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nanagoswife · 3 years

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I Failed Everyone. I Failed You.

(^^these are related to the fic^^)

HAPPY MAY 4TH EVERYONE

In celebration, I decided to write this random idea I had literally just last night (right before I wrote it. I wasn't even planning to write last night 😅) Anyways, I thought we could use some Obi, even if he isn't going through entirely good times. With me, I had to end it on a lighter note so sad Obi doesn't necessarily last the whole time.

Pushing this aside, happy May 4th everyone.

May the force be with you, always.

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Summary: After Order 66, Obi-Wan has to go and deal with Anakin. Taking place after the duel, he comes to you for support but, as the next hours go on, you're the one needing comfort.

W/C: 2.2k

Warnings: Mention of flame boy, mention of mass death, character death, angst, Obi being a sad boy

The threatening shades of red and orange accented by the black, soot covered ground would’ve frightened him in any other situation. Even the locals had an unwelcoming presence as they floated over the molten lava, gathering Maker knows what.

Now, though, he was more focused on a different fear that had come true. The order was destroyed, his friends turned on him, he failed Anakin. Obi-Wan Kenobi had failed one of the people he strove to do only good for.

Instead of his true duty, he had just battled his closest friend. His brother. His son. The one other he cared and watched over not because his master had told him so, but because he felt inclined to. There had been something in Anakin that peaked something inside of him that drew him to Anakin.

What good was he if he failed everyone he ever loved? First, Qui-Gon, then so many others. Even people who had just been there that fought by his side or died to save him. Then there was this current moment. He had failed to see how the war was a fool’s game. The person leading it was really on the enemy side and let his true colours show in a drastic change.

Obi-Wan had failed. He had even failed you. Compared to you, Obi-wan knew so much more about what was truly going on. Had he seen how overly fond the Chancellor was for Anakin, even you were suspicious. Yet, he didn’t act on it soon enough.

Due to this, you were caught up in Anakin’s tirade before it turned into the battle he had endured. You had come with Obi-Wan hoping that you could talk him back. Anakin always did have a strong connection with you. He had told Obi-Wan at a point that he looked to you as a mother figure, a role model.

It almost worked, too. It was almost as if something snapped in Anakin as you tried to step closer. All you wanted to do was embrace him and tell him how it would all be okay even after what happened with Padmé moments before. That’s not how he saw it. So, he had used the force and threw you against the ship, rendering you unconscious.

Being protective of both you and Padmé, Obi-Wan tried a last ditch effort to try and talk Anakin down. Despite being known as the ‘Negotiator’, his negotiating skills greatly lacked compared to yours. He had failed your mission to bring him back to the light.

With everything, it led to him watching as he was burned alive, almost pleading for help. Instead of listening, he turned away, unable to watch.

The image was sure to haunt the rest of his days as he walked back to the platform with Anakin’s lightsaber. Before this had all happened, he was able to check to make sure both you and Padmé were still alive. Thank the stars that you both were. He could only hope the baby was alright.

When it came to you, he was relieved to know that the one person he loved most dearly was alright, considering. You would’ve been the last straw had Anakin killed you.

Even in this time of pain and grief, he couldn’t help but be amused at the thought of how, not only did Anakin see both you and him as parental figures, but the two of you had really been together the whole time. Whether Anakin knew or not, the two of you raised him like your own because both of you knew that you couldn’t actually have a child of your own. So, Anakin played that role.

That was why you were so adamant on trying to talk him out of it. Unlike Obi-Wan, you refused to raise a hand to Anakin. Obi-Wan wouldn’t have either, had he not almost killed you and his own wife who carried his child. It repulsed him.

As he neared the platform, fear filled him at thinking something may have happened while he was gone. Did clone troopers arrive and find you here? He didn’t want to think about it, partially because, at this point, he would just give himself up to it.

Stepping up the platform, intense relief overtook him when he saw you with your back turned to him. You only turned when both R2-D2 and C-3PO had greeted him.

He didn’t need to say a word for you to know what happened. Why else would he be carrying the lightsaber? Although you hated that it happened, you couldn’t blame Obi-Wan at all. His pained expression showed how heavily it weighed on him.

Obi-Wan didn’t stop when the droids met him. Instead, he kept his path to you until he was in your arms. The tears that he had just wiped away now mixed with the ash on his face once again as he buried himself into your neck. One of your hands easily held the back of his head while the other gently rubbed his back.

As you held him, your own tears filled your eyes. You were unable to bring Anakin back. You had lost the closest thing you had to a son to the dark.

“I’m so sorry,” Obi-Wan said, barely coherent through his cries. “I-I failed him. I failed you.” Just his voice wrenched your heart as his pain was so prominent.

His words pained you in a way that they never have before. In your mind, he didn’t fail you or Anakin. You were just as much to blame. As was everything else in and around your lives. That wasn’t what he needed to hear, though.

“Shh, it’s alright,” you said quietly into his ear. To further comfort him, you traced delicate circles in his hair. “You didn’t fail me and you definitely didn’t fail Anakin. There’s no way we could’ve known that this is what was going to happen.”

“But-”

You cut him off, “No,” you said firmly but stayed soft so you could comfort him further. “You taught him well. The rest were his decisions. We couldn’t force his path, Obi.”

Carefully, you moved his head so that you could look him in the eyes, cupping his cheeks with your hands. The usual soft, caring blue was now dimmed with pain and grief. Although that’s how you felt, you tried to remain strong on the outside. He didn’t need how you felt added to his own emotions.

“Come on,” you said gently, “Padmé is inside. We need to get her into medical care.”

Slowly, Obi-Wan nodded and you led him inside by the hand that didn’t carry the lightsaber. When you walked in, you left Obi-Wan by Padmé’s side as you went to pilot the ship off this dreary planet.

“Twins?” you exclaimed when you heard the news. You, Yoda, and Obi-Wan all glanced at the other when the medical droid told you this.

“Go. By Senator Amidala’s side, you should be,” Yoda told you when you had looked worriedly at your friend. The fact that she was dying hadn’t quite settled in just yet. Instead of voicing this, you nodded to Master Yoda and quickly made your way to Padmé’s side.

Out of pure instinct, you grabbed her hand.

“Y/N,” she said weakly.

“Shh, save your strength. You’re about to have a couple little ones making themselves known,” you said with a slight chuckle, hoping to lighten the mood. To your relief, she let out her own laugh.

The rest of it was all a blur. Padmé’s tight grip on your hand was merely a reminder that you were still here. It was a reminder that these may be the last few moments you get to spend with her.

At a point, you had looked up to where Obi-Wan was watching from the other side of the glass. Trying to be brave, he offered a small smile in comfort. It did help a bit before your attention was drug back to the situation as the grip on your hand was tightened.

Once both Luke and Leia were born, Obi-Wan joined the room and held Luke as you held Leia.

When you looked down, Padmé was smiling at the two babies that the two of you held. Then it fell. “There’s good in him,” she whispered, breathing deeply. “I know… I know there’s… still…” and she faded.

Obi-Wan looked as desolate as you felt. Other than the two of you, there was no one else. Sure, there was Yoda, but relationships with him weren’t as deep as with everyone you’ve lost today. Now, you and Obi-Wan were left with the children of your closest friends.

Later, after your discussion with Yoda and Bail Organa about what would happen with the children, you were watching the twins in the nursery through the glass wall. So many thoughts were running through your mind, the most prominent being what would happen with you and Obi-Wan.

During the meeting, the relationship you had with Obi-Wan no longer needed to be hidden. Even though Yoda already had known for years, he was open to what the two of you had to say. This was all to lead up to the point that the two of you would take Luke to his family on Tatooine and, together, you would watch from a distance.

Your thoughts now were about how the two of you would stay hidden with this duty. You thought about how this all would affect the next days, months, stars, maybe years. Would this plague both of you for the rest of your days? Would this draw you apart? Would it bring the two of you closer? Would you finally start the family the two of you wanted?

“Darling?” Your racing mind was interrupted as you heard the familiar voice. Turning to it, you saw Obi-Wan’s worried gaze. This time, it wasn’t because of everything else that had happened. It was a worry for you. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, quite…” you trailed off as you looked back to the two newborns.

Seeing your gaze, he immediately knew what you were probably thinking. He stepped up to you and pulled you into his embrace as he placed a kiss to the top of your head. What you needed was comfort, and that’s exactly what he was going to do.

“Don’t worry, Darling. This won’t pull us apart, I promise,” he said reassuringly.

As he held you, an idea popped up in his head. It was something he continually thought about, but never was able to do. There was so much that he could finally act on that was once held back due to the code. Now, he could tell you and ask you everything he wanted to for so many years. Especially with this idea now.

“Y/N, darling?” He moved slightly back so that he could look into your eyes. The troubled look that he saw in your eyes earlier was now dimmed down and was replaced with the usual fondness he loved to see. “To prove this, I want to ask you something.”

Confusion suddenly took you over. What could he ask that would prove to you that nothing would happen? That is until he started to sink downwards. He kept going until he was kneeling, looking up at you and held one of your hands in his. The whole time, he didn’t remove his eyes from yours.

“This has been something that I’ve wanted to ask for so long. I haven’t been able to before, but now I can. Y/N, will you marry me?”

Overwhelming happiness threw every thought from everything from the last twenty-four standard hours. It was the first time you truly smiled for days, maybe even weeks. It rendered you speechless as this was a day you thought you’d never get. Eagerly, you nodded your head before pulling him up to kiss him. The first time you would share a kiss without the fear of others catching you.

“I love you, Obi. So much,” you said, resting your forehead against his.

“I love you too.” Obi-Wan lifted a hand to your cheek and traced small circles with his thumb. Although the reasons that made this moment possible were horrible, he basked in this small thing that helped both of you forget. This was well needed for now. “Maybe we could finally start the family we’ve always fantasized about,” he said while bringing his lips to your forehead.

You pulled your head away, but didn’t move away from his hold. “Really?”

“Really. Those dreams can finally be a reality.”

Without any more hesitation, you kissed him once again. There will be much to overcome, but you’ll have each other to work through it. You’ll have the other to comfort the other. Eventually, you’ll have another that will make you want to be better.

Then, you knew that Obi-Wan hadn’t failed you and you hadn’t failed Obi-Wan. Even though you both lost your closest friends, and you may have failed so many, you hadn’t failed each other. And in this blissful moment, that’s all that matters.

@stardancerluv @where-fantasy-meets-reality @jaydenwoo @madmax2003 @hopeladybug

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five-miles-over · 3 years

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‘Aftermath’ Chapter 11: All I Ask of You (Commodus x OC)

Summary: Hoping to prove his own fears wrong, Commodus demands something more of his Pink Fairy. Meanwhile, Philomenus is determined not to back away from his plot to kill the emperor.

Warning: Another incestuous kiss, and a little smut towards the end

Word Count: 3,694 (a bit longer than most chapters - please forgive me)

Read Part 1: The Impossible Dream here

Read Part 2: Proud of Your Boy here

Read Part 3: Point of No Return here

Read Part 4: Look Down here

Read Part 5: Beneath a Moonless Sky here

Read Part 6: These Palace Walls here

Read Part 7: Wait For It here

Read Part 8: Something There here

Read Part 9: Be Prepared here

Read Part 10: Twisted Every Way here

“What is it? Tell me,” Commodus demanded the guard.

“The girl, Sire. She’s unconscious.”

Almost immediately, the emperor of Rome blinked in surprise while his limbs went numb. The guard couldn’t possibly be talking about the girl….his girl that he saw this morning. “Why…why have I been called?”

“She is under your penal custody, Sire. The physician can only administer medicine if you approve.”

Good heavens, Commodus cursed to himself as he strode towards the infirmary. He couldn’t let her die, not like this. Lucius almost jogged behind his uncle’s large footsteps, trying to keep up.

When he reached the entrance of the infirmary, Commodus almost felt his heart stop for a moment as he tried to process the sight before him. Caesonia was lying down motionless on one of the white, unembellished beds. The physician’s assistant pressed a soaked rag to her forehead, while the physician observed. Much to the emperor’s surprise, the he chuckled when he looked at the doorway. “What amuses you, Galen?” Commodus asked, his lower lip twitching in anger.

“Forgive me, Highness. I merely remembered the day you were brought here after your battle. Unconscious, you lay on a bed in the infirmary while the girl watched physicians tend to you. And now here you are when she’s on the bed!”

Galen’s observation did nothing to alleviate Commodus’s spirits. Rather, it upset him even further to know it was his Pink Fairy who was being tended to. The emperor gazed at her with trembling hands as he sat on the edge of her bed.

“What happened to her?” He asked Galen in a surprisingly quiet voice. The physician explained to him that Caesonia seemingly fainted from hunger and dehydration, a common condition among prisoners. However, due to her being in the palace instead of the dungeons, the guards must’ve believed it appropriate to bring her to the physician.

Nodding slowly, Commodus rose from the bed without taking his eyes off of her for a moment. Trying to hide his fear of losing her, he hastily told Galen to administer her proper medication and to have her brought back to her chamber when she was sentient.

“I wish to see her again tonight.”

“It shall be so, Highness.”

The emperor wasted no time in going to his study and pulling out a blank piece of parchment . Maximus, Lucilla, the late Caesar…he was going to prove them all wrong tonight. He was going to prove that Lucius Aelius Aurelius Commodus was truly capable of fulfilling the duty of a moral man, the duty of a loyal, courageous man. He would reveal everything to the object of his devotion- even if written words were all he had to offer her.

On the empty parchment, he began scribbling things that he wished that he could tell his rose, intimate things that he had only kept to himself until now, and even the clandestine things he would not even dare to acknowledge himself. Commodus’s hand clenched tightly around the quill as he purged his thoughts with ink.

What if she laughs at me? No…she would not. She did not look one bit afraid when I came to her last night. She willingly took me in her arms and slept in my company. I knew the look in her eyes. Unlike everyone else, she saw me as a man instead of merely a ruler. No, she will not turn me away. She will be mine, and only mine.

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A few hours and several discarded pieces of parchment later, Emperor Commodus found himself standing at the doorway of her chamber. “Have her awoken and tell her I wish to see her,” he muttered to a guard after giving a small reward to the Praetorian for having brought Caesonia to Galen. There was truly no need for such formality - the emperor could see his prisoners whenever and however he wanted to - but she was no ordinary prisoner. Holding the letter, Commodus hoped that she would know just that.

“Ave Caesar.” She attempted to stand, only to have him place her back on the bed. Reaching for his hand, Caesonia silently kissed his ring. Her eyelashes fluttered as she let go and hugged her knees close. Had she angered him? Was he expecting her to call him by name, just like she’d done this morning?

The two of them sat before each other in silence for a few moments before Commodus attempted to make small talk. He was crestfallen when she told him that she had no recollection of fainting, claiming only to remember walking around for a while before everything went black. Instead of trying to explain to her what happened, the emperor crumpled up the letter in his hand and kept a serious expression.

“I’m going to release you. You will no longer be my prisoner, Lady Caesonia.”

“You…you’re going to release me, Highness? To Antioch?”

“No.”

Caesonia blinked back tears at his callous declaration, unsure of what he could be implying. “As…as…as you wish, Caesar.” Just when she had begun to like the man talking to her, instead of fearing the emperor, he wanted her gone. If it weren’t for the stories about his temper and his cruelty, she would’ve fought to stay, begging and pleading for him not to send a lonely girl into a harsh city. If she were sent to Antioch, she’d at least have her father…assuming the emperor didn’t have him killed. But Caesonia felt too upset with herself to argue or even ask.

He dropped the crumpled parchment onto the floor. “Look at me.” Commodus grasped her chin and turned her towards him. “Caesonia…” he murmured, softly caressing her cheek. Gods, he hadn’t expected her to look so stone-like; it didn’t seem like she appreciated his gesture one bit. “You are going to be my wife. That is what I meant when I said you were no longer going to be my prisoner. I meant you were going to be my wife.”

Sensing her emotionless state, he straightened himself. “An emperor needs an heir,” Commodus continued, pacing the floor while he told her about the importance of an emperor’s marriage. He did not tell her about how he longed for her, and how he envied her ability to sleep so peacefully. And he certainly did not let a word slip about how he cherished her innocence and took great pleasure in her touch.

Caesonia reluctantly accepted his reasoning, despite her skepticism at his sudden proposal. She would never wish to get in the way of his duty as an emperor.

“Highness…”

“Commodus,” he quickly cut her off. “I cannot waste our marriage telling you to call me that.”

“You dropped something on the floor, Commodus.” She calmly tried to explain, reaching for the parchment.

Like a little boy caught doing mischief, Commodus reluctantly placed his hands in his lap while he watched her smooth the creases of the crumpled paper. His heart was in his throat yet again when her eyes examined the messily-written words.

Dearest Caesonia,

I wanted to make you mine since the moment our eyes met.

You were the reason I became a father to the people of Rome again.

I couldn’t bear to send you away, and so I kept you for myself.

With every kiss and every glance that we shared, I felt your devotion and your kindness in each one.

Yet I have given you coldness, when you deserved the warmth of a blanket on a frigid night.

I want to end this darkness, for I have enjoyed a glimpse of summertime. She stands before me, with a laugh like music and eyes of azure.

I long to be the sunlight that touches your perfect cheeks and caresses your soft skin every morning.

I want you to lead me from this painful solitude, my rose. And tell me that you want me as I want you.

Indeed the pangs of love can make one very greedy, my rose.

If you knew all of the desires that I feel for you…you would purse your delicate lips and compare me to a miser hungering for jewels.

And if you touched me again and looked into my eyes, they would tell you that I am yours…and that I want to be only yours.

The letter was somewhat disorganized, nothing like the eloquent speeches that he delivered before citizens or Senators. Caesonia’s heart softened as she underlined each word with her finger. Blinking again, she nervously smiled at Commodus and dared herself to place her hand on top of his.

“Thank you…I do not know what to say.”

The emperor once again felt a mixture of surprise and courage, expecting her to be repulsed by his written confession. “Then kiss me.”

She gently pecked his lips, having never taken the lead before.

“That was very nice, Caesonia,” he murmured darkly. “But…I’m afraid that kiss would only satisfy a boy, my rose. Do you think of me as a boy?”

“No,” her voice faltered as her fingertips traced his arm. “You…you’re an emperor.”

“And?” he chuckled. “Is that all I am to you?”

“You’re a man,” Caesonia conceded.

“Yes I am,” he boldly tucked a hair behind her ear. “The people of Rome cannot see that, but you do.” Gods, she took his breath away without even trying to. If he could take her in his arms and hold her to his chest right now, he would never want to leave the bed. Yet, he did not wish to have to bring her back to Galen. “Would you like to dine with me tonight?”

He continued, “I am asking as a man, not as an emperor, my rose. I will not punish you if you do not wish to accompany me.” But you must eat, he did not add.

Caesonia accepted his pleasant-sounding proposal, much to Commodus’s jubilance. He would be thrilled to celebrate his impending marriage to a lovely woman of unwavering loyalty.

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“The emperor will be furious when he finds this out.”

Livid, Claudia was trying her best to not scream at her brother in front of their younger siblings. He was too proud about his plan to assassinate the emperor tomorrow at the Games.

Philomenus brought one of the twins into his lap. “Commodus will be dead before he can scream for the bitch that gave birth to him.”

“Don’t say that in front of the twins,” she scolded him. “And the emperor you love so much, loved his wife too.” In response to his sister, Philomenus remarked that Marcus Aurelius’s love didn’t stop his wife from having an affair with a gladiator.

“Why are you defending him so much?” He fumed when she accused him of believing slander, watching her clean the kitchen.

Shoving a plate into the cupboard, Claudia huffed, “I’m defending him because he is the reason we are able to fill our bellies everyday. Otherwise I would be at a brothel at night, selling myself to buy bread the next morning.”

“Don’t give me that talk,” he angrily ordered. “As the man of the house, I would never let you do such a thing, not even if we were destitute.”

“Such will be our state if you dare bite the hand that feeds us!”

Philomenus cornered her in the kitchen, blocking her so that she couldn’t escape. “Why don’t you understand?” He hissed, gritting his teeth. “We cannot survive for long under Commodus’s rule. All he cares about are the games! He’s killed his own father, stabbed General Maximus, murdered Senator Gracchus, banished his sister, and dissolved the entire Senate! Claudia, this man is not worthy of being the protector of Rome!”

His words did nothing to change her opinion. “Please, Philomenus…” Tears were rolling down Claudia’s cheeks as she quivered with terror. “Please don’t go through with this…I cannot lose you…think of the twins, if not of me.”

“I am thinking about them,” he cupped her cheeks. “I am thinking about their future in a republic, where the power will lie with the people of Rome. Don’t cry, sweet sister.” Philomenus brushed his lips against hers, hurt by her sobs. “Pray to the gods that Commodus will fall and Rome will finally regain her true self.”

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Figs and goat cheese had never tasted better. Commodus grinned as Caesonia fed him from the platter of food. Given faith and a little encouragement, she quickly blossomed from a fearful maiden into an affectionate betrothed.

“Now let me feed you too,” he cooed, bringing a piece of bread dipped in olive oil to her mouth. She giggled while she chewed, placing a hand over her mouth out of modesty. Unbeknownst to any of the servants, the two of them had been playing a flirtatious game under the table with their shoes.

There was something about being with Caesonia that brought Commodus into a playful mood. He fondly thought about how they splashed each other in the baths like children this morning, and how he held her in his arms. If it hadn’t been for that impudent guard, he would’ve ravished her in those pools until they were tired.

She would be a good wife to him…perhaps even a good adoptive mother to Lucius as well. And in return, Commodus swore to himself that he would prove Maximus and Lucilla wrong and be a faithful, adoring husband.

He continued to make small talk with Caesonia while they ate, occasionally exchanging a witty remark about Romans. She was impressed with his stories, her smile growing wider as he dramatically narrated about his favorite gladiatorial games.

By the end of the meal, Caesonia was innocently interlacing her fingers in his. She turned her head towards window, having never seen such a spell-binding view in such a long time. Under a veil of darkness, the city of Rome looked very much alive, almost picturesque.

“I wish I could see more,” Caesonia gushed. “The nighttime is so beautiful, wouldn’t you agree?”

“It certainly is. Would you like to come to the terrace with me? Perhaps the view would be better.”

Accepting his invitation, she followed Commodus to the terrace. Bringing the emperor’s hands to her waist, Caesonia nuzzled into his chest and occasionally pressed her lips to his armor as she watched the stars. She hadn’t seen such a view in months, having been locked up in a tiny room with a window almost as big as her head. And even though Caesonia knew she was in the arms of the man responsible for her imprisonment, it didn’t feel as if she were dancing in the lion’s den. It felt like the comfort that she didn’t know that she craved for.

Stolen kisses bloomed into little signs of endearment, culiminating in a liplock that left the two of them breathless.

“I would very much like to make love to you,” Commodus murmured out of nowhere, not paying one bit of attention to the sky anymore. The mood was too perfect for him to stifle his amorous desires.

“But…but I have never done it before,” Caesonia faltered, “I’m a virgin. It…I…I wouldn’t be good.” Her jaw slightly dropped when the emperor confessed to her that he too had never laid with anyone before. Given the myriad of concubines and courtesans presented before him, she would’ve thought of him to be…experienced.

Of course, Commodus had actually been with a concubine once, two years ago in Germania. But given the lingering ominous atmosphere after his father’s death, not even two bottles of wine could make him impassioned. It only made him cry.

Moreover, the young emperor secretly wished to save himself for someone who loved him, as he loved them.

“But it is your choice, my rose,” he promised her. “If you do not wish for this, then I shall wait.”

“No, I would like to do this,” Caesonia persuaded him. It would truly do nothing for her to refuse him. If she was going to become his wife, then perhaps it would be a prelude to their life together. And if he didn’t want to marry her…then at least she could spend the night with someone who had pleased her with a love letter and an intimate dinner. “I would like to do this, Commodus.”

Nodding furiously, the emperor felt like he would explode trying to maintain his regal posture while hurrying his beloved to his bedroom. No sooner had the doors closed, Commodus crashed his lips into hers and sighed lustfully.

He traced the curve of her shoulders, looking up and down at his beautiful girl. The emperor couldn’t wait to take her - it had been his fantasy for several nights. And yet it intimidated him, to be standing before her now; should he be rough with her or be gentle and enjoy each moment? It was a thought that had never crossed his mind before tonight.

Commodus watched her body tremble. Her blue eyes followed his finger as he brushed it along her collarbone. He saw how the fine hairs on her arms stood on their ends as he held her. No, tonight would not be for merely satiating his fantasy. It would be a new beginning for them - one built upon intimacy, not upon trepidation.

The emperor kissed her again, sighing when he felt her hands in his hair again. As they deepened the kiss, Caesonia whimpered and Commodus slyly slid his tongue into her, which only strengthened her desires.

“I’d like to take your armor off,” she told him in a low voice. When he agreed, Caesonia began untying each part and placing it aside. The emperor found himself laughing under his breath at how delicately she was handling his protective garb. It wasn’t her fault that he wore so many layers.

Finally, she pulled his tunic over his arms and let her hands linger against his chest, running a thumb over his male nipple. Caesonia admired the way his body resembled that of a Roman Adonis - well-built indeed, but it was not too muscular that it detracted from his natural good looks. She swallowed hard, returning to meet his eyes again. “You look handsome without it.”

“Thank you,” Commodus replied with the same tone. She knew nothing about the paranoia in his mind that made him wear armor all the time. Blessed was her innocence, he silently praised as his lips brushed against her neck. “Your dress…”

“You can take it off,” she consented. Soon, her pink stola became a heap of fabric on the floor and was joined by her coarse undergarments. Every other day, the emperor had a new rosy-hued dress brought for her to change into. Perhaps it was the similarity to the garments she’d chosen to wear to his infamous duel that cemented the association between her and the color pink.

Commodus guided Caesonia to his bed, and gently laid her onto the mattress. Pushing her hair back, he admired her face and tried to memorize every detail. He did not wish to forget a single thing about tonight. Bringing his lips back to her neck, he climbed on top of her and slowly kissed his way down her naked body.

Having never felt so much pleasure, Caesonia threw her head back and sinfully moaned. While she loved his lips against her skin, she begged and pleaded for him to stop teasing so much.

Boyishly smiling, the emperor exhaled sharply as Caesonia peppered his neck and shoulder with soft kisses. It felt a bit clumsy at first, but as his groans of pleasure grew needier, she felt bolder with passionate devotion.

“I want you inside me, Commodus. Please.”

His cock entered between her legs and ,with one last kiss to her lips, Commodus began to slowly move within her. “Am I hurting you?” “No…” Caesonia assured him quickly before sighing in pleasure, rolling her hips to meet his.

In moments, the two of them were moaning with ecstasy while they rode each other. With her legs locked around his waist to pull him deeper inside, Caesonia screamed his name as if it were the only word she knew. And Commodus accelerated his thrusts until the two of them reached their orgasm. He smeared his cum all over her slit and her inner thighs, grunting in satisfaction.

Feeling chills down her spine, Caesonia ran her fingers through Commodus’s hair and shoulders as he peppered her chest with dulcet kisses. She enjoyed the feeling of his unblemished skin and silky hair; it helped her recover from the surge of adrenaline.

He slowly rolled off her and spoke in a hushed voice, for her ears only. “I think I’ve fallen in love with you, dear Caesonia.”

“The life-giving breath in my lungs, the crimson blood coursing through my veins…the beating of my heart,” the emperor continued. “They all speak your name.” He took her hand in his and placed it against his chest, hoping that she would find even an ounce of truth within his honeyed words.

“I think I can love you as well, Commodus.” She carefully draped an arm around his waist, praying that their tender exchanges of love would not be gone with the sunrise. That his affections for her were true, and not part of a scheme to toy with her fragile state. Or that she wasn’t part of some lust-driven game to invite her into his bed and then dispose of her in the morning.

Interrupting her line of thought, Commodus whispered to Caesonia that she was trembling. Shaking her head in response, she lied to him that she was merely cold.

“Sleep with me, my beauty,” he brought her closer in his arms, relishing the warmth of his skin against hers. Nuzzling into his neck, Caesonia lulled herself into slumber by idly tracing patterns on his shoulder. Right now, veiled by the protection of Nyx - the Goddess of the Night - they were only two people who’d given themselves to each other in complete surrender. Nothing more, and nothing less.

#commodus #emperor commodus #gladiator #gladiator au #gladiator 2000 #commodus fic

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jamiedc-they-them · 4 years

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SIBLING DUTY (PART IV) PLATONIC

Requested Imagine: “Absolutely LOVED reading Sibling Duty part 3! 🙂 Would you mind writing part 4 set in season 5 where Reader and the team find out that Deke gave Daisy to Kasius and Reader attacks Deke in a fit of rage and Deke is confused by her reaction?”

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The lights had only gone out for a moment for you. That was all it was, a moment; three seconds at most. However, when the lights came back on, you were alone. Or, you thought you were, until you met the confused gaze of Fitz.

“Fitz?” You asked, silently communicating your confusion.

“Y/N?” He did the same.

You both, however, didn’t have long to think about it, as army soldiers stormed the place, aiming their guns at you. You both rose your hands, both in instinct and as you knew that there would be no way out of us.

However, as they pulled you away, you only thought one thing: Where the hell was Daisy? Why had she left you behind after going all this way to find you in the framework?

You were sat on a chair, getting looked down upon by two army soldiers; to be honest, you were shocked that Talbot wasn’t there….Oh wait, a Daisy LMD had shot him.

“Where are they?” The female asked you for what seemed to be the hundredth time, you groaned loudly as you through your head back with said groan.

“For the last time, I. Don’t. Fucking. Know.” You said with more and more frustration. They held fear in their eyes for a moment, it was then you realised that your power was taking control of you.

Oh, no; whether it be in the Framework, or here, it seemed you never did fully figure out control over it.

An older woman entered the room, given the look she gave you, it seemed she had experience with Inhumans, “Give us the room, go check on the other prisoner.” She ordered them. The word, “Prisoner.” Struck something in you.

“Wait, “prisoner”? What have you done with him?!” Fitz! Fitz!” You yelled out as they left to go after your friend. You got up, the woman even let you get the door as it closed and then locked, “FUCK!” you cursed as you looked back at her with hurt and teary eyes; she just waited for your move. Finally, you went back to the chair.

“Very good; now, let’s try this again, shall we?” She didn’t wait for an answer as he opened your file, “Y/N Johnson, Daisy Johnson’s sister. The ever famous, Quake. Shame the media never gave you a name, seemed you didn’t do enough for that.” You knew she was trying to goad a reaction from you, you weren’t going to let this bitch have this over you.

“They left you behind, that’s the main theory. The other is being explored by your friend. I mean this when I say this, that I hope we find them.”

“It doesn’t matter if you did, I’m already a monster. I mean, my ability is darkness, kind of on the nose.” You said, bluntly. The woman looked at you with what looked like pity.

“I have a family member that is kind of like you.” She admitted to you; you looked to her as continued, “She thinks she is too. I can’t speak for you, but I know I’d never give up on her, I’d help her. Because I know she isn’t.” She told you. You weren’t sure as to why. But you didn’t answer back.

As you then sat in your cell, you debated a question. That one, single, question; had Daisy given up on you because you were dangerous?

Maybe, was the frightening answer you always landed on every time like an unlucky flip that happened to land on its side every time. No, you weren’t liking that outcome at all. Sadly, though, it was all your brain could think of as you sat alone in your cell.

They were god knows where, as was Fitz, and all you had were your thoughts to keep you company. When you were alone before, you normally had company either next door or next to you (namely Daisy as you would’ve probably just saw a film or a show together).

Now, you had no idea if there even was a person next to you. As far as you were concerned, you were alone, and no one was coming to get you.

You had started making carvings in the wall, marking another day. After a while, it had started to fill up different walls. You had lost track, just another day with nothing but four walls and a boat load of self-hatred and doubt in a bond that may have never existed in the first place. Maybe it was just a grand thing you had managed to fool yourself of; you were good at selling yourself fantasies after all.

It’s what had made you hurt your bond with Daisy that she then tried to save in the Framework, maybe she’d found out that you had that fantasy and now she was breaking it and stamping on it under her feet.

You laughed as your mind joked that she was Quaking it apart.

That was, until you were dragged out of your cell on god knows what day. You were pulled into the room you had been in before. It was the first room you had been in that wasn’t your cell.

However, you weren’t alone in that room. Fitz was there too.

“Y/N?” He asked, taking in your appearance, the longer hair and much, much, less fight in your eyes. If anything, it scared him to see you look so defeated; so drained.

A few moments of silence passed you both as you weren’t sure whether or not this was a dream. When Lance Hunter, an old friend of you both, walked in; it didn’t help things.

He too looked a little taken aback by your looks, but still went ahead with his plan. That plan sent you both to the floor with ringing in your ears. Then outside and into sunlight for the first time; you had almost forgotten what that was like.

As you watched the best flyer that Hunter’s money could buy crash, you couldn’t help but laugh at it all. Now it all really felt like it wasn’t real.

Fitz’s steadying touch to pull along felt real, as did Hunter’s concerned hand on your shoulder as he spoke something to you. But you were just out of it.

“What’s wrong with her?” Hunter asked his friend, looking to him as he asked.

“I don’t know, I don’t think they let her out.” Fitz theorised as you looked around as if you were in a simulation. Although, that thought made him shiver; maybe part of you still thought you were in the Framework, seeing as how wrong things had gone right after they had gotten you back.

Now, you were in an RV, as Fitz looked for any sign of your family. As he did, himself and Hunter looked at your now sleeping form, the way it shivered and as you muttered inaudible things.

“So, you both were in a simulation, and Daisy and Jemma brought you out?” Hunter asked, wanting to make sure he got this right.

Fitz nodded, “That’s pretty much it.” Fitz said, even if it just made him hate himself more.

“Right, so we need to find where they are and fast.” Hunter said, speaking aloud the thoughts swirling around in Fitz’s mind.

“We do.” The Scotsman agreed.

They had found a way to find everyone, albeit a little sci-fi ish. It involved you and Fitz traveling to the future and finding them and then bringing them back to this spot. You had somewhat found yourself again, less spacey and more unnerved rather than anything. Oh, and one more thing.

As much as it pained the two, you were sure that your dynamic with Daisy was pretty much shattered at this point….again.

He hated to say it, but you were pretty much the platonic (as if it needed to be said) version of what Fitzsimmons had going for them; that they were cursed. Or, so it seemed to be that way, anyway.

So, you looked at the pod you would be traveling in, a small space; but Enoch had promised you that you would be asleep the whole time and it would be like a click of your fingers and you would be there.

“Hey,” You turned to Fitz as he walked over to you after you spoke, “We’re going to find them.” You said, trying to sound optimistic, “You can be with Jemma again.”

“And you can reunite with Daisy.” Your friend told you.

“Yeah, we’ll see how that goes. But I’ll see you on the other side, right?” You asked him; he nodded instantly.

“See you there.” He said.

The next moment, you fell asleep and into the void once again.

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When Daisy had first landed, the first thing she did was look around for you. However, panic soon started to spread as she realised that she couldn’t find you, as you were not there.

She was away from you; she had lost you again just after getting you back.

She started to feel her breath pick up, her heart start to beat faster and faster as she fell back onto the floor. Jemma was by her side the next moment, “Daisy, Daisy, I need you to breath.” Her friend tried to get her to follow, but Daisy was too trapped in the thoughts of what had happened to you.

Jemma then grabbed her best friend’s face, “Daisy, Y/N will be ok. Both her and Fitz are together. If anyone can figure out how to find us, it’s them, alright?” Jemma said, trying hard to believe the words herself.

Daisy let herself nod as her breathing somewhat calmed down.

In short, the place was like a slave trader’s yet dream, only in the future. Granted, it was filed with more a diverse crowd, sire; but a slave trader was a slave trader either way.

“That is Lady Karaba. She is a demented brute. Her affection a curse to anyone who receives it.” Enoch, the Chronicom who had brought you here, informed you. Another person walked into the room, this time a man who fit the slave trader name to a T, wearing a gold outfit and a smug smile, “And there is Senator Gaius Ponarian….I am repulsed by the sight. Even the man’s closest friends find his temperament to be that of a diseased child monster.” He admitted to you.

“So Kasius has assembled the worst of the worst.” Fitz summed up as you continued on your path through the area, trying to blend in as if one of the locals. TO you, it felt disgusting to have to try and act like such an abhorrent creature.

Then again, with your power, you already were in a way. As your brain “kindly” reminded you as yourself and Fitz continued on your path.

Now, as far as your knew, Enoch wasn’t a Clairvoyant; but, either way, his next words seemed to be spoken as if he knew what your thoughts were telling you, “Do not fear. You are far more reprehensible than any other creature in this room.” He told you, unhelpfully.

“Thanks for that, Enoch.” Turned out Enoch was alright at emotions with his response to Fitz’s sarcastic statement.

“You’re quite welcome.” He said with a sly smile, although maybe that was just you, as it seemed to be a genuine smile and a genuine response, “It was a rather fun pursuit, constructing your alias. No longer are you Leopold Fitz, but instead, Boshtok, a vile space Marauder of unlimited wealth. And you are no longer Y/N Johnson, but Quassatas, his trusty friend and equal in vileness partner.” Enoch told you both, giving you the roles, you now had to play if you wanted to survive.

So, you started to mingle in with the crowd, as much as you hated it; you had to do it to survive here. Fitz, however, kept putting his gaze to Jemma; you nudged him, “Go on, we’ll be fine here.” You assured him, pushing him up to the spot.

“I apologise that we haven’t found Daisy Johnson, yet.” Enoch said to you as you were the only two left standing around. For you, it was just autopilot; the fake smile and pleasantries you gave the other traders as you passed them.

You shrugged, “We’ll find her and the others and get out. Simple as, really.” You said, drinking from the glass you took from the servant.

“You sound as if you don’t want to find her.” He pointed out.

You glared at him, “Of course I want to find her, she’s my sister; these people are our family….It’s just, we went through a rough patch and never really figured it out.” You confessed, finishing the drink.

“Ah, siblings feuds. A tale as old as time.” Enoch said in a somewhat nostalgic tone.

“Not exactly a feud, more as in a fuckup on both sides. Why, you got experience with it?” You asked him.

“Not so much experience, more I’ve seen them on my time here.” You nodded at his answer.

Fitz had had his talk with Jemma, and had told you that she was being kept in the role she was in as a maid to keep Daisy “motivated”, as you both knew nothing motivated her more than any member of her family being in danger; but especially not a sister like Jemma.

Now you were sat at dinner, trying to avoid the gaze of someone who you used to be the closest with, but now (to you) felt like a cold and distant relationship. You knew she had been taken, but still you knew that your bond had been hurt by a lot of things.

You could feel her gaze on you as she gulped, seeing you here and knowing that you were still in pain, “Someone you know?” Ben asked, despite being able to read her mind and already knowing the answer.

“She’s my sister….It’s complicated.” She settled on, knowing that he probably had the answers he was looking for anyway. Although, she then remembered that he too had an inhibitor on him.

“Sibling stuff is always complicated.” He empathised, “What happened?” He asked.

“We’re both powered, and we did some stupid stuff that accidentally hurt each other rather than helped; I then saved her from….a place, but we haven’t really had time to talk.” Ben nodded.

“But you still love her?”

“Of course, I do, she’s family. Maybe we’ll get to talk soon….Or, I hope we do.” Daisy admitted, showing a moment of vulnerability.

“If it means anything, I hope you do too.” She nodded, not talking, but the nod showed her appreciation for the words.

Still, she watched as you and Fitz staked your claim at the table, playing by your new roles as people who had crossed the line years ago and showed no sign of stopping; for Fitz, it was insulting the food; for you, it was the guests and taunting them.

As Fitz continued to talk about how the leader, Kasius, controlled the humans, you took over for him, “Best way to stop a monster from turning on you? Turn it on another monster or turn it on itself. That way it never points it’s beastly gaze at you,” You pointed to Kasius with a knife as you cut into the snail that was brought to you moments before, “Better to drive away the other monsters with your best one than accept it with the more….civilised of people.”

Daisy knew you and Fitz were both putting on an act; the two of you were being different people to get them back. She knew that, but still, what you both said and how you said it unsettled her a little. Did she had that it had? Of course, she loved you both immensely; still, it had to be said.

As she was hauled off to the arena, she tried once again to meet your gaze; for a moment, she was successful, but it was only a quick moment.

Still, it was nice to know that you were here; in danger, but when weren’t either of you in trouble in some way? At least here, you could finally reunite properly. She knew you had still yet to have a proper talk. Sure, she got you out and you both were elated to see the other; but this was different. Now, she was gone, and you were the one finding her. Only thing was, she could clearly tell that things were different with you; your power was ruling you more on an emotional level. You seemed more cynical and jaded. You had both seen the effects that going overboard for someone had.

Now, she could tell, you feared yourself around them, so you made the power go internal; just like she did with her own gift. Now, it seemed to be your turn for that.

She was in the arena, fighting Kasius’ right hand woman, Sinara. She was doing an alright job, but Sinara was just about winning. However, you watched with slight fear. As much as you feared yourself and Daisy’s reaction to you, she was still your sister.

So, you watched as she fought, how she relied on her quips and skills that both yourself and May had taught her. You watched as she mixed in her powers with them to gain the upper hand.

You then watched as she lifted herself up with her ability, only to then be sent right back down with the click of a button via Kasius.

However, it was also in that moment where you acted; with Simmons stabbing the man, Fitz shooting a guard and lowering the shield, and you tackling a guard out of the window and onto the hard floor.

Seems you and your sister had that shit luck o not landing on something soft; plus, a reckless streak that you would probably never break.

Still, you landed on the floor, with your opponent landing next to you. You both writhed around on the floor in pain, before you felt your power grow as you were in the darker part of the room. You stood up, sending him flying backwards and skidding on the floor. He did, however, throw an object that you swore miss as you felt nothing from it.

The next moment, he was unconscious with a shot from Fitz’s ICER. You then looked down, finding the blade in your side; you put a hand to it, before pulling the blade out. As if being hunted wouldn’t be bad enough.

You knew that you couldn’t stop the mission because of you, however. You knew that your sister wouldn’t want that, especially in her condition.

Speaking of your sister, you then went over to her as your friends helped her up. Fitz seemed to communicate to Jemma that he could shoulder Daisy for a moment; that moment was then filled with Jemma hugging you.

You returned the hug, genuinely happy to have your friends (or two of them anyway) safe. Still though, as Jemma and Fitz led Daisy out, you trailed behind; telling yourself it was to keep an eye out behind them (part of it was) and not just so you didn’t have to see the fear in Daisy’s eyes at how much the struggle of keeping control of your powers were.

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They led and you followed, having not said a word since you left the arena. You knew that you were being hunted, which was just swell; seemed the only moment you got of peace that lasted was that cell as morbid as it was true.

Still, they led you into a room that you weren’t sure if it was a guard’s room or not. To be honest, you didn’t really care. It was a place to rest for a moment and catch your breath. For yourself as well to rest a little and try and fix your wound on your own.

As you turned from them, you saw a cloth on the table. While probably not the cleanest thing in the world, it would have to do. So, you picked it up and placed it over your wound; despite knowing that it wouldn’t be long until you would end up losing too much blood.

“You’re here, you both are here.” Jemma said to you both in glee; even though you knew she was more talking about her boyfriend than you. You just gave her a smile as you saw her eyes flicker back to Fitz.

You watched as Fitz approached your sister and knelt next to her. It was strange, in a way, with how he used to have a small crush that went away like nothing; now replaced with nothing but familial love for her. His love for Jemma, however, had an almost opposite course; going from friendship to Romantic.

You weren’t really sure as to why your mind took you down that trail of thought; maybe just to distract you from the pain you still felt from your wound and to distract you from Daisy’s gaze. However, you did hear how Fitz pulled her attention back to him as he seemed to know that ever since the prison, you didn’t want to have that conversation with Daisy.

He knew what it was like to still feel guilt from the Framework, go knew he did. He hated himself and he was sure you disliked yourself more than you did. Although, at least then, you had Daisy and the others to rally around. Now, you were trying to not have that.

He saw that when Jemma approached you to ask about you, when you gave her a smile and flinched from her touch. That only rose her concern.

“Y/N….what happened to you?” She was about to press for more information before she cried out in pain and clutched at her ear.

As she did so, you saw a guard about to enter the room. So, you did what you had to do. You had to defend your family, knowing that it would most likely put even more of a strain on their trust of you.

You launched yourself at the guard, knocking him to the floor. You went for his weapon, but a hand grabbed your foot and stopped you. You kicked him in the face and went for the weapon once again. You heard Simmons’ cries as you struggled against the Kree, the rifle that he was pressing down on your neck.

Your eyes went fully dark, and the man flew off of you as a shockwave was sent out; the place rattled at it. The lights even flickered for a moment.

As they pulled out the device in Jemma’s ear that had deafened her, they felt the room shake and saw the lights flicker. As Jemma recovered, Fitz and Daisy shared a look. They knew it wasn’t Daisy as she still had the inhibitor, so there was only one person left.

“Y/N.” Daisy breathed out as she ran out of the room, leaving Fitz to stay with Jemma and help her recover.

As Daisy ran out, she saw you leaning against the wall and catching your breath. However, she did catch you wiping at your nose, “Hey, hey, hey.” She said, approaching you, reaching a handout to help you stabilize yourself.

“Don’t touch me.” You all but sneered at her; she had to admit, she was taken aback by it.

“What’s wrong?” She asked right after; while not the best question, it was the only one she could think of, “Are you –”

“Just go get Simmons.” You said, moving on to go find your ship. Daisy watched you go with both worry and sadness. She gulped back tears but complied with your order.

As the other three followed you to find the ship to escape, that soon died out when you all saw the ship explode outside of the window. As it went, you shook for a moment, before you noticed that no one else had shaken at the ship exploding. Luckily for yourself, you were in the back of the four, so no one had seen you lose your footing for a moment and have a ringing sound in your ear that came for a bit before it died down once again.

You continued to follow them, until you came to an elevator. This elevator was meant to get you up to a floor to find your friends. As it started to move, Fitz checked up on Jemma, while Daisy checked on you. Fitz’s’ was done via asking her and physical contact; Daisy’s was done by a look that communicated to you the question of how you were.

She hadn’t seen you stumble, but she had seen that you had become paler since your last appearance. She wasn’t a doctor, not even close, but she knew that you weren’t ok. You weren’t even close to being ok.

Sure, she had brought you back from the Framework, but she could tell the damage that you had suffered before she had met you in there was still holding onto you. She didn’t know what it was, but she wanted to know.

Of course, you had to be alive for that to happen.

The elevator stalled; you were on the floor as of the next moment. Now the ringing was reaching an almost fever pitch.

As Daisy tried the pass on the elevator again, everyone was drawn to you via a vomiting sound. They saw you vomiting on the floor, but it wasn’t just vomit; it was a small bit of blood mixed with some of the energy of your power.

“Y/N.” Fitz said, walking over to you and rubbing your back; he lowered his voice, “Y/N, are you sure you’re ok?” He asked once more.

You met the concerned eyes of your friend, “Yeah, yeah. We’re all good.” You assured him, but now even you weren’t fully believing it.

As Daisy called him over, she kept her eyes on you for a moment longer before asking him for a boost to get to the vent that led to the roof. As she reached the top, she then reached down for Simmons.

Then it was just the two of you left, “Fitz.” You called after your friend; he turned to you, “I need you to do something in case I lose control,” He didn’t like where this was going, “Just, shut up and listen,” He nodded at your demand, “If I lose control, Daisy won’t be able to do it. But I need you to put me down.”

“Just like that?” He eve clicked his fingers at how quickly you were asking him to just kill one of his best friends.

You nodded, “Like a rabid dog.” You confirmed for him. Your breath shook as you justified (or rather, tried to justify) your want of him, “Daisy won’t be able to do it. She’s my sister, I love her. But….I can’t hurt her, not any more than I already have. Or….more than we already have hurt each other,” You sighed, knowing that he’d want to know what you mean by that, “We ended things rough in the framework. When she entered it….it was like an entirely different Daisy interacting with an entirely different me.” Fitz nodded, knowing that he could empathise with that; the struggle between your life in the Framework vs in the real world.

He remembered how dark you were in the Framework.

“Ok.” You could tell he still wasn’t fully on board; but it was a step in the direction you seemed to want. Even if he really, really, didn’t want it to come to that.

You then ended up in a room with pipes. As Daisy inspected it, she found it to be warm. You were forced to put your hand on it to stabilize yourself. However, it was then that your shirt was stained red.

Daisy put your arm around your shoulder without stopping. You could tell, even as she spoke to Jemma about it being a spa, that she was still worried about you; as her voice shook. Still, she was trying to mask it and stay positive.

“Try the door.” She told you as you both pushed against it, only to no avail. She readjusted her grip on your arm and waist, trying to keep you upright. Trying to keep you conscious.

She then guided you over to where Fitz was; the man was currently staring at a thing he feared, Gravitonium.

“That’s not good.” You said, having to blink to keep yourself from falling asleep. However, you were then awaken by bullets slamming into the wall. One even hitting Fitz.

It was a Kree, and he had a weapon. Fitz was behind cover and bleeding; at least you weren’t the only one now.

Daisy pushed you both down onto the floor as she moved into fight the Kree. You, however, had other plans. As Fitzsimmons started to leave, you threw your hand up as Daisy was pushed back, the bullets hitting the void you had channelled in front of your sister to stop her from being killed.

However, he then turned to you, “NO!” Daisy screamed as he fired a single bullet at you, sending you to the ground.

As your shield dropped, Daisy finished him off with a punch, then ran over to you.

“Y/N? Y/N?! Hey, HEY! I need you to open your eyes! Can you do that for me?” She asked, tapping you on the check to try and goad a reaction for you. However, you didn’t respond the way she wanted, at all.

“Leave me.” She managed to make out as you mumbled a sentence or two out before stopping yourself and your breathing went laboured.

“Hey, what did I tell you in the framework?” She asked you. Again, it did not go her way.

“That I’m a monster that can’t be helped?” You managed to say, bluntly.

Daisy stopped cold in her tracks, “W—Wha….What?” She asked, each one in quick succession of the other. She then put your arm around her shoulder again as she lifted you up.

“It – It was what you said……when you –” You were starting to lose consciousness at this point.

“Hey, no! Y/N, no! You can’t go asleep on me! Stay with me, come on!” She yelled, but it was turning into a cry as she kicked open the door and put you on the floor. Jemma turned to you, and her eyes widened as she saw your figure.

“You….were right.” You were just talking (quietly but talking none the less) to no one in particular in terms of target. But Daisy knew they were meant for herself.

“Right about what?” She asked, holding your hand to try and keep you on this side with them, and not whatever lay beyond that.

“I let it win….I lost, Daisy.” The three friends shared a look.

“She let the darkness in.” It was Fitz who said the conclusion. Daisy looked at her brother figure with a look of tears and rage.

“What do you mean?” She asked, despite knowing the answer.

“That fucking cell.” You said, before coughing. That was then followed by more vomit, this time being just your void energy inside of you.

“What cell?” Jemma asked that one, looking between you both with fear and horror.

“We were locked up Jemma right after you were taken. We were on our own for six months.” She covered her mouth as she felt a pang in her chest the feeling of the two of you being along for so long.

“Y/nn,” Your eyes barely focused on your sister, but you were trying, “That version of me that said that, she’s a bitch, alright? You are not a monster. You are my sister, my best friend. And I need you to make it through this, ok? I need you to let Jemma help you in anyway you can because –” She was cut off by a new intruder in the room entering.

Your world blurred for a moment, but you managed to somewhat feel Jemma applying something to cover your wound.

However, when your hearing allowed you to hear for a moment, all you heard was, “This is the guy who sold me to Kasius!” from Daisy.

You didn’t care who it was, but you felt their presence. That next moment, they were up against the wall, restrained and having a blade up against their throat.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” He cried out as it happened to him, “I’m guessing this is the sister you told me – no, more like warned me about?” He asked in fear.

“That’s her.” Daisy answered, wondering if she should just let you do it. However, she then remembered the words you told her that she had given you the last time you had spoken in the framework.

So, leaving him tied up, she approached you and crouched down in front of you and cupped your face in her hands, “Y/N, I need you to listen to me; I know you’re angry, scared and scarred. In your head, it’s beyond repair,” She heard the man (Deke) choke more, “But, you’re not, ok? You’re not broken beyond repair. I’m here; so is Fitzsimmons, Mack, Yoyo, May, and Coulson. We know you, Y/nn. You are not a monster. You’re our friend; you’re our sister and daughter. We’re here to help you every step of the way. But you have to take this first one, ok? You need to let him go, Y/nn.”

It took a moment, as the man cried out as the blade neared him and neared him. However, just as it was about to impale him, it stopped and disappeared, and he was realised from it’s hold.

“Here.” Deke said, holding a syringe out to her as a kind of peace offering, “It’s adrenaline. Should keep her awake a bit longer.” He said as Daisy cautiously took it.

“You’re still on my shit list.” He didn’t seem to mind right now.

“Sure, but I know how important family is.” For a moment, she softened, before she jabbed the needle into your leg.

She then took a breath, “Let’s go.” She said to her other friends, before getting you up one more time, and they were on their way a once again.

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“You ready?” Your sister asked you as she continued to support you as you stood outside the entrance to the room.

“As ready as I can be.” You answered. With that, Daisy knocked, before Coulson opened it and hugged you both, before realising the state you were in.

“Oh god, here, let’s get you sat down.” Coulson said as gently as he could to try and hide his very clear fear.

The others all crowded you and Fitz as you were both put near each other, almost as reassurance that the other was still here.

“Alright, we need to get out of here, they are right behind us.” Daisy said, letting them all know what was at stake here.

As the others got ready to get another Inhuman, you focused on just keeping your eyes open and yourself alive.

“Hey, Y/N.” You opened your eyes to see Coulson crouching in front of you, making sure you were doing just that.

“Doesn’t that hurt your knees or back?” He chuckled a little at your words, before putting a hand on your shoulder.

“Keep fighting, alright? We need our hero to pull through.” He told you; Daisy had clearly told him. Still, you appreciated it.

“Sir, yes sir.” You said, with that, they left.

When they returned, you all realised that you actually had no where to go to. You were stuck. Then the holes started coming through the wall.

You knew it wouldn’t take long for them to get through. Then you looked at your hands, those that wielded the power that was so often terrifying yourself. It still did, but you had a bit more confidence with it now.

“Daisy!” You called; your younger sister was immediately by your side.

“What is it, Y/nn?” She asked, putting both her hands on your knees.

“I need you to help me up, please?” You asked, the last bit a quieter. But she only obliged your request.

“What are you doing?” She asked you; not out of mistrust, but it was just so you were both on the same page.

“They want in. They’d need to go through a layer of void energy.” You said as you shakily held up your hand; you were still weak. However, Jemma realised, and approached you to help you hold your arm up.

Once it was up, you then pulled all the power you could in your state and focused on the growing holes, they were then covered in that void substance.

As you did that, the new kid (Flint) removed the rocks as Deke did another thing to get into your good books; giving you his gravity buckle to go up the shaft to get to the Trawler (your way out).

When it came time for you and Daisy to go up, she guided you over and into the shaft, “Hold on.” She advised you, you did so. You had both hugged before, just never while being lifted into the air. That was new.

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You weren’t out of the woods yet, but you were in a better place. You were on a ship with your family (well, most of it. Mack and Elena had stayed behind) and ready to tackle what was next together.

You didn’t know what would lay down on the earth, you just knew you were ready to take it on. With people who saw you as someone that wasn’t ruled by the monster inside of you; but someone who ruled it.

Someone who they loved and cherished.

#daisy johnson x reader #daisy johnson imagine #agents of shield imagine #agents of s.h.i.e.l.d imagine #agents of shield x reader #sibling duty

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oodlesofsnootles-main · 4 years

Text

I was inspired by @mytardisisparked ’s thoughts about Obi-Wan scaring Jar Jar and I had to write this little thing to get it out of my head. Pardon my bad Gungan...

“Heyo, Obi!”

The Gungan sprung toward Obi-Wan in the empty Senate corridor, practically bouncing with joy. The Jedi didn’t have the strength today to deal with his enthusiasm.

“Hello, Jar Jar. What a pleasure it is to see you,” he responded flatly.

“Mesa no seen Obi since yousa wit duchessy lady in bombad hat.”

“Pardon me?”

“Yousa maken kissy,” he mimicked a kiss, a repulsive gesture that sullied the very notion of romance.

“You must be mistaken, no you are definitely mistaken about what you saw.” The thought of Jar Jar Binks being a voyeur to his intimate moments was extremely disturbing.

“Funny yousa sayen so. Padmé also sayen mesa mistaken when my seen her wit Ani. Deysa jus berry good palos, shesa sayen.”

For a brief moment, Obi-Wan considered performing a mind trick. But Jar Jar was too...simple. He couldn’t bring himself to do it.

“Do you know what happens when you snoop around the Senate building, Jar Jar? And when you don’t keep your mouth shut?”

“Nosa!” he exclaimed, shaking his head.

“Horrible things,” he revealed, ominously. “Gossip is not looked well upon in the Senate. You would be removed in disgrace. Shunned. Forced to fend for yourself in the meanest parts of Coruscant. I refuse to tell you further, for it is not pleasant to speak of. Just imagine the most torturous existence you can...it is worse than that.”

Jar Jar trembled and covered his eyes. “Oie no!”

“So it would be in your best interest to not spy on Jedi, or tell anyone what you think you saw.”

The Gungan nodded furiously, promising he wouldn’t. There was fear in his eyes, but that was a good sign. Secrets were safe. Although, there was a minuscule chance anyone would’ve listened to Jar Jar anyway.

“Good then,” Obi-Wan smiled. “I’m glad we were able to have this informative conversation.”

#obitine #anidala #jar jar gave me a headache

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clan-sayeed-fic · 4 years

Text

Let me earn your trust (Kamilah Sayeed & MC)

Previous chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22

Book: Bloodbound (property of Pixelberry Studios)

Pairing: Kamilah Sayeed & MC: Amy (I do not own those characters, they're the property of Pixelberry Studios as well)

❗ Warnings: this chapter contains violence, angst, might cause distress ❗

Rating: Mature

Author's note: I'm not a native English speaker, I'm sorry for any mistakes (feel free to correct me).

I added this warning thing, maybe exaggerating a little. I just want you to know that from that moment on, this story will get even darker. I mean, it was quite dark from the beginning.

I hope you'll stay here a little longer with me to find out how the story will end.

~ 2100 words

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Chapter 23

Beeping sound.

Over and over again, piercing through Amy's skull.

It caused her eyes to open slightly. Her head was spinning, resting on her chest, which was slowly lifting, and even slower falling down.

Heavy sounds of her breaths were echoing between the walls. Mixing with this irritating sound mercilessly ticking inside her mind.

Little by little, she raised her eyes, squeezing them, as the intense light hit her pupils. Trying to pierce through them, going straight to her brain, causing unbearable stabbing pain.

Amy's mouth was dry, the same as her throat. She tried to lick her lips with a barely moist tongue, without the effect.

Finally, when her eyes adjusted to the lighting, she looked around, finding herself inside of some kind of laboratory. White floor, walls, some metallic shelves around her, and this irritating beeping sound that was accompanying her.

Her eyes closed, and she drifted away with her thoughts.

***

"You expect me to give up all of my blood," Amy's voice showed absolute disbelief mixed with fear.

"Present, and the future one," Vega's voice normal, like they were discussing a common topic.

Amy looked down at the contract, noticing the spot prepared for her signature.

"Why doing this?" her voice broke. "Why even bothering to ask me when you already threatened me in so many ways."

"Because I need your permission, little girl," Adam's words hit straight into her chest. "And that's what exactly I want you to do as your part of the deal."

Amy's stomach clenched. She had no choice. Not because of the deal they made. Because she knew what this man was capable of doing if she disobeyed. How tragic the result would be for her friends.

Former friends.

So she signed it, with shaky hands. The ink that was flowing out of the pen had an intense reddish color.

Like the blood that she just sold out.

***

Her fever was growing, skin became paler. Amy opened her eyes again, blinking a few times to focus her sight.

She gazed at her hands, feeling pain inside of her body. And that's when she realized about needles driven into her skin, under the surface, reaching her veins. Needles were connected with some equipment she wasn't able to recognize. She never saw anything like this before.

What was he doing to her...

Her vision went blurry.

***

"Why me?" Amy dropped the pen after putting a signature, letting it fall to the floor with a hollow sound.

"You're a Bloodkeeper," Vega looked at her, confused by this question.

"How did you find out?" the girl's eyes full of misunderstanding. "How is it possible that you know my real identity?"

The men walked around the desk, stopping right in front of her chair. Amy pulled back, creating more space between them.

Senator took the contract to his hands, leaning against the desk. He looked at the signature with a sly smile playing in the corner of his mouth. Finally, he lifted his gaze, staring at the girl.

"I knew about you since the day you were born," his voice sending shivers of anxiety down Amy's spine. "Do you think that your parents were running from nothing?" he laughed ironically. "I was so close catching you when they had to come up with this..."

He reached for her hand aggressively, twisting her arm. Amy held back the groan of pain with difficulty.

"This scar."

***

She looked at her left wrist right after her eyes got opened again.

Focus, she scolded herself, feeling her head becoming heavier, daring to fall on her chest. Somehow Amy managed to fight the urge of falling asleep. And instead, she saw wires transporting her blood from under her skin to blood bags hanging all over the room.

How long was she there? What happened? All those questions were crowding inside of her head.

She looked around with the hope that she would be able to notice something characteristic.

There were no windows in the place she was held captive. All she was focused on were white walls, which light surface was so intoxicating to look at. Amy was getting lost in the view, so she shook her head and kept on examining the room. She noticed stairs, which were climbing up till they reached the silver doors.

I'm in the basement, she stated a fact in her thoughts.

She tried to move, but her wrists and ankles were tied up to the chair she was sitting on.

Blood was slowly draining away from her system. At the same time, she was connected with some equipment that was supplementing every other nutrient her body needed to survive. Of course, it wasn't enough. Without enough blood, she would die anyway.

That's why her state was monitored all the time. And all these apparatus were the reason for the beeping sound that was driving her crazy. Making her create a fist out of her hands, curl the toes, causing goosebump.

Amy tried with all her strength to come back to the day she arrived at Vega's mansion. She closed her eyes, not letting herself fall asleep, but instead, to recall every detail.

***

"If not for this scar, I would've had you much earlier," Vega let go of her wrist, leaving red marks on her skin. "Thanks to that, you had a chance to live your life a little longer."

"Until I didn't meet your people," everything became much more clear to Amy.

The reason why she was in constant danger, why she wasn't allowed to trust anyone.

"But you must have escaped again," his teeth gritted from anger.

Amy reminded herself of the separation from her parents. She had a hard time believing that the person she was running away from was the senator of New York.

The city she ended up living in.

"Yes, you fell right into my hands," he smirked, making Amy feel sick from disgust. "And there, that was only a matter of time till I found you."

The girl thought about the first moment she found herself around someone from the Council. And of course, it had to be this person.

"Priya," Amy's voice full of anger at herself for not connecting the dots earlier. "She reported to you about me."

Vega laughed louder than it was necessary. He wasn't even trying to pretend that her situation bothered him in any way. Now nothing was stopping him from telling her the truth.

From celebrating his victory.

"Yes, Priya came in handy after all," his smile gradually fading with other words. "But, of course, great Kamilah Sayeed had to stay in the way. And she had to be her usual, repulsive self, that scared you away."

The remainder of Kamilah's name made Amy focus more on the meaning of his words. From what she remembered, she didn't even see the woman after Priya's party... not until the day of...

"Oh my god," Amy's eyes full of anger. "You were responsible for the attack of those vampires in the hall."

"Finally," Adam clasped in his hands. "It took you long enough."

Everything became obvious, answeres that bothered her for so long were always there within reach. Just waiting for her to take them.

"You wanted Kamilah to get interested in me," her voice sounded like it was coming from far away. "You wanted to get close to me, so you made sure Lily suffered in the process."

"I knew this idiot Adrian would be so weak and change her without thinking about consequences," he was so proud of his plan. "And I knew Kamilah would be the first one to figure out that you're a Bloodkeeper."

Amy's eyes filled with tears. She realized how vulnerable she was for this whole time. Everything that happened during the past few months was a detailed plan of Adam's sick mind.

Not a coincidence.

"But why did you bother with hurting Kamilah in Paris," the girl looked him directly in the eyes. "Why did you put so much effort into sending ferals at her."

Adam laughed again, but this time, his eyes were slowly changing into a red color.

"And that's the most crucial part of the story, Amelia," he was using her actual name on purpose, playing with her sanity. "I knew that if Kamilah gets hurt in the process, you are the first one ready to help her," his eyes flashing red. "She did recover after drinking your blood, and that left me with only one conclusion..."

It hit her at that moment too. How was it even possible that she never thought of that. That Kamilah didn't too.

"My blood is the cure."

***

Amy opened her eyes, fully remembering the scene.

She already knew that Vega wanted her blood to have some kind of insurance, in case he got bitten or scratched. But the amount of blood he was taking from her so far, was insane. And that made her mind create new questions.

He had her there, so what was the rush? He could quickly drain blood from her just after being bitten by the feral. When he would need it the most. But, instead, he was taking an immense amount of her precious blood.

Like he was preparing himself for something.

At that moment, Amy heard a loud click of unlocking doors. It took her out of her thoughts as she looked in the direction of the sound. She saw a young woman walking down the stairs.

It triggered Amy's mind as she remembered seeing her every day, but without any details of how those days looked like.

"How are you feeling?" her voice was so calming, so different from this whole situation.

"Like I lost a lot of blood," Amy chuckled with a weak smile. Talking after a long time made her cough uncontrollably.

The woman came closer to her in a hurry, to near a bottle of water to her mouth.

"Take a little sip, it should help," her voice quiet, full of guilt. "Drink slowly."

Amy obeyed her instructions, trying to calm her chest, to stop another contraction of her diaphragm. She swallowed the water, letting it flow down her throat, moisturizing it.

"Why are you here?" Amy's question made the young woman laugh.

"You ask this every time," her giggle changed into concern. Next words left her mouth like she already said them aloud several times. "I'm the only person you can trust."

Amy studied her eyes. They had this beautiful, light green color.

The next memory hit her.

***

"Keep on biting every person I send here, and it will not end well for you," Adam was standing against the wall in front of Amy.

It must have been one of the first days he held her there because she was still feeling powerful.

She was sending menacing looks toward him with her eyes shining gold. Amy only wished she managed to learn how to manipulate vampires by then. It would, for sure, come in handy in a situation like this.

"As if there was even a chance for it to end well for me," she hissed at him, feeling furious.

For a moment, Vega wanted to say something. But, instead, he just looked last one time at Amy with a threat written all over his face saying that if she tries something, she'd have to deal with him personally. And then he disappeared, leaving her alone in the basement.

Not for long.

Only a second later, Amy heard doors opening again, which made anger inside of her grow twice as strong. She was ready to see the senator walking down the stairs, but that was not him.

It was a young woman with long, wavy, blond hair falling on her shoulders and back. Her skin light, with a little pinkish color on her cheeks.

Her green eyes were looking directly into Amy's gold.

"What do you want?" Amy kept her icy tone from earlier.

"Let me talk to you," the woman's voice sounded so smooth, delicate, messing with Amy's head.

"Why should I?" the girl was suspicious, trying not to fall for her sweet appearance.

"We have a lot in common," the woman came closer to the chair to which Amy was tied up to.

They stared into each other's eyes.

And that's when Amy's mouth slightly opened in astonishment.

Because the green eyes she saw before herself were changing into golden color. In the same way, Amy's eyes did so many times before.

But here, something was different.

At the moment when her iris had a color of gold jewelry, something happened. Another shade started spreading from her pupil, changing the iris into the pure color of blood.

Red.

Oh my god, Amy thought.

She just met another Bloodkeeper.

Who, at the same time, was a vampire.

Next chapter: 24

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tag list: @lightning-fury @onyxgaytrash @scarlet-letter-a0114 @caliseds @myonlybae-joohyun

#kamilah sayeed #kamilah x mc #bloodbound kamilah #bb mc #bloodbound mc #bloodkeeper #vampires #bloodbound #blood #choices bloodbound #choices fanfiction #choices fic #angst #adam vega #violence

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killforyouliveforme · 5 years

Text

Penguin/OC Imagine: Oswald Cobblepot/Reader Imagine: “Mistaken Identity” Chapter 1-3

As requested for @kpopgirlbtssvt

Mistaken Identity

Requested by kpopgirlbtssvt

Summary:

You were at the wrong place at the wrong time, and because of your ill-timing, you’ve been kidnapped by Oswald Cobblepot. Unfortunately, you’re not freed to leave. But Fate has a way of making things right.

Chapter 1: Mistaken

Breathe, you tell yourself. Breathe…Stay calm.

This mantra you’ve been repeating in your head is one you’ve repeated many times in the past.

Granted, they were for situations that required a deep breath before you spoke to your boss about getting paid time-off, or even a raise that you and every co-worker associated knew was well-deserved.

It was the soft mantra said minutes before you went on a blind date, or you received one too many texts that read ‘hey, we need to talk’.

It was only ever reserved for those moments that seemed to be a little too pressing, and often times, the panic you felt was self-inflicted. Exacerbated by years of anxiety—most of it had gradually stacked as you lived as a Gothamite.

Gotham had a certain reputation, even as a city.

It was full of crime, corruption; it was full of scary people who would do scary things to others. Full of people who wanted to hurt and harm…Well, the city wasn’t only filled with those irreputable thugs. What population was left that had not been tainted was the 10%, of which you solely belonged.

Innocent, modest, inwardly contained, you barely had a violent bone in your body; even the idea of hurting another person would send the worst, repulsive signal from your brain to your stomach; it left you queasy, barely functional.

So why, you wondered helplessly, why were you snatched from the middle of Gotham’s busiest streets during one of the busiest days of the week (Ironically, a Wednesday, who knew); blindfolded and wrists and feet bound by what felt like rope, and thrown none too gently into the back of a vehicle? Why was this happening?

What could you have done?

Breathe, you told yourself. Breathe…

The mantra used in small social situations was now used to delay what would best be described as a hurricane of overwhelming emotions to include fear, regret, a little irritation for all your efforts of staying away from danger—but mostly fear.

“If you don’t stop moving,” said an annoyed thug. “We’ll be doing more to you than just looking at ya.”

You weren’t moving to begin with. They just wanted to scare you a little more.

Unfortunately, they were successful.

What fear you’d been managing to suppress ran down your spine, causing your entire body to shiver; your bodily reaction had nothing to do with the weather outside or the temperature within this engine-rattling vehicular prison…Those thugs around you seemed to gather that all too quickly.

“What should we do to her?” Another thug chuckled; his voice was grainier, huskier than the last.

“Well, that’s a matter of opinion.” The former spoke—you were blindfolded, but you could practically see his dirty smirk. “The boss said we just needed to snatch her—never said anything about…Well, you know.”

“I think she can hear us,” said a third voice. This man, you assumed, was probably the more logical of the bunch. Calmer at least, less aroused. “And she’s smart enough to know what we’re talking about.”

“I figured we’d scare her less if we pretended she wasn’t smart.”

“Whatever.”

Breathe…Breathe…In, out, in, out…That’s it…

“Pull over.”

“Why?” asked the calmer thug.

“Because it’s been a couple days.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“You’ve been looking at her too, you know. Don’t try to high-road me.”

“If you touch her, the boss is going to know.” The calm thug told the other two. “I doubt he’ll like that. We were told to kidnap, and—if needed—maim, but she’s been pretty calm for what it’s worth. So, if I were you, I wouldn’t touch her.”

“She’ll be a tasty little peach—I don’t like them fighting anyway…” The first thug that spoke seemingly made a gesture, one of which you could have assumed was nonverbal for fucking.

The calmer thug said pointedly, “If you do, she’ll only raise hell for us later.”

“Why do you say that?”

“The Boss says she’s got ‘friends in high places’. Higher, I imagine, since he’s going through all this trouble of getting her out of that office, into his. If she takes the Boss’s deal, and he lets her go, we’ve got a bit of a mess on our hands.”

“She’s not going to take his deal.”

“What makes you think she won’t?”

“She’s got every clown working for her, all this money at her fingertips, and Penguin thinks he’s going to make her back down?” laughed the first thug incredulously. “I doubt it. So, odds are, she’s gonna die anyway because Penguin isn’t taking ‘no’ for an answer. We might as well get our licks in—and you know, other things.”

There weren’t any arguments that came later.

But apparently, the situation had been de-escalated by a simple firm look given to the two inappropriate wankers, casted by the eyes of the only thug who seemed aware of the future unfortunate consequences if they did what they were thinking of doing.

Of that, you were grateful.

If not more confused.

Penguin. That was who had orchestrated your kidnapping. He was the reason you were in this situation. But the conversation had asked more questions than it had answered.

It was a case of mistaken identity, you realized. They, including their boss, thought you were this high roller woman, some big-time person who did what she wanted, when she wanted, and if the odds weren’t in her favor, she could change them so they fell in the palm of her hands.

They knew of her, clearly. They’d never met her; otherwise, why were you in this position in the first place—if that was the case?

“You’ve got the wrong person,” You whispered helplessly. Damn, your nerves made you sound so weak. “You…Please, you have the wrong person!”

“SHUT UP!”

A hard slap across your face silenced your other pleas.

You stayed quiet for the remainder of the trip.

Chapter 2: Imprisoned

Ten or twenty minutes passed and it wasn’t until the vehicle had come to a harsh and abrupt stop that a hand wrapped a vice-like grip around your bicep, propelling you forward so you stumbled out and off the high platform. Presumably, the calmer and more gentleman-like thug had been ready to catch you as you nearly fell into his arms with a disgruntled huff.

“Would you watch what the hell you’re doing!” He shouted.

“She can walk,” the other two grumbled among themselves.

You were escorted; one held your bicep; the other had a hard grip around your wrist, pulling you left and right until you presumably had stepped into whatever room it was that they’d been instructed to bring you inside.

“Untie her. Once you’ve done that, leave us.”

This voice was different. Calmer than the rigid suspects that had brought you here, and even more so: civilized, and gentle. Yet firm.

As they’d been ordered to do, the thugs (roughly) cut your bindings from your wrists, and the loose ropes that had made your walk stiffer and more of a task than it could have been. The blindfold still remained; you didn’t try taking it off.

A door closed.

“What do you want?” You asked quickly. “What did I do? What—”

“Shh.”

Penguin’s footsteps were easy to pinpoint. They were unique as everyone, including you, knew he walked with a limp. Allegedly, it had been given to him by one of his previous employers, one of many he’d betrayed. Whether it was well-deserved or otherwise, you hadn’t the privilege of knowing, or, for that matter, understanding.

You suddenly felt hands around your head, and you flinched at the contact. He didn’t seem to register your reaction as anything but startling, and as the blindfold was untied and removed from your person, you steadily blinked.

Your vision was blurry; your senses, off kilter. There was a certain relief that came from being able to see again, being able to take in your entire situation—but the dread followed the moment you saw Penguin.

For some reason, not seeing him but hearing his voice had been an ounce of relief more. It hadn’t made it real. But seeing the Penguin, dressed in his reputable flamboyant suit, even carrying with him his cane with the iconic Penguin’s head atop its connected glossy extension made your situation—and your reality—that much more dire.

He looked at you, perplexed.

For his confusion, you took the opportunity.

“What do you want with me?” You asked fearfully; your hands shook, even as they sat in your lap.

The both of you sat in an office, it appeared. His office, presumably, within his own home. If not for your fear, you’d have actually felt welcomed here; the natural ambience of the homely appearance, despite the large capacity to fit at least fifty more individuals, and likely house at least ten people before reaching maximum occupancy.

“I haven’t done anything wrong,” You continued—although Penguin looked just as confused as you did. “I didn’t do anything to you, I couldn’t—I wouldn’t.”

“Who are you?” Penguin asked, staring at you.

Well, that took you by surprise. Quietly, you said your name. It sounded strange on your tongue—saying it to someone you feared, and yet, knowing it might just clear your situation in a heartbeat.

“Are you related to Senator Briggs?” Penguin asked.

“No…”

“Do you know who she is?”

“She’s trying to run for Mayor.” You tell him.

“Is that all you know?”

Uncertainly, and almost embarrassingly, you admit, “I don’t know much about politics, Mr. Cobblepot.”

Penguin continued to stare at you.

“Unbelievable.” He muttered, rolling his eyes. He brought a hand to his nose, rubbing the bridge of it irritably.

“What? Did I say…or do something wrong?”

Penguin chuckled sarcastically, “No, but that’s actually the problem, isn’t it?”

You didn’t have an answer—what could you have said to that. But obviously, he wasn’t looking for an answer to it; in fact, he wanted an answer from someone else.

Standing to his feet, he poked the table, the area just in front of you and said firmly, “Do not move from this seat.”

You whispered, “…Okay…”

“You seem like a smart woman,” Penguin uttered pointedly. “I doubt I have to say more.”

You shook your head, hoping he needn’t threaten you if you easily complied. Surprised by your instant submission, almost taken aback by it, Penguin looked at you for a second longer before his attention was drawn to the door, through which the familiar three thugs suddenly ran and then came to an abrupt halt in front of him.

They stood in a pretty chorus line, befuddled.

“Yeah, Boss?” They all said in one way or another.

Penguin pointed to you indicatively and said irritably to his employees: “Who the hell is she?”

“Senator Briggs.”

“That isn’t her, gentlemen.”

You didn’t know Penguin very well, but you could tell that he wasn’t pleased. He was far from being happy, and irritation didn’t even begin to describe his current mood.

“She was in the same office as Senator Briggs—she was in her office, Boss!” Thug One, the one that had been excessively inappropriate and insensitive, immediately came to his own defense. “She tried to fight us, just like you said she would!”

“Seriously? If any one of you walked into my office without my previous knowledge of your actions, I wouldn’t go quietly either—no one would.” Penguin stated harshly.

“So…So, that’s not her?”

“No, that is not her!”

“So, you want us to kill her?” Thug One asked carelessly. He reached behind his back, pulled out a huge Glock, and nonchalantly pulled back the hammer, cocking and aiming it at you.

Penguin glanced over his shoulder, seeing you tense up. Angrily, he grabbed the gun from Thug One, and, with it already locked and loaded, aimed it at its owner and pulled the trigger. As you let out a squeak of fright, Thug One fell over; his two other associates glanced down at him apathetically before turning their undivided attention to their boss.

“I’m guessing that’s a ‘no’?” said the logical Thug—Thug Two.

“You are very perceptive,” Penguin muttered indignantly. He gestured ironically to the dead employee, adding, “Get him out of here.”

“You want us to talk to her?”

“No. I will.”

You glanced down at the table as soon as the door closed; you heard Penguin approach. For a whole minute, you hoped he’d just leave the room, and you in your solace.

He said your last name; you barely registered his acknowledgement before lifting your teary eyes to meet his.

Unexpectedly, the anger he had shown to his employees had mostly gone with the exception of the residual irritation from the expired associate that left a trail of blood on the floor as his co-workers dragged him out of the room with an effort.

In fact, to your surprise, Penguin, the ruthless ruler of Gotham, seemed almost…What was the word?... ‘Remorseful’?

“What now?” You whispered, looking up at him. “I was right...I wasn’t the person you were looking for, I didn’t…I’ve never done anything to anyone.”

“Is that true?”

You blinked. Was that true??

“It’s true.” You said, nodding. “I’ve never hurt anyone. I never killed anyone. I just…”

“Just ‘what’?”

“I keep my head down, and I walk away.”

Saying the truth hurt more than you expected. But it shouldn’t have come as a surprise. In fact, you did more than anything not to be the hero. Despite your need to do the right thing, the easier and safest thing always took precedence.

“My men are morons.” Penguin uttered unhappily, sitting across from you at the table. “I gave them the simplest of instructions: Kidnap Senator Briggs. The flaw in that plan, of course, was that I knew what Senator Briggs looked like; they only had a small and, I have to admit, inaccurate description of her appearance. Unfortunately, you just happened to be in the right office at the wrong time, and—I hope you don’t take offense to this—you look like her.”

You met his eyes again.

“So, I’m not the one you wanted.” You said quietly. “That means…I can leave, right?”

“You seem intelligent enough to know that what you want is not a likely option.”

The answer set a small trickle of emotion through your heart; first it started as a quake, then your face started heating up.

“So, I’m a prisoner?” You questioned.

You didn’t expect this. Death, sure, but not imprisonment. Ironically enough, neither had Penguin as he looked you over, the expression of his remorse set more prominently in the expressive lines of his face.

“I am sorry.” Penguin offered his sentiment. It was sincere enough that you believed it.

“I guess I’ll be chained up in some dungeon.”

Your half-witted and half-serious response registered collectively in him. He smiled at your dark sense of humor, and he offered his hand. You looked at it uncertainly, but he insisted; you took it, and he gently lifted it and you followed him.

Where you were going, you weren’t sure.

Then you realized, you were going to the kitchen. It was here that he let go of your hand, realizing only later than he’d held it for so long in the first place. His reaction was one of embarrassment; the pink in his cheeks and the nervous smile he sent you almost made up for the kidnapping that had come only an hour earlier.

“A prisoner though you may be,” Penguin uttered almost half-jokingly, “but a degenerate, you are not. Your stay here is not of my intention nor yours…clearly”—(He raised his eyebrows and let out a cynical chuckle, marking the irony of the situation)—“but a direct result of my men’s idiocy. I take responsibility for that, seeing as they work for me. Your presence here will be kept under the secure scrutiny of my staff”—(Penguin indicated the maids and butlers and body guards that seemed to pepper around the mansion.)—“but you will be treated as my guest.”

You couldn’t say much to that. In fact, you were so startled by his gentleman-like introduction to the Rules of Engagement that it was hard to register the idea that you were still a prisoner. For someone as remarkably ruthless and homicidal as Penguin was made out to be in the papers and even among the people you worked alongside, he was a gentleman, held to the highest degree.

“You’re wondering where I’m going with this,” Penguin assumed, smiling at your stunned silence.

“Well…Yes.”

“Olga.” Penguin said the name; a plump but stocky maid wearing the classical maid’s attire appeared seemingly out of thin air. You hadn’t noticed her, at least. “She is my house maid, but a phenomenal cook; she’ll provide your meals while you are here.”

Olga smiled (if you called it that) and then left to do some house cleaning.

Penguin approached you, coming closer than what was needed. He stood an inch taller than you, yet you could feel the power radiating off him; the power he had over his minions, over a Senator (apparently), and the way he held himself to such a high standard said it all.

“Your stay here may be unwelcomed, but I hope it isn’t too uncomfortable.” Penguin assured.

For the first time since being kidnapped, you allowed yourself to smile. You couldn’t help it really; he was so sweet.

“What do you think?” He asked.

“What do I think?” You repeated uncertainly. “What can I think?”

“I’m open to any ideas you may have.”

There. It happened again. You couldn’t help another smile come to your face. Maybe it was the fact that Penguin, although having literally just killed someone in front of you, was truly sincere in his efforts to placate the repulsion that his men had incurred.

“What if I just want to go home?” You asked. “And I promised never to say anything to anyone about what happened.”

“The thing about that,” Penguin returned calmly. “They always make that promise, but seldom do they ever keep it.”

Well, there was no denying that. Were you really going to keep that promise? You weren’t sure, but he had a point, though.

“And what makes you think that if you fall asleep that I won’t try to even the score?” You asked.

The unsteady wavering of your tone surprised the both of you. No, you hadn’t a single volatile bone in your body; even Penguin could have picked up on it. The ballsy comment though—where the heck had that come from?

“You could try to even the score,” Penguin offered cleverly, leaning forward. “I doubt you’d get far though.”

You leaned back, by instinct.

You smiled nervously, knowing he was right.

“For what it is worth,” Penguin uttered civilly. “In whatever way this inconvenient but otherwise unprecedented situation may end, you are probably one of the most interesting people I have ever met.”

He started walking away; you turned, watching him.

He gestured to the ceiling, saying, “Your room will be upstairs, the third room on the right as you walk down the corridor. If you want to exact your revenge, as misdirected as it really is, I sleep in the room across from you. I’m normally in bed by nine o’clock.”

Penguin left you in the kitchen, and he didn’t bother looking over his shoulder.

Chapter 3: Bad Dreams

Living under house arrest within Penguin’s mansion.

There have been horror movies made in far worse circumstances in far more dreadful locations.

Your routine for the next two months had taken an interesting turn…or rather turns, as there had been more than one occasion that had made you wonder about your current predicament.

The first three nights were the hardest. You lied in your Queen-sized bed, wearing some extra silky pajamas that were a size too big for you (Penguin had instructed Olga to go to the malls and buy you the extra clothes you’d require for the unexpectedly long stay). You had to appreciate the extra effort by which he’d gone in order to make up for his minions’ idiotic error.

Still, you missed your bed. You missed your apartment, although, by now, your studio sized humble abode was already being rented out to the next available buyer who wouldn’t miss two monthly payments in a row.

And luckily, you hadn’t owned a pet so they wouldn’t starve or miss you anytime soon.

On that note, it was convenient, too, that no one in your family seemed to care that you were gone—and if they could’ve cared, they weren’t alive to tell you these days. A mother who disowned you because you refused to leave Gotham (it was your home). A father who had died a few years ago, and possibly, was the only person who cared about you and vice versa. A brother you never spoke to, based on political differences and opinions on morality. And a friend who you thought would’ve called the police, but to your knowledge, you hadn’t shown up on the police’s radar no more than the homeless veteran had.

Some people, you thought unhappily. Some friends.

And yet, despite missing your unappreciative friends and your depreciating apartment, you couldn’t help but be a little grateful towards Penguin. While he had to cope with the idea that you might very well end up slitting his throat in the middle of the night (as he might worry with most people he might have kidnapped in the past), there was a certain gentleman-like, roommate-ish vibe to him.

Every morning when you came to breakfast (if you did, that was), he greeted you with a ‘Good Morning’ and he always addressed you by ‘Miss’ followed by your last name. He wasn’t passive aggressive, neither was he overtly friendly.

Even then, you might’ve welcomed it.

The overtly friendly part, not the passive aggression.

Oswald Cobblepot was an attractive man. While he might be modest about his appearance, knowing he was partially attractive and perhaps staying on the more-than-just-modest side of the spectrum, you knew he was handsome.

Blue eyes, or green, if the light hit them just right. Raven hair, which, these days, he kept out of his eyes and off his forehead, combed back and held up by what you assumed was an array of hair products, and still appearing soft to the touch.

Thin and trim, by the looks of how he carried himself. Even while he limped, his walk still had a bit of a saunter to it. Confidence spoke volumes; Oswald Cobblepot was no different.

A friendly gesture was welcoming you to his home. A more-than-friendly gesture was having his maids go to the store, buy you what might have been every single piece of clothing not stapled to a mannequin, and having it dropped off by your bedroom door every morning you woke up.

A friendly gesture was giving you free reign around the mansion, able to leave your room and not being solely sequestered to it like a cell. The more-than-friendly gesture that he decidedly used was even permitting you to not only walk about the mansion but even extending an offer for you to have lunch with him at a public restaurant, permitting, of course, that you made no move to alert the police of your awkward and otherwise complicated situation.

You seldom took his offer of going to the restaurant. Perhaps it was knowing yourself too well, knowing you’d try to escape and you simply did not want to exacerbate what was overall a pleasant situation into a worse off circumstance…But really, that was what you told yourself.

The truth was, of course, that you actually wanted to have lunch with him. You wanted to be with him, and what was more ironic and perhaps even more confusing, is that you would more than happily walk into his room at nine o’clock when he was just getting ready for bed but not for the murderous reasons he had put in your head.

Oswald Cobblepot was attractive. You knew that all too well.

And it was a thought that had started as an inkling, then became something more of a daydream.

Stockholm Syndrome, you remembered. Beauty and the Beast.

If you were pretty, and he was attractive, which of the two of you were the beast, you wondered amusedly.

The nights came all too quickly.

This night, in particular, made you more restless.

The day over all had been quiet, almost boring. Penguin had been gone for the better part of the day, leaving you to wander around the mansion; the maids and butlers kept a close eye on you, literally the entire time. Glancing around the corner; peering over their dusted equipment or their baking goods to make sure you weren’t trying to slip the wool over their eyes and escape.

Staring at the ceiling, you considered escaping. Ultimately, you knew the truth better than anyone else: You wanted to stay. And furthermore, you wanted him.

Restless nights, indeed. Thinking of Penguin: A powerful man who had the city at his fingertips, every helpless man and woman at his beck-and-call; every mayor who took the last mayor’s place would consistently fall and give submission and their own power over to the one man who had a hook in every dirty pool and every mob’s circle.

And yet, Penguin was still a man. A gentleman, a sensitive soul.

You weren’t sure what possessed you to get out of bed and pull the silk red robe over the navy-blue pajamas, made of the same material. You weren’t sure what took control of your extremities, pulling you out of your room and, with a steady hand, turned the door knob to the bedroom across the way.

Whatever it was, the power was strong. Its force so compulsive, so persuasive, you almost felt no fear what so ever. Amplified in your ears and standing within the ear-ringing silence of Penguin’s bedroom, you could hear his quiet, steady, slow breathing.

He was asleep.

As you approached his King-sized bed, there was a part of you, begging to leave, begging to flee. What the hell are you thinking! It’s screaming at you, hoping you’ll listen to reason and take flight.

But that part of you doesn’t reign anymore. Maybe it was Penguin’s influence, seeing him do what he wanted, when he wanted without asking anyone’s permission or hoping for a better outcome than that which he always pursued and—as always—faithfully received.

You wanted the same outcome.

So, you followed his example.

There was a flicker of mischief in your heart; it buttered your insides with glee and excitement, knowing that what you were doing was far from what you might have usually done in the past. And while the feeling you had was one of earnest and suspense, it slightly flickered into concern.

The moment you heard his whimpers.

And you realized…

Penguin…Oswald Cobblepot, a man, was having nightmares.

Bad dreams. And from the sound of his helpless sounds…Very bad dreams. The worst.

Your eyebrows furrowed in concern; the suspense and eagerness of doing something naughty now transformed into one of need to comfort and protect. He’d done his job in protecting you from his thugs—it now only seemed justified that you’d return the favor.

You lied next to him, hoping against hope that he’d not wake up and think you were trying to accomplish what he suspected might have been your intent this entire time.

Penguin looks like he’s trying to evade his nightmares, his body scrunched up in a fetus position. You lie next to him, and gently touch the shoulder opposite of you; with your other hand on his side, you lightly move him so he slowly sinks into you, huddled closer to the only other warm body.

He doesn’t resist. In fact, he seems desperate to escape the monsters that torment him at night; the ones that torture him in his waking hours are not nearly so cruel, you realize.

“Don’t…” He mumbles in his sleep.

“It’s okay, Oswald.” You whisper.

He’s facing your direction; you rub his back as you lie on your side.

What external opposition you may have against the monsters wrestling against his subconscious, it seems to do the job. He relaxes; the tension leaves his face, and his body. Apparently, it’s a positive enough result that it pulls him out of his nightmare, enough that he opens his eyes and sees you in his bed.

“What…” Penguin says, slowly beginning to sit up.

“Wait, wait, wait!” You say quickly—you know what he’s about to reach for, and you’re hoping you can calm him down a second time, although you wonder if such a thing has ever happened in his lifetime.

“Why are you here!” Penguin demands. Sudden anger.

“I’m not here to kill you,” You tell him; you do your best not to stammer, lest you be perceived as a liar. “I heard you…Having bad dreams, so I thought—”

Penguin stares at you.

He’s trying to understand what just happened during his resting hours, and he glances at the door, realizing it’s fully open. It was never shut…You left every trace of a footstep possible to make your presence known, to him as well as to any guard that might show up.

In his hand, he’s holding a switchblade. He held it up at first, as a deterrent. Now, he lowers it, looking at you with a different type of emotion. One that you were familiar with, seeing as it would flicker across his expressive face for only a few seconds before he masked it with a civil, aloof reaction, instead.

“I promise,” You say quietly. “I wasn’t trying to kill you. I came into your room, and I heard you—”

“Wait.”

You stop talking, hearing his soft command.

He puts the knife on the end table, and he moves closer.

“If you weren’t trying to kill me, why did you come into my room?” Penguin asks curiously.

You smile nervously. Oh, the things you want to tell him.

“Well…” You began.

Damn! It was easier thinking it than saying it aloud. That feisty, mischievous spunk that had been in your system was suddenly no where to be found. Damn it!

“I…” You began, searching for the words. “I was just…um…thinking about how nice you’ve been and how you were sweet and caring and-and thoughtful and we’ve practically been together for about two months now, s-seeing each other every day, and there’s a couple of times where I thought you might…I don’t know…like me more than what—than what you might have led me to believe…”

The words came out like vomit, although, thank goodness, there was no real actual vomit. The stammering that inevitably found its way to your unsteady tone, the small gestures of desperate attempts to convey your thoughts with your gesticulating, however, trembling hands.

You took in a long, deep breath, realizing it had been a few minutes since you had taken one and you looked at Penguin, now, with a hopeful smile. He stared at you still…Not so much as ‘perplexed’ or even ‘repulsed’ by it, but more or less subdued by your astounding ramble.

Basically, you said you liked him. More than just a friend, even so, at all, considering you were his prisoner.

“You weren’t trying to kill me, then?” Penguin asked carefully.

“No…Why would I?”

“Why would you?”

“Well, aside from the obvious circumstance. But I couldn’t kill you. You’ve treated me so well, a lot better than my past boyfriends or girlfriends have ever treated me.” You tell him, unable to ignore the warmth in your face as you knowingly blush. “And…you were having bad dreams, so I thought I could try to—I don’t know—make it easier for you?”

“And that objective required you to be in my bed?” Penguin asked with a small sly smile.

“Well, no, it didn’t require me to be in it, but I figured…Why not?”

You think he’s going to make some satirical remark, but it’s the opposite. At first, he’s taken aback by your response and then he smiles at you. Not just sincerity as he normally passes off to you, but there’s more to it.

“So…” Penguin says uncertainly. “Now what?”

“Well, it’s boring in my room. So can I sleep here?” You asked politely.

He paused. Then says, “Sure…”

He lies down, uncomfortably at first as you do the same. You snuggle closer to him, smiling when he tenses up at first and when you’ve stopped moving around, he relaxes and puts his arm around you.

He wishes you goodnight, saying your name softly as though his voice alone could caress it in its own soft syllables.

“Good night, Oswald.” You whisper, smiling.

Before you can drift off to sleep, he kisses your forehead. You lift your head so his lips end up kissing yours, completely by ‘accident’. You don’t acknowledge the incidental slip as it was by your own device and you quickly return the kiss without so much as a hesitation. You can feel it in the kiss as he eagerly responds, having longed for that feeling of intimacy and human contact that you just as wantonly crave and return as well.

An unprecedented event in a ruthless town and you found what you needed most in a man that needed the same.

Chapter Four: The Confession

Your bedroom became storage after a time. Without a body to warm the mattress or a soul to graze its presence, the room just became yet another space for Olga to gussy up, to dust, to vacuum. After she finished, the door was closed; not a single person in Oswald’s employ would have been able to tell that at some point or another, it might’ve been a place for you to sleep. At the same time, every staff member could attest to that.

While your bedroom became ‘just another room’, Oswald’s became a home for two.

Every night, in fact.

Since the day you’d crawled into his bed to calm his ever-so-torturous resting demons, his sleep had become more than restful; naturally, he wanted it to continue. Three weeks later, when the day was over and yet another day was happily spent in his abode, you eagerly locked the front door then retired to bed.

As you lied there, you slowly fell asleep. After a time, you felt the bed shift with the weight of a second human as Oswald dressed down to pajamas. A pang of pity stung your heart; he always came to bed seemingly exhausted; a soft sigh left his lips just as he lied on his back, directly beside you. Very little space ever remained between your bodies, especially when he made himself comfortable.

The first couple of nights he spent sleeping beside you—you’d seen him at his most vulnerable, and some of the most adorable interactions you’d ever witnessed. For someone like Penguin who was so self-assured more than 99% of the time, always affluent in all things political, business, or any subject matter regarding manipulation and the other, Oswald was out of his depth when it came to any type of physical interaction—especially when it concerned yourself.

—————-Author’s Note——————-

It’s about 5300 words and some change, and I enjoyed writing it. If you want an Oswald Cobblepot/Penguin imagine, send me a message or ask. It takes me a couple of days (or in this case, a week) to get it done, but I usually DELIVER. :)

@gotham-dumpster-fire Look what i did! I did a thing XD

@ceruleanrainblues @penguinsheart @ahsfan23 @oxwald-nyxma @ladypenguin21 I thought you all might appreciate this too, so I tagged you as well :) @cobblepotkingpenguin @kpopgirlbtssvt @oswald-cobblepot-imagines

#Oswald Cobblepot imagine #Penguin Imagine #Oswald Cobblepot and Reader #Oswald Cobblepot and OFC #Gotham Fanfiction #Gotham Imagine #Fluff #SFW #Oswald is a sweetheart #even when he's taking people prisoner #I loved writing this btw #Thank you for the opportunity #XD

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sethnakht · 6 years

Note

For the character ask meme -- Anakin Skywalker!

ahhhh, i’m dying to ask you this! can i? ahhHHHHH

!!!!!

… these answers are going to be completely unsatisfying, i fear … I’m only going to talk about the PT, not because I think Anakin and Vader are separate entities, but because I talk too much about Vader already

First impression

Given how important this character is to me, you’d expect me to have one. The strange thing is that I don’t. I was twelve when I saw TPM in theaters, and remember very little about it - my father took us to see it once, expressed his disappointment at the end (I think I’d been reasonably entertained, but hadn’t loved it either, and in any case his opinion had weight), and that was that. So my memories of the film are almost entirely blank. Only almost entirely, though, because I had access to the trailer.

The trailer lived in public spaces. The first time I saw it was in a computer store featuring Apple iMacs (the original green and white plastic ones). The iMacs were all lined up in a row and playing it on eternal repeat. Everything was silent and forbiddingly beautiful. Something happened to me while gazing at those iconic shots of Theed (from the air), of Padmé staring out the palace window in her red dress. Somehow, the combination of those images and the source - the coolest-looking computer I’d ever seen - produced a wellspring of longing. Naboo became an unreachable dream, the scenery tinged with melancholy, an air of death. Padmé - whom I could imagine later in life on Alderaan, hidden with Leia, disguised to be unrecognizable - exerted mysterious power over my imagination.

Anakin, by contrast, never even figured.

This is getting too long, so I’ll end by noting that my first conscious impressions of Anakin were mediated by clever adult fans writing meta and fiction over on TheForce.Net, back when fandom congregated around discussion boards. Fernwithy’s stories about Anakin had an enormous impact - stories like this short little piece from 2000, which presented Anakin’s relationship to Obi-Wan and to his mother and to Padmé in a prescient nutshell. By the time AotC came out, I was prepared to find him conflicted, struggling to communicate, cowed and haunted and bursting from holding too much inside - Hayden sold me instantly.

Impression now

Conflicted! Anakin is someone whose frustrations and conflicts I can understand on an almost visceral level - but the choices he ultimately makes are deeply alienating to me when not flat-out horrific, and no level of understanding can excuse how he chooses to take choices away from others (murder being only the most extreme form of how he does that). I identify with him more deeply than with any other character and am also repulsed by him just as deeply, I think of him as desperately in need of intervention and support but also as someone who chose not to compromise or listen, who shut out what he didn’t want to hear. It’s that polar relationship that keeps me fascinated, though: I love the discussions he generates about choice, freedom, politics, morality, toxic masculinity, love, loyalty, blindness, identity, communication, perception, storytelling, etc.

Favorite moment

Difficult, but I think it has to be from RotS: that sequence of him alone, isolated, shunted aside in the temple, staring out at the cityscape and crying as the sun sets, face lit in contrast as he weighs whether to follow Mace to the Senate - there’s an emotional heaviness to it all that I love, but what’s best about the sequence I think is how it creates this space away from the constant action, this space to breathe and think - none of this is inevitable. He could go to Padmé, he could follow orders and wait things out, he could talk to healers. He’s in a room full of windows to all sides, and at the same time, his gaze is shown fixed, unwavering, blind to other possibilities as he lets himself be overwhelmed by premonitions of grief. So I love this moment for how it silently frames his ultimate choice as a choice while also allowing one to see that in his mind, there is no other choice

Idea for a story

I’ll be honest, every single one of the stories in my head revolves around Vader in some shape or form. I’m not particularly creative, either. I suppose I’d love to see more stories where he would ordinarily clamp up and keep secrets and do his typical x but is instead forced into a different y - much along the lines of this particular AU from @darth–nickels - I love scenarios where his communication issues are at once given an outlet and compounded and complicated!

Unpopular opinion

This isn’t unpopular, per se, but I really do think Anakin is responsible for his choices, full stop

Favorite relationship

… so I was going to say “Obi-Wan” because I love how conflict is baked into their relationship from the start and how flawed they both are and how complex that relationship becomes over time. I love reading about these two - about the imbalances as well as their co-dependency - I love what you write about these two - I have an internal cheer whenever he shows up in Vader’s thoughts, especially. Vader completely alone in a room talking to himself and yet also trashing Obi-Wan in the same breath is one of my favorite things.

But I think there’s another answer, and that’s Shmi. This is the relationship that proves that things didn’t have to end the way they did, the key to his heart, the wedge that separates him even from Padmé (who could have freed her but didn’t), the lash that binds him to Palpatine … I love stories about Anakin and Shmi prior to TPM, and I love stories that address what could have gone differently had she not died. There’s also something particularly special to me about the moments where she rises in his thoughts even as Vader, however horrifying

Favorite headcanon

When puberty hits, he begins to hate how he sounds. His voice was always the boundary that marked him as different, apart, but now it’s worse. He thought he would grow up to sound powerful. Sometimes he thinks his voice is the main reason Obi-Wan can’t take him seriously. And that’s not fair, and yet he also feels like a failure for thinking that, because isn’t everything also his fault, isn’t the world waiting for him to save it? But then someone snickers because of something he’s said, and it sends him into a rage …

(Only much later, when he hears himself speak as though for the first time, does he feel empowered - liberated, at peace with himself.)

#long post #character meme #gffa #thank you for the ask!!!#i am humbled #anakin skywalker

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senatorrorgana · 7 years

Text

Young Gods - Two

a/n: this chapter is a bit longer! more character in it such as getting to see finn, and there's a little more backstory on ben turning to the dark side (hint: i made it slightly similar to why anakin turned, though you know, not the exact same). either way i hope you guys enjoy it, i can't believe we still have to wait eight more months until the last jedi, i need it now!

rating: m

ao3: (x)

There was a reason behind everything Ben had done; why he left the temple, why he killed all the people he killed, why he joined the First Order. The reason was Rey.

He left the temple because he knew there was something coming for his sister that he couldn’t protect her from under Luke’s teachings, he killed the new Jedi to keep Rey safe from them trying to use her against him, he joined the First Order to learn how to truly protect her with powers Luke would never have taught him. He did everything for her, unlike their parents who cast them aside, and in the end she cast him aside as well, repulsed by what he became to keep her safe and fleeing with Luke. In a cruel twist of fate, he had become the darkness that threatened to hunt her down, along with the rest of the First Order; but despite everything, Ben would kill anyone who tried to harm her.

Supreme Leader Snoke saw this in Ben’s heart, he’d ordered him to kill Rey on more than one occasion, and every time he got close and saw her - he couldn’t do it. Despite hurting her, in more ways than one, she was still the only thing that mattered to him in this entire galaxy, she was all he had.

The sharp stinging pain caused by the med droid tending to his new wounds was enough to pull him from his thoughts and back into the reality around him. The harsh cuts and wounds on his back serving as a reminder from Snoke and his other lackeys that disobedience was not tolerated within the Order. All those punishments used to work when he was young, now he was used to the pain and they held little effect over his actions. Snoke knew there were other ways to hurt him, using pain like this was just a warning, if he ever did something severe, he knew what his master would do to keep him in line. Letting a rebel spy escape with her life because she looked like his sister was nothing compared to what he could have done.

“That’s enough.” Ben barked the order at the droid, it stopping instantly and leaving his chambers without another beep in protest.

With the droid gone, Ben walked over to a nearby mirror in his room, seeing not much of anything other than a walking collection of scars. A scar on his bottom lip from Rey daring him to climb the tallest tree they could find when they were little, scars on his arms and hands from training with Luke when he was a padawan, the rest of the scars on his chest and back were all from his time here - training, disobeying, his rage getting the better of him and hurting himself in the process of hurting something else.

“Sir,” the voice of Captain Phasma came through the communicator he left on his bedside table, “we have a lead on the Jedi.”

“Where?” Ben grabbed the communicator instantly, every muscle in his body tensing, waiting to hear the news.

“We have a confirmed sighting of them last being seen on Naboo, boarding a transport to the outer rim.” Phasma replied. “It was a Resistance U-Wing, it won’t be coming back.”

“I want records of every ship that had clearance to leave Naboo that day and their destinations, there is record of where that U-Wing went somewhere, make them talk.” Ben stated, trying to keep his anger from getting the better of him.

“Yes sir.” Phasma replied before the line went dead, his most loyal soldier carrying out his commands.

Snoke wanted Rey found to be killed, Ben wanted her found to give her another chance to join him, to show Snoke that she could help and that they could train together, that he could keep her safe. All he had to do was find Rey first, and with any luck, someone would talk to save their own skin on where that U-Wing was headed.

The last time Rey had seen her mother was when she was eight years old, she hadn’t seen her father since she was five, so naturally she fooled herself into thinking that her mother would keep her promise where her father had failed. Ben had told her not to get her hopes up, he tried to protect her from the same heartbreak he went through - but even that wasn’t enough.

As the darkness in the galaxy grew stronger, the weeks turned to months which eventually turned into years that kept Leia away. Between being a senator and being a representative for the last of the Jedi remaining while Luke was busy raising Rey and training younglings, it was almost impossible for her to actually visit her children; Han stopped trying altogether. Naturally, after all those years apart, there was a cloud of tension and guilt hanging between the two of them while they sat together for dinner in Leia’s quarters, neither of them knowing what to say.

“So,” Leia started, “how was Naboo?”

“Fine,” Rey said, “from what I could see of it. I got to see that monument they built to grandma, it’s nice.”

Padmé Amidala, perhaps one of the more famous names to come from Naboo - only to be rivaled by the dark presence that was left behind by Darth Sidious, better known as Emperor Palpatine. It was easy to see why they’d chosen to honor their fallen former queen and senator so openly while they desperately tried to erase the stain the Emperor had left behind on their small planet. Between the Organa’s and the legacy Padmé left behind, Rey understood why Leia chose to stay in politics rather than become a Jedi Master like Uncle Luke, though she still was a Knight just like Rey. Sometimes Rey thought that if she’d chosen politics as well that her parents wouldn’t have left her like they left Ben, but she couldn’t leave Ben behind, and the call of the Force was far too great for her to ignore by sitting at a desk and making speeches day in and day out.

“Glad you got to see it.” Leia offered up a smile as she looked towards Rey, Rey couldn’t find it in her to fake a smile in return.

“Ben took me there once when I was younger, to Naboo.” Rey stated, keeping her eyes on her food and feeling the mood shift back to something strained.

Leia remained silent, Rey knew it was a low blow, but it was something she couldn’t help. But Rey had seen her mother's speeches, seen how she avoided calling Kylo Ren her son and danced around the subject of what happened to Ben Organa-Solo. Every time Rey noticed that, she felt like her mother was trying to erase her brother, and she couldn’t help but feel that if she’d joined Ben, she would have tried to erase her too.

“Your father heard you and Luke we’re coming here, he’s going to come by with Chewie.” Leia tried to change the subject.

“Well, tell Chewie I’m sorry I’ll miss him.” Rey said.

“Breha, you - “

“Rey,” She corrected her mother, Rey was the nickname Ben had given her, she wasn’t going to erase him and what he had been unlike everyone else in the galaxy, “and I can choose not to see Han if I want. He abandoned Ben and I long before you did, I’d rather just see Chewie, at least he called.”

It was silent again, Rey felt she’d crossed a line somewhere, not that she cared if she did or not, but she didn’t expect the feeling of such overwhelming guilt to wash over her either. “You’re right.” Leia sighed. “If you want to just see Chewie, I’ll just tell him where you’ll be, I won’t tell your father.”

“...Thank you.” Rey hesitated saying.

The discomfort in the room kept rising and Rey knew she needed to just be anywhere else right now other than here, she knew some meditation would help clear her mind.

“Thank you for dinner, I have to go meet Uncle Luke for meditation.” Rey excused herself from the table, rising to her feet and grabbing her lightsaber off of the nearby table.

“I’ll be here if you want to talk.” Leia called after her just before Rey managed to get out the door and have them snap shut behind her.

Anywhere was better than being with her mother for another moment. She knew Luke was somewhere meditating, though she wasn’t sure she wanted to interfere with whatever shred of peace he was able to find in all of the chaos of an active rebel base. Rey needed to calm her mind as well, and so far the only place of solace she could think of would be her room - the trouble being she didn’t remember where her room was.

“Are you alright?” A man asked her, it didn’t take long for Rey to realize that it was one of the Lieutenants from earlier, though she never caught his name.

“Yeah, just lost.” Rey admitted, there was something calming about him that took the edge off of Rey’s nerves.

“Can’t say I blame you there, when I first got here I couldn’t remember where anything was.” He grinned, trying to lighten the dark mood that was still hanging over her from her dinner with her mother. “Connix said she’s got you in the west bunks, I’ll take you there.”

“Oh, thanks.” Rey said, caught off guard by his willingness to help, the galaxy could have used more people like him.

“No problem, it’s Breha, right?” He asked.

“Rey actually. Breha’s a big name to live up to, I just go by Rey.” She clarified.

“Rey, got it, nice to meet you,” He nodded, “I’m Finn.”

“Nice to meet you Finn.” Rey said.

The rest of the walk was filled with small chatter between the two of them, Finn asking question after question about what it’s like to use a lightsaber and learning the ways of the Force, claiming that he never was told any stories about the Jedi at all until he joined the Resistance. Rey asked him for directions to nearly everywhere she could think of that she might need to go to in the next few days until she learned where everything was.

“This is it.” Rey said, remembering the dings and dents that were on the front of her door and stopping short.

“Alright, well, if you ever need anything Rey, you can come find Poe or I anytime.” Finn said.

“Poe?” Rey questioned, more than sure that she’d never heard that name before now.

“Oh, right, Commander Dameron I mean, he was with us earlier when you and your uncle showed up. He’ll help you with whatever you need to.” Finn assure her.

“Good to know, thanks Finn.” Rey nodded.

“Anytime.” Finn offered her a parting grin before taking his leave.

Rey managed to remember the codes to her door at least, getting it open and letting out a sigh of relief once it was shut. Or at least she felt that brief relief for only a moment, until a familiar voice clawed it’s way into her mind, forcing a one way connection.

‘The Resistance? After all these years you ran back to her, or maybe it’s because I left you no other choice, no other place to hide. For that, I’m sorry. I wanted to protect you from them, remember? It doesn’t matter, I tracked you to Naboo, you were there, weren’t you? Someone will talk. I don’t know why you keep running from me Rey, it’d be so much easier to convince Snoke to let you join me if you stopped running. You know I’d never hurt you, don’t you? Stop fighting me, Rey, please - ‘

Rey cut him off there, not wanting to hear anymore. Her heart still ached when she cut him off, no matter how many times she’d done it before in the past years, he was her brother and their bond was stronger than most could understand, even stronger than the bond Luke and her mother shared. He could call out to her across systems and stars and still sound as if he were in the room with her; their power was more than likely the only reason Snoke wanted the both of them alive.

‘I don’t want to be found, Ben.’

It was a risk to call out to him, to give him any form of a response or acknowledgement, it was reckless - something commonly known to be in the Skywalker bloodline.

‘It sounds like you do.’

His reply came quickly, latching onto the tail end of the connection she briefly opened in order to get his reply to her. Rey pushed all traces of their connection out of her mind and balled her hands into fists, trying to tame the low rumble now echoing through her room. She hated that he was right, that somewhere deep down in the back of her mind, she did want her brother to find her.

#damerey #star wars #rey #poe dameron #kylo ren #ben solo #my writing #damerey fic

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flauntpage · 6 years

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Setting the Record Straight with the North Dakota Radio Host Who Shredded Our City

By now, you know about the North Dakota radio host who ripped Philadelphia on Monday, describing his horrendous experience at Lincoln Financial Field in a letter titled, “Dear Amazon, anywhere but Philadelphia.”

Joel Heitkamp explained that his family was shoved and spat upon and had full beer cans thrown at them. He claims he was headbutted by a drunk Eagles fan and that police officers were complacent with the boorish behavior.

“I have never seen such a display in my life,” Heitkamp wrote.

He followed up with Philly Mag on Tuesday in a more tempered question and answer format, an interview where he didn’t really back down from his criticism of Philadelphia but did mention the hospitality of a “good guy named Ed.”

That’s Ed Callahan, the guy who runs the “Eagles Mobile” tailgate. A Crossing Broad reader suggested we get in touch with Ed for his side of the story, so we did. Ed was nice enough to spend a few minutes on the phone Friday morning, and so was Joel, who got in touch with us later in the day.

Here’s what Ed had to say:

Ed Callahan: Let me give you the whole story as I know it. I do not know what happened to him inside the game. We had nothing to do with that. We have a following in North Dakota, our tailgate, because we’ve been welcoming North Dakota State Bison fans. Some of the folks up there reached out to Heitkamp and had him get in touch with me. We had coordinated earlier in the week. I not only welcomed him to the tailgate, but I arranged for the Green Room bar at 20th and Green Street to be the site for his Friday broadcast back to North Dakota. He interviewed me over the air for about ten minutes Friday afternoon. We also invited him to come down to the tailgate. He showed up and spent about an hour and a half with us. We did shots with him. I told him, about wearing Vikings gear, as long as you’re at my tailgate, you’re safe. Once you cross tenth street, my hands are clean. I have no responsibility for what happens then. Now, on Monday, I texted him and followed up and mentioned that it was a tough loss for them but that we enjoyed meeting you and your company. That’s when he unleashed on what happened in the stadium. But he said, he said to me, this was all in text, ‘you guys were great, I really enjoyed your time.’ Then he shoots out his story. Now, I think he wrote his story in the airport, and it got back to his station in Fargo, and his producer took the picture of my tailgate that I sent to Joel so he could find us, and put that picture as a header on the online story. I don’t know if you notice that when it pops up as the thumbnail.

Crossing Broad: Yeah, I saw that.

Callahan: It’s got a picture of my tailgate, and no mention in the story of how he was treated by us and how we arranged things for him, how we bent over backwards to welcome him. He enjoyed our hospitality for a couple hours, not only him, but his wife, his sister – not the Senator sister, another sister.

Now, he’s a pretty gregarious guy, okay? I think he’s a flame thrower in Fargo on his radio show. So, I have no doubt in my mind, that while he was treated like shit in that stadium, he wasn’t exactly taking tea and cookies to the Calcutta pool with Mother Theresa either. I waited three days after reading that story, because I read the story after exchanging those texts with him. And I went back to him – I’m a 28-year retired Naval officer – the first thing I said to him was, ‘Joel, one of the first things I learned in the Navy is never write anything for publication when you’re angry. Here’s what I’m pissed at. I’m pissed that we had reached out to you, that we had made arrangements for you, and you use a picture of my tailgate in that screed against Philadelphia.’ I said that’s unsatisfactory. He apologized. And he said he’s been over the air in Fargo saying how great we were and how accommodating we were and all of that. But hey, he’s miles away. He also said, ‘talk to the Philly papers,’ because he has gotten back to some folks I guess, and mentioned us. I didn’t see the article that was referenced in the Crossing Broad story by the Philly Mag guy. Did he mention anything positive in that interview or was it just not included?

CB: He did mention you guys there. Let me read the section. He said, quote, “we had been invited to a tailgate by a good guy named Ed. He told us that it was going to be interesting and that once we left the tailgate and went into the stadium, we were on our own.”

So he did mention you guys, but not in the original letter that he wrote. He didn’t talk about the positive experience he had at the tailgate until he spoke with Philly Mag later in the week.

Callahan: Okay, I saw that original story.

CB: Is it disappointing to you that he would leave out the part about your tailgate in his original letter?

Callahan: Oh, absolutely. But let me tell you also what he said. He said that the picture of our tailgate was attached to that story by his producer, and when he got back to North Dakota, he chewed them all out for doing that. And he did apologize, and I accepted his apology for lumping us in with whatever happened to him.

As far as I’m concerned, he was a pretty good guy. We had fun with him, trading barbs back and forth and trash talking, having a few drinks and enjoying ourselves. I also think the ass whipping that the Vikings got contributed to some of the vitriol in that letter.

Callahan and Heitkamp appear together in this picture posted to the tailgate’s Facebook page. Ed is on the right and Joel is in the middle:

And Heitkamp hosted his radio show on Friday from the Green Room in Fairmount:

Joel was good enough to give us a shout a little later on Friday, after wrapping up his show, to offer up his side of the story. We continued the discussion about his experience in Philadelphia and talked about some of the ways in which we can address the fan behavior problem:

Heitkamp: The picture of Ed’s tailgate shouldn’t have been up there. I’m not trying to throw my producer under the bus, but after we wrote it and sent it and she posts it, she used the Philly bus that was sent to us. I apologized to Ed for that, because that RV wasn’t a bad memory for me. I want to be upfront about that. The other thing about it was, whether or not I put Ed in the article, I knew that this article was going to cause trouble. I did. I was talking in generalities, and in fairness to Ed and his tailgate, and what I learned about Philly fans, I’m not not sure Ed wanted me to say, in any way, shape, or form, that he welcomed me around. I mean, think about it. Should I have put him in there? Probably. But in terms of, ‘boy, you didn’t mention the good,’ that’s pretty minor compared to the population of fans where it wasn’t good. I think what pushed me over the top was, well, number one, getting headbutted wasn’t good. But the more important thing was when they circled my wife and my sister and told them that they were going to rape them up the ass. That pushed it over the top for me.

Crossing Broad: I originally thought, and Ed mentioned this, that maybe you were just writing emotionally and off the cuff after a difficult weekend. But you haven’t backed away from any assertions about Philly fans, have you?

Heitkamp: No, I haven’t. And I haven’t because I saw, first hand, all of it at its worst. People have been sending me blog posts and Youtube and all of this, saying (audio cuts out briefly). And I knew that was going to come. Absolutely knew it was going to come. Then it was because, ‘we lost.’ But, Kevin, this went way further than that. It did. Beer cans thrown at you, people getting up and screaming in your face. I mentioned what happened to my wife. Check with the Vikings’ parents. They were sitting in a group and had beer cans thrown down on them. They ended up having to go up in the stands and arrest people and take them out. I’m not lying to you when I tell you that a security guy at the stadium told me, after the screaming in my face, to ‘get the hell out of here.’ It was, ‘you were never welcome here’ kind of stuff. This is a guy working for the stadium. And so, here’s what I’ll stick by – I’ll stick by my challenge of, when the Eagles play the Cowboys, the Chief of Police and the Mayor of Philly need to put Cowboy jerseys on, Cowboy baseball caps on, and just see how bad it is. Walk around. Walk around the tailgate and see what happens to them.

CB: My take on this has always been that the decent, law-abiding, tax-paying normal Philadelphian looks at those people and doesn’t feel any sort of pride or connection to that. But I also don’t think it’s just a ‘Philly problem.’ I mentioned the Giants and Dodgers fan stabbing from a few years ago (in another article). There’s been awful stuff at foreign soccer games. So I think where you start to lose some people is when this is described as a ‘Philly’ thing when we sort of look at it as a human problem, as trashy people acting like trash. Does that make sense?

Heitkamp: I understand what you’re getting at, I just disagree with it. I think they take specific pride in what they do. And I think the average fan that wouldn’t do that, I saw a number of fans there that were just chuckling while this was going on even though they weren’t the ones screaming and getting in your face. And the other thing, Kevin, is that it wasn’t an age thing. It wasn’t ‘hey these are 25 and 30 year olds.’ This was something that I think people have grown up with and taken some pride in, because it was 50 and 60 year olds, people my age. I just think it’s become acceptable. That’s what repulses me the most, that it’s acceptable.

CB: So, let’s “advance” the story here. That’s the old industry term, yeah? Let’s move the story forward. Outside of just attrition, and that mindset going away over time, what is the solution here? What can law enforcement do? What can the mayor do? Are there steps to be taken by the normal, decent Philly resident?

Heitkamp: Sure. Here’s what I would do if I was the Philly mayor, and I doubt he’d do it because it will cost him some votes. But first off I’d place undercover police so they can monitor all of this. Second, there’s no way I’d let people start tailgating at 9 a.m. for a game that’s going to start in the five o’ clock hour. No way I’d do that, they’re gonna be hammered, and hammered badly. I’d certainly monitor throwing beer cans at people. The city itself has to monitor physical violence and has to monitor people that are committing acts of terror, and that’s what they were doing. For my wife and my sister to go through that, that’s completely ridiculous. And the other thing I would do if I was the Eagles themselves, I would monitor every arrest, and if I found out that those people were season ticket holders, I wouldn’t let them be a season ticket holder. Because that would stop it. People would go, ‘I don’t want to lose my season tickets!’ And I know that there are a lot of people who tailgate who don’t have tickets and don’t go into the game, but if you put a list on there of people who can’t be STH anymore, you’re telling me as passionate as those fans are, they they wouldn’t stop it or curtail it? You bet it would. The other thing is, the NFL. The NFL itself has this family reputation that it wants. If the NFL wants to be represented that way, fine. But the ratings are down. They’ve been struggling with the general public over their image, if they want that to be their image, they need to look at one of their members and do something about it.

And one more for you, and this one is gonna blow you away a little bit – I believe that if somebody from my team, that if people wearing my colors are going in and the home team does that, I’m gonna get involved (in stopping other fan’s behavior). (Vikings owner) Zygi Wilf needs to deal himself a hand. He needs to call ownership of the Eagles and talk to the commissioner and advocate on behalf of his fans that had all of this done to them.

CB: I’ll leave you with this one; sounds to me like you think the change really begins with the neutral fan who is complacent in letting this happen, and not even necessarily the offenders themselves.

Heitkamp: I agree, and it has to start at the top of the Eagles’ organization. The Ed Callahans of the world are not the problem. Ed, while we took a lot of crap from them when we got to the tailgate, we should have! We were wearing Viking colors and that’s good rivalry stuff. I get that. But that isn’t the problem. You can deal with that and have fun with that. It’s the physical violence, it’s the vulgarity, it’s the intimidation. It is women who spent money on tickets, leaving, leaving at halftime and saying, ‘how are we going to get out of here?’ No woman that bought a ticket to a game should have to talk about the threat of being raped.

As we wrapped up the discussion, Joel wanted to throw in one more thing about the Philadelphia fans who have been sending messages of apology for the fan behavior:

Heitkamp: I keep emailing them back, saying, ‘it’s not your fault.’ It’s not your fault. It should be directed at Eagles’ management and the city. If those two do their jobs, then it’ll get fixed. But it’s not your fault.

So there you have it, some clarity on the tailgating situation and doubling-down on the in-stadium fan behavior.

Setting the Record Straight with the North Dakota Radio Host Who Shredded Our City published first on https://footballhighlightseurope.tumblr.com/

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tk-n-la · 7 years

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Even on the morning after my mom’s childhood — and the twentieth century — was shattered by Kristallnacht, no one was ignorant enough to blame her windows for the violence.

Donald Trump is a horrible person. He led his private life as a horrible person. He campaigned as a horrible person. And he is a horrible president. Much to the chagrin of pundits and prognosticators, Trump’s only pivot has been from bad to worse.

This is a man with a Jewish daughter who sided with neo-Nazis. There’s no more need to analyze Trump’s character.

The character now being tested is yours.

When she was a kid, my mom’s good friend explained that they could no longer hang out because my mom was Jewish. When, during a round-up of Jews in his polish town, my dad’s father and brothers hid in their outhouse, a neighbor told soldiers where to look. Along with these examples, there are countless others that were more or less dramatic. The point is that Hitler didn’t kill my relatives. Hitler didn’t send my dad crawling on his hands and knees into the Polish forest knowing he’d never again see a member of his family alive. Hitler didn’t force my mother’s mom to make a choice which of her three daughters would get to use the two passports available to escape from Cologne to France.

Hitler didn’t do it. At least not alone. He needed help. And I’m not talking about the other evil masterminds of modern history’s most repulsive act of mass murder. I’m talking about the neighbors who pointed to the outhouse. I’m talking about the family down the street who told their daughter to stop hanging out with my mom. I’m talking about those who ultimately marched in step with the Nazi party line. And I’m talking about those who were sickened by the specifics of Hitler’s plans, but backed him politically for other reasons — maybe it was jobs, maybe it was economics, maybe it was just ignorance.

Looking back, does it really matter?

I know, you’re thinking, “It can’t happen here.” Do you think my parents ever thought it could happen there?

Don’t get me wrong. This is not the eve of a World War. Donald Trump is not Hitler. But we have, my friends and fellow Americans, reached a pivotal moment in America’s modern history when we each have to make a choice.

Are you for Donald Trump, or are you against him?

If you’re a Senator and your answer is that Trump’s comments about Charlottesville are repulsive, but you need him so you can get Supreme Court nominees through the process and get your tax plan passed, then you have your answer: You are with him.

If you’re a House member who tweets something generic about Nazis being bad and unity being good, but you still treat Donald Trump as the leader of your party, then you have your answer: You are with him.

If you work in the White House and you write this off as just another example of an inexperienced politician going rogue, then you have your answer: You are with him.

If you’re an executive sitting on one of the White House councils and you released a statement in support of unity and against White Supremacy, but you still stayed on that council, then you have your answer: You are with him.

Are you a party loyalist, willing to forgive what you see as a few character flaws in our president in order to get things done; in order to win? Are you the neighbors who pointed soldiers in the direction of an outhouse and sentenced my relatives to death? Are you the person down the street who chose to abandon a friend because she was Jewish? Or are you just a person who feels the broken glass grind between your boots and the sidewalk while thinking none of this has anything to do with you?

Well, after today, there are no bystanders. You can’t sit this one out. If you choose not to get involved, you’re involved. If you don’t speak up, you’re speaking volumes. If you’re not against Donald Trump, you’re with him. And if you’re with him, you’re with the fascist maniacs following their dime-store tiki torches into history’s trash heap.

My parents have seen enough of this garbage in their lives. They shouldn’t have to turn on the TV and see the ignorant hate they saw in Charlottesville, and they sure shouldn’t have to see the enabling, pathetic, narcissistic stupidity they saw coming out Trump Tower. What they should see is Americans locking arms and standing up to this guy to say enough is enough.

After what they’ve experienced, my parents probably aren’t too optimistic. I hope America surprises them on the upside.

#trump is a white supremacist #american fascism #history repeating #hatred & intolerance

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johnbattlesca · 7 years

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10 Things You Didn’t Know About Taekwondo Legend Jhoon Rhee

“A picture is worth 1,000 words; an action is worth 1,000 pictures.” — Jhoon Rhee

For decades, we’ve known Jhoon Rhee as the father of taekwondo in America. Without digging too deep into our memories, most of us could tell you that the master is based in Washington, D.C., and that he’s trained elected officials on Capitol Hill for years. Some may also know that Jhoon Rhee was instrumental in the development of martial arts sparring gear back in the 1970s and that in 1983 he was inducted into the Black Belt Hall of Fame as Man of the Year. In martial arts circles, he’s as famous as anyone can be.

Ironically, few people — in America or his native South Korea — know much about Jhoon Rhee other than the aforementioned points. To remedy that, I wrote this article. It presents 10 fun and fascinating facts about taekwondo’s best-known practitioner.

Photo by Sara Fogan

1 RHEE, LEE AND ALI

In 1964, Rhee met Bruce Lee at Ed Parker’s International Karate Championship in Long Beach, California. The two became friends and frequently discussed the martial arts, and Rhee wound up teaching a few taekwondo kicks to Bruce Lee.

A number of people vehemently deny that, and if you’re one of them, consider the following: Bruce Lee’s early demonstrations centered on hand techniques that utilized speed and power. His prowess in the physical pursuits stemmed from his experience as a dancer, boxer and wing chun practitioner — none of which was oriented toward kicking. When Lee rose to fame as a kung fu actor, it was well after his collaboration with Rhee had begun.

Now take a look at a Jhoon Rhee side kick — any photo from one of his early taekwondo books or articles will do. Compare that to film footage of Bruce Lee doing a side kick. The techniques are nearly identical.

Jhoon Rhee is also credited with teaching Muhammad Ali the “accu-punch,” a fact that Ali stood behind. The accu-punch is described as a blow that’s done instantly when no thought is given to it. It’s launched as soon as an opponent presents an opening. Ali said he used the punch in 1975 to knock out U.K. heavyweight champ Richard Dunn in one minute 30 seconds. Pretty cool — but wait a minute. Rhee credits Bruce Lee with having taught him more effective hand techniques that didn’t telegraph one’s intent. So maybe it’s more accurate to say Lee taught the punch to Ali through Rhee.

2 THE BIG SCREEN

In the 1973 Raymond Chow flick When Taekwondo Strikes, Jhoon Rhee had a role. The setting was one he was all too familiar with: the Japanese occupation of Korea. Rhee demo’d his taekwondo skills on the big screen while portraying a leader of the resistance. He looked forward to more opportunities in showbiz, but Bruce Lee passed away around the time the movie hit the theaters.

That, coupled with the amount of time Rhee was required to be away from his family and his martial arts schools, left a sour taste in his mouth. It ended up being his first and last film.

The karate/kobudo master teamed up with Black Belt magazine to make Fumio Demura Karate Weapons: Complete Video Course. Merging Demura’s classic DVDs with new new kata footage, the program streams lessons on the nunchaku, bo, kama, sai, tonfa and eku bo to your digital device. Details here!

3 FROM KARATE MAN TO FATHER OF TAEKWONDO

When Jhoon Rhee began teaching the martial arts while studying engineering in Texas in the late 1950s, he advertised his program as karate. Occasionally, he’d use the name tang soo do to denote the style of karate he taught. Using the word “karate” was a wise move because Americans were familiar with it. Virtually no one had heard of taekwondo.

In 1960, Gen. Choi Hong-hi paid a visit to the Texas-based Jhoon Rhee Karate Club. Choi, the founder of the oh do kwan, one of the original five kwan that emerged after Japanese colonial rule, encouraged Rhee to use the new Korean term. Calling it “taekwondo” evoked a sense of freedom and independence, as well as respect for the Korean homeland. Rhee agreed.

The road wasn’t an easy one to follow, but Rhee proved he was more than up to the challenge. His decision to go with the new name made him the United States’ first taekwondo instructor.

4 BORN TO FAIL

Jhoon Rhee possessed a reverse punch and roundhouse kick that were second to none. He could bust boards with either technique. Combine that taekwondo prowess with his strength, balance and flexibility, and you can see that he was an exemplary athlete.

However, it wasn’t always that way. When he was a child, no one thought he’d amount to much physically. “I was the smallest, weakest, most uncoordinated kid in school,” Rhee says. “When I was 6, a 5-year-old girl beat me up. When we ran track, I was always last. No one expected me to succeed in athletics.”

These are a few of the books Jhoon Rhee has written.

5 TAEKWONDO GODFATHER

Once Jhoon Rhee concluded his studies in Texas, he moved to Washington, D.C. “When I came to Washington in 1962, I wrote many letters to ambassadors telling them to pay attention to their children’s education,” he says. “I told them, ‘If your children come to my school, I guarantee they will make A’s and B’s.’ Some asked, ‘How can you do that?’ I said, ‘If they don’t, they won’t make black belt.’ They immediately began enrolling their kids.

“After a few years, they saw the results. As the various ambassadors’ tenure expired, they had to return to their homelands. Many asked me to share my instructors and teach them in their countries. I didn’t have enough instructors to go around, so I introduced them to my classmates from the 1940s, several of whom traveled to their countries to teach. These instructors would then introduce taekwondo to neighboring countries. The training of ambassadors’ family members would happen again and again as they came and went from Washington.”

The result: More than 179 countries now have access to taekwondo instruction, which is why it was accepted into the Olympics.

Jhoon Rhee and Ronald Reagan in 1981.

6 TEACHER OF CONGRESS

Jhoon Rhee has taught more than 350 U.S. senators and representatives. Rep. Bob Livingston (R-Louisiana), Rep. Jesse Jackson Jr. (D-Illinois) and Rep. Carolyn Maloney (D-New York) are just a few of those who’ve made it to black belt. Other notable students include former Vice President Joe Biden, Rep. Duncan Hunter (R-California) and former Speaker Newt Gingrich (R-Georgia).

How did Rhee manage to corral so many Congress critters? First, his home base is D.C., a community to which he’s remained committed for years. Second, he endeavors to bring trust, loyalty and honesty to all his relationships. Third, he espouses a philosophy that holds that taking action makes good things happen.

7 TRUE PATRIOT

For years, Jhoon Rhee and his students have performed taekwondo routines to The Star Spangled Banner and God Bless America. He calls it martial ballet. The martial arts component represents Eastern culture to the West, and the music symbolizes Western culture to the East. The result is a marriage of East and West designed to promote peace and freedom for all.

“America has really helped Korea, and I am so grateful for this,” Rhee says. “More than 34,000 young people sacrificed their lives for a country they never heard of and people they never met — it’s hard to imagine. Then the Americans helped rebuild Korea’s economy into what it is today.”

Rhee is repulsed when modern Koreans talk negatively about the United States or shout things like “Yankee, go home!” He recalls a time not too long ago when he reminded Koreans of the generosity of Americans:

“During Korea’s last two administrations, there were communists occupying the president’s office. People in the administrations were carefully trying to influence everybody to be anti-American. Five years ago, I went there to give a speech to 300 masters. I said: ‘I heard America is really unpopular now. I want to see how many of you think America is bad.’ Fifty percent raised their hands. I continued my speech, and after I got through with them, I said, ‘If I got you a green card and a one-way ticket, how many of you would come to the U.S. and live?’ One hundred percent raised their hands.”

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8 AT THE UNITED NATIONS

On April 10, 2007, Jhoon Rhee addressed an assembly of world leaders at the United Nations and gave one of the most moving speeches of all time. Its title was “Mending Our Troubled World With Martial Arts Philosophy of Action.”

He spoke about the need for a vision, arguing that vision is the source of inspiration for reconstructing society. He recalled an answer Helen Keller gave when she was asked what could be more difficult than living without sight. The blind woman said, “Sight without vision.”

Rhee also spoke about education. He outlined his golden rules of teaching: Lead by example and never fail to correct students’ mistakes with a smile — not until they learn but until they develop a habit or skill. He also explained his famous seven qualities of a champion, which apply as much to business and personal relationships as they do to the martial arts: patience, speed, timing, power, balance, flexibility and good posture.

9 TAEKWONDO TRIUMPHS IN RUSSIA

On January 9, 1991, Jhoon Rhee began 11 days of seminars in Moscow. He taught for 18 hours a day, obviously with little rest or free time. On the final day, he sat down with 87 martial artists and conducted a 15-hour question-and-answer session. (Rhee answered every question presented to him, including the old standby: Which came first, the chicken or the egg? He said, “The egg, of course.”)

By the end of the event, the attendees were so inspired that they all changed the names of their schools to Jhoon Rhee Taekwondo.

10 PRESIDENTIAL TESTIMONIAL

Jhoon Rhee’s good deeds have garnered him glowing praise from none other than former President George H.W. Bush:

“I’ve known Master Rhee as a leader, a great volunteer and an expert [at taekwondo] since the ’60s. I was elected to Congress at the end of 1966, and it was shortly thereafter that I met him. Master Rhee was teaching a bunch of congressmen, and he did a great job at it. We call him ‘Master Rhee’ because he is at the top of his field here. He brought this marvelous martial art to the United States of America. He’s taught members of Congress [and] has helped children on a volunteer basis and otherwise, too. It’s a great discipline, good exercise. He’s done a lot for our country.”

Floyd Burk is a San Diego-based 10th-degree black belt with more than 40 years of experience in the martial arts. To contact him, visit Independent Karate Schools of America.

from Black Belt» Daily » Black Belt http://www.blackbeltmag.com/daily/traditional-martial-arts-training/taekwondo/10-things-you-didnt-know-about-taekwondo-legend-jhoon-rhee/ 10 Things You Didn’t Know About Taekwondo Legend Jhoon Rhee published first on http://thrandythefabulous.tumblr.com

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thrandythefabulous · 7 years

Text

10 Things You Didn’t Know About Taekwondo Legend Jhoon Rhee

“A picture is worth 1,000 words; an action is worth 1,000 pictures.” — Jhoon Rhee

Photo by Sara Fogan

1 RHEE, LEE AND ALI

2 THE BIG SCREEN

That, coupled with the amount of time Rhee was required to be away from his family and his martial arts schools, left a sour taste in his mouth. It ended up being his first and last film.

3 FROM KARATE MAN TO FATHER OF TAEKWONDO

The road wasn’t an easy one to follow, but Rhee proved he was more than up to the challenge. His decision to go with the new name made him the United States’ first taekwondo instructor.

4 BORN TO FAIL

These are a few of the books Jhoon Rhee has written.

5 TAEKWONDO GODFATHER

The result: More than 179 countries now have access to taekwondo instruction, which is why it was accepted into the Olympics.

Jhoon Rhee and Ronald Reagan in 1981.

6 TEACHER OF CONGRESS

7 TRUE PATRIOT

8 AT THE UNITED NATIONS

9 TAEKWONDO TRIUMPHS IN RUSSIA

By the end of the event, the attendees were so inspired that they all changed the names of their schools to Jhoon Rhee Taekwondo.

10 PRESIDENTIAL TESTIMONIAL

Jhoon Rhee’s good deeds have garnered him glowing praise from none other than former President George H.W. Bush:

Floyd Burk is a San Diego-based 10th-degree black belt with more than 40 years of experience in the martial arts. To contact him, visit Independent Karate Schools of America.

from Black Belt» Daily » Black Belt http://www.blackbeltmag.com/daily/traditional-martial-arts-training/taekwondo/10-things-you-didnt-know-about-taekwondo-legend-jhoon-rhee/

#Martial Arts #Black Belt» Daily » Black Belt #Self-Defense #best martial arts #martial arts clas

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michaelchinworcester · 7 years

Text

10 Things You Didn’t Know About Taekwondo Legend Jhoon Rhee

“A picture is worth 1,000 words; an action is worth 1,000 pictures.” — Jhoon Rhee

Photo by Sara Fogan

1 RHEE, LEE AND ALI

2 THE BIG SCREEN

That, coupled with the amount of time Rhee was required to be away from his family and his martial arts schools, left a sour taste in his mouth. It ended up being his first and last film.

3 FROM KARATE MAN TO FATHER OF TAEKWONDO

The road wasn’t an easy one to follow, but Rhee proved he was more than up to the challenge. His decision to go with the new name made him the United States’ first taekwondo instructor.

4 BORN TO FAIL

These are a few of the books Jhoon Rhee has written.

5 TAEKWONDO GODFATHER

The result: More than 179 countries now have access to taekwondo instruction, which is why it was accepted into the Olympics.

Jhoon Rhee and Ronald Reagan in 1981.

6 TEACHER OF CONGRESS

7 TRUE PATRIOT

8 AT THE UNITED NATIONS

9 TAEKWONDO TRIUMPHS IN RUSSIA

By the end of the event, the attendees were so inspired that they all changed the names of their schools to Jhoon Rhee Taekwondo.

10 PRESIDENTIAL TESTIMONIAL

Jhoon Rhee’s good deeds have garnered him glowing praise from none other than former President George H.W. Bush:

Floyd Burk is a San Diego-based 10th-degree black belt with more than 40 years of experience in the martial arts. To contact him, visit Independent Karate Schools of America.

from Black Belt» Daily » Black Belt http://ift.tt/2qghFop via Michael Chin Worcester Systema

#Michael Chin Worcester #Mass Bay Systema #Systema #Russian Martial Art #martial arts #kung fu #black

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