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sephyathredon-writing · 7 months

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Whumptober #6: I'd Do Anything For You

Summary: An unmarked package arrives at the Institute's barracks and by chance, someone from Ambrosius' class stumbles upon it first. It has nothing but a flash drive in it. When Ambrosius sees that Ballister has been captured and the video on the drive is a ransom video, it spurs him to rescue the other. After all, he'd do anything for the man he loves.

An Entry for Whumptober under the prompt "Recording"

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Ambrosius couldn’t believe what he was watching.

A package had been left at the Barracks. It was unmarked. Another one of the cadets in his class had found it first, but had gathered everyone around when the only thing in the package seemed to be an unmarked flash drive.

Several cadets including Ambrosius and Todd all gathered around the first, who sat at his personal laptop. He was seated on the edge of one of the bottom bunks, with people gathered around from all sides. Ambrosius sat on the other side of the bed, leaning back to be able to look over his shoulder. Todd stood behind the cadet with the computer, one hand grabbing onto one of the bottom bars of the top bunk.

He ran the necessary programs to make sure that the drive was free of viruses or anything else that might mess up his computer, then he noticed there was only a video file on the drive. He didn’t hesitate on opening it.

Ambrosius’ heart felt like it was going to jump out of his chest when he saw a figure on his knees, hands bound behind his back, gag stuffed in his mouth. He was unarmored. Black hair fell to either side of him like a curtain as he looked up at the camera with pleading eyes.

He’d recognize those big brown eyes anywhere. Anger surged within him. Whoever they were, they had Ballister.

The room they were in looked like it had been used as a cellar once upon a time. It had a stone floor and walls, as well as wood racks for holding casks. Some were there, but most of the casks were missing. A figure spoke from out of the camera’s view.

“This cadet, Ballister, seems very important to the institute, being top of his class and all. We could have gone for Ambrosius, but this one was much easier to nab.”

Several of the people gathered around looked at Ambrosius before looking back at the computer. Ambrosius wasn’t quite sure how to process the fact that they had thought about grabbing him. He stayed quiet for now.

A figure dressed in nondescript clothing stepped into view and delivered a hard punch to Ballister’s gut. Ambrosiuis bit his bottom lip to stop himself from crying out, especially when he heard the cry that Ballister let out in response.

He could swear he heard Todd chuckling behind him.

The off camera voice spoke again.

“For the return of your prized cadet, we ask for a humble price. Normally we would ask for all the gold in the Royal Treasury in return for him, but since we nabbed Ballister and not Goldenloin, I’ll cut a deal. Half of the gold in the Royal Treasury. And so you know we’re not messing around…” The voice trailed off.

Ambrosius felt a weight of dread settle in his heart as Ballister was punched again. It escalated into a full out assault against this man who couldn’t fight back. Ambrosius closed his eyes at one point, unable to watch anymore, but he couldn’t block out the sound of Ballister’s cries.

“Leave the money at this location.” An address flashed up on screen. Ambrosius forced himself to open his eyes and look at the screen. He tried to commit the address to memory as best he could. “Should you fail to do so within the next day, your prized cadet will be no more.”

The video left off on the figure delivering a harsh kick to Ballister’s stomach. The scream was cut off by the end of the video.

The silence that followed only lasted a minute or so, and it was, predictably, Todd that finally spoke.

“Pff, it serves that gutter rat right. They really think we’d offer up half the queen’s gold in exchange for his pathetic life.” He laughed and a few of the others laughed as well, though most of them were clearly nervous. The only ones that were genuine about it were notorious lackeys of Todd’s, Blanche and Chad. Others just stayed quiet.

“Todd.” Ambrosius was visibly seething with anger now. The other cadets gave him a wide berth. “Shut up.”

“What? I’m only telling the truth. He never belonged here. He was never one of us. He deserves this. I say we should just leave him to his fate.”

Something in Ambrosius snapped at those words. He got up from where he was sitting on the bed and approached Todd so fast, he hardly had time to react before he was taking a fist to the face.

“Don’t you dare say that about him! Nobody deserves this!”

With that, Ambrosius turned and left.

“Where are you going?” one of his classmates asked.

“To rescue Ballister.”

“But… there’s no way you can do it alone.”

Ambrosius turned, regarding the room with a determined expression, “Are any of you going to help?”

Nobody responded.

“That’s what I thought.” His voice was bitter as he left the room, heading to his own. Being a descendant of Gloreth gave him special privileges, which included his own room.

He grabbed any scrap of paper he could find and a pen, jotting down the address before he forgot it, then he gathered up a few things and grabbed his sword. It was in a special stand near his bed.

He donned his armor and sheathed the sword by his side, grabbing a cloak so he didn’t stand out as much. As much as he knew the armor would stand out, he would need it to protect him during a dangerous rescue mission like this. He recognized the address as being in the lower city at least, so he would certainly need the disguise.

Ambrosius didn’t expect the address to lead them directly to their hideout, that just wouldn’t be the smart thing to do on their part. He at least figured there’d be someone there to receive the money they were expecting.

Instead, he expected it to lead them to an area close to their hideout. It was good enough for him.

Ambrosius tensed his jaw, face forming an angry expression as he pulled the hood of the cloak over his head and tightened the rest of the cloak in front of him, being sure to hide that gold armor and blond hair really well.

He sighed and closed his eyes for a moment.

“I’m coming for you, Ballister, just hang on.”

And with those words, he left the room and then the institute, continuing on until he reached the very outer ring of the city. He had to go into one of the sketchier parts of town to find the place, but eventually he arrived at a shop. Nothing seemed off about it, except that it didn’t seem to be in the best shape, but that was to be expected when it came to the buildings in these parts.

He was about to approach it when a voice from nearby spoke.

“Come here.”

He saw someone dressed head to toe in nondescript clothing. He was obviously very thorough in not letting any part of his identity show. If Ambrosius had to guess, this was the guy.

Under the cloak, his fists clenched, nails digging into the soft flesh of his palm. No. He had to wait.

He followed the man into a dark alleyway, reaching a hand up to tug his hood lower and make sure all of his hair was covered, quickly hiding it again so the gauntlet didn’t show.

The man turned once they got halfway down the alleyway.

“You got the money?” he asked. “Doesn’t look like you do.” He had the same outer city kind of accent Ballister did. It was a popular thing in these parts.

“I’ve got it on me, ready for digital transfer,” Ambrosius responded, hiding his voice by making it deeper.

“No. Digital transfers leave trails that are easy to follow.”

Ambrosius tensed up, but then visibly made himself relax, “Better than lugging around all that money in plain sight. Besides, I know a way that we can transfer it without leaving a trace. I just need to see Ballister first.”

“I can’t believe it. The queen was actually okay with this?”

Ambrosius nodded, “You know how much she cares about Ballister. The whole Kingdom knows that she will pay any price to get him back.”

He apologized in his head for the blatant slander of Queen Valerin. He was sure what he said wasn’t true, at least not to this extreme. She’d probably just give the command to raid the place with a group of Knights.

“Alright, you want to see him, I’ll show you him. Just be warned that if you don’t actually have the money, we’re going to make you regret talking to us.” With that, he started walking and Ambrosius was quick to follow him.

He was led down several alleyways, crossing empty streets in between, in a pattern that he would not be able to distinguish were he looking on his own. Looking up, Ambrosius realized he could see the wall looming closer and closer. It was one of the parts where the forest was the thinnest. Still, they pressed on through the trees.

The forest here seemed to be new, overtaking buildings that had previously been owned, bridging a gap between two forests on opposite sides, against the wall.

They only stopped when they came across an abandoned half destroyed building practically pressed against the wall. The figure pulled open a trapdoor in the floor of the place and motioned for Ambrosius to go first.

He did so, descending the stairs, his anxiety spiking as the man stepped in behind him. Ambrosius had one hand wrapped around the pommel of his sword, just in case.

The sight that greeted him when he got to the bottom of the room made him bite back a gasp.

Ballister was lying on the ground, curled up into a ball, still bound as he had seen in the video, but covered in noticeably more cuts and bruises. Bloody nose, split lip, black eye, so much had been done to him in the short time that it took Ambrosius to get there. The whimpers that escaped him as he lay there made Ambrosius’ heart break.

“Satisfied?” the man behind him asked. Ambrosius took note of two others in the room. He was truly outnumbered, maybe in over his head. He was known for doing reckless things to keep Bal safe.

The fact that Ballister was in trouble blinded him. He’d act reasonably any other time, but since he was involved this time, Ambrosius only saw red. He wanted to make them pay.

Ambrosius unsheathed the sword a little from under his cloak, looking at Ballister, trying to meet his eyes. Ballister seemed to recognize him immediately. He shook his head as best he could. Ambrosius ignored him, instead turning to the man that had asked him the question.

“You picked a fight with the wrong guy.” His anger showed clearly through his voice.

“Wha-?” The man barely had time to speak before Ambrosius drew his sword and hit him hard on the head with the pommel. He crumpled to the ground.

Then he faced the other two, cloak pushed aside, revealing his golden armor. He ripped his hood off, his expression one of pure anger.

“Bet you didn’t see this one coming. Did you really think the queen would just roll over and take your demands? Think again.”

Most everyone in the kingdom knew that if Ballister was always number one, then Ambrosius was right behind him. They knew what a good swordsman he was.

“Who’s next?” Ambrosius asked, just daring them to come at him.

In a sudden bout of what Ambrosius assumed to be bravery, both of the men charged him at once. They had daggers that they brandished like swords.

It was hard for Ambrosius to fend off two people at once, but he’d been taught this sort of thing in training, namely how to fend off multiple opponents.

“How dare you hurt him!” Ambrosius was seething with rage now, but still he managed to restrain it. He didn’t want to be a killer, even if these people deserved it in his eyes.

It wasn’t hard. His sword was obviously a more capable weapon than their daggers and it was wielded by someone who spent his whole life learning how to fight. Soon the other two were crumpled to the ground next to the first.

As much as he wanted to go to Ballister’s side immediately, he made a call first, to the Knights. He kept it as vague as he could, planning to fill in the details once Ballister was safe and his wounds were patched up.

It was only once he hung up that he allowed himself to go to Ballister’s side. First thing he did was remove the gag.

“Ambrosius. What are you doing here? Don’t tell me they sent that video to you?” he asked.

“More like to the Barracks. Someone from our class found it before any of the Knights.” He couldn’t help but wonder if Ballister would have gotten hurt less if it had been found by one of the Knights and sent directly to the queen.

No, it would have taken more time to organize a rescue party. He made the right decision.

Ambrosius used his sword to cut Ballister’s restraints, then he did a once over to assess Ballister’s injuries.

“You know, you didn’t have to come after me…” The look on Ballister’s face was one of guilt.

Ambrosius put a hand under Ballister’s chin and made him look at him. “Ballister, I would do anything for you, anything to keep you safe.”

He avoided eye contact, turning his head to the side as Ambrosius took his cloak off, tearing long temporary bandages from it and beginning to treat his injuries.

“I’m the top fighter in my class. I’m supposed to be capable enough to handle myself. I just… they surprised me. I didn’t have my sword on me… or my armor… how could I be so ngh-,” He tensed as Ambrosius covered a particularly sensitive wound. “How could I be so stupid?”

“Hey, everyone has bad days. It’s not your fault that you were ambushed, and I know you’d do the same if it had been me. So don’t worry about it, okay.”

Ballister’s eyes met his for a couple of moments. What he saw there was genuine. Concern and fear, but also a softness that Ballister had learned to love from Ambrosius. He meant it with every fiber of his being.

Though Ballister’s eyes showed just how tired he was, there was a small smile that formed on his face in response to those words. “Let’s just go home…”

“Gimme a moment, Bal. Gotta make sure you can make it home.”

A few minutes passed by in silence as Ambrosius finished with Ballister’s wounds, doing one last check to see if he’d missed any before putting what was left of the cloak on Ballister’s shoulders.

He stood, grabbed and sheathed his sword, and then sat in front of Ballister with his back to him.

“Grab onto my neck.”

Ballister did as he asked and Ambrosius stood, supporting the other’s legs with his arms once he could get a hold of them. So Ballister was draped across his back with the cloak hiding most of his features, especially his face, which he buried in Ambrosius’ shoulder anyway.

They left the place just before the Knights arrived. Ambrosius left the trap door open for them. It took hours of walking before he finally made it back to the barracks. Just a lot of silence between them. Ambrosius assumed Ballister had passed out.

As he made his way through the halls of the barracks, several Knights and cadets just stopped and stared. Ambrosius heard muffled talking among his classmates.

‘He did it. He really did it.’

Ambrosius held his head up as he walked. He felt like a hero. He even saw Todd off to the side in one of the hallways. He was sporting a big bruise on the side of his face from the punch. His expression was once of clear annoyance, but he didn’t say anything. For once, Todd kept his mouth shut. A miracle if Ambrosius ever saw one.

When Ambrosius got to his room, he laid Ballister on the bed, taking the cloak off of him and tossing it aside, then went to the bathroom. He came out with a first aid kit and a few other tools.

The next few hours were spent properly cleaning and bandaging all of the wounds. Ballister woke up as soon as he sanitized the first one and the pained hiss he let out in response tugged at Ambrosius’ heartstrings.

Very little was said as Ambrosius concentrated on his task. It was only once he was done that Ballister spoke up.

“Why did you come alone, Ambrosius? Was there really nobody else who wanted to come with you?”

Ambrosius looked away, his answer said more than words ever could.

“Oh…” was all that Ballister responded with. He truly didn’t think he was that disliked.

“But that doesn’t matter. We’ve only ever had each other,” Ambrosius stated, laying down next to Ballister, “We’re the only ones who really know each other. I meant it when I said I’d do anything for you.”

Ballister nodded, staring up at the ceiling, trying not to let tears fall. Ambrosius has seen him cry enough already. “It’s the same for me, you know. I’d do anything for you too. I… I love you Ambrosius.”

Ambrosius smiled, “I love you too, Ballister. I couldn’t stand the thought of losing you.”

Things went quiet between them before Ambrosius remembered something.

“Oh, Todd started spewing the usual hateful things he always does, even had the gall to say you deserve being treated like that. I punched him in the face for that.”

Ballister laughed at that, “You never could stand it when he talked bad about me.”

“What can I say? Normally I’m pretty level headed, but when it comes to you, all sense of logic and reason fly out the window.”

“That’s not a good thing, Ambrosius.”

He hummed, “Maybe not, but that just goes to show how much I care about you…”

They stayed talking like that for a while, both of them staring up at the ceiling. Soon, Ballister’s exhaustion caught up to him and he fell asleep.

Ambrosius hated to leave his side, but he had some reports to fill out regarding what had just transpired and it was better to let them know sooner rather than later. He cringed internally as he thought of the scolding he was going to receive from the Director about going off on his own.

As Ambrosius looked back at Ballister’s sleeping expression, he couldn’t help but think that it was all worth it.

#Whumptober2023 #no.6 #recording #nimona 2023 #fic #classist language tw #beating tw #ransom video #hostage situation #ballister boldheart #ambrosius goldenloin #hurt/comfort #whump #goldenheart

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yanderenightmare · 2 months

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TW: yandere, classism, degradation, possessiveness, obsessiveness, blackmail

gn reader - feminine clothing (jewelry: earrings, necklace)

Thinking about your rich boyfriend…

Rich boyfriend – who buys you clothes and jewelry every time you have a date, even when you tell him you feel bad receiving them all – that you have nowhere to wear such nice things – that a simple date is really more than enough.

Rich boyfriend – who ignores you with a smile and shake of his head, asking you how you expect him to stop when you’re just the absolute cutest? Looking at him with those moon-big eyes, humble crinkle between your brows, and your lip tucked nervously between your teeth to keep from gawking.

Rich boyfriend – who orders for you at all the restaurants he takes you to because he knows you’ve never been anywhere like it. Looking so adorably lost in your seat, flushed when staring at the menu written in a language you can’t read – knowing even if you could, you still wouldn't know what any of it meant. You’re so, so, so precious – eyes peeled like you’re a pet who’s just been allowed at the table for the first time.

Rich boyfriend – who plays four instruments, speaks five languages, went to an Ivy League institution, and will inherit his entire family’s business being the spoiled only child that he is.

Rich boyfriend – who just loves the messy household you grew up in – loves how you and your siblings interact with each other, looking like a bundle of pups all crammed in the same cage at a pet store – how your childhood bedroom is the size of his closet – filled with all sorts of trinkets you’ve kept growing up – stuff that would usually wind up in the trash at his house – polaroids of you as a teenager, past boyfriends in kissing booths, prom pictures, concert tickets, and old rusty friendship lockets.

It’s all so… He scoffs. The word for it escapes him.

Suppose he doesn’t quite recognize the pricelessness of sentimental value as opposed to something actually sellable – but he finds it cute that you do.

Though, it bothers him to some degree as well… that you would value an old pair of earrings gifted you by your grandmother instead of the actual antique diamond pair he’d procured for you. After all, one was a real historic piece worth a fortune a Russian duchess had snuck into England during the war, and the other was old junk made by a noname jeweler.

Rich boyfriend – who chokes on his spit when you sit him down and tell him you want to break up – who thinks he’s misheard – that you’re joking, playing some uncultured game he’s never been exposed to, some ill-taste past-time only poor people do to escape their bitter reality.

But you’re not joking…

You’re breaking up with him…You.. You… broke trash of worker-class scum… you’re breaking up with him?

You give him back all his gifts in a cardboard box – telling him you’re grateful but that you truly don’t have any use for such things – that you think your worlds are too different to coincide.

Of course, you refrain from telling him you think he’s a classist snob. You have a feeling it would have gone completely over his head if you’d tried anyway, so there really was no point to it.

Rich ex-boyfriend – who’s never been told no in his entire life…

Rich ex-boyfriend – who buys your street and plans on scrapping it to make brand new mansions in a project he dubs “cleaning up the slums” – evicting and putting you and your entire family out of the home you’d spent your entire life growing up in.

Rich ex-boyfriend – who thinks you’re crawling back to him when you schedule an appointment at his office – who thinks you’re going to come in with bleary wet eyes and grovel like the lowly peasant you are – let him save you from poverty and homelessness, make you his charity case – his pretty diamond in the rough who’s never quite able to wash all the coal off.

Rich ex-boyfriend – who trashes that same office when you leave after having given him the address to the pawnshop you sold the one pearl necklace you’d kept as a token of your relationship – telling him he should feel free to go down there and get it back – that you’re using the money to buy a better house and you just wanted to come and thank him for that.

Of course, you wanted to slap him too – spit on his tie or maybe just take a piss on his desk – but you left it at that.

Rich ex-boyfriend – whose next move is to buy your family business, who hires a private eye to dig up dirt on you and all your family, burying you in fines from age-old petty crimes, gets you kicked from your scholarship.

Rich ex-boyfriend – who goes to that pawnshop and reports the pearl necklace as a stolen item and has the police arrest you. Spinning a story about how he thought you were this humble sweet thing, only for you to rob him behind his back.

Rich ex-boyfriend – who comes to visit you in the custody suite where you sit cooped up with all the other wretched mutts on the cold concrete floors – scolding you for making him come down to a dirty police precinct, for having him breathe the same air as all the lowlives held up there.

Rich ex-boyfriend – who tells you he’ll make it all go away.

He’ll drop the charges, let your family keep their house – or buy them an even better one, whichever you prefer – he’ll even promote your family business and pay for all your siblings' education – he’ll give you everything.

Anything you want, it’s yours.

But he owns you.

BNHA – Bakugou, Shoto, Dabi, Hawks, Overhaul

JJK – Sukuna, Gojo, Naoya

HQ – Oikawa, Sakusa, Miya twins

BLLK – Reo, Rin

HxH – Illumi

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parasprite · 1 month

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diet culture rant. tw for discussions of orthorexia

I HATEEE the phrase "processed foods" god damn it. i watched a video about something unrelated the other day where a woman mentioned that she "cut out processed foods" and just hearing that has totally killed my appetite this week

to me that genre of diet culture language is implicitly classist and ableist cause obviously the people who rely more on "processed" food are people who don't have as much time, money or energy to shop or cook. but these middle class work from home people can just be like "yeah i only put whole foods in my body and it makes me feel so much better" and it pisses me off SO FUCKING BAD‼️

cause like idk. the whole idea of there being a good food vs bad food dichotomy is incredibly triggering to me. even though i know it's all diet culture bullshit it still makes me start overthinking and losing my appetite. growing up my parents would have extremely overblown reactions if i ate the wrong thing (my mum especially likening certain foods to "poison") so. probably something to do with that. and this is not even anything to do with weight cause if anything i really wanna Gain weight which is why im so pissed off that shit like this nerfs my appetite. it doesn't help that "processed" is a meaningless term... literally everything is processed dipshit. smoothies are pureed fruit, that's processed. milk is pasteurised. grains are processed into flour. meat is butchered and mashed up. yogurt and cheese are fermented. herbs get dried and ground into little flakes. fruits and vegetables get processed into boxes and cans and bite size pieces, juiced and freeze dried and cooked into a sauce. everything gets washed.

anyways i feel like orthorexia is so incredibly common and insidious in our society these days and people fucking promote it at every turn. no restrictive eating is not healthy. keto is not healthy. whole food diet is not healthy. non gmo is not healthy. id say "unless your doctor recommends it it's not healthy" but doctors are fucking ableist and fatphobic so fuck that. you don't even need to eat a "balanced diet" cause plenty of folk with arfid eat the same thing every day and they turn out totally healthy. if your blood tests say you're deficient in something you can just take gummy supplements its fucking chill. people can eat whatever the fuck they want. cause when diet culture gets into peoples' heads and makes them start overthinking all their food choices, That's how you make folk starve themselves, shame themselves, and take away a hugely important piece of their agency and choice.

#ok honestly it really helped me to write that all out. im gonna go uave some chicken nuggets now

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nonbinarydeity · 2 years

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TW: harsh language, anger.

If you're homophobic, transphobic, sexist, ableist, racist, classist, or just a horrible person in general, get the FUCK off my page, this isn't the fucking place for you.

If you're not going to respect other people and support them through whatever they're going through, don't expect me to look at you as anything other than a literal pile of shit. Yeah, I am gonna mock you and look down on you, because you look stupid as fuck saying that other people shouldn't be who they are.

Literally I don't want to understand you're fucking logic, because being gay, trans, disabled, black, poor, etc. Isn't a fucking CHOICE, so why the literal fuck would you EVER think that it's okay to hate someone based on something they DIDN'T FUCKING CHOOSE. Like do you think I WANTED to be this way? You think I WANTED to be traumatized as hell, hated for existing, etc.? You think people WANT to be poor, or colored, or any different than you? Look at the way you treat these people and ask yourself that. The answer is: FUCK NO, if I had a choice when I was younger, I would've been loved and cared for, I would've had friends, I would've been rich as fuck, but now? I have no fucking option other than to say my mind because some people think that it's okay to hate others for being different, which is fucking disgusting.

If you act like that, you're a bad person and I hate you, point blank period. There is absolutely no fucking reason to be like that other than the fact that you're a privileged piece of shit who thinks they deserve more than others, which is fucking gross. Nobody deserves to be hated and literally MURDERED for being different, but anyone who acts like that DEFINITELY deserves to be hated for being a piece of shit and supporting people who hurt others 🙄

Also yeah, I'm nonbinary, gay as hell, disabled, have a ton of mental illnesses, autistic, etc. Don't fucking try to tell me that you treat me like you do everyone else, because I've seen how you fuckers treat people like me, and I don't believe your bullshit lies about "supporting" us at fucking all. Besides, people like me have support needs, so fuck you if you think treating us the same way as everyone else is enough. You have to fucking accommodate people like me, if you don't, you're being a shit person. I'm not sorry for saying any of this, in fucking tired of living life to everyone else's expectations when I can barely function in this society as it is. Fuck off if you think like this, I don't want you here.

ALSO FOR MY ALLIES: feel free to reblog this to tell anyone like that to fuck off of your page too, ily 🥰

#law of assumption #master manifestor #law of attraction #manifestation #living in the end #manifest #manifesting #self concept affirmations #loa #loassumption #sorry not even remotely sorry #dont fucking test me #pissed #rant #angry rant

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ao3feed-piltovers-finest · 2 years

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Family is a Weird Little Thing

by WanderingTheRailroads

'Vi, Jinx, a rocket launcher, and a werewolf sit facing each other at the dinner table…'

Families are weird little things, as Caitlyn and Vi discover during their engagement. Some are much weirder than others though.

[TW: Contains classist language and potentially a bit of racism]

Words: 6209, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Arcane: League of Legends (Cartoon 2021), League of Legends

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/F

Characters: Warwick (League of Legends), Vander (League of Legends), Jinx (League of Legends), Vi (League of Legends), Caitlyn (League of Legends)

Relationships: Caitlyn/Vi (League of Legends), Jinx & Vi (League of Legends), Jinx & Vander (League of Legends), Vi & Vander

Additional Tags: Classism, Slice of Life, Drama & Romance, Kidnapping, Family Fluff, Family, Crack Treated Seriously, Post-Canon, Spoilers, Body Horror, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Family Reunions, Adopted Children, Season 2 spoilers, Implied Sexual Content

from AO3 works tagged 'Caitlyn/Vi (League of Legends)'

#ao3feed-piltovers-finest #violyn #caitlyn x vi #vi x caitlyn #piltovers finest #caitvi #vicait #piltover's finest #arcane (league of legends) fanfiction #arcane series #a03feed-piltovers-finest

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springtimestudies · 4 years

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Austria , Cameroon and Japan for the Country ask! I hope you have a great day! 😊🍁✨

Thanks for the ask and I hope you had a good day as well!

Austria - what kind of person do you wish to be?

I want to be the kind of person who knows what she wants and is able to persevere through failures without feeling like they’re a reflection on her character. I also want to be someone people can rely on to support them during difficult times and celebrate with them in good times.

Cameroon - describe your culture

The short answer is that I identify with some parts of “southern” US culture- sweet tea, saying the word “y’all” all the time (and even funkier ones like y’all’d’ve 🤣), eating chicken and waffles for Sunday brunch, listening to country music, going to Friday night football games, spending weekends at the lake

The Southeastern US also has a really conflicted reputation, though: one one hand we’re known for “southern hospitality,” but on the other hand this is the region that started a civil war to defend slavery. I went on a bit of a ramble about these contradictions, my own relationship to culture, and my thoughts on how we can build a more inclusive South, but it’s long af so I put it below the cut for anyone who’s interested.

Japan - tell us a secret about yourself

I’m not sure if this is normal, but I daydream in the third person? Like I never imagine myself doing something, I imagine that I am someone else watching me do something. So the daydreams are less about what I actually want and more about how I want to be seen by others if that makes sense. Let me know in the comments if you do that too or if that’s weird af 😂😅

🌏 Country asks 🌎

⬇️ Further comments on Southern culture below the cut (tw: slavery mention, racism mention)

Long answer about my culture:

I always struggle with this question because I grew up in a city different than where my parents did so I feel a bit disconnected from my roots (especially in terms of my accent and lack of relationship with the land). Then this question gets even more complicated when I think about the fact that my ancestors came to the Americas hundreds of years ago as colonizers/settlers, and we’ve long since forgotten our Scottish culture in favor of a sort of generic “Anglo-American culture”. And I’m honestly just not sure how to engage with that cultural identity in ways that don’t reinforce colonial narratives...

I grew up in the southeastern US, which has a really conflicted reputation: on one hand we always talk about “southern hospitality”- being warm, generous, and welcoming- but on the other hand there’s such a dark history of racism (especially anti-Black and anti-indigenous, but tbh against anyone who’s not white Protestant Christian) that’s still playing out in the region today. Obviously nowhere in the US is exempt from racism, but the fact that the southern states literally started a civil war to defend slavery really emphasizes how entrenched it is in the local culture. For example, today it’s really common here for rich people to get married at old plantation houses because of the ~aesthetic architecture~, which imo inappropriately glorifies a period when white landowners got rich off the labor of enslaved people.

I guess that’s a really roundabout way of saying that too often the same people that treat me (a white woman) with “southern hospitality” treat people of color with utter disrespect. I think that those of us with privilege need to work towards extending the same principles of kindness and generosity towards everyone in our community. And beyond just easy answers like ~be nice to everyone~, this is certain to involve some uncomfortable conversations with loved ones who cling to the old, exclusionary ways. And, perhaps more importantly- lots of self-reflection on ways our own choices reinforce these racist/classist power structures, and a deliberate effort to make new choices that are actively anti-racist and anti-colonial.

Aside from my love/hate relationship with Southern culture, I also have a family connection to Southern Appalachian culture. My dad grew up in East Tennessee and definitely identifies more with the mountain culture, which is quite distinct from the lowland South. Since I didn’t grow up there, I don’t know as much about it other than from him and my grandparents, but I did start learning the banjo this summer, which is a typical instrument from the area. I’m really excited to learn some traditional songs!!

I’m also starting to reconnect with my Celtic roots- reading up on our traditional religion, our languages, etc. Not sure what this will look like for me in the long term, but I can definitely put updates on my blog if any of y’all are interested ☺️

Lol I didn’t mean to ramble this much, but this is something I’ve been thinking about a lot the past few months and it’s nice to write it out. If anyone wants to chat about these issues (or challenge some of my ideas), please message me or tag me in a post and I’d love to talk to you!!

#springtimestudies #hertwilight #ask game #answered #studyblr #culture #springshares #tw slavery #tw racism

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faithlvss · 5 years

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❝ I cannot teach anybody anything. I can only make them think. ❞ CHELLA MAN? No, that’s actually CRESS LEE. A SIXTH YEAR student, this RAVENCLAW student is sided with THE DEATH EATERS. HE identifies as GENDERQUEER and is a MUGGLEBORN who is known to be FOCUSED, CALLOUS, and ZEALOUS but also DRIVEN, CURIOUS, and PERSUASIVE. { A, 19, EST, SHE/HER }

like this post to plot with my disappointing ruthless ravenclaw teenager. please, i’m begging u.

he’s known that he was different from the beginning, but, to be fair, that’s nothing special.

cress lee. ravenclaw. one of the student leaders of the death eaters. ‘muggle’-born. is this hypocritical and against his interest? well yeah. duh. does he care?

the words i think of most when cress comes to mind are boundless. breathless. he’s a ravenclaw to the core, someone who adores the pursuit of knowledge... no matter the cost.

ill do a quick blurb of his personality bc it all takes a turn from here on out. driven. meticulous. wry. witty. persuasive. loves debates. loves philosophy. loves a good practical joke. curious. devoted. dutiful. at times, lazy, especially when it comes to schoolwork. a little cocky. normal 16 year old boy minus the whole... committed to an evil classist racist organization.

really good at duelling. loves magic in all forms. favorite subject is defense. least favorite is history of magic.

born to a squib mother and a squib father. its a sweet love story, honestly. he’ll tell you it if you ask.

here’s the start: boy meets girl. in a world where not much makes sense, they do.

here’s the breakdown: boy and girl have baby. baby gets magic. boy and girl weep.

out of joy? out of grief? look, when the wizarding world has taken so much from them already, is it a gift or a curse to be pulled back in?

the story from here is simple: he’s barely three when he starts showing signs of magic. his parents quit their jobs in the muggle world and work as nonmagical labourers in the wizarding one, so cress will grow up surrounded by the world of wonder that they did-- only this time without the waiting for a letter that never comes. the wishing for the thing that never happens. the wanting something that you can never have.

cress collins lee will get to do everything they dreamed of doing. and even more importantly, he promises them. he wants to do it.

look-- blood purity? irrelevant. antiquated. for years, he watched his parents slave away to just be a part of a world that their blood, by any sense of the word, gave them rights to.

call him what you will. he’ll agree. his blood is filthy and he is proud of it. in the end, all that matters is ability in magic. plain and simple. blood status means nothing without the firepower to back it up. the respect he has is earned, not given. that’s the way he wants things.

he joined the death eaters fairly early on. and it’s very likely that it was a surprise, even to his friends.

sure, he doesn’t believe in /everything/ that the death eaters supposedly do, but-- they are doing what no one else dares to do. tell the wizarding world to change.

the other side thinks that the death eaters are the bad guys, but they’re not any better. the muggles suffer from ailments that the magical world has cured. wixen keep things from them just to be cruel. wixen even keep things from themselves, place rules and regulations on things that could make everyone’s life better.

is that not cruel? is that not inhumane?

there are problems in the wizarding world running deep below the surface that the both sides are content to ignore. at least the death eaters are going to shake things up at all.

and cress has done the math. if everything falls apart, he can pick through the rubble and get what he wants. if the death eaters win, he can try and push his agenda all the while remaining on top. and regardless--- he gets what he wants: the opportunity to explore dark magic.

he’s been curious about it ever since he first heard of it. and though he DOES care about the societal ills that he says he wants to fix, is the idea that something is off-limits not the greatest injustice of all? there is no morality to the pursuit of knowledge. how dare they try to make it seem that way.

you don’t understand, you see -- you’re all too close to the situation.

both sides. mcgonagall’s army, the death eaters. they fight a war they cannot hope to win. they are blinded too much about who they are. cress only cares about-- who he will become. what he will know.

of course, he’s not blind to the horrors the death eaters have committed. but -- do the rest of them really think they’re better than that? they hide magic from the world when they know how much it would make life better.

just look at how it has made his----

(tw body image/minor horror, mentions of magic altering the body.) he was born with progressive hearing loss and is deaf. He uses magical hearing aids (essentially a noninvasive cochlear implant). He still knows sign language, but usually has no real need to use it-- as there is not any/many people fluent in it in the wizarding world.

he is trans. (for more specifics, he identifies as genderqueer and uses he/him). the magical world has made transitioning infinitely easier. (end tw)

wars don’t end with prophecies. they end when injustice ceases to exist. and that’s not going to happen unless the whole world crumbles. so that’s what he’s going to hope for. regardless of what the rest of the death eaters want, the future he fights for- as he will tell you- is more equal that yours.

newsfLASH ITS NOT BUT TRY CONVINCING AN OPINIONATED 16 YEAR OLD OF ANYTHING

in the end, what makes magic dark? he asks. who draws the line? if you falter when you answer, he seizes the conversation. then there is no line to draw, he utters forcefully, then there is no line to cross.

no more boundaries. no more limits. no more rules.

as surely as the rivers run, change is coming.

cress has no intention of being left behind.

#iidyintro

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