it, she was a reasonable woman after all, and wouldn’t flaunt the embarrassment of infidelity. Therefore Lydia was raised as Colette’s child, and the rest of the world knew nothing different - but as much as she wasn’t a cruel woman, Colette also didn’t want Lydia to believe that she was hers. And so Lydia, and eventually her half-sister, had always been aware of where she’d come from and that no one else should know.

Lydia’s childhood wasn’t an unhappy one - she adored her sister, and until school longed for nothing because she didn’t know anything was missing from their home on the side streets of Diagon Alley. At least nothing material. It was her “mother” who Lydia longed to impress, overly eager to please Colette in an attempt to gain maternal love. It came easy to Margaret, the polite, quiet & smart girl who never had to lie about whose womb she came from. Colette’s affection for her real daughter was like any mother’s, and Lydia would do anything to gain the same. Set the table, clean the dishes, lay her slippers at her feet. It wasn’t expected, but when she could gain a smile from Colette it was worth it! She loved making people happy, and when she made people happy, they liked her back.

People pleasing became a trait that eventually embodied Lydia, and by the time she was at school, she was eager as ever to make friends. Her passion for people to like her was her greatest ambition, and it landed her into Slytherin. Despite her lack of new robes or fancy jewellery, even for the most inconsiderate people it was hard not to like Lydia’s happy-go-lucky energy - but it also allowed her to be taken advantage of quite a bit. The pushover of the group, she was often the friend who went to save seats in class or for dinner, or fetch forgotten items that weren’t even hers in the common room.

While some of her housemates were cunning enough to use Lydia to their full advantage, her friendliness didn’t center around just them, and many of her other classmates didn’t mind her company or a friendly hello! She had a knack for making them feel special, noticing things like their artistic abilities or the lovely colour of their hair or jumper. She was also smart enough to distance herself from her friend’s bad behaviour. While Lydia didn’t excel at school (something her mother would later blame on her heritage), she’d inherited a keen eye for personal politics - and could do simple math. Most of the school (and world) liked Gryffindors, and so despite Slytherins disliking Gryffindors, she didn’t need them to dislike her back. Especially if it would mean other people would dislike her too!

And so as the years passed, she became good at slipping away or keeping her distance when her cousin Arcturus would snark insults to young muggleborns, or the other kids would pick on the Hufflepuffs. Not noticeably of course, and she wasn’t any hero who’d come to their aid - she didn’t need that target after all. No she was simply neutral, because if she was neutral then no one could dislike her, could they?

PRESENT:

One of Lydia’s great loves in magical London was the infamous Moonlight Theatre. With moving pin-ups of glamourous actors and actresses, theatre elves ushering fabulously dressed couples to their seats, and wonderfully acted performances of “Walburga & Hortense, A Tragedy In Three Parts” and “Death of a Broomsmaker”, Lydia was intoxicated.

And some of the casting agents were intoxicated by her as well. A Marylin Monroe-esque soft and breathy voice, doe-eyes and an hourglass figure, some thought Lydia was made for an audience. Even her charm translated to the stage! What better career for a woman wanting to be adored then that of one in the spotlight?

But while Lydia had been willing to kiss a few frogs, and let men do what they want with her in her younger years - the pushover side of Lydia Avery grew a bit more and more of a spine as she aged. Lydia didn’t want to let every man’s hands wander, or go on dates with the director so that he could show her off on his arm and push her into bed later that night. She wanted to steal kisses from her co-star Tabitha Bradford and slip her own hands under her skirt with permission. She wanted lipstick stains on her skin, and the smell of fresh perfume instead of cologne.

And when she finally stood up for herself, she was left re-casted and jobless - her reciprocated crush suddenly silent in fear for her own unemployment.

“It’s for the best.” Her father says, never liking the sight of his eldest daughter’s moving pictures on theatre posters or the odd tabloid. It’s the first time Lydia truly gets angry with him in a long time, another parent who isn’t proud of her, but the spat causes a slip-up that stops the girl in her tracks. “It’s better that you keep yourself out of their heads! No reason to pry, no need for them to find out what you are.”

A half-blood. Dirty. The affair he’d claimed was with at least a witch wasn’t that at all! Even Colette was unaware that while he was dilly-dallying about in his younger years, it hadn’t just been with another woman. It had been with a muggle woman. A pretty girl who worked in a bakery and knew nothing of his life back home with magic.

“A harmless romp.”, Alphonse claimed, but the look in his eyes was one with shame and a bit of confusion. Even he doesn’t fully believe it but when Lydia begs to know more he pushes her away. Force he’s never used on her before. “Get it out of your head! It’s nothing. You’re a witch and if anyone asks your blood is pure. You’re my daughter and that should be good enough.”

It’s the last they speak of it. It’s for her protection, after all. Before she thought this half-secret she’d lived all her life was for pride. At least part of it is. For Colette to not have to explain to her circle what she’d lacked. But truly he’d done it to protect her, hadn’t he? Stolen her away from the family her grandfather would loathe. He’dhidden her with a shiny pureblood status to stop those like her uncle from erasing her completely.

Eventually she finds a position she’s good at. Simple work, taking notes and fetching lunch and running errands for Judge Perryweather. A very important man, so she was told! A person who knows all the ins and outs at the ministry, and therefore Lydia has learnt quite a few things sitting at the desk in front of his office. A smile always on her face and a kind word to the right person, and they tended to tell her things she really wasn’t supposed to know. Who was having an affair, policies they were trying to push, charged witches and wizards they had on trial. From the delivery wix to the other judges, they all know her now and she knows them! And while she’s not exactly cunning, she isn’t as dim as everyone makes her out to be! She knows when to smile and charm, when to be quiet and listen, when to pretend to be invisible. It’s an interesting job, in an interesting place - and maybe if someone saw her potential she could be useful with everything that’s happening lately.

But then again, she’s not going to overstep if she’s unwanted in that area. It’s not as if someone would ask Lydia about anything. Why would they expect her to be an expert on Perryweather’s close friendship with Lucius Malfoy, or the fact that, despite him being a proud, public supporter of the Ministry of Magic, every 2 weeks an envelope filled with gallons and a list of Muggle Sympathizers names landed on her desk for her boss.

And if she offered the unwanted information, well who would take someone like her seriously?

FC CHOICES: Margot Robbie please! If she doesn’t work Blake Lively or Meghann Fahy

#homenumaccepted #harry potter roleplay #hp rp #harry potter rp #marauder rp

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