#anyone with a semblance of sense would start a war to sit there

[andy-clutterbuck]

requested by Anonymous

#here ya go! #Rick Grimes #* #rg #The Ones Who Live #ya tried™ babe #there was an attempt #his hair tho #will anyone ever be over the second gif? #survey says NO #if you are i don't trust you #excuse me but The Nose™ #*museum tour guide voice* and in the last gif you will see the actual Iron Throne #anyone with a semblance of sense would start a war to sit there

[arc-misadventures]

The Shortstack Nuisance

Yang: Hey lover boy how’s it…? Uhh…? Who’s the girl?

Blake: And, why is she rubbing against you like a cat? I’m a cat, I should be the one nuzzling you!

Jaune was currently sitting at the lunch table trying to enjoyhis meal while a multi-coloured girl, with pink, white, and brown hair clung to his arm nuzzling him.

Jaune: This? Oh this is, Neo.

Yang: Who is she exactly?

Blake: And, who said you can touch your majesty like that?!

Jaune: Oh well… I caught her after she tried to steal one of my precious.

Yang: She tried to kidnap, Pyrrha?!

Jaune: What?! No! She tried to steal one of my gems!

Yang: Oh… That makes more sense… But, why is she here, I thought you threatened to eviscerate anyone who took your gems?

Blake: And, why is she trying to imprint her scent on you?!

Jaune: Haa… Best start this from the beginning…

~~~

Neo smirk deviously to herself, she had just made the steal of the century; For she just managed to snag the, Dragon Eye’ the world largest fine cut sapphire ever found. And, all from right under his nose. This was going to make her rich, and probably help her, and Roman get away from that psycho, Cinder, and whatever crazy plan she was concocting.

Everything was looking up for, Neo.

Speaking of looking up. Neo just barely managed to dodge a vicious strike that sent dirt flying, creating a smokescreen that hid her attacker from sight.

She elegantly sidestepped her attacker’s swipe, and as the dust cleared her eyes widened in shock, and she saw the hunched over form of the, Dragon King glaring furiously at her. His teeth bare, showing his long fangs as he breathed fire through his clenched jaw. His talons were on full display as he tore up the ground beneath him.

She barely had time to dodge a vicious swing of, Jaune’s claws as he tried to gut her. She knew this boy was a rather kind, and gentle soul who rarely got angry, genuinely angry. But this, this was blind rage fuelled by absolute desire for blood. Her blood.

Neo had just realized how terrible of a mistake she made. She had stepped upon the dragons tail, and the dragon wanted her severed head.

Reason was gone in the eyes of one, Jaune Luna Arc, the desire for carnage, and bloodshed was all consuming, Neo barely had time to dodge as another furious swipe tore up the tree she was standing next to, gouging up deep grooves into the tree.

As, Neo jumped back,l she used her semblance to create several duplicates of herself to distract him, and hopefully allowing her a chance to escape. Instead all she saw was the monster that appears when a good man goes to war.

One of, Neo’s clones stabbed out at, Jaune dodged to the side of her thust, grabbed her sword arm by her writs, and pulled her in, biting her neck, and completely ‘killing’ her clone in seconds.

Neo’s eyes widened in horror as her clones did not have her aura, and if one landed a killing blow upon them would destroy her duplicates. But, to see how effortlessly he chose to ‘kill’ her sent shivers down her spine. It was like the thought never entered his mind, he was going to kill her, and it wasn’t going to be a pleasant death.

His blood thirsty eyes narrowed in on her second clone, and he swiped at her. ‘Neo’ managed to get her parasol up in time to block his talons. She didn’t expected how easy it would be for his talons to pierce the reinforced fabric of her clone. He ripped it aside, pulling it in, and with his other claw he gouged her throat out, killing her instantly.

Her other clone quickly went on the attack, but something was different this time. Instead of going on a bloody offensive, Jaune gave her one look, then he bathed her in fire, incinerating her close into a mist of burning glass dust that still burned upon the ground.

Neo’s eyes widened even further for she had heard of his ability to breath fire, but she didn’t know how powerful it was. She would die a painful death as that had so much as touched her. But, before she could process the extents of his fire any further, he was upon her.

Neo was a skilled assassin, but assassins are not know for their endurance. They’re job was to get in, kill their mark, and get out before anyone was the wiser. But, considering he found her within minutes of swiping his sapphire, she doubted she could escape from him. Least she be in an urn.

His moves were highly telegraphed, how couldn’t they be? His talons hands lashing out at her easily could give her, anyone skilled enough enough time to dodge his attacks, but the shear force, and ferocity behind his swings sent her reeling back in fear of the amount of damage he would cause upon her.

She wouldn’t have to worry about it for long, Jaune was surprisingly faster than she had rightfully expected, a quick thrust with his talon hands clipped her shoulder, she could feel a sizeable chunk of her aura being chipped away. She darted back, and pulled out her parasols hidden blade, and went on the offensive.

She managed to score multiple hits that he simply shrugged off as if she had pelted him with foam darts. She thrusted her blade towards his head when she saw he was seemingly preparing to bathe her in fire, it stopped him from breathing that deadly fire of his, but something unexpected happened.

Jaune quickly move his head to the side, and caught her blade in his mouth, and shattered the blade between his fangs. Neo, could only look at the broken remains of her precious sword in her hands, that few seconds she spent looking at his broken blade was all it took for her to lose.

Neo’s mind was quickly dragged away from her musing, literally, as Jaune’s hand wrapped around her throat, picked her up in the air, and then viciously slamming her into the ground, shattering her aura upon impact.

Neo stared up in fear as, Jaune leaned over her, she saw his mouth widen as his fangs came snapping down. Neo instinctively moved her head to the side to evade his fangs, only to feel heat above her face. She peaked with one eye to see his clenched teeth before her, ejecting fire from the sides of his mouth. He raised his head, and stared down at her before his free hand reached down between her cleavage causing her to blush furiously as he pulled out the, ‘Dragon eye’ from between them.

She could see the satisfied smirk upon his lips that appeared across his face as he inspected his property. But, just as fast as that pleased smile of his appeared across his face it faded away as that bloody thirsty rage relcaimed it place upon his face.

Jaune: This is MINE! You will not take what is MINE! If you DARE take one of precious’s again, I will leaved your charred remains on a pike in front of, Beacon for all to see what will happen to those who dare take what’s MINE. UNDERSTOOD?!

Neo’s head viciously nodded as fear coursed through her body as the sweet boy she pegged, Jaune for was swiftly, and effortlessly replaced with a blood crazed maniac willing to go to extreme lengths to obtain what he wanted.

Jaune: Good… If you have any thieving friends, do tell them that the same fate awaits them if they dare take what’s mine. Well, farewell then, it hasn’t been a pleasure…

Just as, Jaune was about to leave he felt, Neo’s hands on his wrist keeping him there. Jaune looked at her perplexed as she stared up at him, wanting to ask him something.

Jaune: What is it…?

Since, Neo was mute she made a sign appear with written text appear before, Jaune for him to read.

Neo: “You’ve already pinned me down…”

Neo: “How about you knock me up~?”

Jaune’s rage fled him as he look down at her with an utter perplexed expression etched across his face.

Jaune: Excuse me, whaaaaaaaaaaaaa…?

~~~

Jaune: So yeah… That happened…

Yang: You threatened to kill her… and, then she asked you to knock her up… The hell?!

Jaune: I expect she has a kink for being manhandled; short sized, and all that.

Neo: “Hell yeah I do~!”

Blake: And, the other part?

Jaune: I refuse to acknowledge that.

Blake: Okay. But, will you do that to me?

Jaune: So since then she’s been clinging to me like a bad rash. I just can’t get ride of her no matter how hard I try to…

Yang: Oh… Is there anything we can do to help you?

Blake: We will do whatever it is you command your majesty.

Jaune: You can get her to stop doing that.

Yang: We tried… I think she gets off to it…

Jaune: I’m worried about that too. Well, Neo’s a mute so she can’t cause me too much trouble, hopefully.

Juniper: Oh, Jauney~!

Jaune: Haa… and, why must I dare to dream…?

Juniper: You met, Neo right?

Before the group stood, Juniper Arc, Jaune’s mother, a Neo standing besides her.

Yang: Wait, what? I-Is she your twin.

Jaune: Semblance; leave it at that. Yes, I know, Neo the real one is currently clinging onto me right now. What about it?

Juniper: Well, we’ve come agreement…

Jaune: Oh no.

Juniper: She will become one of your mistresses, and give me loads of beautiful grandchildren, when you’re ready for children that is.

Jaune gave his mother than, Neo a blank stare as he processed this new information.

Jaune: I’m upset you went to my mother about this, but at least you’re not demanding I give you kids right now on the spot like everyone else… So… yay…

Velvet: WHO THE FUCK IS THAT HUSSY THAT’S ON THE, DRAGON KING?!

Faunas Student: Get her!

Jaune: Oh gods… not again…

#rwby #jaune arc #pyrrha nikos #yang xiao long #blake belladonna #cinder fall #roman torchwick #juniper arc #rwby neo #velvet scarlatina #jaune x neo #neo x jaune #rwby silentknight

[bardock1991]

My thoughts about the Penny Revival Theory... & Why i don't see it happening.

Before i begin, I'd like to make one thing clear. This is not a personal attack on anyone who likes these theories & wishes them to be true, nor is this me telling any of them or some of you for that matter that you're wrong for thinking this way. I just wish to express my OWN thoughts in the matter & why they don't sit well with ME personally & why I don't see it happening in the canon story.

I'm begging you guys to keep the discussions in both the comments & reblogs civil, I'm not here to pick any fights. Moreover, do NOT go & attack people who follow this theory, i do NOT want them getting harassed for this. If i see any of you do that, I'm going to block you.

Also, a quick trigger warning: there's gonna be a few mentions about death in this post, including suicide. I tried my best to make sure there's not too many mentions of it, but i wanna make it clear since i know how sensitive that topic can be for people. Okay? Here we go!

So! RWBY Volume 9! My personal favorite RWBY volume to date & one of my favorite seasons of anime in recent memory. I'm serious, we're talking top 3 material here. With an amazing new world to explore, gorgeous animation, tons of great characterization (for the most part), incredible pay offs for stuff that was being set up for years at this point, all concluding in a (albeit a bit rushed) very satisfying conclusion that really resonated with me personally. Now with almost one week away from the finale, i can safely say that this volume is my personal favorite RWBY volume... So now i think it's time to discuss something that I've been neglecting to talk about since the Volume began... Heck, since V8 ENDED!... & That matter... Is Penny!

As a huge Nuts N'Dolts shipper myself (although I'll admit i haven't truly appreciate the shit until somewhere around mid to late 2021 to early 2022), it's safe to say that i really love Penny. She's a really adorable character with a pretty interesting arc about choice & how she's not a thing others can just use. I don't think it was executed the best though, since if you wanna be technical, Penny DID made her own choices in the story. Like her choice to actually be honest with Ruby in V2, going with the heroes instead of Ironwood in the end of V7 & holding up Amity in V8 despite the risks just to name a few. So the whole idea of her only really having a choice when she committed assisted you know what (it wasn't a choice, it was an ultimatum) doesn't really hit as hard as the story wanted it to hit... THAT + the fact that the one who was there with her in the end wasn't Ruby... But Jaune... Yeah, I'm still not over that... But despite all of that, i still love this character & is tragic to see her go the way she did... Yet... Unlike most NND fans... I kinda want Penny to stay dead...

HEAR ME OUT!!! Now yes, Penny has indeed came back from the dead once, that is true... So most people think why couldn't that happen again & moreover, in the words of some people said it themselves on Tumblr put it "Why would the writers give such an unsatisfying & cruel fate if they weren't gonna do something with it? Like bring her back?" (Sidenote, if any of you attack these people, I'm gonna be VERY pissed because like i said earlier, I'm NOT here to start pointless flame wars & fights!)... But for both a LOGICAL standpoint, as well as a STORY & CHARACTER standpoint... Not only would this not make a lot of sense, but it'd also be rather... Disrespectful... Let me explain.

Why the Penny Revival theory wouldn't work from a LOGICAL standpoint

Option 1: Ascension/Ever After Loopholes.

So for those unaware, Penny died in V3 by being cut in half by Pyrrha, albeit because of Emerald's Semblance messing with their heads. But in V7, we learned that she was able to not ONLY come back to life, but also come back with her memories & experiences from her LAST life intact... Why?... Because her CORE wasn't all that damaged in Beacon. (Actually, IDT it was damaged at all cause Penny's core is essentially her heart & she wasn't cut in half from the chest, it was from the waist.) Keep this factor in mind cause it's gonna be the main factor as to why this theory cannot become a reality from a logical standpoint.

Now let's go to the end of Volume 8, where the heroes manage to save Penny... Until they didn't. They were able to save her from the virus by tricking Ambrosius into making her into a human without ACTUALLY asking him to do it. There's a great video explaining this in greater detail that was made by the amazing Murder of Birds, which I'll link over here: https://youtu.be/ovd_jcdvbL0

Anyways, Cinder catches everyone off guard, the writers take a dump on Ruby, Penny gets capped off & Solitas goes to shit!... Where does V9 take place? The Ever After, which we NOW know is the center of the entire RWBYverse. Think of the Ever After (more specifically, the TREE of Ever After) as the Tree of Yggdrassill in Norse Mythology.

In Ever After, when a person dies, they're essentially sent into The Tutorial Realm of Kingdom Hearts. But instead of picking your weapons & stats, you pick who you wanna become in the next life. In simpler terms, death in ever after works like reincarnation. You die & get the choice of either come back as yourself (which doesn't happen very often) or the choice of being erased from existence & be replaced by someone else who just so happen to look like your previous self... Oh & there's some bullshit about how "the heart always remembers", but that makes no fucking sense, so i don't count that.

So a lot of fans, especially as the Volume was reaching its conclusion where we learn more & more about Ever After began thinking "Oh, then that must mean Penny will come back"... So a few things why this doesn't really work... & It starts with easily the biggest counterpoint... Did Penny die in the Ever After?... No, she didn't... She died in The World of Void... Which is NOT the same thing! Meaning that Penny wouldn't be able to come back as either herself or as a "reincarnation" that replaces her very existence. That's not possible unless she specifically died in Ever After, which wasn't the case. So that's already off the table... & Those who said "Oh, when Little dies, they'll be reborn as Penny & they'll finally give Ruby hope again"...

2 problems with this... 1: Replacing a character that was introduced specifically for this season... & Then replace them with someone who just died on the season before this one... For arguably no reason other than fanservice... Do i need to explain the problem here?! Do i need to explain why this wouldn't have been a good writing decision?!... Not to mention how little sense it'd actually make sense Little doesn't know Penny, so WHY would they ascend as her?!

2: & This is more personal for ME specifically, but i really... REALLY do not like having someone's character arc be arbitrarily resolved because of someone else as a way to "cure them" or "help them"... In this context, it'd be Penny being the "cure" that Ruby needs to regain her hope again... Again, i ask you... Do i need to explain why this wouldn't have been a good thing?!

If that actually happened, Ruby wouldn't learn anything in the end! She wouldn't learn that being herself was good enough, she'd instead learn that in reality, there IS no consequence! People can die & come back if the world suddenly decides it had enough of you moping around all depressed, which is not only bad writing, but also VERY insulting to those who were/are in a similar position as Ruby did in V9!... That is not the lesson you wanna teach to your main character when she's in that state of depression, let alone your AUDIENCE!

While i will be the first to admit that they fucked over the way Ruby ascended in the first place by essentially mimicking you know what & then make such a jarring tone shift in the very next chapter (Jesus Christ, that was awful), the end result was beautiful! It wasn't perfect & it happened a bit too quickly for my taste, but it was STILL beautiful! Ruby eventually realizing that she doesn't HAVE to be someone else & moreover, she doesn't HAVE to be perfect... Just being herself is good enough & even if she doesn't know who she is deep down, she won't be able to find that out unless she CHOOSES to he herself, which was the POINT of Volume 9's finale from Ruby's PoV... Bringing Penny back in this instance would completely go against this message, cause Ruby wouldn't be able to fully appreciate herself as a person.

Option 2: Pietro creates a THIRD Body for Penny, just like he did for Penny 2.0.

Ok, now with THAT out of the way, let's talk about the SECOND possibility for Penny coming back... Pietro either MAKES a Penny 3.0 or has already MADE one by the time RWBYJ returned to Remnant... Remember when i said that the only reason Penny was able to come back in the first place was because her core/heart was intact, thus allowing Pietro to actually MAKE a second body for Penny while still letting her keep her memories?... Yeah, that's not possible here anymore. Why?... Because not only did Penny die in The World of Void... She died as a HUMAN!... Meaning that her core... Her HEART... Is gone for GOOD!

Nobody managed to retrieved Penny's body from the world of void before the portals closed, (nor did we ever see it in Ever After, which was a MASSIVE missopportunity if you ask me. Along with the fact that we never see the reactions of the others learning how Penny ACTUALLY died which... WHY didn't we get that in V9?...) So it wouldn't have been possible for Pietro or anyone for that matter to take her heart back, even IF Penny died as a robot again.

Moreover, Atlas is gone! Their TECHNOLOGY & MATERIALS are gone! Sure, Amity & some stuff from Argus are still around as we saw in the final shot of V9, but most of it is gone... Pietro wouldn't be able to create a THIRD Penny Robot with the resources he has. But even then, let's say that he did. Let's say that Pietro WAS able to create a THIRD Penny Robot... There's still a huge problem here, it WOULDN'T be the same Penny. Why?... Because the CORE would be different, the HEART would be different.

Pietro wouldn't be able to create a THIRD Penny Robot so he can add her core in there BECAUSE HER ORIGINAL CORE IS GONE! Pietro & the others managed to RETRIEVE the core after the events of V3, but that wasn't the case for V8. The Penny we grew to know & love is GONE! She will NEVER be able to come back in a way that doesn't make sense & doesn't feel like a total asspull, it's NOT gonna happen. If we ever get a THIRD Penny (& that's a REALLY BIG if), it's gonna be a completely different Penny instead of the one WE know, a completely different Penny from the one RUBY knows... & Loves... Let me ask you people... Would you WANT that? Would you want this "Penny 3.0" to essentially replace the Penny we grew to know & love?... Do you guys ACTUALLY want that?!... Personally, i DON'T!

If it were up to me between keeping her dead & essentially replacing her either through ascension or through a third model that's completely unrecognizable, I'd go with the FIRST option!

So yeah, those are the reason why Penny coming back wouldn't work from a LOGICAL standpoint, so now it's time for the one that's gonna be VERY controversial... Why Penny coming back wouldn't work from a STORY & CHARACTER standpoint...

Why the Penny Revival theory wouldn't work from a STORY & CHARACTER standpoint

Okay, this is where i have to put up some flame shields, cause this is the point of the discussion where I'm gonna make A LOT of people mad at me... Okay, here we go...

Reason 1: It'd undo Penny's sacrifice, which would be a very disrespectful thing to do.

Now even though the whole "only choice Penny had was how she chose her death" thing is actually bullshit because it wasn't a choice, nor was it her only one... It'd still feel very disrespectful for the heroes to just... UNDO the sacrifice she made to make sure Cinder doesn't get any stronger.

Think about this from Penny's perspective. You decide to ask one of your few remaining allies to essentially help you commit assisted you know what so you can make sure your inherited magical power doesn't fall into the wrong hands... Then a while later, those same allies undo your efforts by bringing you back to life...

That would feel like a slap to the face if you ask me. Regardless of intentions, they would essentially undo the hard work i did to make sure THEY got to live... I'd feel REALLY insulted if that happened to me & I'm pretty sure Penny would feel that way too. So right off the bat, there's a problem.

Not to mention, how did this entire story start again? How did this entire SERIES started again?... Let me think for a moment... Oh yeah, it's because a spiteful, self-righteous woman tried to play god & get her fallen fiancee back despite being told by LITERAL GOD that this was wrong & then pay the price for it by becoming immortal until she truly understands the meaning of life... (spoilers, she'll never do so willingly because it's Salem. She's the f-ing worst)

So why the FUCK would you want the heroes to do the exact damn thing?! Why the hell would you want them to essentially do the same thing the main villain did?! The same thing that put these kids in this mess in the first place?!... Why the hell would you want that?! It just makes no sense to me.

That's like if Byleth from Fire Emblem tried to bring back Jeralt by doing the exact same fucked up experiments Rhea did in the attempt to resurrect Sothis, all the while Byleth has complete understanding of the consequences her actions will have because she literally experienced the consequences of Rhea's actions when she did that to Byleth herself!...

Do you see where I'm going with here? By trying to play god in bringing Penny back, Ruby & co. would essentially be proving Salem & in a way, the Gods right in saying that mankind at its core is worthless & beyond salvation.

& Before i move on to my next point, let me bring up a scenario for you guys. Imagine if you were Ruby, imagine if you - as Ruby Rose - met up with Dr. Pietro Polendina in Vácuo & he tells you that he may (keyword: MAY!...) have found a way to bring Penny back... But in turn, it'd cost him his life. In Volume 7, we learn that Penny's soul isn't actually artificial, but actually a fragment of Pietro's soul... His life force.

While what I'm about to say isn't confirmed as of the writing of this essay, i wouldn't be surprised if this whole "taking away my soul & putting it on something else" thing Pietro did took a huge toll in his lifespan... IE: it might've made his life span much shorter & maybe even age faster. In that same scene, he also says that if Penny dies again, he doesn't know if he will have enough life force to bring her back a second time.

So with ALL of that in mind, would YOU - Ruby Rose - accept Pietro's offer? Better yet, would you let him actually DO IT?!... Personally, i wouldn't... I'm sorry, but I'm not the kind of person who could bring himself to bring someone back to life by either killing someone else or letting said someone else die. Especially if the person I'm trying to bring back is the daughter of the person I'm killing in exchange!

Imagine how devastated Penny would feel if that happened?! Imagine how she would feel of her own father died in order to bring her back to life again... Do you think she'd be able to live with that reality?! Do you think she'd be able to forgive herself for that?! Let alone forgive Ruby for either telling Pietro to do that or worse, letting him do that & not stop him?! Do you think Penny would want that?! Do you want this poor innocent girl to come back at the cost of her father's life?!...

How could Ruby ask that of Pietro, how could you ask that of him? How could I ask that of him?! What kind of person do you have to be in order to ask someone's parent to essentially sacrifice the remaining years of their life in order to bring THEIR child back?! Not YOUR child, THEIRS!... Do i need to go any further on how cruel & messed up this scenario would be?!...

I can't fucking believe some people actually say this unironically, but they freaking do! Like- guys!... You can't bring somebody back to life by having their parent literally exchange their life for them! You can't just DO that! That's like if i was asking the Mom of my best friend who just died to sacrifice her life to bring back my friend... How the hell am I supposed to ask that of somebody?!

Reason 2: Sometimes, people just die.

Okay, THIS is where I'm gonna sound very controversial. Cause what I'm about to say will make people very upset... So for those who somehow are still reading this, but don't feel like finishing it... Out... Now!...

This is the most overused talking point I've heard when i hear people talking about Penny's death in Volume 8. How it was needlessly cruel, unfair & unsatisfying, as well as asking themselves why the writers would do this if they didn't plan on bringing her back in the future?... Here's the problem with this line of thinking... Sometimes, bad things just happen...

There are times where bad things happen out of our control, there are times when even after being prepared for the worst, we still lose & most of all, there are times where people just... Die... & There's nothing we can really do about it... The point I'm trying to make here is this: People don't often die in order to make a big sacrifice for the greater good or to save their loved ones... People don't often die to achieve a greater purpose in life or to motivate someone else... Sometimes... People just die... & That's what happened to Penny...

Despite everyone's best efforts, she died... Despite everything Penny went through to get as far as she did, she died... Despite all the love, care & affection the people around her showed her & proving to the world that her life did indeed had meaning... She died... & There was nothing the heroes could do about it. Jaune wouldn't have been able to heal Penny in time before she either bled out or before Cinder finished the job herself, there's no Senzu Bean equivalent in RWBY for Penny to take for her to suddenly heal all of her fatal wounds, there's no legitimate healing spells in RWBY as far as we know... & Most important of all, there was nothing the heroes could do to stop Cinder.

Now before some of you say "Oh, but Emerald knew & could've told them!" & To that i say YES, you're right... Except not really... Thing is, Emerald didn't know Cinder would do what she did. She didn't know she'd ally with Watts & Neo, create this very elaborate scheme in order to kill everyone in The World of Void. There was no way in hell Emerald could ever find out about that, nobody could. Heck, they didn't even know who was holding the missing Lamp at the time! Making the heroes counter Cinder's plan even MORE unlikely.

Now is this death unfair?... Yes!... Is it very cruel? Yes!... Is it rather unsatisfying?... Very!... But that's the whole point! It's supposed to be a very cruel twist of fate, it's supposed to be this horrible, tragic ending to a character who deserved better & ya'know why? Because that's what death actually feels like to people!

Many people (myself included) don't see death as this great ending to a story or a final goodbye or anything like that. It's usually seen as this cruel, unfair & very painful thing people go through. Whether it be through an accident, a murder, an illness or just old age... Dealing with the death of loved ones suck! It's not supposed to be seen as something that could have benefits to the world or something that could/should be undone.

& That's essentially what happened to Penny. I don't know about you guys, but i am just so tired of people saying that she had to have died for a cause, there has to be a reason the writers killed her off the way they did & that it must be the story telling us that she'll come back somehow... Here's the problem with all of these takes... There IS no reason for her death, there IS no big cause for her death... She just died... That's it...

Like i said a few moments ago... Sometimes, bad things just happen that are out of our control & there's nothing we can do about it. There doesn't have to be a reason for everything, that's not how the world works. Penny's death is no different... Neither is Pyrrha's, neither is Summer's supposed death... That was the whole point of Volume 9. It wasn't about doing the impossible or undoing the past, it was about accepting what happened & trying to find a new reason to live, as well as accepting that the person you are now is good enough.

Does the world suck sometimes? Yes. Does the people in it ruin your reason to live sometimes? Yes. Can reality be the cruelest, sadistic & unforgiving asshole you've ever met in your life sometimes?... Absolutely!... All of what i just said is true, there's no ifs, ands or buts about it. Sometimes, life is one merciless & unforgiving bitch!... But ya'know what's also true?... Ya'know what's also reality?... You have a choice to make... You get to choose how you will properly deal with that reality.

You can either choose the path Salem, Cinder, Neo, Watts, Ironwood, Adam & all of the RWBY villains/antagonists took, where you're so spiteful & resentful towards the world that you wanna give the same pain you just went through back at the world. Because in your mind, it's justified. Why shouldn't the world suffer the same pain you've suffered. It's not fair for you to go through literal hell while everyone else is all happy & cheerful, living their lives without a care in the world... That doesn't sound fair to you, does it?...

If you make this choice, you're essentially letting your pain & suffering do the talking for you. You're letting it control your life & make all of the decisions for you... You could do that... But you can also choose to take a different path, one that's more benevolent & hopeful... The path that people like Ruby, like Summer, like Yang & the rest of the team good guys have chosen to take.

A path where instead of using your pain & suffering to make the world worse, you use it to make it better. You use your own painful experiences to help others, to make sure they don't go through the same pain you did. It might seem like it's too much for you to handle & sometimes, it might even feel like a waste of time. Hell! You might even get to a point where you ask yourself "Where's my help? Where's my source of comfort? Why can't someone pick me up for once?" But if you stick to your guts & if you don't lose sight of yourself, you'll eventually realize 2 things.

1: The person you are now is good enough. It's not perfect, this person makes many mistakes & has maybe done some terrible things in the past... But the good that person did can't be denied & maybe... Just maybe, that person you are right now is good enough, even if you don't realize it right away.

2: Your actions, no matter how small they may seem, CAN leave a positive impact on others. Eventually, you come to realize that despite your many failures in life, the good you did accomplish cannot be understated. Whether it be on a single person or maybe even a whole group of people, they're only where they are now because of you.

You were the one who gave them the drive to keep living despite the hardships the world can bring at them, you were the one who showed them that their lives actually mean something! & You should take pride in that, no matter how small it may seem to you.

So yes, the world can be very cruel... But it can also be very beautiful... & You can choose whether or not you embrace its cruelty, or show the people how beautiful the world can be... That's the entire point of not only Ruby's arc in volume 9, not only the entire point of Volume 9 as a whole... But the point of RWBY as a whole. It's a story about how the world can affect different people, a story where its cruelty can either make people very spiteful & resentful or make them empathetic & kind. Because that's how things are in our world too... & I'm really happy to see RWBY both understanding this theme... & Embracing it.

3: "If Penny's death is meant to be unfair & cruel... Then what was the point of it"?

& You might ask me "What, did Penny just die for nothing then?"... Well... Yes & no... While it is very cruel & unsatisfying - which again, was the point - i wouldn't say she died for "nothing." If Penny didn't do what she did, Winter would've died against Ironwood (remember, she was at death's door when Penny gave her the Winter Maiden Magic. Ironwood was this close to finishing her off.), Weiss would've died against Cinder, Jaune probably would've died against Cinder as well & worse of all, the Winter Maiden Magic would go to someone else random. Why is this a problem?... Oh, nothing much... It's nothing too serious, except for the part that all of the escapees are getting killed off in the desert & there was nobody powerful enough to complete subdue & protect them at the time! Are we seriously forgetting about that?!

It doesn't matter if it was either Penny or Winter, if neither of them went through that portal, i can guarantee you that everyone on the other side of that portal would've died by the Vacuan Grimm. (You can mostly thank Weiss [The Writers] for not being more specific about the exit of the portals, but i already wrote & sang that song many times in the past, so i don't wanna get too sidetracked here.) I can guarantee you that the only reason Ren, Nora, Oscar, Emerald, Klein, Willow, Whitley, the Happy Huntresses & everyone else who made it there didn't all fucking die in that desert is because of Winter coming when she did as a Maiden, which wouldn't have happened if Penny didn't do what she did.

So uh... Yeah, Penny making sure the Winter Maiden Powers went to someone she could trust was kind of a big deal. You can't call that "dying for nothing", because despite losing the 2 relics, Penny's death essentially gave the survivors of Solitas a chance to even make it through Vácuo alive & by extension, having an entire unified armada ready to go as we see in the final shot of V9. (Most of that is thanks to Ruby & her message, but i still need to give Penny some credit for this since i doubt there were enough people to properly lead this unified armada). Once again, sharing a great video from Murder of Birds that puts things into perspective better than i ever could: https://youtu.be/k3i8kS5i4qw

Final thoughts

So overall, i think these Penny Revival theories aren't really worth making it a reality. I think it'd be best to just let Penny rest in peace & let Ruby & co. carry on her memory & will, even if her actually death is very cruel & painful. By bringing Penny back, you don't just undo her sacrifice, but also go against the core themes of the show, in more ways than one... So as much as it pains me to say this both as a Penny fan & as a huge Nuts N'Dolts shipper... I think it'd be best for Penny NOT to come back for a second time.

I once again ask everyone to keep things civil in both the comments, as well as in the reblogs & to NOT attack anyone who follow these theories. I do not want that & if i see anybody do that, I'm going to block you... & I really don't wanna do that, especially since my block list is getting kinda full with these annoying as hell pornbots (hate those jerks.)

But that's it for me. This has been Remnant Bardock & until our next meeting, have a wonderful day, my friends!

@asm5129, @iamafanofcartoons, @tumblingxelian, @frisk863, thoughts?

#rwby spoilers #rwby volume 9 spoilers #rwby v9 spoilers #penny polendina #rwby discussion #rwby #rwby analysis #nuts and dolts #rwby ruby rose

[lady-byleth]

Sooooo, Shepard had a clone right? Knowing how much Cerberus likes to go above and beyond, there's a high chance that there's more than one. And the one we meet was comatose until needed, which she never was...so what if there's a whole bunch of clones in various stages of growth that just got frozen after Shepard went rogue

And after the war Miranda decides to see if she can find the rest and uncovers a whole storage of clones. Most of them are dead, either due to complications during development or because of cryo getting interrupted during the war

But one is still alive and asleep, so Miranda tells Shepard, who has only recently been released from the hospital, and takes her there so she can decide what to do with the clone herself.

Of course Garrus is there too cuz he's not letting Shepard out of sight until he's 100% sure she's not gonna get herself blown up again

Tali, Liara, Joker and EDI obviously can't be dissuade from joining either - EDI makes a compelling argument about having to test her new body that is actually complete bullshit, she's just curious - and James and Cortez just tag along because everyone else is going and it's about clones and the have Experience.

Javik comes too, cuz he's bored and Liara made vague comments about there maybe being Cerberus agents to fight, and Kaidan has a Bad Feeling about all these knuckleheads being in one room together so he comes along to keep the peace. That's a lie actually, he's just happy to be here.

Samara somehow shows up too, though no one actually contacted her cuz no one knew how. She just heard "Shepard" and "Cerberus" and decided "that could be trouble" and here she is

Grunt would have loved to go but Wrex tells him if he can't go then Grunt can't either cuz that would be unfair.

Jack has the kids to take care of and Jacob has his kid to take care of, so they're not able to come but promise help should there be some Cerberus agents that need blowing up.

Zaeed just sends a photo of himself at the pool titled "I'm fucking retired".

So Miranda ends up having to fly a huge group of people to that lab she found, which she grumbles about but she's not fooling anyone anymore.

As it turns out the facility is completely abandoned and powered down, except for the emergency power in the lab that's supposed to keep the clones alive. They check the whole place before they descend into the basement, looking for the one pod still active that Miranda found

They move past a bunch of pods with clones ranging from young girls to women the same age as Shepard and it's both fascinating and horrifying at the same time.

Shepard for her part seems to take it pretty well though she does stick close to Garrus who slings an arm around her shoulders to steady her. Tali links arms with her and Shepard gives her a small smile.

The active pod is in the far back and, at first glance, looks empty. Liara immediately grabs the data pad sitting beside it and flips through the many charts and notes on it, frowning in thought.

She mumbles something about "no growth hormones administered", gasps a small "oh" and holds the pad out a little so Miranda can read along with her as EDI starts typing on the console attached to the pod itself

"Oh!" she says after a moment, as if to echo Liara. Joker steps up next to her, trying to make sense of what she's looking at.

"What? How evil is it gonna be?"

EDI doesn't answer but turns to Shepard, a strange sparkle in her eyes that wasn't there when she first got a body. She looks both delighted and amazed. "Shall I open it?"

Shepard looks at the pod, worries her lower lip for a moment. Garrus squeezes her gently, Tali hugs her arm closer. The rest of their group closes rank around her, steadying her with their presence.

They're all here for her, no matter what. So she nods.

"Do it."

There's a low hissing sound and a blast of cold air, fog rolls out of the pod as the lid slides open slowly. For some reason Miranda and Liara look almost giddy, though Liara has to keep pushing Javik's hand down because he keeps trying to aim his gun.

James is standing on his tip toes to see into the pod before its even fully open and almost falls over when a very unexpected sound suddenly echoes through the room.

It's a crying voice. A baby's crying voice.

Samara immediately bolts forward, the instincts of a mother taking over, and she bends down into the pod and emerges with what's indeed a baby.

"Holy shit!" James looks flabbergasted.

"Holy shit..." Cortez doesn't look any better.

"Holy shit, indeed!" Somehow Kasumi is here too.

Samara rocks the little girl in her arms, scrutinizes her closely and smiles.

"Yes, I feel a strong resemblance to you," she says, gracefully moving to a completely stunned Shepard.

If you've never seen a galactic hero speechless, suddenly confront them with a baby clone of themself and that should do the trick.

The baby of course doesn't know that, she's just screaming, probably cold and scared and disoriented. She's squirming in Samara's arms, oblivious to Liara, Miranda, Tali, Kaidan and - surprisingly - EDI who are crowding around Samara to catch a glimpse, cooing already

Samara doesn't even try calming the little girl down, she has other ideas. Before Shepard can refuse Samara deposits the baby into her arms, adjusts her grip and then steps back, an almost mischievous tilt to her serene smile.

The baby calms immediately, big eyes the same color as Shepard's blinking up at a face that will he hers one day.

Shepard is motionless, looking like someone just slapped her with a frying pan...until the baby suddenly starts squealing in delight.

The unease melts from Shepard's face, a slightly confused but warm smile replacing it, and she gently shifts the baby closer to her chest, speaking to her quietly.

Little feet kick with delight, small hands reach out to grab at her face, and careful, scarred fingers brush plump baby cheeks and Samara watches with obvious satisfaction as her friends crowd around Shepard to continue cooing at the little girl now laughing happily

Shepard doesn't see it, focused on the baby as she is, but James just bursts into tears at the adorable picture while Cortez tries to console him without looking away. .

Joker is sniffing a little bit too but instead of staying in the background he loudly says "brittle bones coming through" and pushes to the front of the group. The baby immediately steals his cap. He is delighted. EDI is delighted that he is delighted.

Javik pretends very hard not to be mesmerized by the first human baby he's ever seen. He's failing miserably, much to Kaidan's amusement.

Garrus sticks to the sidelines, arms crossed over his chest, a thoughtful expression on his face. He remembers London, the half joking half serious conversation about adopting kids after the war is finished.

He'd shelved the thought in favor of focusing on recuperating, fixing what the war had destroyed, and building up Shepard who had to wrestle with severe injuries, PTSD and survivor's guilt without the distraction of a galactic war to keep her from realizing how much she was suffering.

But...it had been months, life was slowly returning to some semblance of normalcy - as much as was possible after the heavy losses - and Shepard was getting better. Therapy was going well. She would never be fully free of what she'd been through, but she was determined to get better and Hackett had arranged for the best help in the galaxy.

She was getting better. And restless. She had started spending more time with the orphans, playing with them, teaching them.

She'd always loved children. And Garrus had been very serious about starting a family with her, not so much about the cross species babies that biologically wouldn't happen.

But here was a baby that Shepard already had a connection with, a baby that she obviously already adored. He hadn't seen her smile like that in a long time. It was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

Yes. This could be good.

He feels Samara sidle up beside him, smiling knowingly. "You should suggest it," she says.

Garrus nods, shoots her a smile. "Yeah, I think I will."

#mass effect #shakarian #long post #garrus vakarian #commander shepard #me3 spoilers #I guess? #I mean it's a joke dlc

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 106: Eyes

"Malfoy," a voice called as his hair was pushed out of his face and his chin was tilted slightly. "Malfoy," the voice repeated.

Draco was quite certain he must be hallucinating, there was no way that it was who it sounded like.

"Draco," that voice said again, "Wake up."

His eyes fluttered open and he groaned in pain as the light seared through his retinas and straight into his brain.

"Hey," Harry bloody Potter said.

He opened his mouth and spit out a bit of blood.

"Merlin," Potter said, "Do you think you can stand?"

"Yeah," he grunted. "Yes. I'm fine. Thank you for your assistance, Potter."

The other boy huffed a laugh, "Sure. Come on. Let me help you get to Madam Pomfrey."

He shook his head, "Don't let me keep you from your important life," Draco said as he stood up and reached out to steady himself on the wall.

"Draco," he said.

Looking through his swollen eye, he tried to glare at the other boy. "Harry." he parroted.

"You don't have to be so stubborn," he said with a laugh.

He took a step toward the infirmary and his knees buckled.

Potter caught him and put an arm around his waist. "Come on."

(Read more below the cut)

"What? No one else to save?" Draco asked through clenched teeth as he started to hobble off down the hallway using Potter as little as possible.

"Not at the moment, no," Potter quipped. "You want to tell me who did this to you?"

He let out a humorless chuckle, "It doesn't matter."

Potter hummed and caught Draco when he started to slip a bit. "I've got you," he murmured.

Draco tried not to let the words go to his head.

----------

After they'd reached the infirmary Potter tried again to get Draco to tell him what had happened but there was honestly no point.

Madam Pomfrey had shooed Potter out and then Draco had a few hours of peace and quiet while his wounds were healed. Fortunately he had a good book in his school bag, which Potter had carried up for him.

"Why don't you stay over night, love," Madam Pomfrey said and Draco looked up from his book. "You're not quite ready to go back yet and it's just about bed time anyway."

"Thank you," he replied, giving her a little smile before going back to his book.

Shortly thereafter, the door to the infirmary flew open and Draco's head snapped up. Normally an entry of that magnitude meant that something horrible had happened.

But it was just Potter, looking thunderous as he stormed over to Draco's bed.

"Madam Pomfrey's just gone to bed," he said as he closed his book and set it on his lap. "If you've come here to inflict more damage, perhaps you could wait until the morning for her sake."

That stopped the other man in his tracks. "I'm sorry. What?"

"Just, whatever it is that's made you look murderous, I'm sure it's warranted but I do think that Madam Pomfrey deserves a good rest, don't you?"

"I'm not," he shook his head, "I'm not here to hurt you."

"Oh."

Potter rubbed a hand over his face. "I found Smith."

"Ah," he replied.

"He said that you didn't even raise your wand to cast a shield charm to protect yourself," Potter said as though he was personally offended by this.

Draco shrugged.

"Why?" Potter asked. "Hermione thinks it's because the Ministry has told you what spells you can and can't cast, and if that's the case, I'll write a letter to Kingsley right now-"

"It's not because of the Ministry," he interrupted.

"Then why-" he started before pulling over a chair and plopping down next to Draco's bed, "Why do you keep letting this happen to you?"

"I don't see them," Draco replied, staring at his hands that were twisting together in his lap.

"Look me in the eye and tell me that you don't see them," Potter replied.

He shook his head, "Why does it matter?"

"Draco," he said, "You can tell me-"

"There's nothing to tell," he snapped.

"Look, I know that the war was hard on all of us-"

"You have no idea what the war was like for people like me," he interrupted, trying to keep his breathing under control and his voice low.

"No, I suppose you're right," Potter replied and Draco couldn't help but look over at him. "Would you like to tell me?"

"No!" he exclaimed. "There is nothing to tell! Just like there's no reason for me to tell you who keeps cursing me. And there is no reason for me to tell you that I don't stop them because I deserve it!"

They both sat in stunned silence; Draco breathing heavily, his heart hammering away in his chest and Potter just stared at him.

Potter broke first, "You-"

"Don't," Draco said, shaking his head. "Circe, Potter, don't say it. Don't tell me that I don't deserve it because we both know that isn't true."

"Draco," he breathed and it was like he was shoving a jagged, rusty knife straight through his chest.

"Don't," he repeated, begging this time.

"Draco, listen to me."

He shook his head and to his mounting horror a tear spilled from his eyes.

"It wasn't your fault," Potter said.

"Don't," he begged, wrapping his arms around his stomach as though it could stop the way his entire body felt like it was unraveling. "People died-"

"Yes," Potter agreed. "People died on both sides. From your actions, from death eaters actions, from the Order's actions, from my actions; people died. You never actually killed anyone, though. You don't have it in you."

"Potter, I am culpable for-"

"You never killed anyone." Potter repeated. "You didn't want to hurt people, you didn't want to kill people, you just wanted to protect your mum."

"Don't." He shook his head, "You don't understand."

"I actually killed someone," the other boy replied.

"The Dark Lord doesn't coun-"

"When I was eleven," Potter started and Draco was so shocked by those words that he didn't even interrupt. "You remember all of the commotion at the end of the year or first year?"

He nodded slowly.

"I killed Professor Quirrell," he said. "Long story short, because of the blood magic protecting me, he couldn't touch me and it killed him."

"But that's not-"

"Second year, Tom Riddle was sucking Ginny's life force so that he could come back, I killed him. I stabbed the horocrux with a basilisk fang and I didn't even think about it," he continued.

"But-"

"Last year, Pettigrew died because he owed me a life debt and he tried to kill me."

"But-"

"I not only was responsible for Voldemort's death the first time and the second time, I was responsible for killing seven pieces of his soul."

"But it's not the same!" he finally managed to get in.

"Why?"

"Because you were on the right side of things and I wasn't!"

The other boy shook his head, "Yeah but it's not like you wanted to be on that side."

"When I was young-"

"Oh sure," he agreed, "you were a complete arse. But we wouldn't have won if you had turned me in, if you hadn't given me your wand, if you'd killed Dumbledore. It's not who you are any more."

"Still," Draco whispered. "I fixed that closet."

He nodded, "And I can't count the number of things that I've done to cause deaths. Godric, Draco," he shook his head, "I don't sleep well as it is, but I'd never sleep if I held myself responsible for all of the horrible things that happened because of my actions."

"Potter-"

"Look, it doesn't have to happen in a day, but you can't keep doing this, Draco. You can't keep letting people hurt you to atone for your perceived sins."

He let his head fall back against the pillows. As much as he would love to live in the delusions that Potter was offering he couldn't imagine that world actually existed.

"Be my friend."

"Excuse me?" he asked, looking over at the other boy.

"Be my friend," Potter said. "Please."

"Why?"

He sighed, "Because..." he trailed off.

"I'm not a broken thing for you to fix."

"No," he agreed easily. "I'm the broken thing."

Draco stared at him, "You make no sense to me."

Potter grinned like he'd complimented him.

"Will it shut you up if I say yes?" he grumbled.

"For now," he replied with a nod.

"Fine."

"Alright," Potter said, sitting back and making himself comfortable in the chair.

"What are you doing?"

He gave him a little grin, "Being a friend. You're stuck with me like glue now."

"That's a boyfriend not a friend, you're confused."

Potter shrugged and said through a yawn, "Boyfriend, then. That title is fine with me."

"What-?" he started.

But Potter leaned over and pressed a kiss to his forehead as though it was the most natural thing in the world and every word that Draco knew evaporated. "Good night, Draco Malfoy. Sleep well."

He was so stunned that he said nothing in reply and by the time he'd gotten his thoughts in any semblance of order Potter was fast asleep; his head resting on his hand as he snored.

Draco shook his head and decided that he would just have to wait until the morning to straighten all of this out.

For now, he decided that it might be alright to spend the next few hours with the tiny, fragile ball of joy unfurling in his chest.

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

Day 105: Cuddle | Day 107: Charge

#100 drarry drabbles in 100 days #Day 106 #Eyes #hogwarts eighth year #Dealing with Trauma #cw: ptsd #becoming friends #drarry #drarry drabbles #drarry ficlets #This one got a little bit long-sorry!!

[itsclydebitches]

I’ve been seeing an uptick in “anti-RWDE” posts lately  — which is a phenomenon I’d like to comment on at a later date  — but for now one of them (quite unintentionally) made me realize something about the finale that I haven’t seen others discuss yet. 

So RWBYJNOR saves everyone, right? Let’s just put aside the animation for a moment  — which didn’t show any army members making it out  — as well as the forgotten side characters  — Maria, Pietro, Qrow’s group isn’t forgotten, but still left behind  — and take things on good faith here. We’ll read the finale through the thematic intention: RWBYJNOR saved “everyone” in the Kingdom of Atlas in Volume 8, deliberately contrasting them with Ironwood who was willing to sacrifice a chunk of the Kingdom in Volume 7. Forget all the messiness and just accept that regardless of the consequences  — like a destroyed Kingdom and a “dead” team  — the heroes are heroic because they didn’t give into a “lesser evil” thinking and managed to save everyone. 

Now, how was that possible? 

Let’s go back to the beginning of the seventh episode of Volume 8, “War.” Salem’s grimm have just burrowed through Atlas’ defenses and taken them out. The shields are gone. She flies Monstra into the fields and releases an army of darkness that immediately heads for the city. What’s the very first thing Ironwood does? 

Soldier: Yes, sir?

Ironwood: I am evacuating all citizens to the subway. Prepare Manta Squad Omega, and dispatch to every part of Atlas.

Soldier: But sir-

Ironwood: Now!

He evacuates the people, with “the people” meaning all the Atlesians and however many Mantle folk got to the city prior to Salem’s arrival. When this episode aired I mentioned being confused as to why the soldier was so hesitant. Why wouldn’t you want the people to get to safety when a grimm army is heading their way? Fans against Ironwood took the soldier’s side, claiming that Mountain Glenn proved that any underground evacuation is a death sentence and thus he obviously doesn’t really care about the peoples’ safety. Fans in support of/neutral towards Ironwood pointed out that this is a pretty big leap, no one is coming up with a better idea for what he should do instead, and that within these circumstances it reads like the soldiers is illogically against this idea simply because everyone is against Ironwood now. The show wants characters criticizing his decisions and making him out to look like a crazed dictator... even during moments when it doesn’t make any sense to be upset with him. Shooting the councilman yes, trying to keep the people safe no. Basically, this small exchange was a mess, but the rest of the volume proved that this was a sound call. The subway never collapsed and no grimm ever made it to that enclosed space to pick the civilians off like fish in an underground barrel. 

So, why didn’t that happen? Well, one answer is because Oscar and Ozpin destroyed the whale. But how did they have time to do that? Without the people dying while they were being tortured, talking to Hazel, escaping with Emerald, fighting Salem, etc.? A lot happened between Salem starting her attack and Oscar ending it, so why wasn’t 2/3rds of the Kingdom’s population decimated during that time? 

Because Ironwood sent his army out to keep the grimm occupied. 

Outside of Ironwood’s cartoon villain actions  — random murders and bomb threats  — which get the most attention due to how deliberately, over-the-top horrific they are, these are the two actions that get the most negative attention from both the story and the fanbase. The soldier seems horrified by the order to evacuate. Marrow is devastated that young adults are fighting in this battle. The fandom is disgusted by both aspects of Ironwood’s character: giving orders that, as general, he expects to be obeyed and having an army that follows those orders. Putting side that cartoon villainy, this is what supposedly makes Ironwood the antagonist here. These are the qualities that have existed since Volume 2, resulting in a “he was always a bad guy” interpretation. These are the qualities that have resulted in anyone who likes his character being labeled as a “bootlicker.” We know these qualities make the fandom hate him because otherwise, more people would be confused as to why a presumably heroic character randomly shot Oscar. Orders, armies, and general military associations are at the heart of Ironwood’s presumed villainy. 

So let’s remove them. 

Ironwood has no evil army. Ironwood gives no evil orders. Power and control lies solely in the hands of our non-military heroes. Everything is better! 

...well, no. Because we saw in Volume 8 precisely the choices our heroes made when the attack started: half of them focused on saving a single individual (Oscar) and the other half kept to the sidelines. At no point did our RWB group act after sending the message and prior to securing the Staff. AKA, during the attack of Salem’s army. We got a very explicit moment in which Ruby looked out the window at the battle going on and turned away from it, continuing to discuss ethics instead of joining the fight. The people of Atlas (which, again, includes many Mantle citizens) had no one but Ironwood and his army because a third of the group was trying to rescue Oscar (they never even had a plan to blow up Monstra — that was also Ironwood), a third of the group was up in Amity, and a third was sitting in the mansion. They did nothing to help the people of Atlas being attacked by grimm. 

Thus, if you remove Ironwood’s actions, everything goes to hell. There is no longer an order to evacuate to the subway. Maybe some people go there anyway. Most probably don’t. They run in a panic wherever they can. Hide wherever they can. Go back home for some semblance of safety. 

There’s no longer an army. Either it doesn’t exist because we’ve determined it’s simplistically bad despite RWBY’s grimm-specific context, or Ironwood likewise never gives the order to protect Atlas’ border. Salem’s army moves unimpeded through the city, killing countless people as it goes. How do we know? Because they’re civilians who can’t defend themselves and there’s literally no one else to help. Remember: Ironwood is not giving orders, there is no army, RWB is in the mansion, YJOR is in the whale, Penny is out of commission, the Happy Huntresses are in Mantle. Those in Atlas are entirely alone. In time, Oscar destroys the whale, but by then it’s too late. There’s no concrete way to theorize how many have died, but it’s inevitably a lot. Everyone else is scatted across the city, trying to survive. 

So this scene 

no longer exists. 

When the group gets the Staff and creates portals for “everyone” to escape through, Mantle is ready to go. They’ve gotten everyone into the crater and can funnel them straight to Vacuo. Atlas, however, is in chaos. When Jaune enters the subway there’s only a few people there, many of which may be wounded or dying. He’s right back where he started, in Mantle at the beginning of Volume 8: needing to go door-to-door to find where people have hidden themselves, trying to convince them all to follow him (remember Oscar commenting to Ozpin about how difficult that was?). Except now, he and Nora are the only ones trying to get people to safey, the city is filled with far more grimm, a significant amount of time has passed for people to be killed or injured (making evacuating them even harder, both due to injuries and an unwillingness to leave hurt/dead/missing loved ones behind), he’s trying to convince these panicking people to go through magic portals, not just walk to a crater, and he’s aware that there’s a very short time limit for this task. 

Jaune returns in a panic of his own, explaining how difficult it will be to get that 2/3rds of the Kingdom to Vacuo. How many are already dead. Barricaded. Missing. Closeup on Ruby looking horrified, but then she rallies. They can do it. Atlas is falling, but residual dust gives them just enough time to find, calm, and evacuate those people. They’re heroes after all. Beating the odds is what they do. 

Then Cinder attacks. 

Suddenly, the group can’t evacuate people because they’re trying to keep themselves safe from her. Maybe Cinder gets the powers because Jaune was off looking for civilians, leaving Penny without a mercy kill. Maybe Nora dies because she’s still trying to help people on the city that plows into the one below. Regardless of how details might change, they’re not getting a spread out, decimated population through those portals before Cinder changes the wish and makes them disappear.  

In this version, the story starts with Ironwood wanting to sacrifice 1/3rd of the population to save 2/3rds and the future of the war. It ends with 2/3rds of the population dying instead. 

This is what I mean when I say the majority of the fandom wants to view a very complex situation through a ridiculously simple lens. The fandom wants to denounce every bit of RWBY’s fictionalized military, the context issues of that aside. The story wants to paint RWBYJNOR as the only heroes, in part because they succeeded in saving everyone (“everyone”) in the Kingdom when Ironwood gave up. 

But they only managed to save everyone because of Ironwood. Because he kept fighting for his people to the bitter end. This is why, though his horrific actions obviously exist in the story, they make no sense (he’ll threaten to kill his people so he can... save his people?) and mess up what little is working in the finale. The story wants us to celebrate the group for evacuating Mantle and Atlas, but the Atlas evacuation would not have happened if not for Ironwood’s actions  — the actions that are ignored in favor of having Winter blame him for everything and then killing him off. The rescue of “everyone” was very much a joint effort. RWBYJNOR’s win is not actually a contrast to Ironwood’s intended sacrifice, for the simple reason that their win depended entirely on Ironwood’s actions. 

If we’re going to celebrate the group getting everyone to safety, we should probably also celebrate the guy who got them all to an easy evacuation point and ensured they weren’t eaten before then. Does that mean Ironwood never did anything wrong? Of course not. As established, the story went out of its way to make him into a villain. Rather, it means that other parts of the story failed to maintain that black and white view, complicating the heroism of RWBYJNOR in the process. If we want Ironwood to be incapable of heroic action, always the bad guy, nothing good to say about him whatsoever... then we likewise need to accept that the group is rather unheroic in many regards too. That, on their own, they would have failed to save everyone, just as Ironwood’s plan failed to save everyone at the end of Volume 7. Because they chose their friend over a kingdom. Because they sat around in a mansion. Because by the time they took action again and tried to escape, without Ironwood’s help they would have lost a larger majority than they originally insisted be saved. 

#rwby #rwde #mymetas

[everwitch-magiks]

RWRB Fics Roundup

Hey y’all! Once upon a time I had the ambition to post links on here to all the fics and new chapters that I publish on AO3, and I think it’s safe to say that I’ve been an absolute disaster at that over the summer. In my defense I’ve just had so much to write, but that’s not much of a defense seeing as it doesn’t take ages to chuck a link on here. Anyhow. Bottom line is, I’ve severely neglected it, and it’s gotten to a point where I’m just gonna make a post with links to everything I’ve written since June (ish) for you to peruse, so you can see if there’s one that you didn’t catch wind of that catches your eye now. Neat, huh?

So, without further ado, the links! The fics! Let’s go.

Completed works

Love At First Bark General Audiences, AU, tooth-rotting fluff. 3K. “I still don’t know your name, do I?” Henry watches Alex where he’s crouched down in front of David and gently scratching David below his chin. David absolutely loves Alex. Henry can relate. “It’s David,” Henry supplies. “Cool,” Alex says. “And what’s the dog’s name?” Henry blinks at him. “... David?” “What?” Alex exclaims. He looks from David to Henry and then back at David again. “Wow, okay, that is a choice.” Henry wants to sink through the earth and never come back up again.

Shameless Explicit, AU, Henry has a reputation. 14K. Henry has a lot of sex. A lot. He's young and in college and there is no shortage of men to fall in bed with. What better time to explore what he likes and what he fucking loves, as well as to catalogue how to make his many, many partners feel as good as possible? It’s all part of the learning experience. And Henry is a very dedicated student.

Alex has been inescapably aware of Henry ever since that one time they kissed. You don’t just stop being aware of the guy who basically caused your sexuality. So when Henry propositions Alex at a lame frat party, Alex accepts eagerly. Maybe this is exactly what he needs. Maybe, if he can just have Henry once, he’ll have a better chance of finally getting over his embarrassing fixation with Henry. It's worth a try.

When The Time Is Right Part four of my sex club series. Explicit, AU, dom Henry and sub Alex. 16K. “Maybe I could challenge you more,” Henry suggests, his eyes carefully trained on Alex. “And hold you accountable for longer. How does that sound?” “That sounds fucking amazing,” Alex tells him, the words coming out in a rush. “Yes. That. Please.” “Alright, then.” Henry offers him a sly grin. “Alex, love. You just gave me a wonderful idea.” It’s really something, how quickly Alex’s heartbeat picks up. “Oh? Do tell.” Henry’s grin widens. He looks alarmingly pleased with himself. “How would you feel about a staycation?”

When Alex asks Henry for something a little more intense in the bedroom, they end up taking more than just their sex life to the next level.

Out For A Bite Explicit, AU, suspense and supernatural elements. 3K. Henry's eyes fly up, zeroing in on the reflection in the mirror. There, behind him. The man from the bar. He looks different in the fluorescent bathroom lights. Sharper. There’s a look in his eyes that has Henry shivering all over again. It's greedy. Hungry.

He’s staring right at Henry.

Henry's throat feels dry. His heart beats madly. He's heard whispers of this place, and more importantly of its patrons. He thinks he knows what this man is.

ever fallen in love (with someone you shouldn’t have fallen in love with) Explicit, AU, Alex and Henry in DIY Punk & mainstream pop punk, respectively. 34K. Teenage music sensation Kensington have taken the world by storm. With their cool leather jackets and wickedly distorted guitars, they're a pop duo that packs a punch. Or at least they sound like one—their lyrics unfortunately lack any semblance of depth. Alex can't fucking stand Kensington. But thankfully, he doesn’t have to. He’s not likely to cross paths with those British pop losers during his final semester of high school in Texas. And even if he did, he'd never let some stupidly attractive blonde take his focus away from the goal that Alex has worked towards for years: winning the Austin Band Slam with his latino punk trio.

But when Henry comes crashing into Alex's life, with his intriguing piano pieces and piercing blue eyes and slow, purposeful kisses that make Alex burn with want, Alex finds that he might need to reevaluate his stance on both pop losers and distractions. Or maybe not. Maybe he’s better off keeping Henry at arm's length, since it's so painfully evident that Henry will never love him back.

Never Tell Me The Odds Teen and Up Audiences, canon verse, an outside perspective on First Prince as well as a story about a certain Star Wars mural. 2K. "Wait!" Alex yells up to the driver. "Stop! Stop the car!" Up close, it's beautiful. Two stories tall. He can’t imagine how somebody was able to put together something like this so fast.

Ash had never imagined that they'd get the chance to actually meet Alex Claremont-Diaz, and much less get the chance to tell Alex about how that very special Star Wars mural came to be. Although of course, Ash never would have met Alex if it hadn’t been for Farida. Farida and her bold courage, and her warm compassion, and her sometimes infuriating (but always endearing) stubbornness.

yrs. faithfully (with nowhere to go) Explicit, canon verse, a lazy morning in bed leads to something more. 3K. When Alex and Henry wake up together the day before their anniversary, they're genuinely planning on getting out of bed and spending the day as productive members or society. Truly, their intentions are honorable. But a trip down memory lane gets them reminiscing about that night exactly one year ago, when Alex had come running through the rain to deliver some choice words about obtuse fucking assholes.

As Alex and Henry start to relive the memory, they quickly realize that they both remember it intimately. So intimately that they might be able to pull off something of a do-over.

Gadgets and Gizmos A-Plenty A companion piece to dearest Hattie’s soulmate fic. Mature, AU, a look into Henry buying sex toys. Yes. That’s the fic. 2K. There’s a bunch of regulars that Amir knows by name (and, unavoidably, by kinks), but most often Playtime gets one-time visitors. Which makes sense, really. A lot of people don’t seem to want to step into the same adult toy shop twice. So Amir is always a little extra curious when there’s a repeat customer, especially one who is this attractive. And, interestingly, one who’s come back so soon.

The tall, classically handsome man with blond hair and blue eyes left Playtime no less than five hours ago after having purchased a medium-sized, fairly standard vibrator well suited for anal play. And now he’s back. Because apparently, he’s found he needed another vibrator.

If Sex Was A Sport We’d Be Winning Mature, AU, a classic Olympics hookup. 3K. It's remarkable, truly, that Alex didn't even want to be here. He only came all the way to Ariake because June was determined to watch a bunch of prissy ponies strut around to music. Still, perhaps the true Olympic experience lies in the wide variety of disciplines. Or, perhaps, it has something to do with chatting up a pretty blond behind the stables and getting him to show you the inside of an Olympic tack room. As Alex quickly takes to Henry’s sweet smiles and easy confidence, he realizes that just a few stolen moments with this man might turn into his most cherished memory from the Tokyo Olympics.

Alex knows better than to get attached, though. He and Henry live an ocean apart. There’s no way this quick fumble in the stable equivalent of a supply closet could ever lead to anything more. Right?

Talk Dirty To Me Explicit, AU, dom Henry and sub Alex. 9K. Henry studies Nora’s expression for a moment. There’s something about her favourable account of this guy she claims not to want to sleep with again that doesn’t add up. "But you're still not interested in taking him on?"

"He wants more than I'm willing to offer," Nora says frankly. Henry’s always liked this about her—how she doesn’t skirt around the hard facts. It's a part of what makes her so good at dominating. "But you know what? For you, he'd be kind of perfect."

Henry has been active in the local BDSM scene for years and there’s no shortage of men who’d love nothing more than to find themselves at his mercy. But Henry is on a break. He’s not looking for a new partner, but he’s also not expecting to become so intrigued by the man that Nora insists he should meet. Alex is a newcomer on the scene who doesn’t yet know exactly what he wants, much less with who. There’s no way that he could turn out to be exactly who Henry needs. Right?

Date night (please toy with me) Explicit, canon verse, a night out leads to some fun with a toy. 4K. This… this is new. They’ve talked about trying this, about what it’d be like to conceal some of their intimacy in plain sight, about what it would feel like to try and reclaim what is most private to them by flaunting it without anyone even knowing, by daring to take risks again. They’ve agreed that they’d still need to be careful, but they’ve also agreed that it would be interesting. That it would be fun.

And apparently, Henry thinks tonight is the night for it. “Do you trust me, love?”

“Yeah.” Alex swallows. He picks up the box, studying it for a moment. “Do you want… what do you want me to do?”

“I want you to go to the bathroom,” Henry says evenly, “You’ll find everything you need in the box. Then I want you to come back and sit down. Can you do that for me?”

“Yeah. Of course.” Alex taps the box, grinning in Henry’s direction. “I expect we’ll be leaving soon?”

Henry smiles slyly. “If you’re good, yes.”

Ongoing works

Hashtag Soulmates Mature, AU, Henry writes fanfiction. 23K and 7 chapters so far. Alex is perfect and handsome, the golden boy, everybody’s secret crush. So there is absolutely no way that he is the reader who screeches in caps lock every time that Henry posts as much as a drabble. There’s no way. Except Alex just closed his browser fast as fucking lightning, but not before Henry had gotten a good glimpse of the page Alex had open: AO3. ‘Don't Stop Me Now’, Henry’s current wip. The one that Henry literally just updated.

Sweet Jesus. Could it really be?

That... is all! It’s been a productive summer. I’m very excited to continue writing Hashtag Soulmates, and also to start working on a few upcoming First Prince fics that I’m planning on writing. Stay tuned for fics! ♡

#First prince #FirstPrince #red white and royal blue #rwrb #alex claremont-diaz #Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor #evie writes #fanfiction

[oldbay-on-apples]

Dystopian Larry Fic Rec

Inspired by some of the lovely people and fic recers on here, I’ve decided to start making my own fic recs.  If you’d like, you can request recs in my inbox and I’ll see what I can do <3!

Please read the ratings and tags to these fics (because some of them are dark or have dark themes) and enjoy!

You Try To Be Everything (I Need) by lululawrence - @lululawrence​  (NR, 36k)

Wars, and rumours of wars, were nothing new for the world in the twenty-fourth century. The fighting had evolved over the years, and rarely did it involve traditional weapons. A group most widely known as the Southern Powers gained strength amongst portions of the western European continent and spread quickly. There was a fight the Southern Powers didn’t expect coming from the north of England, though. Resistance came in the form of an organised underground; a group comprised of people with the Touch that did the best they could to enforce a line that would not be crossed. Slowly, that line was moved from the Channel to boundaries further and further north. It seemed only a matter of time before the Southern Powers took over everywhere. Until that time, people did the best they could to live their lives in some semblance of normality. For Louis Tomlinson, that sense of normality was about to change when his best friend, Harry Styles, goes missing. Louis embarks on the journey of a lifetime where he uses his newly developed abilities to search for his friend, even when it takes him to places he never thought he would see while surmounting trials he never could have imagined. -

I loved the way the magic and technology in this fic intersected in such a unique way and the way the world was built was extraordinary!

red hands by reveries_passions - @dystopianharry​ (T, 132k)

I’ve never told anyone,” Harry murmurs, voice so soft no one else would be able to hear, if it wasn’t just the two of them. “But you’ve told someone,” Louis says firmly. “And that’s not gonna fucking happen around here. You don’t speak a word of it, or someone’s going to kill you, and we can’t let that happen.” * a dystopian au in which harry, an ex-soldier who’s escaped from his government run camp, accidentally stumbles across the biggest rebel movement in the country, and louis, one of the rebellion’s mysterious leaders who appears to hate him, seems to simultaneously have an obsession with keeping him alive. or: harry is wanted for treason, niall hasn’t changed in four years, liam is always smiling, and louis is angry. like, really angry.

- The plot of this is just *chef’s kiss* in so many ways!  I love the way the characters interact with each other and I’m weak for Niall and Harry’s friendship in this.

Love After the End of the World by writing_practice - @mercurial-madhouse​ (E 158k)

“Wait. Just so I’m clear in me fucking noggin,” Niall says. “An international worldwide takeover is well under way and the only thing standing between having hot showers and a second end of the world is us five fuckers?”    -----    Society shattered when all electricity suddenly cut off across the globe, plunging the world into darkness. Now, Prometheus Industries is the sole remaining supply of power, a saving grace to those who survived Lights Out. As fugitives in no-man’s land struggling to break into Prometheus HQ, death lurks around every corner for Louis and Zayn. Things get complicated when a routine recon falls apart and Louis collides with Harry and his mates Niall and Liam, survivors with their own agenda.    When staying alive is already a constant battle, the deadliest weakness is to be in love. For Harry and Louis, finding each other sits on top of the endless list of What Else Could Go Wrong.

-

This just came out in the most recent Big Bang (that’s still on going so you should definitely check that out) and this fic is so amazing!  I think it does a great job of just really immersing you in the world the characters exist in.  Love After the End of the World is also a Soulmate AU and I love the way those parts come together.  It also has an amazing prologue called PROMETHEUS RISING (M 5k) that I enjoyed immensely set in the same world!

at last, at last by suspendrs - @suspendrs​ (NR 41k) Locked

“Come with us,” Tommo says, stopping at the other end of the gymnasium, near the doors. “Don’t let them make you suffer any longer. Come with us, and be human.”

   Before Harry has even finished thinking it through, he’s on his feet, gaining the attention of every single person in the gymnasium. What has he got to lose, anyway?

   Or, Harry is born into a cult in a post-apocalyptic world, and Louis is the leader of the rebel group tasked with the mission of shutting them down. Together, they make a rather effective team.

-

This fic does a great job of making you feel like you’re experiencing with the characters, like I could practically smell what the characters were smelling!  The world it’s set in is so cool and the entire fic feels so well thought out and everything is so consistent!

my love will never leave you by we_are_the_same @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed​ (T 10k)

In a world where memories are used as currency, Louis will do anything it takes for Harry to get better.

-

I loved the idea behind this. Like the entire world is so brilliantly done! And it was all based on ONE word (because of the wordplay challenge).  Even though it’s set in a different world everything feels so grounded and realistic and I really really like that about it.

a prayer for which no words exist by Eliane (M 34k) Locked

"Louis is a few seconds away from blowing up a rather important section of the New York subway when he sees Harry for the first time."

-

In this fic the characters motivations are so clear (to the reader) and I love how it goes from Louis accidentally sort of, kind of, kidnapping Harry to them becoming friends then more.  I also love how no matter where they are the fic has a real sense of place. This is part 1 of landscapes of war.  The entire series is really good!

Who Painted the Moon Black by throughthedark (E 95k) Locked

   “People died,” Harry whispers so quietly Louis strains to hear. “People died, and I killed some of them. How does life just go on after something like that?”

   Louis shakes his head. “I don't know. It just does.”

   Hunger Games AU where Louis Tomlinson is district six's victor from the 69th Hunger Games and Harry Styles is district seven's victor from the 72nd Hunger Games.

-

This fic is a hunger games AU that both people who have and haven't read/watched the Hunger Games can enjoy. I like how it explores the world of the Hunger Games in a way that isn’t explored in the Hunger Games canon.  It’s really intense (like the E is for the darker themes and violence) and I enjoy it a lot.  There is a happy ending (as the author assures in the tags) and I really enjoy all the struggles that the characters go through.

Nobody Marks You by graceling_in_a_suit @graceling-in-a-suit​ (T 33k)

“The plan is: we’re gonna put on a play. Now, I see some doubtful faces–” Louis looked around and found zero doubtful faces. Liam looked intrigued, Zayn looked bored, and Harry looked scarily blank. “But this is what’s happening. We’re gonna do some fucking acting, we’re gonna perform our hearts out, and we’re not going to think about anything else. The past, the future; none of it. All we’re going to think about is... “ Niall trailed off, eyeing the bookshelf to his left. He closed his eyes and reached a hand out towards it, running his fingers over the covers before pulling a book out at random. “William Shakespeare’s Much Ado About Nothing.”

AU: Five assholes stuck in a bunker put on a play.

-

This is one of my absolute favorite fics.  I just love the way the characters interact and they way the story is told.  It’s nonlinear so you jump around in time and it shows the way the character's relationships change throughout.  I’m a sucker for Much Ado About Nothing and though you don’t need to read it to fully appreciate the fic I think the use of the play throughout is genius. 

@1dfanfictionbookcovers​ has a really cool cover for the fic as well HERE

With a whimper by kitundercover  @kitundercover​​ (M 132k)

Dystopian AU. Louis has been alone for too long to remember how not to be, and Harry has too much to worry about to deal with a scrawny, wild, stranger.

---

The man grips his arm tightly. “You’re not going to say anything.” It’s not a question.

Louis shakes his head, his body twitching.

“Fine.” Large green eyes survey him before letting go. “It’s cold. Take this. Wear it.”

Louis can’t help another flinch as the man’s long scarf is wrapped around his tender neck, it’s still warm. He touches the soft material. “Thank you.”

The man bears his teeth. “Don’t thank me. Don’t ever thank me.”

-

The thing this fic does really does is showing emotional reactions.  Louis’ inner monologue is so well done and I really like the plot of the story.

these bountiful silences by tommoandbambi (T 123k)

they live in a world where they can only say four words per day. harry meets some people that don't want to live that way.

-

I really, really, really, like this plot and the story! The world that the characters exist in is so interesting and I just love the way in which it is a dystopia.

#my fic recs #Dystopian Larry fic rec #Larry Fic Recs #Dystopian Fic Recs #fic recs

[blossomingimagines]

Fall Again

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader x Wanda Maximoff 

Word Count: 3,856

Summary:

Notes: I hope this what you were looking for.

Warnings: Depressive thoughts and talks of dying.

The faint sound of buzzing filled your ears as the man sitting before you droned on and on. His words are meaningless beyond the first sentence. ‘The tests came back positive, I’m sorry, you have cancer.’ Words that had instantly filled you with a certain hollowness you had never expected. As if your entire being tried to comprehend the words. As your mind tried to wrap itself around the idea that you were dying. Causing everything else to simply fade away into a static background. Simple white-noise to your predestined existence. Even still bits and pieces slice through like knives. Cutting you open to the world that you would never experience in the same way again. Leaving you exposed and bleeding without any semblance of protection. 

The sound of the hospital filtered through your ears. Shuffling of feet and the distant voices of doctors and nurses speaking to one another. An overabundance of cheer and hope floating through the halls like air, but you could now detect the underlying sense of despair. The darkness that festered beneath the light pretenses of the spotless halls. A feeling that only seemed to come to the dying. The beautiful lies become a painful truth. You simply stared straight ahead at all the degrees hanging proudly on the wall. All mocking you, because no matter how many awards your doctor may have-- nothing could ever truly cure you. Nothing could stop your body from tearing itself apart. Nothing could stop the suffering you were going to experience. His words mean nothing more to you than the mindless chatter you hear on the subway. 

‘I believe we caught it early, which is a good sign.’

‘You’re going to have to start radiation immediately.’

‘If we don’t get ahead of this thing… I’m afraid there’s not much else we can do.’

Turning, you finally meet the warm gaze of the man that was trying to save your life. Your mouth opens in hopes that your brain just knew what to say. That a few simple words would stop the spinning of the room. That your entire world would make sense again. 

Nothing came out. 

You simply stared at the man, with your mouth slightly open, as silence settled over the two of you. An oppressive silence that spoke more than either of you ever could. Brown eyes staring into yours with compassion and understanding. Lowering your head, you could feel the way your body seemed to wilt. Your shoulders slumping as you canted forward. Normally graceful hands, fumbling to get a grip on your knees. Anything to keep you anchored. To keep your thoughts on the current moment. On what was happening right now. You didn’t want them to stray to your future. To what you knew was coming for you. 

You didn’t want to think about the fact that you were dying. That you would be dead sooner than you ever thought possible. 

You had always known that with the life you lived you more than likely wouldn’t live to see your elder years. But you had always thought you would at least go out on your terms. Either a fire-fight where you were protecting your team or protecting innocent life. You had never thought that the true enemy all along was your own body. That it had been biding its time to finally land a crippling strike-- God did it land one. 

Closing your eyes, you try to stem the oncoming tears. You hated to cry in public when you were near strangers. You hated to look weak to people that didn’t know you. To people that would judge with their own preconceived notions. Nothing was going to stop the onslaught, however. Not as images of the ones you loved came flashing across your mind. 

Tony’s snarky voice filtering through your ears as if he was in the room with you. His teasing tone filling you with warmth. He always knew how to make you forget all your troubles. 

Steve’s warm smile as he looked up at you over the newspaper. His blue eyes crinkling with happiness as he offered you a mug of coffee. Having learned how you liked it long ago.

Bruce’s calming presence as he sat beside you as you read. A companionable warmth shared between the two of you.

Thor’s booming laugh as you told him a joke that you had heard. Easy conversation passing between you both as you shared joke after joke-- as well as ale, of course. 

Clint’s grin as you cooked together. His shoulder bumping into yours with the ease of someone who had done it a hundred times over. 

Vision’s practical words always seemed to make you chuckle. As you always found his no-nonsense ways both endearing and amusing. 

Then Natasha and Wanda appeared and the choked feeling in your throat only grew. Their green eyes sparkling with all the love in the world. Wanda’s open grin filling you with the same amount of warmth as Natasha’s half-smile. The laughter that so easily flowed between the three of you. Your body naturally wedged between them both as you tried to get as close as possible-- though that never seemed to be close enough. 

Clenching your hands, you try to ignore the way your heart broke all over again. Try to ignore the fact that not only your heart was going to be broken by the end of the day. That the two women that held your heart had already lost too much. And now… they may lose you too. 

A simple fact that caused a choked sob to escape your mouth. You want nothing more than to go to a time where this was the simple case of the flu. When the only reason you had gone to the doctor was because of worried green eyes tracking you wherever you went. Even when you had done everything to reassure them that you were fine. Their worry, their fear, had been the tipping point. 

“How long?”

It took you a moment to realize you had been the one that spoke. As the voice that had broken through the silence sounded nothing like your own. It was weak… feeble… everything you strived not to be. And even as the question hung between the two of you, you weren’t sure you wanted an answer. You weren’t even sure what had caused you to ask in the first place. 

You weren’t sure about a lot of things anymore. 

“With what we’ve seen? I’m afraid that if you don’t start treatment as soon as possible you’ll be dead within a few months.” The words only cause your stomach to drop even more. “However, I am confident that we caught it early enough. That, with the treatment, you may be able to make a full recovery.” 

A sardonic smile twists your mouth. “And if I don’t? I’ll end up dying as something I’m not, right? A shell of who I used to be.” 

“Yes,” he agrees softly. “But would you rather take the chance of living? Or succumb to your body’s wishes of death?” 

His words echo like a mantra as you make your way back towards the Tower. Your eyes are taking in the landscape of New York City. The bustling of life that always permeated the streets. Whether it’s children pulling their parents excitedly to the next store or a businessman that was rushing to his next meeting-- New York City never seized in its constant state of motion. No matter what happened amid its confines nothing ever seemed to disturb that simple fact.

If you were to die tomorrow nothing would truly change. The shops would still open in the early recesses of the morning. Taxis and other means of transportation would still rush through the streets looking for passengers. There would still be the distant wails of ambulances on their way to the hospital. Life would go on as it always had. The world wouldn’t stand still simply because you were no longer in it. Even if yours had the moment you had heard the news. 

Pressing your lips into a thin line, you stand and follow the line of people that were getting off. Your feet touching the rough pavement of the sidewalk with a hollow thud. With your hands stuffed into the pockets of your coat, you make your way through the throngs of people. Ignoring some of the looks you received once people recognized who you were. You weren’t in the mood to socialize. You also weren’t in the mood to dismiss the people that looked up to you. You knew what it was like to be dismissed by the people who you used to idolize-- your own personal heroes. You didn’t want that to ever happen to anyone that felt the same way towards you. 

So, you just kept your head down and plowed through the bustling streets of New York. Towards the beckoning light of Avengers Tower. The great A situated on its side a beacon for home and safety. The dull echoing of your footsteps on the marble floor of the lobby as you bypass security. Your mind somewhere else entirely as you make your way up towards the communal floor of the Tower. Only the soft sound of the elevator pulled you out of your reverie. Announcing that you had arrived at your destination. 

Following the faint sounds of voices, your body follows the well-worn path to the kitchen. Taking in everything as you near the entrance-- trying to remember everything as it was before the fallout that you knew was about to happen. From the faint crack along the sidewall of the living room that had appeared when Thor had ‘tripped’ while playing Nerf Wars. To the many pictures that lined the walls-- from amusing candid's to group pictures from intimate affairs. The happiness that suffused the walls of the Tower was always present. 

You hated that you were about to taint it with the same underlying sense of darkness that the hospital held. Hated that your own body has betrayed you. 

You stop, just at the precipice of the room, and smile at what you see inside. Natasha at the counter cutting various vegetables while Clint stole as many as he could manage before she noticed. Steve at the stove as he continued on with a conversation with Bruce. Tony sitting at the island with a StarkPad in his hands-- no doubt tinkering with more ideas for the next Iron Man suit. Wanda and Vision were standing side-by-side as Wanda taught the android how to properly set the table. Laughter flowing between them all. It was a serene moment that you didn’t want to break. That you wanted to capture and live in forever, but all good things must come to an end eventually. 

It seems like this one had to the moment Vision noticed you standing at the doorway. His bright smile is an indicator that he was glad to see you. 

“I wasn’t aware you had returned. If I had I would have greeted you like I normally do, Y/N.” 

At the mention of your name, and Vision’s voice, the team turns and greets you with varying responses-- mostly cheers and grins. At their sudden attention, you take another step into the room. Offering a small smile towards Vision. Hoping that it would show that you didn’t mind he wasn’t waiting for you once you had returned. As you weren’t expecting to have lessons tonight either way. 

“It’s all right, Vis.” You shrug. “I wasn’t expecting you to.”

At your words, Vision’s eyes narrow ever-so-slightly as he detected the underlying stress that you were trying to hide. Something you knew he was about to comment on before Tony interrupted with a question directed towards the android. You never wanted to kiss a man more. 

Knowing that you needed to get some air, but not wanting to be rude, you turn towards Steve. “When will dinner be ready, Cap?” 

“Another thirty minutes,” he admits with a rueful smile. “It would have been finished sooner if Thor hadn’t eaten all the final touches for the meal. He’s out getting them right now.”

You flash a smile at him. “That’s all right, Steve. I think I’m going to go up and get changed. I feel a little grubby in these clothes.” 

He simply smiles back at you. Taking that as a sign to make a quick exit, you’re half-way out of the door before Bruce’s soft voice halts you. 

“So what did the doctor say?”

You shoot him a confused look over your shoulder. Trying to desperately appear neutral as all the attention of the room, once again, shifted towards you. 

“What do you mean?”

“Didn’t you go to the doctor today, má lásko?” Wanda steps from around the counter. A worried frown began to make its presence known on her beautiful face. The same expression that was starting to appear on Natasha’s. Something that you didn’t want at all. Your mind screeches at you to fix the situation you had suddenly found yourself in. You couldn’t tell them all right now. You could barely wrap your mind around it. You didn’t know if you could handle dealing with them trying to as well. 

“I have the flu,” you offer with a weak smile and a shrug. “A few days of rest and I should be as right as rain.” You turn your gaze towards Natasha and Wanda. Your eyes noticeably softening as you did so. “I told you there was nothing to worry about.” 

At your words, the team seemed to relax. The tense atmosphere, that you hadn’t even been aware of before now, dissipating as they all turned back to what they were doing. Sighing, softly, you quickly make your way out of the kitchen and up the stairs towards your room. 

Trying to ignore the feeling of two green gazes following you as you did so. 

The bright lights of New York City shone like the millions of stars that hung above it. Shimmering in the oncoming darkness that the night brought. The buildings, and the people, standing strong against the presence that many tried to avoid. Standing just beside the large window that made up a wall of your room, you could clearly see the nightcrawlers coming out down below. A completely different society awakening as the sun disappears behind the horizon. 

Having changed into fresh clothes, you felt slightly rejuvenated. As if the clothes you had been wearing were bars to a cell. Locking you in with the truth that you were trying desperately to come to terms with. Being out of them brought a small semblance of peace, of stability, that you had been searching for. The simple act allows your mind enough time to get its bearings once more. It may not have been the ground-breaking epiphany you were searching for but it was enough. For now. 

“Dorogoy?” A soft voice whispers from the entrance of the room. Your eyes slipping shut as the knowledge of their presence seeped into you. They have given you enough time to prepare yourself. You were a fool to think that they wouldn’t have noticed that something was wrong.

Turning, you meet their gazes with a tired smile. “Nat. Wanda. Is something the matter?” 

Your question causes both their eyes to flash. Whether it be in a warning or something else, you weren’t entirely sure. 

“I believe you have the answer to that question, Y/N,” Wanda says, her brow furrowing in concern. “We know that something is bothering you but we can’t help you if you don’t tell us what that is.” 

“We’re concerned,” Natasha admits, her voice uncharacteristically soft. Her green eyes shimmering with suppressed emotion as she stares at you. “What did the doctor really say to you?” 

A defeated feeling wells itself up in your chest. You know that you couldn’t lie to them. You had never been able to lie to them. Slumping forward, you move over to your bed and sit. A sigh escaping your mouth as they followed suit. Natasha settling on your right as Wanda settled on your left. Their hands immediately clasping yours in gentle, yet strong, holds. 

Your jaw clenches as you try to work up the courage to speak. Try to put the words you didn’t want to be true out there. To make them materialize as a reality instead of the nightmare you wished they were. 

“I have cancer.” 

The events that followed went by too fast for you to truly react. Natasha’s hands tightened around yours with a stricken look painting itself across her face. Wanda stood with fury written across her face, green eyes flashing red as she tried to control her powers, though you knew none of that fury was directed towards you. At least not yet. 

A soft hand on your cheek pulls your attention away from Wanda’s pacing. Your eyes taking in the pained expression on Natasha’s face. An almost desperate edge underlying it made you sick to your stomach. A quality that only resonated itself within her voice. Tears already forming in her emerald green orbs as reality came crashing down around you all. “They caught it early, right? There’s still a chance for you to beat it? Please tell me there’s still a chance. Tell us there’s still a chance to save you. That we won’t lose you.” 

Tears flow unbidden down your cheeks at her desperate pleas. At the faint sound of Wanda kneeling before you and pressing her forehead against your knees. The trembling you could clearly feel as her hands clasped onto your only available one. The tears you could already feel seeping through your leggings. You want nothing more than to take their pain away. To tell them that this was some horribly fucked up joke that Tony put you up to but you couldn’t. You couldn’t and that hurt you more than any bullet ever has. 

Your throat clenches around the words that try to escape your mouth. As you try to choke out the words through your despair. “Yes.” Natasha’s eyes lighten at your words and Wanda’s head raises from its position on your knees. “The doctor says that they caught it early but I’ll have to begin treatment right away.” 

“That’s good though, right?” Wanda murmurs, settling back onto her feet. Her wide eyes filled with so much hope. “You’ll just begin treatment and everything will be okay.”

At their expectant looks, you lower your gaze towards your lap. Your heart thudding against your chest as you tried to formulate what you wanted to say. But how could you tell the two people that made your life worth living that you weren’t going to have treatment? That you were letting everything rest and have the universe take its destined course. 

Your silence seemed to be all the answer Natasha needed, however. Her words filled with thinly-veiled fury. “You’re not going to go forward with the treatment.” 

“No.”

The silence that follows your feeble answer was even more oppressive than the one in the hospital. Both Natasha’s and Wanda’s hands tightening around yours as they processed your answer. Both their emotions heightening as each second ticked by. Swirling around the three of you like a vortex. Having them both stand suddenly pulls you out of your reverie. Your head snapping up to watch them both pace. Agitation is clear in each graceful movement of their bodies. 

Whipping around, Wanda snarls at you. “Why don’t you want treatment? It could save your life, Y/N.”

“And it could also make me a husk of who I am,” you cry, standing up from your bed. “We don’t know if the treatment will work and I refuse to die as something I’m not.”

“We don’t know that it will fail, Y/N.” Natasha cries back, equally as outraged as you were. “We don’t know what the future will hold. Except for the simple fact that you will die if you refuse treatment. It’s just a maybe right now.” 

Wanda steps forward with an anguished look on her face. “Please don’t sign your life away because of something you don’t even know will be the end result. Don’t make this into a certainty.” 

“Even if I do start treatment I will be completely useless to the team,” you hiss. “Who knows how long I’ll have to fight this until it goes into remission. I don’t want to be a burden on any of you.”

Natasha takes your face into her hands, her thumbs gently rubbing soothing circles on your cheeks. “Do you think they will care, Y/N? Do you think they won’t jump for joy when they find out that you’ve decided to fight? That they won’t be there for you every step of the way?”

“We’re a family, Y/N,” Wanda murmurs with a loving look shining in her eyes. “Family doesn’t let family fight their demons by themselves. You’re more to us, to them, than just a teammate. Nat and I love you with everything that we are. And you know the boys love you like a sister. They wouldn’t want you to just give up.”

“Yeah,” Natasha chuckles. “And I’m pretty sure you’re Vision’s surrogate mother.”

You laugh softly at her gentle teasing. Feeling warmth blossom in your chest for the first time since you had stepped foot in the hospital. “What about if I get too sick to take care of myself like I used to?” 

“We’ll be there, dorogoy,” Natasha whispers, one hand falling from your cheek as Wanda’s took its place. “When you fall we’ll always be there to pick you back up. Just like we know you’ll always be there for us.” 

Your eyes slip shut as the feeling of complete warmth and safety settles over you. Your world is finally beginning to make sense once more. Everything came back into focus as you were surrounded by Natasha and Wanda. The two people that knew how to set your heart on fire with emotions you never knew you could feel. 

“Okay,” you whisper. “I’ll begin treatment.” 

You didn’t have to open your eyes to know that they were smiling. Nor did you have to, to know that they were leading you towards the large bed. Easily pulling into the center with their bodies snugly pressed into both sides. Your nose nuzzling into Wanda’s neck as Natasha pressed herself firmly into your back. Both of their arms holding you in their warm embrace. 

All other thoughts slipping from your mind as you succumbed to the dark recesses of sleep. The only things that mattered were the two women that were holding you like you were the most valuable thing in the world to them. Their warmth better than anything a blanket could ever provide. The feeling of completeness overwhelming you as the darkness finally took hold. 

Your last thoughts being of the two women who would always be there to pick you back up again. 

No matter how many times you may fall.

#natasha romanoff x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #natasha romanoff x reader x wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #marvel imagines #black widow x reader #scarlet witch x reader #fall again #avengers imagine #avengers #marvel

[hd-wireless]

📻🎶 H/D Wireless 2021 - Weekly Wrap-up #4

Time flies by when you're having fun! The fourth week of posting has come to an end. Please enjoy this week's Wrap-up! There's two weeks of posting left, so stay tuned for more 🎶

As always you can listen to the prompted songs for the works we post on two playlists:

Click here for Spotify (many thanks to @evaeleanor for helping us out there)

And here for YouTube

🎶 H/D Wireless Art 🎶

📻 Down for What You Want

🎵 Summary: After the war, finding refuge in the clubs of Muggle London is easier than dealing with the shambles of the wizarding world. When Harry and Draco keep running into each other at Apollo's every Saturday night though, they follow their gut instincts to get on the dance floor and discover something they both have been craving for a long time.

📻 What do I do? With a Love That Won’t Sit Still

🎵 Summary: Italian Greyhounds are small and fucked up, but Draco is a big fuck up and that requires scaling. 

🎶 H/D Wireless Fic 🎶

📻 Fire

🎵 Summary: Draco Malfoy has never had trouble getting boyfriends. The problem is getting one that doesn’t leave him feeling cold after the first few months. He’s looking for something specific: passion, excitement, someone to keep him on his toes. He just doesn’t know how to go about finding it. After kicking his latest boyfriend to the curb, Draco’s at a loss for what to do next, until it occurs to him that a relationship with his fiery (and hot) Gryffindor colleague might not burn out so quickly—if he can just convince Harry to try it.

📻 Into the Unknown

🎵 Summary: It’s been echoing within him for months, like an annoying song that gets stuck in your head and refuses to let go. A nagging feeling in his core, telling him to say something, to do something, to go somewhere. Last night it finally happened. He did it. And it felt good; right. “I can’t be sure.” Four words, easy as that. It had been almost impossible to smother the sudden burst of joy rushing through him as that deep-seated urge rejoiced his unexpected act of rebellion. You’d think the Dark Lord’s punishment would’ve taken the exhilaration out of him, but no. Here he is, countless Crucios later, beaten and bruised, and never has the voice sounded this clear. He’s said something. He’s done something. And now he just has to go somewhere. He has no idea where, but he’s certain it will come to him. All he has to do is get out of here, then trust magic to do the rest.

📻 Home is What We Make of It

🎵 Summary: "There was a blistering draft from the child’s bedroom on the opposite side of the hallway. The door’s handle was icy to the touch as she wrapped her hand around the metal. Unlike the rest of the house, the door gave her resistance in her effort to open it. Unlike the rest of the house, when she opened the door, she couldn’t imagine anyone ever living there. Unlike the rest of the house, there was neither love nor warmth nor any semblance of life that seeped from the rest of the house’s walls. It was cold and hard and chilled her to her bones. She shivered. However, her sense of dread was not just from the cold. Perhaps it was the gaping hole in the wall." Harry and Draco want to start a family, but time loves parallels.

📻 Move, move

🎵 Summary: She grabbed Harry’s hand, slipping something small into it and pressing his fingers around it. “Dilectio. It’ll cheer you up. Make you feel like dancing.” Harry gaped at her. Drugs. Ginny’s fucking giving me drugs? At Stasis nightclub Ginny does indeed give Harry drugs. But it's all good: Malfoy looks after Harry, and Harry grapples with newfound enlightenments, not to mention a newfound fascination with all things Malfoy—one which persists, even when he finds out what Malfoy's up to.

📻 Euphoria

🎵 Summary: Driven by trauma, Harry cuts ties with friends and family. From crowded nightclubs and enthralling live shows, Harry finds himself stumbling into a superficial world where he's lonelier than ever. When even the constant blithe of substance-induced highs can't prevent things from becoming what he ran away from, Draco Malfoy finds Harry. Draco, who’s wearing Muggle jeans and who’s listening to Muggle music and who suggests having a nice little chat on mephedrone. And whose nose crumples beautifully when he laughs. Or: A story about Harry trying to cope with the help of drugs until he finds a new addiction. Draco likes to mend things.

📻 Your House

🎵 Summary: Draco tries to serve Harry divorce papers, but Harry isn't home.

📻 Misery Loves Company

🎵 Summary: Stuck in his own head, misunderstood and lonely, Harry would love nothing more than to stay hidden in Grimmauld Place until the end of time. Malfoy won’t let him, and that's just what Harry needs.

📻 You Sexy Thing

🎵 Summary: As Harry began to tap his foot along to the music, the lights flashed like lightning in the middle of a summer storm, and his eye went straight to the middle of the dance floor. His eyes zoomed in on Draco. The blond looked striking as he moved his slender hips to the soulful beat. Harry watched, captivated as he pressed himself up to Pansy and began to sing to the song.

📻 A Love Story of Less-Than-Epic Proportions

🎵 Summary: Harry and Draco are just friends. Sure, they work together, and live together, and go to gigs together, and do pretty much everything else together—so what? That’s just what friends do. And Harry has no interest in messing with their friendship. He certainly doesn’t need everyone else constantly meddling, pestering them to just get on with it and get together already. He’s having a hard enough time as it is, trying to come to terms with the fact that he probably isn’t ever going to find love. But who needs love, anyways, when you’ve got a best friend?

📻 Cup of tea, Love?

🎵 Summary: Things between them are easy, so much easier than Harry expected. The problem is the outside world, which grows increasingly and ridiculously difficult. “We could leave,” Draco suggests. Harry has always wanted to travel.

🎶 H/D Wireless Fic and Animatic 🎶

📻 rather a lover than a fighter

🎵 Summary: When Harry loses his voice and his magic, it’s up to Healer Draco to save the day. 

🎶 H/D Wireless Podfic 🎶

📻 [Podfic] Keep Holding On

🎵 Summary: gnarf’s original summary: After the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry and Draco both fall into their own battles with their mental states. Draco is sent to Azkaban, and Harry turns to drinking, hoping to forget. Months later, Harry visits St Mungo’s new ward on the request of a friend, only to find Draco in a deep vegetative state. Not willing to give him up, Harry stays by his side, while simultaneously dealing with the Ministry's newest grand idea to make everything worse. Making new allies, and losing old ones along the way, will hopefully be worth it in the end.

#hd wireless 2021 #HD Wireless #drarry fest #drarry #weekly wrap up no 4 #drarry art #drarry fic #drarry animatic #drarry collab #drarry podfic

[cozycryptidcorner]

The Mad Prince, Chapter 11 (sfw)

Chapter 10

“Are you sure?” You ask, gaping, and Clementine glares at you in response. You’re suddenly hyper-aware of how she has dedicated her entire life to identifying, hunting down, and killing driders, all while on the bloodied front lines of a war, so she is currently an expert on such a topic.

“Am I sure that the front line footage that some soldiers died to send back to base is somehow fabricated?” She asks, testily.

Your brain is buzzing like a thousand fireflies have crawled into your ears. “But that doesn’t make any sense, Clem.” 

“You’re absolutely correct,” she still sounds vaguely pissed, but that’s her default tone. “Which means that there’s more than meets the eye, and we now have to figure out what.”

 The keias values honesty, Elias’ words come back, unbidden, if you ask, he will answer.

 “We can’t go prodding around now, though, because that will throw a lot of weird suspicion on you.” You bite at the skin around your thumb, trying to figure out how to go about this in the most delicate way possible. 

After a moment of hard silence where you are almost too aware of how loud your breathing is, Clementine prods, “you and the prince or whatever he actually is weren’t acting too couple-y.”

Annoyance starts dripping into the hollow of your chest, and you feel a build of angry pressure beginning to rise. “He- he didn’t tell me he was engaged.” 

For the first time since her bubbly mask fell off, she shows some semblance of human emotion by almost choking on her spit. Quickly, she gets herself under control and shakes her head as though she might have expected such, then sighs.

 “I mean, and his fiance was assassinated. Elias told me she died of sudden heart failure, but like she was a drow and-”

“A drow?” She turns to you again, her eyes narrowed until they were almost slits, “as in, two legs and walking upright? Are you sure?”

“Y-yes,” the indignancy of being lied to by omission is still thrumming through your chest, “and he apparently really loved her.” 

“Obviously so, because it would have been rather illegal for him to marry outside of his species.” Clem sits back up from her lounging position, plucking a flower that grew right in front of her legs.

You don’t like all this new information being rained down upon so quickly, but you suck in your breath and try to take this one in stride. There’s a dull thudding in your head, like a distant drumbeat. “So there are race-based marriage laws?”

 “Of course, didn’t you know?”

No, you’re suddenly acutely aware of how unprepared you are. “The matchmakers didn’t make me aware of that.” You suppose it does explains a lot, like how stressed the prince is at you meeting the rest of his family, or how he doesn’t seem to want you to go out and explore on your own, and such. 

Clementine lets out a gruff sigh, you suppose from frustration at having to hold your hand like a toddler throughout a warzone. You try to not let that bother you. It’s… not really your fault, is it? You didn’t want this to happen, if you could go back to your completely shitfaced self as you were about to enter all pertinent information to Starward Matchmakers™ glowing neon booth, you would bludgeon the back of your head with a bat.

“Okay, so someone is trying to kill you,” she holds up one finger, “and we know from that assistant guy that they are very capable of doing so,” she adds another finger, “and you aren’t even in the good graces of your princely other half, assuming that drider is who he says he is.”

You swallow thickly, feeling positively ill, pressing your fingertips into the pressure points on your temples in the hopes your brain might untangle. “Clementine?”

“Yeah.”

“The Starward Matchmakers™ did match me with the prince, right? This isn’t some kind of weird mistake? Or like… or like what they were trying to do with you?”

“Do you know anyone with the budget of a large government’s military that can handle a bribe of such proportions who might think it’s funny to pull such a dangerously cosmic prank?”

 “No.” You look down at your hands as the last bit of hope that this might all be a nightmarish misunderstanding slips through your fingers.

Clementine softens, though only slightly, letting out another sigh and very awkwardly giving you a pat on the back, which is about the most she’ll ever offer in the way of sympathy. “Tough it out. Paint a pretty smile on that face of yours and maybe make out with him a little.”

 “Clementine!” You raise your voice, then look self consciously back at your guards as they assess whether or not you need their aid. “That’s not how this works.” 

“This is exactly how this works, kid, even if he’s an alien spider, he’s still a male.” She rolls her eyes. “And stop acting like a prude.” 

“Yeah, but he is,” another wave of frustration razes through your blood and right to your fingertips. “One time I kissed him, he thought it was essentially a marriage proposal.”

 Her face wrinkles into a grimace, but she seems to take in marginal good humor. “Okay, so he’s a virgin. That makes things easier, maybe just show him your ankle or something, he’d drool all over it.”

You’re going to say something snippy in response, maybe tell her that she should do the ankle-showing, but the mental image of the fucking drider prince of Lolth freezing as he stares at a bare leg and foot does have a level of absurdity to it that makes you choke your words down into a wry laugh. “I don’t know, maybe it will give him brain damage.”

“All the better to finish this war finally,” Clem stretches out her arms, “Anything else you’d like to fill me in on?”

“Heikka Nisesh, you know, the famous war criminal? He was supposed to be my first physician, but I threw a big enough fit that I ended up with a basic drow doctor.” 

She immediately tenses, her entire body going into an alert that is unique to a trained soldier. “Tell me you’re joking. Now.”

“I’m not.” 

There’s another expression in her eyes, now, one that you’re not at all familiar with. Panic, of which she’s obviously trying to settle so the guards don’t become suspicious and approach to get within hearing range. With a shuddering, tense breath, she shakes her head and tries to orient herself back into reality. With no small amount of room in her tone to be anything more than a command, she says, “know that they and I mustn’t ever meet, do you understand? We can’t cross paths, or this whole thing is going to dissolve.”

“Do you want to talk-”

“No.” She stands, glancing over at the guards. “I’d like a tour now.” 

Shakily, you agree, getting up so fast you almost faint. There’s a brief dizziness rattling around in your skull, but you manage to get everything under control enough to show her around.

Whenever you aren’t in the gardens, you have to be very, very careful of dancing around talking normally and not revealing too much. Because ‘girl talk’ is supposed to be about boy troubles and gossip, but having a whole conversation about the crown prince monarch’s shortcomings when there are an indeterminate amount of people listening and reporting back to him doesn’t hold any appeal.

So the present conversation immediately drops as you give her your very restricted-access tour, the long hallways of the floor she is on, all the while she disguises her memorization of all exits and entrances as admiration for the architecture and ornate doors. There’s an odd kind of pinch throbbing between your eyes, and you have to stop for a moment to give yourself a moment to breathe. 

“Are you alright?” For once, Clementine drops a shred of her false personality, her hand grabbing onto your arm almost tightly to hold you up if you faint.

 “I just- I think I need to sit down.” The edges of your eyes blur somewhat, the top of your brain fuzzing over like someone poured a soft drink into your skull.

 “Can you walk?” She asks, glaring at the guards when one of them steps forward, probably to carry you.

 “Yeah,” you lie, hoping that you can just will yourself to keep from passing out, “I think your room is close enough.”

When you wobble just a bit, Clementine wraps her arm around your waist and props you up with her hip, then quickly gives up the strain of one arm and trades it in to pick you up like a baby.

You protest, of course you do, but there’s little you can do to actually wriggle out of her grip. Shockingly, it’s not the first time she’s had to carry you because of an almost skull-splitting headache, though the last time it was because she side-swiped your legs out from under you and your forehead was the thing to take the brunt of the fall. She also wasn’t so nice about it, either, dragging you to the side of the room by the arm like a ragdoll to await a medic.

Now, you suppose with the guards eying you, she can’t yank your limp body back to her room, and you’d honestly rather let her carry you than one of the drow guards. Once you get inside her apartment, she almost unkindly tosses you onto the couch, mumbling something about an ice pack or blanket.

“Did you call for someone?” She asks, and it takes your brain a muddled moment to realize that she isn’t talking to you.

Quiet mumbling, all things you can’t catch. 

Almost impatiently, she yells, “are you both fucking daft? Call the assistant, what’s his face. The one with the white hair! Yes I mean the prince’s first servant, who else did you think I’m talking about?” Her words shift into a language you don’t understand as she walks over to the kitchen, but you’ve heard enough foreign swear words to know that she’s probably cussing them out of a job.

 It doesn’t take too long for Elias to arrive, or maybe it took a long time, and your brain is just so fried you didn’t notice.

“Why isn’t there any ice in the foodkeep?” Clementine’s already pounced, and you’re not sure if this is her ‘worried best friend’ character or her actual self about to dress someone down for putting one of her soldiers in danger.

“For what, exactly?” Elias sounds slightly taken aback by the show of aggression, something rattling in his hands.

“For her head, stupid, she’s almost burning up!” Again, her language dissolves into something unintelligible, though her tone gets the message across. Maybe she’s showing a bit of both sides for your sake.

 “I have some pills,” he almost sounds defensive, now, “it will help with the pressure, her head should-”

”Give me that,” Clem snaps, and you hear even more rattling as she looks over whatever he was about to give you. “What the hell are these?”

“Painkillers,” Elias takes her fury in stride, probably having dealt with much more significant threats in his day, “the best and highest dose for her human body. They were just imported from one of your human pharmaceutical companies, Bionova™, it’s what the matchmaker files suggested we get her.”

There’s another round of rattling, but then footsteps as Clementine sits herself on the couch, just in front of where your legs tug under a blanket she absentmindedly threw onto you earlier, and hands you the bottle.

Now you manage to sit up, despite the angry tightening in your skull, like each individual blood vessel in your brain is squeezing the gray matter down a size. Holding the pill bottle in one hand while scratching your arm nervously in the other, you ask Elias one more time. “You say these were imported?”

“Straight over the border,” Elias promises, “no one would want anything to happen to you.”

 I beg to differ, you think, but pop the lid open anyway. The dull thrumming in your head has you almost desperate to do anything to get yourself rid of it, so you put one of the pills on your tongue and swallow it dry. Clementine, at least, is already rummaging through her cabinets until she finds a glass to fill with water.

“The keias has been notified of her condition, and will come as soon as he is able.”

You try not to roll your eyes, to be entirely honest, even shifting your irises sends a sharp nail through your head. “Tell him not to rush on my behalf.” 

Again, Clementine sits by your side, handing a glass of water over and watches you gulp it down like a dehydrated animal. Elias, also, seems to watch you with a nervous regard in his eyes and dismisses the soldiers with nothing more than a couple of words. When the extra ears are out of the suite, he turns back over to you.

 “This doesn’t leave this room,” he starts, glaring over at Clementine, “but I want you to be aware that he can’t seem to have any weaknesses for you, which is why he isn’t rushing as quickly as I’m sure you’d like.”

Letting out a breath, the pain of the headache getting to you, you ask, “why are you telling me this?”

Elias looks at you, not with anger, with disappointment, and that’s the thing that makes you feel almost ashamed with how you have been treating the prince as of late. “So you do not feel abandoned, your grace.”

Oh, right, it’s back with your grace, Elias’ own way of giving you a super polite cold shoulder. “Thanks, I guess.”

“Also, just as a precaution, the prince will want your doctor to look over your state, but I believe that it would be pertinent to have a so-called house call instead of going down to the clinic in person.”

“Probably, yeah.” The aching throbbing between your eyes has reduced your language usage down to the basics, and it takes you a hot minute to process anything anyone else says. Clementine had been missing for a moment, but she suddenly returns with a damp cloth she places over your eyes. 

There’s a tense, but calm conversation, and as much as you’d like to try paying attention, you can only focus on the dull throbbing in the rear of your head. More talking. You curl up into a ball, the couch large enough so that your knees don’t hand off the back, and you try to dig your fingers into any pressure points of your skull in the hopes it might ease the tension.

Suddenly, a hand comes to rub the side of your arm. “Hey, princess,” Clementine whispers almost soothingly, “you’re going to wait for the doctor and spend the night here, okay?”

You mumble something in affirmation.

 The doctor comes, you hear her voice and feel her prodding touches, but you don’t feel like you’re capable of even offering a meager greeting. There’s a pinch of something in the crook of your elbow, and the feelings cease, slowly. You don’t remember the point in which you fell asleep. Only that you wake up with Clementine conked out in the chair opposite of the furniture arrangement. 

When you wake back up, it’s because your head feels like someone took an ax to your skull, it almost causes you to faint from the pain itself. All you can do is lay on the couch, arms wrapped around your head. It feels like every bone in your body is bruised or fractured, but your head takes the brunt of the pain.

Someone is talking again. You don’t have the ability to focus on them. 

You’re not sure if you can fucking survive this, but gentle hands help you sit up, and there’s yet another sharp, pinching pain in your arm. After a moment, there’s a softness washing over you, like a manifestation of light and comfort flows through your veins and eases the suffering. 

You’ve felt this way before. 

When you open your eyes, the room is washed in a kaleidoscope of colors you hadn’t noticed until now, and you’re surrounded by a bunch of people that you know, you think you know, but your brain takes its sweet time putting names to faces. “Oh. Hello.”

The big one puts a hand on your head, running it down the side of your face. You don’t think you mind so much, but the smaller one is watching him with the eyes of a predator. “How are you feeling?”

“Very fucking high.” You click your tongue against the roof of your mouth, just to make a noise.

“That’s completely normal, keias.” There’s a taller woman, her robes a pleasantly warm gray. “The drugs have overwhelmed her system, she will be more lucid in a few minutes.”

“Of course.” The big one turns to you again, and you look at his face. He’s… angular, alien, but beautiful nonetheless. You don’t think you’re afraid of him.

“What does that mean?” You ask, your lips heavy and difficult to move.

“What?” It’s the smaller one that speaks. 

“That word they just said. Keias.” You think you know what it means, but you want them to explain it to make sure. 

“It’s a royal title?” The big one stares at you, quizzically, as though trying to figure out a puzzle in front of him.

“A royal title?” You don’t think you’ve ever met actual royalty before, at least, you don’t think you have. There’s a lot you don’t remember about yourself. “Are you like a king?”

The smaller one snickers at this, then says, “babe, no. He’s a prince.”

“A prince?” You look at him again, your eyes wide. “You’re a prince?”

He doesn’t seem flattered, only oddly concerned. Turning to the female in robes, he says, “she didn’t possess memory loss when she was last dosed.”

“I gave her a different, faster-acting painkiller.” The woman taps on the screen of a datapad. “It works to block out different parts of the brain, but she is lucid enough to get on a starship, memories, or not.”

“So it’s not actually dulling the pain, it’s just telling the brain not to process it?” The smaller woman asks arms crossed over her chest. 

“Exactly, which is why it’s fast-acting and doesn’t lose effectiveness over time. The memories can be a side effect, but they should return when the drug filters out of her system.”

“You say ‘starship,’” the prince!!! observes, his many eyes narrowing slightly.

 “I did indeed, your grace.” The female is not intimidated. “I think it would be best if my patient spent some time in lower gravity conditions, which can be best produced in a starship while in space.”

 The prince stares at her for just a moment, as though he cannot believe she would suggest such a thing. “Nisesh says a drug can be produced to aid in here acclimation.”

 The female scoffs. “Nisesh believes they might become a god with enough drugs at their disposal. I mean no disrespect towards you, your grace, but sometimes the best cure is the most obvious one.”

 The prince is quiet for a long, tense moment, but the doctor doesn’t back down. It’s the smaller woman who speaks up, her voice almost laced with an underlying threat, “if that’s what’s best for her, then you need to get it done.”

 His eyes snap up, and he assesses the woman with a critical eye. Then he nods sharply, once. Turning back to the doctor, he says, “how long do you suggest she stay?”

 The doctor taps something onto her datapad. “I would have preferred she acclimate slowly, spending a longer time in orbit than she has, but since her body managed to stay together so well, I think you might find an improvement pain-wise within a day. So long as her body bounces back quickly, mind, because it might take longer for her to recover.”

 “You will join us, then, so you may monitor her condition.” It’s not a request, but an order.

 “Of course, keias,” the doctor bows at him, then steps away, tapping on the datapad.

 “I’m coming, too.” The way the smaller woman speaks leaves little room for arguments. There’s something almost… admirable, you think, about the way she stands up to the bigger one, even though he looks very capable of snapping her human body in half.

 “That is… acceptable,” the prince says.

 Without much thought, you reach over and touch the end of his hair nearest to where you sit, the strands soft and silky as you pull them closer. “Has anyone told you that you have really nice hair?”

 He stares. After a moment that consists of the woman snickering quietly, he says, “actually, yes. Yes, I have.”

 You must have blacked out again because when you wake up, you are not in Clementine’s room. In fact, you’re no longer on Lolth, because the sleek, brilliance of the space is nothing like the solid, ancient architecture that you had grown accustomed to. And just beyond the edge of the large bed you’ve been placed in is a window.

 There are no windows on Lolth, really, because there is nothing to gaze at when a society grows from the inside of their world, instead of the outside. As you sit up, you notice the echoes of a headache pulsing in the back of your skull, where the spine connects, and it feels like you had a rough fall. But when you place your feet onto the thickly threaded rug and stand, you find that you do it with some semblance of ease.

“You’re awake.”

 You almost jump out of your skin, because the prince is hiding so efficiently in the shadows of the room that you didn’t notice him until he spoke. “Y-yes.”

 A moment of awkward silence follows. You’re still wearing the same clothes as you were giving Clementine the tour- oh fuck, Clementine-

 “You were asleep for a day and a half.” His voice interrupts your hazy anxiety. “I was… concerned, but the doctor said your body was repairing itself.”

“I suppose so.” You wrinkle your forehead, realizing there is dryness choking your mouth, tongue something like sandpaper against the inside of your cheek. With little ceremony, you strip out of your outer shirt, your skin singing with no longer being suffocated by cloth, your camisole much more sheer and thin. “I need some water.”

 The prince rises to a stand, “allow me. Please.”

 You’re not sure what he means by that, but he opens one of the cabinets of what you’re now seeing is a starship cabin, then fills a glass to the brim with the tap. His movements are jerking, unfamiliar, as though he’s having his own issues with growing used to a different form of gravity. When he hands you the cup, you’re standing right by the window, staring out at the stars.

“God,” you say, after quietly thanking him, “I forgot how much I missed this view.”

 “They are beautiful,” he says, “it’s difficult to believe that they are each suns of magnificent strength from this distance. They all seem so… small. Insignificant.”

There’s a moment of quiet contemplation as you down the whole glass of water with minimal effort, then you remember what you wanted to ask him before. Looking at his reflection instead of actually making eye contact, you question, “where’s Clementine?”

 “In her own cabin, or perhaps roaming around.” He pauses, mulling something over in his head. “She is- has... character, isn’t she.”

 “You’ve got that right, believe me.” You let out a sigh, vaguely remembering her wordless glares, her face fuzzy in the more recent ones. Then, just for the purpose of watching his face flush dark, you say, “she thinks we should just fuck and make up.”

 “Is- is that how humans solve all their problems?” He asks, though you can see the question was a fight to release. There’s a tension in his shoulders when he talks about sex now, but thankfully, he is without the odd aversion he had before like he’s… like he’s trying.

 Still, the way he says it… you burst out laughing. “Oh, if sex could solve all your problems, then-” you abruptly stop yourself, realizing that this might have been a step too far outside of his comfort zone.

There’s an awkward moment of silence shared as the both of you stare out into the void, then the prince turns around and stares at you, hard, and you feel a trickle of fear thrumming up your spine. Finally, he says, “don’t. Don’t do that.”

You swallow thickly. “Don’t do what?”

“Pull away.” He stares back out to the stars, sharply, all eyes narrowing. “You show me the smallest part of yourself, and then you refuse to give me anything more. I don’t like it when you do that.”

You’re quiet for another moment, then, “well… you didn’t really approve, before.” 

“Didn’t… approve?” He echoes in the fashion of a question, glancing in your direction. “What do you mean?”

“You seemed uncomfortable when the subject of sex gets brought up.”

 “Ah.” He leans back slightly, his facial features relaxing slightly. “I see.”

“So I stopped.”

“There’s more than that, though.” He turns back to face you, his expression softer. “It was worse when that abomination was present. You would hide parts of yourself from me, especially when it was here.”

“The- oh.” You remember the Starward Matchmaker™ representative’s oppressive presence, and how you walked on eggshells around her. “Right. Yes. The company doesn’t want me to fuck anything up.” 

“A bit hypocritical of them, then,” the prince’s gaze goes back out towards the stars, “as their formula is supposedly infallible. If all parts of us are compatible with each other, then there should be no reason for you to keep some pieces of yourself hidden.”

You stop staring at his almost translucent reflection in the window and look at his face, his profile washed in the smattering of light easing in from billions of lightyears away. More to yourself than to him, you say, “I guess that’s true.”

“So you will stop trying to keep yourself from me?” He asks, firmly, looking over at you, too.

“I-” you swallow thickly, looking at the fingerprints you left on the otherwise flawless glass in your hands, “okay. Yes.”

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#exophilia #drider/reader #drider #male drider #monster lovers #monster/reader

[indianamoonshine]

chapter iii | knightly behavior

summary: every summer you work on your father’s strawberry farm with your three sisters. it’s a way to take a break from the big city but summers in the midwest are hot and they linger. this year, your father’s old and mysterious friend shows up to stay on your land for a reason yet to be determined. din djarin seems dangerous, but kind enough, and the two of you quickly become…well, let’s fact it…smitten.

rating: (18+) for future and explicit sexual content.

author’s note: reader is well over eighteen for obvious reasons. i won’t ever go into physical detail about the reader’s appearance because we include everyone. this fic is pretty much a mix between pride & prejudice and call me by your name except without the und*rage crap we do not condone.

You looked upon him in a way that no one had ever looked upon him before.

And it was strange, he thought, because the two of you had been introduced not even twenty-four hours prior. But in your eyes was a subtle enchantment that made Din forget the misfortunes that brought him to the farm in the first place.

You smile politely at him, albeit a bit drunkenly, as he mends your wound. Your foot is propped against his thigh as you sit prettily upon the bathroom counter. Your eyes shine, cheeks rosy with alcohol and adrenaline. The thorn had been removed, but the cut still bled enough to upset Din. When you flinch at the peroxide, he himself grimaces as though he can empathize with your pain.

“I’m surprised I felt it at all,” you say to him as though you’re sheepish from the fall. “With all the vodka and whatnot.”

Din meets your gaze and catches himself staring at your petal-like lips. He forces himself to look away, as much as it burned, but he was far too concerned with your feelings at the gesture.

there was no way you could look at a man such as him the way he looked at you.

Din places a Band-Aid on your foot, sealing it gently, and inspects it once more. “This is a tender part of the body,” he says. He finds himself squeezing you gently in a show of affection he had not expected. He swallows before adding, “-I would be concerned if you didn’t.”

A flash of mischief crosses your face before you tease. “Are you a doctor, Mister Djarin?”

He finds himself chuckling lowly at the question. His answer was quite the opposite, but you needn’t know the true nature of his lot in life. If possible, he’d avoid being transparent in that regard for as long as fate allowed.

“No,” Din finds himself saying. “And you can call me Din.”

A bold choice, but when you embrace with a gentle smile. “My father always told me to refer to my elders with their respective titles.”

You were funny. Witty. Charming to the last. Din found himself growing more fond of you with each passing moment; even in your disheveled state did he think you beautiful.

He mustn’t become attached. You could very easily become ammunition if he weren’t careful. In his pursuit of sound welfare, you had almost become something of a villain; you were making it increasingly difficult to focus on protecting his own interests. In just a few hours, Din felt an unwarranted dedication to you.

He wasn’t comfortable with it.

But he didn’t know how to stop it.

Those of Mandalorian creed did not devote themselves to anyone outside of the order. They hunt and they seek – they survive. And to be senselessly bewitched by someone of such (what he would’ve once considered) little importance was preposterous.

Nonsensical.

Din hadn’t ever been irrational before. Everything was calculated.

Not anymore.

Din tries not to grin, but he can’t bear it. His body is traitorous. “Funny,” he quips. He releases your foot.

You remain silent for a moment, formulating thoughts of whatever it was celestial beings like you did in quietude.

“How did you and my father meet?” you ask after what felt like eons of stillness. “He hasn’t told us very much.”

Din starts to clean up the medical supplies – bits of paper from the Band-Aid and the hydrogen peroxide he had so carefully dabbed upon your skin.

He falters for a moment. While what he was about to say was the truth, it felt dirty. There was more to your father’s past than what you’d have believed and Din knew it wasn’t his place to expose any of it; he would have tread carefully.

“We met when we were teenagers,” he replies.

You let out a messy giggle – like it caught even yourself off guard. You place a hand against your mouth as though to cover the goofy smile. “So when dinosaurs ruled the Earth, then.”

The age-gap hadn’t been lost on Din.

He opens the cabinet very carefully to avoid bumping your head with it. The bathroom was in older shape compared to the rest of the house, so it came as no surprise when the mirror rattled loudly as it opened.

“I was the one who carried you to safety, remember?” Din meets your eyes, hoping you’d find the humor in them.

You do.

“Yes,” you boff. The twitter that escapes your mouth causes his heart to jump to his throat. “And now you’re mending me after a vicious rose bush attack.”

He cracks a grin, though slyly to avoid sharing any bemusement due to your jesting lip. He couldn’t help it; your devilment was far too pleasant to make him scornful.

“Thank you,” you add meekly, but you’re smiling and it’s more than enough gratitude he required.

He wishes to see you smile all the time.

Din’s placed both hands against the counter, consciously ignorant of the space between the two of you. He meant no harm by it – was simply leaning against the sturdiness of the tile. But as you watch him, there was a sense of longing Din hadn’t beheld in quite some time. He tries to avoid it – whatever it may be – by tearing his gaze away from yours and pushing himself off with a casual grunt.

You blink when he separates himself from you, eyes fluttering a bit carelessly, and expression computing back to its neutralness. He does the same, brows raising in panic at the sensation.

“We met while I was camping in Michigan – the UP.” He scratches the back of his head and leans against the wall with arms crossed.

Anything to look complacent.

He finds himself engrossed by the way your ankles cross over one another and how your legs swing. Your dress had threatened to expose the more fragile parts of you, but you were of sound enough mind to eschew that from happening. Had that occurred, Din would’ve punished himself for looking. He wasn’t a religious man by any means, but what was that verse in the Christian bible again? “And if thine eye offend thee, pluck it out, and cast it from thee: it is better for thee to enter into life with one eye, rather than having two eyes to be cast into hell fire.”

Faith didn’t belong in his repertoire, but that particular verse was commonsensical enough to recite.

Over and over again, apparently.

“So you’re from around here then?” you inquire.

“You know that people can visit the Midwest, right?” he remarks.

He was certain you’d simper mockingly – and sure enough, you do. “You’re very bratty for an old man.”

Din takes pride in guessing your responses; it must mean something.

Before he returns, he allows himself to laugh. It’s not full-bodied, but it’s some of the most genuine laughter he’s been able to conjure in quite some time.

“I’m from Chile,” he answers, perfectly amused by your bantering. “I moved here when I was a child.”

He watches as your fingers tap against the tile of the counter. They were well manicured, but cut short, and he guessed that was because you worked with your hands. He respected that – admired it. You clearly come from humble background and trialing youth.

Din could relate to that.

And yet you’re still soft, kind – gracious in your endeavors. And he was not. He was clinical, meticulous in the frayed edges of an odyssey he wasn’t sure he wanted to continue anymore. The two of you were snow and flame, and the old wife’s tale certainly wasn’t true. Opposites don’t attract. Opposites – the grunting, savage neanderthal of the two – are attracted. Someone ripened with softness such as yourself would surely never take rapture in a Neolithic man.

He could dream, of course. And he will.

“That’s very impressive,” you hum, chin raised in speculation.

Din furrows his brows, arms linking themselves around his frame tighter than before. It brought himself a semblance of comfort. For almost all his life, Din was the hunter and never the prey. He was large, foreboding enough to exude the kind of energy the average man could only theorize about, and yet here he stood…before you…

Feeling like the bounty he sought.

“Interesting to have been born in Chile?” he taunts.

Your brows crinkle, nose wiggling a bit to avoid showing your doubtful speculation. It wasn’t a look of disgust – Din was convinced you could never find fault in anyone. Maybe not even him. He hoped for this, anyway.

“No,” you reply. “To be able to keep that information from everyone.”

He shrugs, right brow arching in a show of faux derision. “Who said I was keeping it?” he all but drawled.

Something in his tone must’ve engaged your interest. Maybe you could see right through him; Din couldn’t find himself dumbfounded by the idea. You were smart enough to content with in a war of wit.

He notices how you head tilts in measured consideration. “You’re a very interesting man, Mister Djarin,” you whisper.

A heat flushes him from head to boot. He tears his fixation from the way your eyes swallow him whole – like a boa constrictor might do to a mouse. But he feels no fear for his safety – just his survival.

Because you were going to make this very difficult for him.

|||

TAG LIST: @dancingwiththeplanets, @ficthots, @t3a-bag, @dodgerandevans & there was one more person BUT I ACCIDENTALLY ERASED THEIR MESSAGE I’M SO SORRY TO WHOEVER YOU WERE PLEASE FORGIVE ME.

#SORRY #strawberryfic #din djarin x reader #mando x reader #mandolorian x reader #din x reader

[wolfwind3]

Bring Back the Bastard Day 1

Work Summary: After the stunning success of his convoluted Goblet of Fire plan to regain his body, Voldemort has come up with an even more amazing plot. What better place to publicly declare his return to power - and kill Harry Potter in full view of everyone - than at the London Season where Harry is being presented?

And who will be his man on the inside to make sure it all goes smoothly this time around? Why, his most loyal spy - his only follower who knows what it's like to be presented from a Muggle background - Severus Snape.

Or: Instead of Occlumency lessons, Snape gives Harry etiquette lessons in OotP. To say that neither of them is pleased is an understatement.

(AN: I’ll be posting a vignette from this crackfic scenario every day in line with the BBtB prompts, so they won’t be chronological from a story standpoint. I’ll fix that in AO3 after the Fest.)

@bringbackthebastard; inspired by this discussion (read that first!)

Prompt: "That's Professor Snape. He teaches Potions, but he doesn't want to--everyone knows he's after Quirrell's job. Knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts, Snape."

Day 1: Not the Job He’s After

“Severus? Are you well?” Albus asked, as always, when he stalked into the office.

“Fine,” Severus said shortly, forcing himself to sink into the chair with a modicum of grace instead of collapsing. The effort caused his stomach to flare with pain, and he clenched his jaw to hold back a gasp.

Albus offered the obligatory cup of tea, and Severus tightened and relaxed his fingers to try and stop the shaking before accepting it. The liquid shivered, and he raised the cup to his lips before Albus could comment.

“Well?” the Headmaster asked, reseating himself and picking up a quill.

Severus shook his head at the notetaking materials. “It’s a simple matter - a private meeting. He has another-” he winced, the memory of pain too close to dare even think the words he wanted to say, “-unpredictable scheme in mind to get to Potter. He has not entrusted me with the details.” He said the last with a sneer to disguise his own worry and guilt.

Albus gave him a look that indicated that he knew that Severus was hiding wounds he’d gotten from attempting to inquire further into the Dark Lord’s plans, and then let it go. As he always did. It was easier for both of them if Albus had plausible deniability.

“He wishes Potter to be presented in next year’s Season.”

Albus’ surprise was only indicated in the slight arching of his eyebrows. “He does know the boy’s birthday.”

Severus snarled to hide the pain those memories brought. “Of course.” He took a breath to center himself. “I believe Lucius is going to be in charge of that portion of the plan. My role is to mentor the brat into the semblance of a proper heir to the Sacred 28.”

“Hmm.” Albus leaned back with far too thoughtful an expression on his face.

“Albus,” Severus growled, fighting to keep his head clear as he felt the effects of blood loss overcoming his Occlumency, “you cannot be considering this.”

Albus blinked at him innocently. “You know I will not risk your status with him, Severus.”

“Molly Weasley was supposed to present the whelp. Let her prepare him. She can give me progress reports, which I will then pass on to the Dark Lord.”

“And when young Mr. Malfoy reports to his father that you spend no time with Harry?”

“I can handle the Malfoys,” Severus lied. By the look on Albus’ face, he knew it for a lie and was not accepting it.

“Take the rest of the summer to come up with a plan of what he needs to know,” Albus suggested.

Severus tried to straighten up and hissed in pain. “Albus,” he said, “there are any number of things the boy needs to know. Let me teach him dueling, defensive tactics, decent spells! Let someone else teach the brat the social airs and graces he will never actually need.”

“Ah, but he will need them. And who else do we have who came out of a similar background-”

“Not similar at all, Albus. Potter did not grow up in a slum.”

Unfortunately, mentions of his lack of advantages never embarrassed Dumbledore into shutting up. He might have remembered that if he hadn’t been growing dizzy.

“-who came from a Muggle background, then, and yet achieved such success in Society?” He smiled as if Severus had already acquiesced. He knows I have no choice, damn him. “I will inform Harry at the beginning of the school year.”

“And all the gossip that will result?” Severus demanded, forcing enough air from his lungs to keep his voice wheezing. Of course, this caused a shooting pain in his abdomen; he subtly curled his arm around himself to try and support the torn muscles.

“We’ll discuss it later,” Albus said, eyes twinkling. “You need to rest, and I have some things to set in motion. Thank you, Severus.”

Biting the inside of his lip to drive off light-headedness, Severus managed to stand and walk down the spiral staircase. At the bottom, he leaned against the wall to gather strength for the walk down to the dungeons.

“Severus Snape!” The sharp voice caused him to wince before he carefully turned to face the woman hurrying toward him.

“Poppy,” he said, in a vain attempt to pretend he didn’t need her help. She turned up every time he was badly injured; if he didn’t regularly cleanse his person of any and all tracking and listening spells, he’d think she had an alert on him.

She raked him up and down with her glance and clicked her tongue. “You are not walking in that state. I’ll conjure a stretcher and you can lie on it, or I’ll knock you out and levitate you; your choice.”

He sighed and squeezed his abdomen more tightly. “Very well.”

He saw the flash of worry in her eyes when he didn’t have a snarky response for her, but it was immediately covered by professionalism. The stretcher appeared beside him. “Come on, then.”

He altered it to a reclined sitting position instead of laying flat and then took his place, avoiding her scornful look. “All right, then,” she said, setting the stretcher in motion. “Are you going to tell me what’s most likely to kill you before we reach the Hospital Wing, or shall I just run the diagnostics and be done with it?”

He relaxed back against the pillows and closed his eyes, waiting for her to start her spells. While she was working, he could wonder about the mad start both of his masters had agreed on. Just because he’d had to master Society out of the most impossible background didn’t mean he ought to teach anyone else. Particularly the spoiled brat of the Muggle world who would probably resist Wizarding ways on the principle that his were naturally better.

His thoughts began to go hazy and Poppy’s voice got sharper at the same time it seemed to recede down a long tunnel. He cemented his assignment into his mind with Occlumency so that it would be the first thing he considered when he awoke, and relaxed into unconsciousness.

* * *

Harry stood next to the gargoyle at the bottom of Dumbledore’s staircase, feeling shellshocked. Here he’d spent all summer dreaming about being back in the Wizarding world, joining the fight against Voldemort for real. That ought to stop the nightmares. And instead...

“Harry!” Hermione and Ron must have gotten tired of waiting for him. They came hurrying up the corridor.

“What did the Headmaster have to say?” Hermione asked.

Harry ignored her and turned to Ron. “Wizards have a stupid social thing every spring with… with dancing and etiquette and - and-” He trailed off, unable to come up with any other words.

Ron looked at him in confusion. “You mean the Season? But we’re not old enough for that.”

“Season?” Hermoine looked at him sharply. “I’m guessing this is like the old-fashioned sort of Season?”

“Why is this even a thing?” Harry demanded at the top of his lungs.

“Um, why do you care?” Ron asked warily.

“Because Dumbledore,” Harry spat the name, “says that the best thing that I can do for the war against Voldemort is to prepare for my effing Season.”

“What?” Ron and Hermione chorused.

“No, no, it gets even better,” Harry said bitterly. “Who do you think he wants to teach me how to do all this society garbage?”

Hermione and Ron exchanged glances.

“Erm… my mum?” Ron suggested. “I know she taught my brothers… I expect she’s going to be roping me into lessons over the summer, although as a sixth son, it doesn’t actually matter much…”

“No,” Harry said. He wished it were Mrs. Weasley. It would still be stupidly annoying, but at least she liked him. He would probably have gotten a lot of sweets out of it, too.

“McGonagall?” Hermione suggested.

“McGonagall?” Ron said in disgust. “You must be joking.”

“Why shouldn’t she?” Hermione demanded.

“That’s not the point,” Harry interrupted, unwilling to let his grievance get derailed. “The point is, Dumbledore doesn’t want me studying with your mum, or McGonagall, or anyone sane. He wants me to study with Snape.”

“WHAT?” Ron and Hermione chorused again, much louder this time.

“He’s gone mad,” Ron said flatly. “Mum’s been saying he’s overworked, it’s gone to his head, he’s gone round the twist.”

“Did he give a reason?” Hermione asked. She sounded like she was begging Harry to make this make sense.

Harry shrugged. “Only that he ‘entered Society from a similar background,’ whatever that’s supposed to mean. And that since he’s here, it will be easy enough for him to give me lessons.” He slumped down the wall to sit with his head in his hands. “I can’t do this. I’m going to either laugh in his face or explode when he tells me I have to - to dance or whatever, and then he’ll actually kill me.”

“I’m sure he won’t actually kill you,” Hermione said. She was obviously trying to sound reassuring, but the worry in her voice didn’t actually help.

“Look, let’s go write Bill and Charlie, all right?” Ron suggested. “They both survived being presented. I’m sure they’ll have some ideas.”

Harry shrugged, but he allowed Ron to pull him to his feet. “I guess we might as well ask what I need to learn. I’m not supposed to tell anyone else about Snape, though.”

“Why not?”

“I was a little too busy being furious to ask about that.”

Hermione laid a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll figure it out, Harry. Don’t worry.”

Harry tried to smile at her as they set off down the hall, but he knew better. Dumbledore always got him to do things. This would be no different.

#bring back the bastard fest 2021 #bring back the bastard #pro-snape #snapedom #snape prompts #day 1: the scar #this was the intro; I promise Snape will get more bastard!screentime in the other chapters!

[minijenn]

KH Comm # 3

Another writing comm! This one's for @rosie-drawss, who wanted a continuation of the Keys comm I did for them last time around (in which, tldr, Riku finds Sora and convinces him to come home early). You can read that right here if you're interested in getting a bit of background before diving into this one. Anyway enjoy this big ol bundle of hurt/comfort!

***

The Gummi Ship isn’t parked that far away. Yet despite keeping up a steady pace so far, as soon as he sees its familiar red and yellow hull, Sora slows to a stop, something that Riku notices almost immediately. He stops, turning back to check on him, only for Sora to surprisingly tell him what’s wrong, this time completely unprompted.

“I-I… I don’t think I’m ready for this,” he quietly admits, wrapping his arms around himself. “I lied to them and ran from them for so long, Riku, I don’t even know what I’m supposed to say to any of them now, much less to Donald, or Goofy, or Kairi-”

“You don’t have to say anything, if you don’t want to,” Riku reassures him. He steps back over to him, gently taking one of his hands in his. After so many weeks on his own, Sora’s gotten used to living without much physical contact from others; but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t missed it, that he doesn’t selfishly cherish every second of it he’s getting now. “They all know, and they understand. And trust me when I tell you the only thing any of them wants, especially Kairi, is to see you come home safe and sound.”

“T-they’re not mad?” Sora asks, still uncertain.

“At you? No,” Riku shakes his head. His expression darkens a bit as he brushes a few of Sora’s now-white bangs out of his newly golden eyes. “At the one who’s doing all this to you? Well, let’s just say that if it's a war Xehanort wants, it's a war he’s going to get if that’s what it takes to set you free.”

Sora wants to argue at this, wants to insist that no one else should have to fight this battle for him, that he’s not even worth such a battle to begin with. But he’s far too tired to put up that kind of fight now, not when he knows it’ll do nothing to change Riku’s mind or anyone else’s for that matter.

So instead, he lets Riku take his hand, lets him lead him onward, lets him guide him to one of the vacant chairs in the ship’s cockpit. Surprisingly, they don’t lift off right away; instead, Riku briefly heads below deck before returning with a blanket and a small meal composed of a sandwich, an apple, and a water bottle.

“It’s gonna be a long ride back to the tower,” Riku says as he hands all those items over to Sora. “Might as well get comfortable.” He pauses, his face suddenly warm with embarrassment when he sees Sora staring at the meager portion of food sitting in his lap with a look of sheer disbelief. “Uh… sorry, it’s not much,” he clears his throat, glancing away. “It’s been a few days since I last stocked up on supplies and I, um, heard that if you’ve gone without food for awhile, it’s best not to go overboard with your first meal, so-”

“You’re kidding, right?” Sora cuts in, looking up at him with a grateful, incredulous smile. “This is more food than I’ve had in weeks, I-” He stops short when he notices Riku’s immediate alarm upon hearing something like this and as a result, he immediately backpedals on it. “I, uh… t-thank you,” his tone turns soft again, small, but he’s still smiling as he takes his first bite out of the sandwich.

“...Why haven’t you been eating?” Riku asks him, kneeling down beside his chair.

“Couldn’t afford to,” Sora admits somewhat sheepishly. “I don’t have any money, and… well, I found out pretty quickly that most people aren’t willing to give things out for free…”

Riku sighs, wishing that he’d found Sora so much sooner, wishing that he hadn’t had to struggle to simply survive for so long. “You haven’t been sleeping much either, have you?” he asks, noting the dark bags under his eyes.

Sora hesitantly shakes his head as he finishes the sandwich up just shy of starting on the apple. “I can’t…” he mutters tiredly.

“Why not?”

“Nightmares…” is all Sora says, and Riku immediately understands.

He stands, grabbing the blanket and lightly draping it over Sora as soon as he finishes off his small meal. “Get some sleep,” he instructs patiently. “You won’t have any more nightmares, not as long as you’re with me. I promise.”

Sora wants to question that promise, but he’s overtaken by an exhausted yawn instead. With even just a little food finally in his stomach, his eyes soon start to grow heavy, and before the ship is even off the ground, he’s fallen into a stupor. As he prepares for takeoff, Riku can sense the nightmares starting to assail him, can hear his soft, nervous whimpers piercing through the peace of the cockpit. But he’s having none of it. He closes his eyes, takes in a steady breath, and focuses his power into chasing those nightmares away before they can cause him any harm. The terrors Xehanort is trying to force upon him are unspeakable, vile visions of everything Sora’s come to fear and hate. Even the brief glimpses he gets before he destroys them from existence are enough to shake Riku to his very core, to get even just a small taste of the torture Sora’s been forced to go through, torture he’s done not a single thing to deserve in the slightest. And yet, for as much as it all horrifies him, it does something else too; it makes Riku want to put the twisted man responsible for it all through every bit of suffering he’s been shoving onto Sora. He won’t rest until he does.

Riku feels some measure of relief when he finally feels Sora fully fall asleep just as the ship’s engines quietly roar to life. He pulls the vessel into motion, gentle enough as to not wake him, and slowly guides it up into the atmosphere, out of a world in which, up until a few hours prior, Sora had been all but hopelessly lost within. As soon as the ship is steadily adrift between the stars, Riku briefly checks on him, unable to suppress a smile when he sees him curled up him his seat, his blanket tightly wrapped around him as he sleeps soundly, likely for the first time in a very long time.

That smile soon fades, however, when he pulls his Gummiphone out. He hasn’t spoken to any of the other lights in quite awhile, not since his search for Sora began. As their leader, he knows he’ll have a lot to answer for the impulsive haste of that search, and he’ll have much to say he’s sorry for, to Kairi above all the others. But now, he’s finally ready to face them, finally ready to return to them. Finally ready to bring the only one still missing among their number back to where he belongs.

He decides to message Kairi, knowing there’s too much to explain and that none of it should be done over the phone. Besides, he doesn’t want to risk waking Sora up with what would likely be a very emotional, very noisy call. So he sends something short off to her, a simple request without much elaboration at all. Mostly because he has a feeling she’ll understand exactly what he means.

“I’m sorry about what happened before, but I need a favor. Go to the islands and bring Himari back to the tower, please. And tell the others to get a room ready. I have him. We’re coming home.”

***

Sora’s still sleeping when they arrive at the tower. Riku doesn’t have the heart to rouse him, not when sleep is something he so sorely, visibly needs. So he decides to carry him, carefully lifting him from his seat with his blanket still draped over him. His heart flutters in his chest, his face warm as he secures Sora comfortably in his arms. He’s light, far lighter than he should be, likely because of his longstanding starvation, and as a result, he feels fragile, like he could break at any moment if not treated with the utmost care and caution. But even then, Riku isn’t so sure he hasn’t already been broken by fear, by pain, by loneliness, by so many other things he can’t even bring himself to think about.

He isn’t surprised to see Kairi pacing around right outside the tower, her expression torn between deep worry and rising hope. She’s the only one out there, and he’s glad for it; the last thing Sora needs is to be overwhelmed by too many people at once upon arrival.

“Riku!” she cries, running over to him the second she spots him. He’s quick to shush her as Sora lightly stirs in his arms, and she complies, her eyes wide when she sees him, a soft gasp escaping her when she takes in just how much he’s managed to change. “S-Sora…” she swallows hard, trying to fight back tears and failing miserably. “I-is… is he-”

“He’s just sleeping,” Riku assures her. “He… hasn’t been doing too well out on his own…”

“I can tell…” Kairi shudders, wiping a few of her stray tears away. She places a feather-light hand against the side of his face, whispering softly to him as he sleeps. “I can’t imagine what you’ve been going through… But it’s all gonna be ok now. You’re here, and so is everyone else. And we’re all gonna do whatever we can to stop this… to save you…”

While most of this goes largely unheard, Sora does ease his way back into some small semblance of waking after Kairi leans in to lightly kiss his forehead. His golden gaze is initially unfocused, his mind bleary and disoriented as unused to uninterrupted slumber as he’s come to be. Even so, he eventually manages to focus his sights on the pair hovering over him, all but unaware that he’s resting in the arms of one of them. “Mmm… Riku?” he says with a small, comforted smile. That comfort quickly shifts into startled alarm when he notices who else is standing alongside him. “K-Kairi! I-”

“Shh, it’s ok,” she places a soft finger against his lips, her own smile warm but bittersweet. “I’m so glad to see you, you lazy bum. To see both of you…” She turns her sights back to Riku, who returns her apologetic gaze every bit as intently. Whatever they might have said or done weeks before doesn’t matter now, not when they finally have the one who matters most to them both back. Not when he still needs both of them to be there for him so very much.

“Wait a second…” Sora starts, his cheeks flooding red when he tries to sit up, only to realize where he’s lying. Or rather, who’s arms he’s lying in. “R-Riku! Are you--why are you carrying me?!”

“W-well, you were sleeping,” Riku quickly explains, his own face turning a crimson shade to match Sora’s. “And I didn’t want to wake you, so I-”

He’s cut off as Kairi suddenly breaks down into a helpless bout of laughter, one that only serves to fluster both boys even more. “Good to know you’re both just as adorable as ever,” she chuckles, fixing them with a flirtatious smirk.

“Are not!” Sora argues, pouting as Riku carefully sets him down and helps him properly stand.

“I-I don’t know what you mean,” Riku refutes, clearing his throat as he looks away.

“Suuuure you don’t,” Kairi teases, though her tone takes a more serious turn as she begins leading the way toward the tower. “Well, come on you two. Everyone’s waiting.”

“E-everyone?” Sora tenses, at least until Riku’s steadying hand lands on his shoulder.

“It’s ok,” he says solemnly, sincerely. “We’re with you, no matter what happens.”

The most Sora can do is anxiously nod, knowing that there’s no going back now, not when he’s already come all this way. They approach the doors together, though they aren’t the ones to open them. Donald and Goofy are, and needless to say that as soon as they see Sora, they’re unable to contain the torrential tide of emotions that rushes to the surface. And neither can Sora himself, for that matter.

The pair pounces upon him, knocking him to the ground as they engulf him in a noisy, tearful hug. Sora struggles to work up the courage to hug them back, terrified of even touching them after how he’d hurt both of them before. That maddening moment seems to be the furthest thing from either of their minds now though, as they fret and fawn over him, as Donald scolds him for worrying them so much, as Goofy tells him how much they both missed him. It all comes out so rapidly that Sora is barely able to get a word in edgewise, not that he can think of much else to say other than sorry. Which he does, over and over and over again.

Roxas, Ventus, and Xion descend upon him next, each of them greeting him in more or less the exact ways he expected them to. Roxas is a mess of relieved anger, hot tears streaming down his cheeks as he yells at Sora for his recklessness, for his foolishness, for being so surprisingly hard to find. Sora doesn’t protest any of it, knowing he deserves far worse for what he’s done. But in the end, Roxas finally relents, finally embracing him as Ven and Xion do the same. As all three of the hearts once inside his own vow to do whatever they can to protect him even still, even now that they no longer have to call his heart home.

The others all soon follow, Aqua and Terra and Axel and Mickey and Naminé all warmly welcoming his long-awaited return. He does his best to face each of them in stride, to not fall apart in front of them all. He leans against Riku and Kairi for support, his head spinning as they all ask him an abundance of curious, concerned questions, many of which he has no real answers for. The pair can tell he’s starting to get overwhelmed by it all, and they’re more than ready to pull him aside for some of the solitude he’s likely much more used to now. But before they can, one voice among the group rises over all the others; a voice that sparks tears in Sora’s eyes the very second he hears her.

“S-Sora…?”

He turns, his heart aching to find her hurrying down the stairs into the foyer. Her eyes are already red from crying, tears already starting in them anew when he steps forward to meet her. He doesn’t know what to say, didn’t know she’d be here, never thought she even could be here. But he supposes it only makes sense that they’d bring her all this way to see him; after all, the world order can afford to be broken just a little if it means reuniting a worried mother with the son she’s so close to losing.

“Mom…” he returns as the entire room falls into solemn silence around them. “I… I’m-”

He doesn’t get a chance to finish when Himari throws her arms around him, pulling him close and tight toward her. “I-I… t-they just finished telling me what’s happening to you,” she whispers, running a hand through his whitened hair. “I didn’t think this--I… I should have never let you…” she breaks off into a mournful sob, holding him even tighter, terrified of what might happen if she lets him go. “I’m so sorry, Sora…”

“No,” he returns just as quietly, just as sadly as he pulls just a tiny bit away. “Don’t be. You have nothing to be sorry for. This isn’t your fault.” “It’s mine,” he nearly adds, but narrowly refrains. Even though he knows it's nothing less than the truth.

The round of reunions doesn’t continue very long after that. It’s already quite late, and everyone’s already very tired, so they decide to take tomorrow to form a more concrete plan of action. For now, everyone turns into their rooms for the night, with even Himari doing the same after spending a bit more time with her son, vowing to stay by his side through the duration of this situation, no matter how uncertain it might be.

Sora finds himself stunned when Riku and Kairi lead him into one of the tower’s spare rooms. He hasn’t slept in general for so long, much less in an actual bed. And the mere thought of getting to lie in one now almost seems like a luxury he shouldn’t be able to afford, yet here it is, offered freely just like the food he’d gotten earlier, just like the secure shelter now hanging over his head, just like the kind company he still can’t believe he’s keeping. Company that he’d been such a stubborn fool for depriving himself of for so very long.

As he climbs under the soft plush covers, he’s just as surprised to find Riku and Kairi climbing under them alongside him. The bed is plenty big enough for all three of them, with still more room to spare, but they pull themselves close along either side of him, each of them loosely draping their arms over him.

“Are you comfortable like this?” Kairi asks him as she reaches over to turn out the light.

“Yeah…” he sighs, content as Riku pulls the blanket over him just a bit more. “You know, I’ve been alone for such a long time now, I-I guess… I almost forgot what this felt like…”

“What do you mean?” Riku inquires softly, drowsily.

“I… I forgot what it felt like… to be safe,” Sora admits, though that’s not really what he wants to say. Because in truth, what he really forgot, what he’s still trying his hardest to remember is what it feels like to be loved.

Even so, both Riku and Kairi seem to understand what he means without him even needing to say it. A talent both of them have always had, one that he’s always marveled at around every turn. “And you’ll stay safe, no matter what happens next,” Kairi smiles sweetly, slowly brushing a few stray locks of hair out of his eyes. “That’s something we won’t let you forget again. We promise.”

“You saved both of us so many times before, Sora, in so many different ways,” Riku adds, his voice a light, loving whisper leading him back toward slumber. “This time, let us be the ones to save you, ok?”

Sora has no idea what will happen next, and part of him doesn’t want to know either. But what he does know is this: he’s back, he’s here, surrounded by friends and family who are all striving to help him, set his captive heart free. He’s here, lying in the arms of two people he loves more than anything, more than himself even. He’s here, and the only thing they want is to save him, to stay with him, to hold onto him and never let him walk alone again. And, after so long of wandering without anyone by his side, without any love or light to guide him out of the dark deceptions he’d fallen into… Sora can’t help but finally find himself wanting the exact same thing. “Ok,” he says softly, a smile on his face as he falls asleep in the same way he fell in love with them so many years ago.

Slowly, and then all at once.

(Commissions are still open! PM if interested!)

#jen writes #kingdom hearts #keys to the kingdom #commissions #sora #riku #kairi #donald #goofy #roxas #ventus #xion #aqua #terra #namine #mickey #axel #himari #bunch of fucking characters #soriku #sorikai #disney #square enix #drabble prompt

[benji-writes]

The Laundry Room

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 3416

Summary: Bucky is soft. He finds love in the laundry room of his apartment building. 

He wasn’t sure what it was like to be in love. He had loved people, sure – his ma, his sister, Steve. But he didn’t really know what it was like to truly love a woman, and to be loved by her in return. He thought it must be beautiful. 

It wasn’t what he’d wanted in the forties. He was so young – handsome. Girls wanted to be around him all the time, looking up at him wide eyed and lashes fluttering. He’d take them dancing, because that’s what they wanted, and he’d walk them home. He’d get a kiss on the cheek from the girls who were looking for a boyfriend, and a kiss on the lips from the girls who were looking for a good time, and he’d walk home alone. 

It was never more than that though. No one ever made it past a few dates, and then came the war, and the dark, and the cold, and suddenly his hair was long. When his hair was short, and his body whole, he was someone else. He didn’t know who that was anymore, angry that he would never get him back. Girls didn’t look at him anymore. No wide eyed women he could call “doll.” No one who’s eyelashes would flutter. And if girls wouldn’t look at him, what did the rest of his life look like? 

Back then, he thought he’d eventually find someone to settle down with. He dreamed about the end of the war, soldiers coming home to the ones they’d left behind. He dreamed he’d meet a girl. One he could write letters to while he was away. One he could come home to. The war would end, and he’d have long since asked her father for his blessing. He’d get down on one knee. In a house of his own, with his wife and a baby. A big backyard where the kids could run around in the grass. If anyone had known how much he thought about it, he never would have lived it down. But the world was different now. He was different now. And how could he let himself dream of a life where all those old wishes came true? He would just be disappointed in the end. 

You met Bucky in the laundry room of your apartment building. You lived in a pretty nice place. Not so nice that you had a doorman or security, but you needed a code to get in the first door, and a special key to get in the second. A nice enough place for there to be a laundry room in your building so the tenants wouldn’t need to block out the hours in a day to go and sit at the laundromat. 

You did your laundry every time your hamper was full, and you had two hampers. One for your clothes, and the other for cloths and towels. This meant that you washed your clothes every Saturday. Every other Wednesday, you did your towels. You liked the regularity that came with this schedule. The routine nature of it comforted you, and so unless there was some terrible emergency, absolutely nothing was going to disrupt your laundry schedule.

You loved your laundry time, in part due to how much you loved the laundry room itself. When you got off the elevator and walked down the hall to the laundry room, you saw the machines lined against the back wall. They stacked one on top of the other, and there were four washer/dryer sets. There was a big soft couch in the laundry room, with a big purple plush chair and a coffee table. There was also the long table in the middle of the room where you could fold your clothes, or put down your detergent or dryer sheets. The walls were a soft green, and it felt like a safe space, and no one was ever there when you went. 

You always did your laundry fairly late at night. For the most part, midnight would roll around, and you’d transfer your clothes from the hamper to the laundry basket and putter your way downstairs. No one in the building ever did their clothes at this hour, and that meant for the hour and forty five minutes while your clothes cycled through the machines, the laundry room was yours. Sometimes you’d just sit on the couch. You’d read romances or watch tv shows on your phone. Sometimes you sang, and sang, and spun around the room to the Tangled soundtrack. When everything was too much, you would sit on top of the long table and watch the laundry spin. 

The night you met him, you’d fallen asleep on the long table. He’d just moved into a new building, enjoying the quiet that came with being slightly farther away from the city. It was a nice enough place, and it felt good to be on his own again. To open the windows as wide as he wanted, or keep the tv on the Food Network channel all day. He never had to wear shoes, and he could take his arm off without worrying about anybody looking. A spider plant he’d bought at the farmers market sat on his window sill. He’d named it Dave. There was a laundry room in the basement, and he could buy the Gain detergent (because it smelled better than the Tide they used at the compound) and the Snuggle dryer sheets and fold his own clothes again. He liked it better this way. On his own where he could choose. 

It was about a week after he’d moved in. His arm was off, and it was time to do his laundry. Unwilling to risk the possibility of running into neighbors in the hallway or the laundry room, he waited till night. After all, who did their laundry after midnight on a Saturday? In a white t-shirt and blue fleece pajama pants he made his way downstairs. Holding the laundry basket against his hip, he walked off the elevator and down the hall to the laundry room. What Bucky had not factored into his night, was a beautiful woman snoring softly on top of the table in the middle of the room. Bucky stood there for a moment, not quite sure if what he was seeing was actually real or not. He walked backwards out of the room, waited a moment, then closed his eyes and shook his head back and forth a few times, as if to erase the image like nothing more than powder in an etch a sketch. He opened his eyes and walked back into the room hoping it would be empty, but there you still were. Sleeping. Your clothes from the wash now done, just waiting for you to wake up and move them to the dryer. 

Bucky didn’t know what to do. Just standing in the doorway, he couldn’t help but stare at you. You’d sprawled out, limbs hanging off the side, with your phone laying on the ground where it had clearly fallen out of your hand. You wore a big shirt with a picture of an alien on the front that said “Humans aren’t real,” and a pair of boxers as pajama shorts. One of your flip flops had fallen off your foot, and he noticed your fingers and toes were painted a matching shade of periwinkle. He couldn’t stop looking at you, which he realized was perhaps kinda creepy, but there was just something about you. He wanted to look at you, and to keep looking at you. He wanted you to wake up, and to look at him too. 

He wasn’t sure what he should do. Should he turn around and come back another time? Should he just put his stuff in the laundry and leave? Should he wake you up? Why were you on the table when there was a couch not five feet away? Should he try and coax you up and gently over to the couch? But if he did that why wouldn’t you just go back to your own apartment? He wasn’t even wearing his prosthetic. Fuck. Okay. Here’s the plan – pick the phone up from the floor, put the phone on the table, quietly put the clothes in the washing machine, and leave. 

With his mind made up, he put his basket down in front of the machine. He picked your phone up and placed it by you on the table. He opened the wash, which made a very loud clicking sound as it opened. He threw his clothes in, filled the machine with detergent, and shut the door to start the cycle. Naturally, echoing through the silence, the door made the same loud clicking as it closed, and an even louder click as the machine locked. Taking a deep breath, and feeling like he’d just run a god damn marathon, he turned to leave only to make eye contact with the woman. Fuck.

You had woken up, probably from the loud click of the machine, and Bucky imagined what he must’ve looked like to you. A one armed man you’d never seen before standing in the laundry room at almost one in the morning. He was suddenly hyper aware of the fact that he was not wearing shoes, and that his big toe stuck out of the hole in his left sock.

Uncertain of what to do, Bucky just stood there. Looking at you, as you looked at him. Two people frozen at the threshold of something nameless. A liminal moment in time. 

You reached your hand up to wipe the sleep out of your eyes and said, “Good mornin’.”

Rolling with it he said, “Mornin’.”

After a big yawn you said, “You the guy who just moved in 4B?”

He nodded, almost solemnly.

“I’m in 4A.”

He was quiet after that, as if taking in the information. You weren’t sure what else to say, and neither was he really, but he still stood there. 

After a moment you said, “Sorry I was asleep. That was probably pretty weird.” 

He shrugged his shoulders, not particularly worried about it. It took a second, but then he spoke up again and said, “Your laundry is done.” 

You let out a big sigh, and hopped off the table, sliding your shoe back on once your foot hit the ground. Wordlessly you started to change your stuff over. Bucky, uncertain of what to do, simply watched you for a bit. When you turned back to look at him, he was gone. If it weren’t for the laundry basket sat in front of his machine, the clothes inside spinning around, you’d have sworn you dreamt the whole thing. You imagined what you must’ve looked like to him. He looked like a sculpture of Adonis and you’d been drooling, asleep on top of a public table. Thinking too much about it was going to give you a headache. 

When he came back downstairs to move his clothes into the dryer, you were sat on the couch like a normal person. When you glanced over at him, you noticed he’d changed into a long sleeved hoodie, and looked like he had two regular arms. Before common sense or any semblance of decorum could stop you, the words tumbled out, “Was I dreaming or did you only have one arm half an hour ago.”

The second you said it, you smacked you hand over your mouth. He turned to look at you, since he’d just finished moving his things and closed the dryer door. He stared at you, though not unkindly, and as if desperate to make up for asking you rushed out all at once, “I am so sorry you do not have to answer that question. That was so not the right thing to say, I am so sorry. Oh my god, I’m so so sorry. Please don’t hate me forever, I promise I’m not normally this rude.” 

You could see the corner of his mouth turn up, “It’s alright. I put my prosthetic back on.”

You sat there looking at him, and nodded earnestly. You were too embarrassed to say anything else, and suddenly overwhelmed, you couldn’t even look him in the eye. 

“Have a good night, doll.”

You threw your head back and groaned once he was gone. What an embarrassment.

—

The next time you saw him was a week later. Saturday night, laundry time. You were wide awake that night, and playing solitaire on the coffee table when he walked in. “Dancing in the Moonlight” played on your phone in the background, and he gave you a soft smile when he walked in. You wanted him to smile at you again, so you just smiled back. He went about his business, you went about yours, and from there on out, that was how it was. He came back every Saturday after that. Normally you two didn’t say anything, the first few Saturdays especially. In those days, there was no more than passing smiles, glances stolen when the other was looking away. Back then, you only knew what his voice sounded like in a sleepy memory at the back of your mind. 

But the weeks went on, and suddenly he would linger for longer in the laundry room, rather than going upstairs right after he’d put his stuff in the machines. Before you knew it, he took up residence in the faded purple chair, that you’d now come to think of as his, while you sat on the couch, or sometimes on the long table. 

One day, seated criss cross on the table, you finally heard him speak again, “What are you doing when you sit up there?”

You turned back to look at him, and you met those curious blue eyes, looking at you like they could figure you all out if he just looked long enough.

“Well,” you said. “I watch the laundry spin.”

He contemplated that for a moment. Eventually he just said, “Why?”

Not quite sure how to articulate it out loud, you told him, “Why don’t you come try it and figure that out for yourself.”

Physically unable to resist the pull, he got up from his chair, put down his book and walked over to you. You moved over a little bit, and patted the spot next to you, and he sat with his legs hanging off the side. The two of you, in the dim quiet of Saturday night, watched the laundry spin. It hadn’t made sense to him before, but sitting there with you, he felt like he was beginning to understand. It was peaceful. Watching the colors go round, and the water splash against the door. Bubbles of detergent rolled gently, and there was an ease that blanketed across him. He couldn’t describe it, that same nameless thing, but in that moment, Bucky was certain that he would be okay. That everything, in the end, would be alright. He wasn’t sure if it was you, or the laundry, or the way your knee lay lightly against his thigh, but he could feel it. The threshold of something. He looked over at you, only for a moment. Your eyes, trained on the gentle spin of the washer, he thought he’d never seen anything more beautiful than you. And in that instant he allowed himself to dream the dreams of his youth. Those hopes of a woman who’d love him someday. A girl he’d get down on one knee for. The house, with the backyard big enough for a swing set. A baby he’d rock to sleep. This time, he imagined a laundry room. One with a big warm couch sat right in front of the machines. They could cover themselves in blankets, listen to that easy hum, and watch as bursts of color went by. He imagined one hamper, where both of their clothes went. A washer mixed with his and hers. Right then, Bucky Barnes knew he would marry you, and by God, he still did not even know your name. You looked at him, only to find he was already looking at you. You gave him a thousand watt smile and he couldn’t help but give you one right back. 

Soon enough you were both folding your clothes downstairs rather than taking your baskets up to fold them in your separate apartments, and before you even realized, you were doing towels on Saturday nights too. The time spent downstairs growing longer and longer. You didn’t always talk, but sometimes he’d ask what song you were listening to and you’d spend hours showing him songs you thought he might like, the ones you loved the most. He’d show you the ones he listened to as a kid, and he’d spin you around the laundry room to Vera Lynn. You’d sway back and forth, and he’d place his head gently on top of your. You’d ask if he was down for a game of cards, and suddenly four hours had gone by and you were getting your ass handed to you at gin rummy. He once apologized for taking his prosthetic off in front of you, and you smacked him across the chest and told him not to talk stupid. You saw him without it a lot more after that night. You sat together on the couch. You set up your laptop and watched The Wizard of Oz and the Fast and the Furious movies.You’d bring drinks and snacks and share them freely. Those walls were yours, and Saturday nights together became the most sacred of practices. 

It was early one morning when there was an erratic knocking from the front hall. They were pounding on your door, and it was six am on Sunday morning. You had only left the laundry room an hour and a half before. Rolling out of bed with an angry groan, you opened your door, and there he was. Half dressed, prosthetic off, he looked to be in such distress it woke you right up. Before you could ask what was wrong, he said, “I have something very important I need to ask you, and I keep thinking about it, and I just need you to give me an answer okay?”

“Of course,” you said without a trace of hesitation.

He took a deep breath to calm himself down, “What is your name?”

You blinked at him for a moment, and maybe it was the seriousness on his face, or the lack of sleep, or maybe it was just him, but you burst out laughing. A bottomless belly laugh, that you felt flutter in your chest. Had you not laughed so hard you began coughing, you wonder if you ever would have stopped. He still stood there, deadly serious, and noticing this you breathed deep and settled. 

“Will you tell me, please?” He whispered it so tenderly, that you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching up to cup his cheek with your hand. 

“My name is Y/N.”

He closed his eyes, “Y/N.”

He repeated it once, then twice. It sounded like reverence. Fell from his lips like a prayer. And when he opened his eyes you whispered, “Will you tell me yours?”

The corner of his mouth turned up, “My name is James. But, most people call me Bucky.”

You closed your eyes, much like he had, and almost on accident you breathed out, “James.”

Before you could open your eyes, you felt his lips on yours. He wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you as close to him as he possibly could. For the first time, he knew what it was like to love a woman, and to be loved by her in return. 

You slept beside him that morning – shared blankets and body heat. You watched him sleep, the sound of the rain hitting the roof and the windows. For just a moment you imagined a ring on your finger. A house, with a laundry room of your own. Walls that kept the two of you safe and warm. You could see the first time you held your baby. You’d look into their little eyes and they’d be his exact shade of blue. You moved closer to him, and on instinct, in his sleep, he adjusted to you. He pulled you to him, and bleary-eyed you snuggled as far into his warmth as you could, closed your eyes, and fell asleep.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes one shot #marvel fanfiction #marvel #bucky x reader #bucky x you

[remnantoforario]

Unmerry Men AKA The Problem With Robyn Hill

I’ve been sitting on this rant for a while. I’m sure there are people who have talked this topic to death since Volume 7 ended, and did a much better job than I am about to, but I still feel the need to throw my hat in the ring (or shoot my arrow at the target given the subject matter) and say definitively and without question: that Robyn Hill is a terrible character. 

Get some snacks. This is going to be a long one. 

Let me preface this rant by saying I don’t hate Robyn HIll...in CONCEPT. That last word is very important. 

The idea behind her character is a sound one: Atlas is characterized as a country with a VERY clear disparity between the rich (Atlas)

and the poor (Mantle)

So it makes perfect sense that there would be a Robin Hood (see what I did there) type character that would bridge this gap between the two and seek to make things equal, or at least a little less lopsided. As an idea this is great, but the problem (as with most everything in RWBY) is in the execution. 

Outside of Forrest extolling her praises in the back of a cop car in Chapter 2, the first time we see Robyn is when she stops Clover, Ruby, Qrow, and Penny from reaching the Amity tower site. 

During this introduction, she tries to coerce Clover into disclosing classified government information via her Semblance, and Penny has to expose her ambush tactics. Not the best first impression.

Now in a vacuum, this scene isn’t really that bad. Thanks to (clunky) exposition, we are already aware that there is friction between the military and the Happy Huntresses. As such it makes sense that we the audience first meet Robyn as an antagonistic force against RWBY and their allies.

The thing with this though is that all four of the writers of this volume forgot to lift the perception of Robyn being an antagonist until around the final third of the volume. Objectively, there is no reason anyone outside of her own group to want to trust or follow her. 

The M,K,K, & E are trying to position Ironwood and Robyn in the roles of the Sherriff of Nottingham and Robin Hood respectively. The main problem with this is that they fail to establish Ironwood as a tyrannical threat on par with the Sherriff. 

Does he make questionable decisions? Certainly. Are his choices morally wrong? In some cases, yes. But they are more often than not written in a way where the choices he makes are OBJECTIVELY best for everyone (even if they try to frame it otherwise). 

Closing the borders, hiding the Amity plan, diverting resources to FINISH said plan, and his other tactics (while at times misguided) were done in order to protect as many people as he could from Salem and her forces. They were all calculated risks that clearly took a mental and emotional toll on him. He’s a severely broken man trying to keep whatever he has left from falling apart, but everyone is working against him (including his own allies but that’s another story). 

This brings me back to Robyn. She is hailed as the “Hometown Hero of Mantle”, but all we ever do is see her take shots at Ironwood and Jacques and talk about how much the former ISN’T helping Mantle. My question to her, her hardcore cans, and CRWBY is “What has Robyn done to help Mantle?”. RWBYJNR and various talking heads mention how Robyn is helping the people of Mantle, but because the volume (seemed) so rushed to get to Salem’s arrival, we never see her doing anything that’s not directly tied to the plot. 

She’s not working on Mantle’s wall, she’s not in the streets talking to people, handing out medical supplies, giving away food, or anything that actively helps Mantle. We don’t even see her fight Grimm in the streets until the FINAL episodes of the volume. All she and her group do is actively antagonize the military and steal (which we never see them give to the poor). For someone hailed as the town’s hero, she doesn’t seem to really be doing anything to earn that title.   

After the election night massacre, she openly declares war on Ironwood essentially and begins stealing resources needed for the Amity project, until she is ultimately stopped by Blake and Yang. 

Now in theory I have no problem with Yang and Blake telling her about the Amity plan; my main hang up about it is that Robyn has done nothing to earn this trust. 

Until this point Robyn has been getting in their way as they try to reestablish global communications, but now they suddenly feel comfortable telling this sensitive information to a complete stranger and risking a leak even when they KNOW Tyrian is in the city? Instead of telling her that, why not tell her about Tyrian instead? I’m sure she would want justice for the people he killed. 

Then she is later invited to the Council meeting (despite not being a member) and made aware of classified information that she shouldn’t know of, as well as make a complete ass of herself and show why she probably shouldn’t have won in the first place. 

This leads to her finally believing Ironwood, but eventually that gets tossed out the window at the end of the volume where her actions almost directly lead to Clover’s death.  

As she, Qrow, and Clover are transporting Tyrian back to Atlas, Ironwood’s order to arrest RWBYJNRQO is issued. Now there are three things that are very important to keep in mind here after this order is issued: 

1. Clover is clearly conflicted about following this order. 

2. Qrow is calmly trying to talk things out. 

3. Robyn is NOT under arrest. 

Let me repeat that. ROBYN IS NOT UNDER ARREST.

So as Qrow is level headedly suggesting they all talk it out, Robyn (who again is NOT under arrest) starts a fight that results in Tyrian escaping his restraints, the plane going down (after Tyrian kills the pilot and co-pilot), Robyn herself being unconscious, and Clover being ultimately being murdered. 

Now tell me after all the information is presented, why we are supposed to care for this character? What have the writers done to position her as someone we should invest in? 

A lot of her accomplishments are told to us rather than shown, and whenever we do see her onscreen she’s mostly a nuisance that makes pretty much any situation she’s in worse. Yes, I know this is just one volume and she will obviously be a central character in V8 and possibly 9, but the damage has been done. Any attempt to salvage her will just be cleaning up the fall out from V7. 

Now since I’m not one of those people that likes to complain for the sake of it, I’ll voice my opinion on how Robyn could have been written better. 

The first thing we do is distance her from the Happy Huntresses. She will still be the leader, but that information won’t be revealed until AFTER the election. It’s not really a good look for a vigilante to try and run for a public office if they are still breaking the law. That’s like Bruce Wayne running for mayor of Gotham AS Batman (though the people would likely still vote for him). 

So as far as the public (including Ironwood and RWBYJNRQO) are concerned, Robyn is a normal Mantle city official and Joanna Greenleaf is the leader of the Huntresses. For those of you who don’t remember who she is (and I don’t blame you), this is Joanna Greenleaf: 

The second thing I’m going to do is give her a more established connection to Ironwood. My idea? Former military. Robyn was once a part of the Atlas military’s intelligence and recon division because of her lie detecting semblance. When she discovers corruption within the system (lets say something having to do with Faunus, the mines, Mantle, or the SDC) she exposes it but quickly becomes disillusioned with military life and is discharged. She then begins living in Mantle and becomes their representative. We can say this happened maybe five to ten years before the series itself starts. 

She served under Ironwood and has a deep respect for him, but does not agree with his decisions as defacto head of the Council. This is what leads to the friction between them. 

Next, we change up how she and the Huntresses are introduced in V7. When RWBYJNRQO arrive in Mantle the election race has only barely begun (we’re pushing it back). We see posters for Robyn and maybe hear snippets of an interview she is giving to a news station on one of the TVs. 

When the Grimm attack, instead of RWBYJNRQO running out to help immediately, they are cut off by the Happy Huntresses who quickly get rid of the monsters. Ruby and the others wonder who they are before the Huntresses scatter when Penny and the Ace-Ops arrive. The heroes are still arrested for stealing an airship and violating Atlas airspace (as they should have), but now there is some intrigue about who that group of women were. 

Forrest still gives his exposition, but leaves out Robyn because no one knows she’s their leader. 

When the gang arrive at the school they meet with Ironwood and Winter, but hear Ironwood complaining about “that woman” after having just finished a call on his scroll. 

Fast forward to the mine mission. Instead of Jacques showing up, this is where we gets their first full appearance from Robyn. She is brought via airship to the mine (along with an exasperated Winter and Penny) and begins to badger Ironwood about ducking their meeting, stating that Mantle still hasn’t received the supplies he promised days ago. You could also have her briefly greet the kids and Qrow before going back to argue with Ironwood. 

Things proceed as normal, but inbetween some of the bigger story events we see news reports of Robyn helping people around Mantle. Feeding the poor, cheering up the miners, handing out supplies, giving speeches, and other things to show that she really is the hero of the people. Not everything has to be directly tied to the plot, you can use extra devices like tv news and the like to expand on characters. They tried this in V7 but they didn’t go far enough with in my opinion. This would inform us more on Robyn’s character without her being the direct focus as well as give the audience an actual reason to get behind the things she says. 

The main aspect of Robyn’s character that I would focus on would be her relationship with Ironwood. Nothing romantic, just how their ideologies align (or don’t) and how they view each other. They respect one another. Robyn knows Ironwood is a good man, but she doesn’t fully understand why he’s doing the things that he is doing. She doesn’t know why he’s being so secretive. She wants to give him a chance, but he keeps denying her. 

On Ironwood’s part he knows that morally Robyn is in the right and genuinely wants to help everyone in both cities, but his paranoia will not allow him to simply tell her what is really going on. Salem’s reach is far and if she was able to turn Lionheart (one of Ozpin’s closest confidants) then she can get to anyone and that is frightening. 

This is why Robyn utilizes the Happy Huntresses. They are able to move outside the law and do the things she can’t (similar to Jim Gordon and Batman). She doesn’t want to condemn Ironwood because of all the good he’s done, but people are suffering and something needs to change.

Neither are wrong, but they can’t find common ground.  

I’d position Robyn more as a fringe type of character. She doesn’t directly intervene in the plot, but you know she’s always there bidding her time until she can be more prominent.

I have more ideas for her, but this post is long enough as it is so let’s just end it here. 

TLDR; Robyn Hill is a good character concept with horrible execution. Hopefully she will be somewhat better utilized in future volumes, or kill her off at the start of V8. At this point I’m good with either. 

#RWBY #Robyn Hill #Happy Huntresses #Long Post #Tyrian Callows #Jacques Schnee #James Ironwood #Joanna Greenleaf #may marigold #fiona thyme #writing critique #Qrow Branwen #Clover Ebi #this is probably one of the longest posts I've ever made #RWDE