#especially if the One Survivor Besides Her is the asshole who started the whole thing | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

imtooscaredforthis · 2 years

Text

Antagonist

Chapter Thirteen: Talk

Mentions of: Drug use, knifes, threats, slight angst, smoking, etc.

A/N: I sense some development coming…

Tags: @vandeaad @mama-miya @dead-bxxxtch-walking @prettycutebunny @moonshineinasippycup

Pissed. That’s how Frank feels, searching the whole terrain to find that one last survivor who had been hiding the whole trial. He’s going to make them pay for wasting his time. He was going to make them hurt.

But then, he heard the muffled sound of crows cawing. He followed it to the killer shack. From there, he could hear it coming from the basement.

He raced down the steps, his adrenaline racing, and his heart thumping in his chest. The smell of weed filled his nostrils, disarming him and clearing his once-angry mind.

His killer instinct is gone, leaving him confused and surprised. There you sat, blunt in hand, once again smoking his stuff. You looked just as stunned as him.

“You’re something else.” He remarked, shaking his head. “How did you even bring that here?”

You shrugged. “I dunno, I just did. And before you kill me, I have a peace offering. You let me get hatch, and I’ll let you smoke the rest of this bag with me.”

“Or I could just kill you right now, get this trial over with, and get the rest of the bag to myself.” He flipped his knife.

He expected anger, fear, and resentment, but your expression remained neutral. You just shrugged instead. “You could, nothing is stopping you. It’s your choice.”

Frank can’t tell if he likes this side of you or not. All he knows is the bloodlust inside of him is gone, whisked away by the sympathy high he’s getting from the marijuana hanging in the air. And if you’re not going to fight him, killing you will be much less fun.

So, he pockets his knife for the time being and takes a seat beside you. You passed him the blunt you were smoking, and he pulled off his mask, putting it between his lips and inhaling.

“This doesn’t mean anything’s changed, by the way. I still hate your guts.” You told him. “Don’t worry, the feeling’s mutual.”

You grinned at him. Not a smile, not a frown or glare, but a grin. He smirked back.

“You know, I met your girlfriend today.” You said, watching as he blew some smoke.

He passed the blunt back to you. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. You two are perfect for each other. Nothing more romantic than two murderous assholes in love.” You remarked, taking another hit. He snorted, chuckling to himself.

“Julie can be a bit…vindictive,” Frank admitted. “I’m surprised you made it out there alive…you did survive, right?”

“Barely, but it seemed like she was going to kill Susie first. Apparently, Susie didn’t tell her we were hanging out or something, and she was pissed.” You explained.

“I don’t get why Susie didn’t tell her though, I mean I saved her, and no offense, but you guys don’t seem like the greatest people to be friends with. I mean, you and Julie are assholes, and I don’t know about that other guy, but he seems kind of standoffish too.”

“But can you blame her? You saw how Julie can get.”

“I guess not. She’s probably going to be pissed at me when this is all over.” You groaned, rubbing your temples.

“Why do you care what she thinks?” Frank asked, taking another hit from the blunt.

“Because she’s my friend. I care about her as a whole, including what she thinks..” You admitted.

“Guess you’re closer with her than I thought.” He murmured. “Yeah.”

If you’re being honest, that’s not the whole reason. It’s because she reminds you of Allison. She acted a lot like her- minus the murderer part- she’s kind, shy, and demure, but energetic and bubbly as well. Sometimes, she even looks like her.

But you don’t know if that’s true. Your memories of her are starting to fade, and the image of her in your head is growing blurry, the only clear picture you have is the one from the carnival.

Shit, you could feel the tears start to sting in your eyes. The last thing you want to do right now is cry, especially not in front of Frank. That would be extremely humiliating.

“Fuck, I’m high.” You muttered, squeezing your eyes, acting like they were all red and watery from the weed.

Frank opened his mouth to say something, but suddenly, the ground started trembling, and the familiar bell of the exit gates rang. It seemed like your little smoke session was over.

“Shit. Did you do that?” You asked, jumping to your feet. “What? No. How could I do that when I’m sitting here with you? The Entity’s pissed. If you wanna live, we gotta get out of here.”

The two of you raced out to the shack, and back into the desert, searching frantically for an exit gate. “Here!”

Frank called you over. He hit the exit gate with the night, causing the doors to slowly open. You both stood there for a brief moment, unsure of what to do or say.

“Uh, do you want your weed back?” You asked, holding up the bag to him.

He waved it off. “Just keep it.”

“Wait, seriously?” More interested in the drug rather than getting out of here alive. “Just take it ok? Now go, before we both get killed.”

“Okay, well, uh, bye.” You waved, and he sighed, waving back to you, watching as you left through the exit gate, and the trial finally concluded.

That was weird. You had an encounter with Frank that didn’t end with threats or someone being dead. It was just…normal. Pleasant, even. Almost like you two were friends.

But you’re not friends. You hate each other. You just don’t hate him as much as you do currently because you’re baked out of your mind….right?

You try to forget about everything that just happened, letting the darkness take you and bring you back to the campfire.

Yeah, things are getting much too complicated for your liking. But you know not to be too focused on that. You just need to survive this place. Hopefully, you can. And one day, maybe, just maybe, you’ll get out of here.

26 notes · View notes

pjo-whore · 3 years

Text

Percy Jackson At Hogwarts

Chapter 1: Wizards Are What Now?

Look, Percy never wanted to be half-blood.

Being a half-blood – the child of a mortal human and a god – was dangerous. It was scary. Most of the time, on top of having neglectful parents and a dysfunctional and incestuous family that wanted you dead for petty reasons, it got you killed in other painful, nasty ways.

There wasn’t a day that went by where Percy didn’t feel envious of the kids who didn’t have to deal with the mythological world.

Percy Jackson was seventeen years old. Until a month ago, he was fighting a war against a Greek primoradial, the Earth Mother incarnate, Gaea – also known as his great grandmother. Before that, he fought in a war against his grandfather, Kronos, Greek Titan of Time, who wanted to overthrow the Olympian gods and take over the world and the Empire State Building. Somewhere in between he also found time to spend a month in literal Greek hell, Tartarus, who also happened to be his great grandfather, and who also tried to murder him on sight.

Was Percy a troubled kid?

Yeah. You could say that.

And right now, he was still trying to clean up the mess from the Second Giant War.

Now that there wasn’t a war looming overhead, the gods’ recent exploits were coming to light, and new demigods were popping up everywhere, everyday. The number of demigods skyrocketed now that they were actively searching and not waiting for them to stumble into Camp on their own.

But that also meant there were new kids to train, more demigods for the gods to claim, and less time to recoup from the recent war.

Less than a month had passed since Gaea’s defeat.

The days were filled with helping each other get back on their feet, rebuilding the camps, and trying to keep the fragile peace in order.

There was still a lot to sort out, and the gods weren’t as hands-on as most would like. There was conflict building up. News spread about how the gods helped the seven demigods of the prophecy fight the giants, because a giant couldn’t be killed by a mortal alone, and this made many jealous and angry. The gods could pop in for a single battle when it was their own ass on the line, but not when a group of their own literal kids needed to rebuild their home that was dedicated to the gods?

Besides Chiron and Dionysus, the only god to physically stay at Camp Half-Blood following the battle against Gaea due to his punishment from Zeus, there were no other adults. The oldest demigods were barely twenty. Despite age, most, if not all, the demigods looked to the prophecy demigods for guidance and leadership.

Annabeth, Jason, Percy, Piper, and Nico.

The brunt of the responsibility fell on the daughter of Athena, and the son of Poseidon. They led their Camp through the Second Titan War, and now they were survivors of another war.

Things weren’t easy for a long time.

The Camp was completely ravaged.

During Gaea’s seize of the Greek demigod Camp, the cabins were burned by the monsters and toppled by Gaea’s massive earthquakes. Not even the Big House – the staple of Camp Half-Blood, the oldest building on the lot – survived the attack.

Camp Jupiter didn’t fare any better, but their buildings had been more structurally sound, thicker and built of material that didn’t burn and crumble. Enough buildings were still standing well enough to inhabit.

Everything had to be rebuilt for Camp Half-Blood.

Nobody could be sent home – to their mortal homes, with mortal parents, and a mortal life, mortal being the slang for “normal” among the mythological world – despite the new lack of residency at Camp Half-Blood. Kids needed to heal. There were nightmares and PTSD. Trauma and concussions. People to be counted, bodies missing, some so mauled they were impossible to identify. Several bodies were unearthed from the ground, sucked in by Gaea’s attack and suffocated beneath the dirt.

Shrouds were made for those who could be identified, the unknown buried in unmarked graves to be remembered. Those who were missing were given honorary shrouds, unknowing if they were in one of the unmarked graves. The Romans were unable to do their traditional funeral rituals, transporting the bodies all the way to Camp Jupiter, and were burned in shrouds alongside the Greeks.

Mortal parents simply couldn’t help.

They couldn’t fathom their children being in a war.

There were fears that demigods would be taken away from Camp Half-Blood by their mortal parents, horrified at what their kids were put through. Chiron especially worried about demigods who would be kept from Camp by parents, forcing them to live alone without any mythological world support, to defend against monsters on their own, without any magic or special weapons.

So, among the remaining able-bodied demigods, Greeks alongside Romans worked together to erect the new Big House. Tents from the Romans’ siege on Camp Half-Blood were gifted to the Greeks to provide residency until the new cabins were built, while the Romans started to march back home.

During all the chaos, Percy didn’t have any time to sit down and process all that happened.

The whole Camp looked up to him as a leader, but Percy didn’t feel very strong or wise.

He only felt bitter.

There were some who walked by and whispered “lucky” and “prophecy.”

Some who stopped talking as soon as he walked into the room.

Those who acted like he wasn’t even human, just some untouchable hero; but they ostracized him.

Percy was aware that he was one of the so-called “lucky” campers; lucky being compared, because at least he walked away with all his limbs intact.

It didn’t feel like he was lucky.

He wasn’t unscathed. He bore many scars, visible and not. His time in Tartarus was an impossible nightmare on bad nights, and a shadow on good days.

Percy was learning that he had triggers.

He was learning Annabeth did, too.

Neither liked using elevators.

Annabeth’s expression went tight when Percy used his powers around her. She turned away, sometimes completely leaving the area.

She got antsy in the dark, a childhood fear resurfaced.

There were other little things; at night when she had nightmares she would toss and turn in bed, sweating through her clothes and sheets, despite the breeze being cold. Sometimes Annabeth would completely avoid Percy, acting snappish, always coming back and apologizing in the end, and they would hold each other like they were hanging over the chasm again.

Annabeth refused to talk about what she saw in her nightmares, and Percy never pushed. He was one of the only people who could understand what she was going through.

Sometimes all they could do was sit and try to drown out the memories of The Pit.

Percy’s triggers were different.

He developed a deep-seated hatred for empousai. The moment he saw one, his body started to shake with adrenaline and nerves, fire flashing before his eyes.

Percy could no longer look at the stars without feeling a deep loss, tears pricking at his eyes.

He prayed to his father, Poseidon, more often, as if trying to re-establish his connection to the sea, to re-establish his connection to the Overworld, as if that could cleanse him of what happened in The Pit. As if he could wash away the touch of The Pit.

Percy’s nightmares were always blurry and violent. He wouldn’t snap awake like others. He didn’t startle or jerk upright. He didn’t make a single noise. He would wake silently, and lay there in bed, eyes open and unseeing, that shattered glass feeling he always dreaded at the bottom of his stomach. After he could never go back to sleep, and he would get up and sit on the tile in his cabin for hours and look in the mirror and wait for the image to change. He would wait for it to reflect what he feared, though it never did.

“Okay, so, how big is the situation? Is it like, ‘Aphrodite lost her hairbrush again’ big? Or is it ‘Gaea has risen again’ big?”

Annabeth frowned. “I don’t know. All Chiron said was that a god needed our help – and I don’t know about you, but I don’t like the sound of that.” She chewed her bottom lip in thought as they headed toward the Big House. They had been asked to attend a private meeting with Chiron, outside of the camp counselor meeting. “He sounded serious, too. Whichever god it is must be an asshole to seek help so soon after the war.”

She wasn’t wrong, Percy thought.

Jason was appointed Pontifex Maximus in Camp Jupiter, and as such he was responsible of advising the praetors, ruling over the Camp Jupiter counsel, and overseeing the work and prayers to the minor gods. His promise to Kymopoleia to bring worship and awareness for all minor gods became his fulltime job, and it was ruled that most gods must go through Jason to request help from either demigod camp.

A god asking for help directly after a full-scale war? Using Chiron as their connection? It was a hit below the belt, and it made Percy frustrated.

A few demigods raised their heads in greeting as Percy and Annabeth passed by the arts and crafts center. Conner and Travis Stoll, who were trying to build bombs with bits and pieces from the forge, took one look at Percy, then at Annabeth, and wiggled their brows suggestively. Percy unsubtly stuck them the bird, and they started to laugh their assess off.

The Big House was smaller now, after being rebuilt.

What could be scavenged from the attic was saved, but most of it was lost. Magical artifacts and ancient texts were burned and crushed. Now the Big House served mostly as the infirmary, aside from the drop-by medicinal tent near the Apollo cabin, where more medical supplies were. The Apollo and Hephaestus cabins had been the first to be rebuilt because they gave needed services.

Aside from the infirmary, the Big House had a commons area for meetings, and housed a kitchen, bathroom, and bedroom.

Checking in the commons area, Chiron was in his wheelchair. Nico was sitting at the beloved ping pong table, which had somehow survived the siege on Camp, and Thalia was sitting backwards on a chair by the new counselor table, which no one ever used.

Percy sat next to Nico and twirled the ping pong paddle between his hands, Annabeth taking her usual seat during counsel meetings.

Chiron looked tense.

“Now, I know that only a month has passed since the end of the Second Giant War, but –”

The air practically sparked with the collective tension that built.

“– a new quest has been issued.”

Annabeth leaned forward in her seat, interested. “Chiron, you can’t have an official quest without a prophecy. And the last time I checked; the Oracle of Delphi wasn’t working right now.”

“Well, it’s a good thing this isn’t a quest from the Greek pantheon, then.”

Percy cocked a brow and shared a look with Annabeth.

“The Roman pantheon doesn’t have an oracle, and their last augur exploded himself, so –”

“It’s a friend of Lady Hecate, the Triple Goddess.”

Dead silence.

“The Triple Goddess?” Percy parroted. “I don’t follow.”

“The Triple Goddess is of the Old Religion, once practiced in Europe hundreds of years ago by the druids and magic users in general. It belonged to Albion, a land of five kingdoms, before it split into the United Kingdom and Ireland.”

“What does that have to do with us?” Nico said.

“All those years ago, in the middle ages, after the golden age of the Greek pantheon, the Old Religion became very popular in Albion. Magic was something that anyone could practice even if they weren’t born with the innate talent, with the proper training. Through the ages, though, the religion declined, and the New Religion rose and became the staple. While the Old Religion relied on the magic of the land, sea, and sky; the New Religion relied on your inner magical core, and so not everyone could do this new magic.”

Chiron shifted in his wheelchair and pulled out a small stack of photos, but when he tossed them onto the ping pong table, the demigods saw that they held moving pictures.

In one photo, it showed a person standing over a boiling cauldron, on the wooden table beside them, old parchment with a quill that moved by itself, writing on the paper. The picture moved slightly, the character stirring the cauldron. Then the animated picture reset and repeated.

In another photo, two persons stood facing each other, holding purposefully shaped wooden sticks, pointing them at each other. Bright lights exploded from the tips of the sticks, and their robes and hair swayed with strong winds.

In the last photo, a person was wearing a uniform of sorts, with a helmet and pads on their knees and elbows. They held an old broomstick between their knees, and metal hinges held on the back close to the bristles, like a hitch for the feet. In the picture, the person grabbed onto the end of the broomstick and shot into the air, like magic. It gave image to the stereotype of witches flying on brooms in the night.

“The Old Religion died out because the land lost its magic. Only select spots held magical creatures and natural magic. Magic was only preserved through the New Religion, and those who practiced the New Religion became witches and wizards. The lot of them went into hiding and created their own society – the wizarding world.”

“In today’s day and age, magic is passed down through genetics. And sometimes, those with magic cores can be born to those with no magic at all. The population of magic users stays stable, and there is balance in the world of magic …” Chiron winced. “Mostly.”

“But these people have lost contact with the Triple Goddess. They no longer worship or prayer to her. They rely solely on their own magic, not what comes naturally from the land, like in the Old Religion. And recently, war has passed for them. The Second Wizarding War ended four months ago. And this has severely depleted their resources and magic. There is a school for the magic users, used as the stronghold during the war, and now the wizarding world’s hero is returning to finish his studies.”

“His moniker is ‘The Boy Who Lived,’ and he’s called Harry Potter. But he was only a child – is only a child. He and his peers are children who have been used to fight a war that they shouldn’t have had to fight.” Chiron looked very grim.

Percy bitterly sank back in his seat.

“We were kids, too.”

Chiron sighed. “This war has thrown the balance of magic out of whack. The natural magic has been depleted for too long, and there are those who are actively tipping the balance to sabotage the magic for their own gain. It’s suspected that the dark forces from the war – Death Eaters – are still operating in the shadows. It is because of this that the Triple Goddess has called upon you as heroes to help restore the wizarding world and save magic.”

“You would only be obligated to attend the school of Hogwarts until you uncovered the source of oppression over magic, so the Death Eaters can be caught and restrained. If you choose to accept, of course.”

Percy eyed him sharply. “You say that as if we have a choice.”

Chiron pursed his lips. “Despite what you think, yes, you do.”

“But this is from a whole other pantheon,” Nico said. “A group of magical people who don’t even believe in the goddess who brought about their magic. Why do we have to fix this?”

More silence.

Chiron looked down on them unapologetically.

Percy shifted uncomfortably, looking over at Annabeth. Chiron seriously expected them to just up and leave Camp for this quest. Barely a month had passed since their own war, and they were getting by as they were. Percy didn’t believe Camp Half-Blood could afford to lose any support or cabin counselors, even for a short period of time.

“So, let me get this straight,” Percy said. “Basically – if I just ignore the little prologue, you gave there – you want us to go to this magical school, on orders of a goddess that’s almost faded, stalk a kid, and watch out for people who like to try to rob the world of magic – magic, which they use themselves.”

Chiron looked pained. “No, I don’t believe they’re purposefully robbing the world of magic.”

“Oh, well that clears everything up.” Percy threw his hands in the air.

“Regardless, you understand what’s being asked. This is a quest, technically coming from Hecate, as a favour for the Triple Goddess. It’s valid as a hero’s quest. It was decided it would be best that you go undercover as transfer students and secretly watch over Harry Potter, the target for most Death Eaters. Your goal is to prevent trouble before it gets serious, though I doubt that will be hard, as trouble always manages to find you –”

“Wait, hold on,” Percy said, still hung-up on the quest. “How are we supposed to fit in at a school for the magically gifted? None of us are wizards.”

“Oh, that is something that can easily be fixed,” Chiron said, dismissing the problem.

“Excuse me?!” Thalia said.

“Hecate considered this quest from the Triple Goddess for a long time before coming to me.”

Percy rolled his eyes. Out of everyone in the room, he had the least faith in the gods. They never gave him anything to have faith in.

Annabeth narrowed her eyes at the camp director. “And how exactly does Hecate plan on ‘fixing’ the problem? I don’t see any obvious solutions. We’re demigods, not wizards.”

Chiron shifted awkwardly. “She has not shared that with me. I have only gotten the request that you undertake this quest for the Old Religion, and that she will visit to prepare you.”

Percy felt like grinding his teeth. “Oh, so she just expected us to accept the quest. She never considered us refusing? Why can’t the wizards fix their own problem?” Chiron said nothing. “Camp is still in shambles – we don’t even have all the cabins rebuilt yet! We can’t leave, not now. There’s still too much work to do here, and too many new demigods to watch over and protect. And have you even considered that maybe we don’t want to go on this quest? That maybe we want a break? My entire childhood was prophecy after prophecy, quest after quest, serving the gods. We’re under no obligation to do this. You can tell Hecate that she can stick her magic wands up –”

He didn’t get the chance to finish because Annabeth had already taken a ping pong paddle and smashed a ping pong ball in his direction, the mutual action used to keep order in camp counselor meetings.

“BALL!” Annabeth yelled, slamming her paddle across the table.

Percy scowled and took his seat again.

“Now, Percy,” she said sweetly, leaning over the table. “Where did you say Hecate could put those wands?”

“Nowhere,” he muttered.

Annabeth acquiesced and put the paddle down.

“Where is this school anyway?” Nico asked. He frowned. “And Hogwarts? What kind of name is that?”

“It resides in Scotland, its exact location unknown and hidden by powerful magic. Outside of the school, which is an ancient and famous monument for the wizarding world, there are other magical establishments. One place you will be required to visit is Diagon Alley, a wizarding market. That’s where you’ll collect your resources for going undercover at school.”

“Again, you’re saying all this like we’ve agreed to go,” Percy mumbled.

He was ignored. Thalia raised her hand, her features etched with confusion. “Okay, I hate to be the one to say it – but how are we supposed to blend in with wizards and witches? We can’t use magic, and we know nothing about their world.”

Chiron admitted he didn’t know how Hecate would find ways around the problems. “She has informed me that, only once the quest is accepted, will she come and discuss the details. In fact, she should be arriving any moment –”

What happened next could not have been anymore dramatic.

There was a blinding flash of light – the glow filling the entire room – and it forced the demigods to cover their eyes lest they go blind from laying eyes upon a god’s true form.

All eyes landed on the goddess, technically titaness.

Hecate appeared as a tall, thin woman. Her dark brown hair was tied up in a kekryphalos, the shining coil twisting and adorned with intricate gems and metals. Loose strands of hair framed her sickly pale face, which held sharp chartreuse yellow eyes. She wore a dark chiton robe that draped over her thin figure, and it seemed to ripple like a heat hallucination, like ink spilling off to the ground.

At her feet, she was accompanied by a black Labrador retriever and a polecat.

The demigods all stood as one and politely bowed, as was common for all gods. Percy glared up through his bow as he followed reluctantly.

“Rise, my young heroes.” The goddess’ voice was smooth and rich. She sounded monotone. “You have done more than enough to prove your worth to me, and for that, I know that I can trust you. I have called you four here on special request from the Triple Goddess, who has observed your acts of heroics. She believes you can save the wizarding world, her beloved kin, and magics.”

“You will use the ways of the Old Religion to learn magics and go undercover. As demigods, you already have magical cores. They just need to be trained; refined.”

Percy scowled.

“And will the oh-so-gracious Triple Goddess be visiting us herself?”

Annabeth shot him a scathing look.

“Percy!” She hissed.

Hecate eyed Percy again, as if reappraising him. “No,” she said, after a tense silence. “You will be sent to get your wands from one who still practices the Old Religion and can pair you with an appropriate wand. Your cover stories are fabricated and with the wandmaker. The Triple Goddess does not appear without dire need.”

“Her entire world being in trouble seems pretty dire to me,” Percy muttered under his breath.

Annabeth elbowed him harshly.

Hecate narrowed her eyes.

“This,” she said, pulling a laminated piece of paper out of thin air, “is called a portkey. It is an enchanted item; when touched by the intended people, or random persons, it can magically teleport you to a predetermined location.”

She held it out to demigods.

On it, in fancy letters, it read: Littletree Farms, Dorchester, Boston, Massachusetts.

“Touch this, all at once, and you will have accepted the quest.”

Chiron gave them an encouraging nod. The demigods all shared exchanged looks.

“Our responsibilities …” Thalia started, subconsciously reaching up to grab at her lieutenant circlet, from the Hunters of Artemis.

“Will be forgiven for the time while on quest,” Hecate assured. “The Triple Goddess does not ask favours lightly. This has the potential to spill into the real world; to affect our pantheon. The Old Religion is younger than the Greek pantheon, but its reach goes far and wide. The Triple Goddess is powerful; no harm will befall your precious little Camp while you are away.”

Nico hesitated, but was the first to reach for the paper. “If this is really that important … why ask for us specifically? A larger group, organized and planned, could do better.”

“The Triple Goddess has observed you, and believes you are the right heroes to help save magic.”

“But right now? This instant? Can’t we have time?”

“You will come back to your little Camp before you leave for Europe.”

Annabeth pursed her lips, then also reached for it. “Okay.”

Percy looked at her, askance. “Okay? Just like that?”

Annabeth shrugged. “A quest is a quest, and someone needs help. We are in peace right now and have no threats. I don’t see why not.”

“Fine,” Percy said, tone short. He looked over at the laminated paper. “So, this will take us where? What’s in Boston that could be so magical?”

“A wand wood farm,” Hecate said, smiling thinly. “And your quest starts now.”

Percy’s eyes snapped to the paper, where Hecate had pushed it into their collective hands unwillingly. Then the world began to spin, and there was a sharp tug in his gut, yanking him out of time and space.

#pjo #hp #percy jackson #harry potter #pjo x hp #crossover #percy #annabeth #nico #thalia #part 1 #magic percy

44 notes · View notes

sery-chan-13 · 3 years

Text

Childish

Niragi Suguru

So, a recent comment left by someone made me realize that there isn't many stories where the reader has a little space. I mean, I've noticed it as a person with one, so... yeah!

A quick explination for those of you that don't know what a little space is: A little space is when a person age regresses due to trauma. This could be situations from abuse to having to be an adult when you were a child. People use it to cope with all sort of trauma however(yes, being in a car crash, near death experiences etc. Etc.) When they age regress it can be to any age as well. Although a lot of people age regress to smaller ages (personally, my friend's little spaces (gave me permission to share) are of the ages of 4,5,7, and 3. I, of course, did research on how others experience it, but am mostly going off of how I personally experience my little space!

Warnings: blood, weapons, swearing, harassment(none done by Niragi towards the reader), soft Niragi things because I can't write his character canonly for the life of me-

Side note: there's a whole headcanon thing from I think @aceofspadegrass ? here on tumblr where there's pancakes on Fridays only and everyone goes nuts over it? Yeah, that inspired a section of this-

Niragi didn't know why he felt protective over you. You were just another girl at the beach. But he was protective over you since the first day he met you. It was a quick attachment on your side as well, feeling safe and protected around him. Although, you knew of his interest in you, you didn't want to bring attention to yourself. You already did by accidentally regressing in places around the beach. Or maybe being a bit to childish for your age. It wasn't your fault. You couldn't help it. And Niragi understood. That's why you were with him most of the time. He didn't mind your clingy or childish nature. No, he told you he thought you we cute for needing him so much. And you liked it when he called you cute. You felt safe.

You sat in the small field behind the beach, picking up dandelions and weaving them together into a crown. You kept humming quietly to yourself as you did. "What are you doing there princess?" You heard someone ask from behind you. It was Niragi. You knew his voice, you knew him. And you would never ever mistake his voice for someone else's. It was impossible. You smiled widely, showing him the bright yellow flower crown. He nodded, crouching down besides you. "Don't you have games tonight?" You questioned him, placing the flowers on his head. He looked at you, and up at the crown now placed on his head. He went to grab it off, but you grabbed his hand, interlocking your fingers with his. You pouted at the fact he was going to take it off, and he kissed your hand, muttering an apology of sorts into your hand. "Yeah. And so do you," he whispered. Neither of you wanted to be separated for the games, but you also didn't want to be in a game where there could only be one survivor. Of course, you didn't get to decide when you two would oand wouldn't play together, but it was so hard to not want to leave his side, but also not want to be the one left alive after a game. He had told you before that if it was a game where there could only be a sole survivor, you would be leaving. And that scared you. You couldn't think of life without Niragi caring for you, or giving you sweet words. After he met you, he started hating the fact he knew what others felt when they were waiting for their partners to get back. Now, you two had never really established what you two were, but you were really hoping he felt the same, because confessing was already stressful enough for you. You didn't want him to leave you alone.

"Niragi-"

"(Y/N)-"

You both spoke at the same time, making you laugh. "I'm going first. Because...yeah. You're mine, right?" He asked, looking at you. His dark eyes met your own, and you looked down. "W-whadya mean by that...?" You questioned, still looking away. He tilted your head to the side making you look at him. "You're mine, right? Mine means mine," he repeated. You understood what he was saying. "I'm yours, pinkie promise!"

You whimpered, clutching onto his shirt in pain. "Owie... hurts," you whined. "I know sweetheart, I know," he whispered into your ear, glaring at all the people who looked at you weird as he carried you up to his room. More like your shared room, because you slept in there more than in your actual room.

You had gotten hurt during the game. This time, Niragi was there to help you. Some asshole had tried to use you as a shield, and you ended up getting hurt. Niragi quickly got rid of them, making sure to protect you.

He sat you on the bed, and watched you to make sure you didn't get hurt. " 'Shiya can help, can't he?'' You said, hissing in pain when you tried to move your leg. "No. That bastard isn't putting his hands on you. You're my princess," he stated. "Yours, I pinkie promised!" You reminded. You kicked your leg on reflex, and almost screamed in pain. "It hurts... pwease get 'im?" You begged, giving him the puppy dog eyes. He scowled, and then reluctantly nodded. "I would much rather you go to Ann though," he said, kissing your forehead. "But she has dead bodies down there... 's scary," you explained. "Yeah yeah.... I know sweetheart. Still... can you try and be brave?" He asked. You thought for a second, before nodding. "I can be brave!" You shouted. "But only for you," you mumbled.

It was your favorite day if the week. Not only was it Friday, and you got pancakes for breakfast, but it was also suply run day. At leat you got pancakes this week. Last week you gave them to Aguni because he helped you with one of your plants that was dying. Niragi was very confused on why you were crying over a plant, until Aguni gave him the look. You know, the dad look? The scary one when a boy goes home to pick up the daughter, and the dad is just giving the the look? Yeah, that's all it took for Niragi to leave it. And the week before you gave them to Last Boss because he got Niragi during one of your panic attacks. So that was no pancakes for two weeks. You were hoping nobody would guilt trip you or threaten you about you giving them your pancakes. It had happened before, and it would definitely happen again.

Niragi usually took you with him, unless they were going to a place he thought you would be in danger. Along with spending the day with Niragi, not having to wear a skimpy bathing suit, and eating pancakes, Niragi let you take some things back. Most of the times you picked out a stuffie, or a fluffy blanket. He also made sure you had suckers or jolly ranchers. Kuina had even once joked that his room was like a little nest for you.

"What do you mean a nest Kuina?" You questioned tilting your head to the side. "Hmm... have you ever read... no, I probably shouldn't tell you about that... like a bird's nest. The pair build a nest out of things they like so they feel safe and at home. And in the other thing I was going to mention... the... usually it's a girl, so I'm going to go with that. The female builds a nest out of clothes and things that smell like... her partner for neutrality's sake," she explained. You thought about it, and nodded slowly. ''I guess you could say that. I like the things that smell like him. Make me feel safe 'n warm," you giggled.

"Am I going with you today?" You asked him, having your fingers crossed behind your back. He nodded.

''You are st-"

"Staying right by your side or within arms reach. I know!" You interrupted, giggling at his worry. Although he wouldn't outwardly say it, you knew it was worry. "Good girl. Such a smart girl you are," he cooed. You smiled at the praise hugging him tightly. "Gi-gi..." you muttered. "Hm? What's up?" He asked. "Thank you."

You fell asleep on the way there, making Niragi be twice as much on edge. He was in the passenger seat, and you were in the back. Of course, you looked cute as always, but that's kind of what was the problem. He kept glancing back to make sure you were still there, and nothing was going on with you and the other people in the car.

"She's Niragi's girl, I wouldn't do that," he heard someone whisper in the back seat. He glared, glancing back for a second. "I don't really care... no rules, as he likes to say," he heard the other whisper back. This made him scowl in anger. You were his. And no one would dare fucking touch you. How dare this person try something while he's right in front of them. "S-suguru," you whined, still sleeping. He turned back, and glared at the person besides you. Their hand was on your inner thigh, high above where it should be. It shouldn't even be on you. "Hands off her. Now," he growled, his hand twitched trying to not reach for his gun and shoot the person. The other stared back defiantly, their hand going higher. He heard you whine his name again in your sleep. At least you were dreaming of him. But he was going to have to deal with this person. While they were next to you, he couldn't do much, as he didn't want to dirty your clothes. You had picked them out specifically for today. Specifically for him. And your beautiful face would get blood on it, he didn't want that. You looked too cute to get ruined by this person's blood all over you. "Stop the car," he told the driver. They did so, knowing that Niragi was not one to spare those who angered him. Especially when he was already pissed off. "You, out. Now. Since you think you're so good, come out here. If you're so confident, you'll be fine, no?" He asked, scowling at the man.

You stirred in your sleep, making Niragi cautious of what he did. Sure, you knew he had killed, and would continue to do so, but he never did it in front of you. If you happened to be in the room, or space, he would tell you to shut your eyes, cover your ears, and sing a little song until he came back. And you did. You were always pretty good about doing so, not wanting to trouble him with a possible panic attack. (He never minded helping you through them, and wished you would understand that.) But right now, you were asleep. And he couldn't tell you to do that.

The person got out of the car, staring at the gun. "Like that's fair," they muttered. Niragi rolled his eyes. "Life's not fair, get over it," he groaned. The person cracked their knuckles, and Niragi laughed. Like they could hurt him, he had a gun.

Boy was he wrong.

Of course, by the end, the person was no longer an issue. Dead most likely. And if not, to suffer from now until their slow, painful death. Niragi had not gone unscathed, however. The person had gotten in a few punches, making Niragi bleed.

"Fuck..." he groaned, wiping away the blood. The driver started driving again, and he heard you start to wake up. He turned in his seat, seeing you yawn, and strech. "Mornin' " you muttered. "Good morning sweetheart," he said. You rubbed your eyes, and looked at him.

"Gi-Gi! You're bleeding! You ok? Hurt? What's wrong?" You panicked, reaching out to touch him. He pushed your hands back. He didn't want your hands dirty with that disgusting person's blood. "I'm fine, you worry about yourself for now."

You held onto his hand, swinging both his and yours arms back and forth as you two walked through the abandoned mall.

"And... that's the last thing on we needed. Which shop do you want to go to now?" He asked you. You smiled widely, tugging at his hand. "Stuffies stuffies stuffies!" You giggled. He laughed, "Alright, alright. Calm down first, and we'll see what we can find."

He was always kind to you. Maybe it was the fact that you didn't make him feel alone. The fact that he didn't want to be seen as a monster by you, even if he knew he was. He could pretend. He could pretend this was back in the normal world, and that the borderlands never happened. That he had really met you at the coffee shop he went to every morning, and not during a game where you almost died. He could pretend and lie to himself that he was a good person when he was with you. Because if you left him, or even worse, you died... he knew he would go back to being alone.

And you felt safe around him. Maybe it was the fact he saved you during the game you two met in. The fact he wasn't weirded out the first time you had regressed. You loved him. Even if you knew of all the people he's killed or the things he's done. He hadn't left you to die. He hadn't hurt you, and something told you he wouldn't. He trusted you, and you trusted him. And as long as there was the feelings of love, saftey, understanding, and trust, you'd stay. This meant you'd always be with him, because there was not a doubt in your mind those feelings would always be there.

Yay, first one done! I hope you enjoyed, and please always remember to stay hydrated, and eat because you deserve it! ♡♡♡♡

#alice in borderland #niragi #×reader #fluff #🎶please don't kill me i just want to include diverse things in my writing🎶#i will write more for the rest after work tomorrow #promise

34 notes · View notes

gwynpool · 3 years

Text

it’s 2AM and i just finished Rule of Wolves (spoilers definitely up ahead)

first, to inform everyone, i read the spoilers when it got leaked in twitter cuz i can’t help myself. (it’s a sickness, i know) i think this is important since it definitely influenced my perspective upon reading the book. also, this is my first time being early in a party so yay me! going in ROW was easy for me because i started King of Scars the day before book 2’s actual release date so everything’s fresh.

secondly, this is really long so i’m sorry. i just have a lot of feelings and need to write it all down. on with the rant.

King of Scars was wonderful to me since it gave me my favorite Shadow and Bone character and the girl who i used to hate for being a mean girl but who I now admire with every ounce of my being. It also introduced a new ship that I am now obsessed with and is ruling besides my love for Jude&Cardan. Not to mention, it gave us Nina, whom though i’m not entirely a fan of due to all my love focusing on Kaz and Inej, allowed the connection between Shadow&Bone with SixofCrows.

Moving on, ROW was a ride and whirlwind of emotions. unfortunately, it wasn’t always the best kind.

I love the fantasy elements of it (tho it was a huge leap especially with the saints power thingy) and the politics because i am a sucker for scheming and stealing thrones.

the zoyalai teasing and angst was painful but in the best way since slowburn is what keeps me going.

nina finding comfort (and attraction, apparently) from hanne made my heart flutter because i haven’t gotten over matthias but this allowed a sort of closure and next chapter for our waffle-loving queen.

the promised wedding by leigh wasn’t what i expected but i’m not complaining since david&genya deserved nothing but happiness.

almost everything seems going well (aside from the fact that aleksander was ressurected apparently)and then everything crashes and burns and i just have to wonder why?

so the promised funeral alongside the wedding one, immediately comes after two? three? chapters as they were attacked during the afterparty of the wedding. and guess what? leigh killed the fcking groom.

the thing is i already knew he was going to die (with the spoilers and all) but i did not expect it to come immediately after the freaking wedding. not even halfway through the book!

being spoiled, i think, took most of the pain from the event but it doesn’t lessen the fact that it was completely unnecessary??? like though the characters grieved, nothing much was affected from his death? also, don’t talk to me about the character development for the survivors from this tragic event because there. was. absolutely. NONE.

and then we have the fricking darling ressurected. i love him in the first book of the grishaverse though i knew he was still a villain, don’t get me wrong. and my heart ached but was also relieved with his death in the third. he also inspired one of my all-time favorite fantasy villain(antihero?) in the form of Adelina Amouteru in the Young Elites series.

Ceased to be a Darklina fan and am now shipping Aleksander with Adelina because their power tho? like clings to like and they are both imbued with unfathomable darkness. somebody write fics please.

but bringing him back was what for exactly? leigh bardugo preached on how toxic the darkling character was and how we really shouldn’t like him in terms of agreeing with his ideals and yada yada. and yet she brings him back because apparently, he’s the only one paying her bills.

his conversation with alina tho had me expecting some darklina crumbs with fan service on the side since the stans were all raving about it on twitter *vomiting noises from toxicity* but i was surprised since it just further reminded us of how he truly is a villain in his very core and would do anything to get what he wants. so all in all it wasn’t entirely awful and it actually made me like Mal a bit. (never was a fan of him but that’s my issue, not the character’s)

setting aside the darkling issue a bit, the POV from Mayu was skippable. i mean obviously it still needs to be read for the Shu politics and the khergud existence but it just made me want to go to the next pov. Same goes for the “the monk’s” POV since you all know how i feel about him and the cult with it’s assembly and shit ended up also being unnecessary towards the end. honestly, i could do without the journey of the starless saint and his cult.

i truly enjoyed the fjerdan plot to my surprise and i like how nina kind of went through the last of us 2 circle of hate journey. it was definitely difficult knowing her pain and all that she went through and still choosing to be the better person. and yet, i can’t help but be more proud of her development. also, the supposed death of hanne got me going for a second and was actually ready to storm leigh’s home to fix her mistake. thank god it was plot twist. that’s all i have to say on the nina POV because i don’t wanna ruin my good feeling on this.

the crows cameo gave us a mini heist and it just made me miss reading their adventures. also the suli scene tugged at my heart.

imma skip zoya’s transformation but it utterly made me feel amazing and i have never been more glad that she’s kind of overpowered. she deserves it so fck all them haters. you can choke.

nikolai’s revelation and decision for the ravkan throne was not all that surprising, even without my knowledge of the spoilers. i honestly had a feeling that he was always his best self when he was strumhond and he only chose to fulfill the duties of the king because at that time, there was no other choice. so him giving up the throne to his beloved soldier, summoner and saint was a quite satisfying choice of route. there has been some others who would contest nikolai’s decision to step down as something unnecessary in the grand scheme of things but i would stand by my belief that nikolai made the best choice for ravka and for himself. not to say that i didn’t want to see both the queen and king side by side ruling but what are fanfictions for?

zoyalai is canon and endgame. finally. i can die now.

now the last two chapters was a toss up. for the first one was the darkling’s sacrifice. okay, so i was also spoiled by this from twitter but when i was reading the book, i keep expecting it to be brought up and it wasn’t. so i honestly thought that maybe that spoiler was a prank. lo and behold it was not and it wasn’t until the very last end. so the buildup was goddamn awful. the whole concept of the thorn wood and sort of atlas moment was just no. like you’re just springing this up now? when we’re supposed to be tying up loose ends but making sure it had history and buildup to well, back it up.

also leigh outright writing genya saying it was not a redemption for the darkling and him being unapologetic about his crimes (basically being a truly evil asshole) doesn’t remove the fact that it still comes off as a redemption arc especially with what is now the synopsis of SOC 3 but ill get to that. he still was the one who did a heroic deed and that fucks me up because it was just devastating to me after making peace with his end in ruin and rising. not because i was hurt that he died yet again boohoo but because it kind of invalidates everything that alina, genya, zoya and countless other victims went through.

on a side note, the darling stans on twitter who keeps defending his actions, i would really advise you to reflect on your decisions cuz it is honestly unhealthy. also, you lot talking smack about nikolai and zoya refusing to sacrifice their lives? stop twisting the story to suit your toxic admiration, nikolai was even first to offer up his life and would do so if it was actually possible. so just go hide in your darkling cocoon and stop hating on other characters to justify your favored aleksander.

the very last chapter aka coronation was good because it gave us inej ghafa cameo as captain of her ship and bonding with our resident privateer and also genya, alina and zoya bonding. but it was bad because apparently the darkling chronicles is still not over and now we’re supposed to grant him death like that’s going to make everything okay? i know forgiveness and breaking the circle of hate and revenge is a huge theme in this duology but honestly, this is just too extreme. with nina it was understandable and the people she hated were born of twisted mindset and circumstances but the darkling? hahahah no. he is a literal immortal who was delusional so now that he’s paying for his crimes, you want to allow him death because you have nightmares? zoya, goddamit no! same to you genya and alina. and so this will be the plot for the third six of crows? why can’t we just stop making this about him. now he gunna steal kaz’s thunder? over my dead body.

in the end, i gave this book 4 stars in goodreads because if i ignore the darkling plot, it was a really good use of politics and fantasy merging in a storyline. i can’t fault leigh for choosing to do this since it’s still her book so i definitely don’t have a right to dictate what i expected from this. also, i have a half a mind to believe that she fell in love with ben barnes and had him in mind writing this so i really cannot blame her because i have been under that man’s charms since prince caspian came out. the spoilers i read made me more open in reading this (backwards thinking but eh that’s how i roll) so i’m not at all crushed by what transpired. it was just weird and was lackluster in its attempt to give ravka some sort of peace. frankly, i just want to read the third six of crows book to maybe find some sort of calm in all this craziness and also delve in some zoyalai fanfiction because it was a long time coming.

shameless promotion but if you guys want to check out my nikolai duology spotify playlist, here’s the link:

40 notes · View notes

ghostmartyr · 4 years

Text

SnK 125 Thoughts

Things Eren’s Plan Has Made Better:

Open, infuriated communication between people living under fear of imminent death! :) :) :)

This chapter makes me laugh. Almost nothing good happens within its pages, and it’s delightful. Eren’s stated intention of killing off the outside world is actively disrupting even the imitation of peace every society in this universe has.

He’s fighting for the protection of Paradis? See all these dead Paradis people who were just minding their own business. See also all these living Paradis people who are minding their own business into a civil war.

He’s ending the Eldian cycle of titanization? Nope, still got the inheritance problem to work out, and if the rest of the world dies, that just means nine people are forever going to be killing each other over it.

There is nothing in this chapter that is worth any of the carnage Eren has inflicted.

So I can’t wait to find out what it’s really about.

There’s a bad plan, and then there’s this.

No part of the world is untouched by Eren’s decisions, and even the people he’s claimed to be interested in protecting are actively suffering from what he’s done. Unless Eren’s sanity is such that he is pursuing a future where there is no one but him and a pile of bodies, there is no outcome here that he’s said he wants.

Which is good, because it means that we’re not done.

If this were a video game, and Eren was a character inside it with an open strategy guide, his choices would be the mark of a player looking to pick the worst possible ending.

[Eren] enters a farmhouse for the night, looking for shelter. [Eren] is discovered, and met with a warm meal.

[A] Say thank you for your meal.

[B] Throw the potatoes in the kind, elderly housewife’s face.

[C] Kick the table over and murder her young children.

[D] Commit omnicide.

Eren wants the D, so any other possibilities are out.

Paradis isn’t safe. Eren and Zeke invited global scorn at an international event.

Paradis isn’t safe. Eren woke up thousands of titans who remake the landscape by going out for a stroll.

Paradis isn’t safe. Every citizen living on the island has their own thoughts an opinions on what this is, and if they vocalize them the wrong way in front of the wrong person, they’re being subdued with violence.

Plus, at this point, the rest of the world doesn’t even know the titans are coming. The only people who are going to spend their last time on this planet in hours (days?) of petrified fear are interned Eldians, who are screaming warnings at everyone and getting beatings back. At best.

Eren announced his plans to every Eldian. They, unlike their non-Eldian counterparts, are privileged with knowing exactly how they’re going to die, and how little everyone is working to prevent this outcome.

If killing the entire rest of the world does work out, Eren’s actions have made it so that the people who have grown up in internment camps spend their last days even more miserable than they were to begin with.

Naisu.

As Pieck and Magath discuss, there is no way to stop this. Everyone on Paradis is in shock, starting fights, or pulling dying people from rubble. Staring out at the horizon in horror. There is nothing anyone alive can do about this.

Submit, and be free. It’s over.

Or fight and die.

That’s always the case in this world, isn’t it? Fight against insurmountable odds, and fall with your pride intact, or decide that this burning world is a good place to rest.

The remains of Marley’s military giving voice to that offends my sensibilities, somewhat. Magath actively pursued lighting this fire. Without his assistance, this never could have happened. The fact that he thought he was only scapegoating Paradis and eliminating his country’s military hierarchy so he could take control does not particularly make it better.

But the will to fight doesn’t belong to only people with squeaky clean morals. This, unfortunately, is not a story where only the protagonist side gets to have good philosophical views.

Landing Magath on yet more pages of this manga. Cheers.

And of course, we have the turnaround where Floch, a member of the Survey Corps, is now arguing that the fighting is done now. While there’s still titans roaming the world, causing death.

He’s never been a very good Scout.

“What’s so bad about submission...?”

Submission, Floch, is bad because it leaves fucks like you having the last word. It leaves people who smile about genocide because of how it improves their lives free to spread that poison and think that this kind of atrocious violence is a good thing.

The man Floch claims to speak for has never known how to submit to anything.

Eren’s love of the world, and of freedom, is not isolated. He doesn’t want his freedom. He wants freedom as a concept to reign. Humans are born free, and anyone who tries to disagree with that doesn’t matter. That’s been his view from the start. That’s the startlingly intense perspective that has him killing people when he’s nine.

The Paradis Eren’s current choices are making is not a Paradis worth fighting for.

So what do we get? Paradis finally, truly being the last bastion of humanity on the face of the planet? A rebellion of thought rising to object to the ideals that led to this tragedy? A final chapter where our heroes have the chance to save one island from itself while the rest of the world burns?

That’s awfully limited.

Not to mention that there are always survivors. People on the outside would always live, and they would always remember what’s been done to them.

Really, nothing done here has changed anything.

“In the worst case... we’d have to repeat the last two thousand years of conflict surrounding their power. All on this tiny island.”

Humans in this world are not particularly good at avoiding the worst case scenario.

One particular human appears to be actively pursuing it.

None of his supplied reasons currently support this being a good plan.

The only thing Eren will get out of this is death, and his public statement is against that--for Paradis.

Paradis has not been excluded. It’s just going through a more specialized kind of death than the rest of the world is getting.

So in conclusion for this part of the post, everything Eren has done has made the world worse, done nothing to progress his stated goals, and is just such a collection of bad ideas that a valid explanation is that Eren has completely lost his mind and there is no logic moving this train.

That being a boring story, we’re looking down the barrel of some hardcore Reveals to liven things up.

Bon excite.

I’m not going to bother with chronological order this month because why, but also because I think there’s a good chance I’d forget to mention Hange and Levi if I waited until the end.

So. How ‘bout that Hange and Levi. Both being alive.

Genuinely, the most surprising thing to me about this is that Hange not only located a horse, but somehow found Levi some quality bandages before he started bleeding out. How that has turned into finding it in their best interests to approach Magath and Pieck remains to be seen, but I guess the Marley-Paradis dream team is not as dead as it should be.

Like. I don’t disagree that stopping Eren is a priority.

I just really have no interest in forgetting that Marley is The Worst. On the whole, I think the manga’s been rather good about balancing the humanity of the characters with their vile chosen actions, but. I like having a clear focus of hate, and don’t feel a need for them to be further humanized?

Especially when, as Bad as all Eren’s actions are, MARLEY THREW THE FIRST DOMINO AT THE HOUSE OF CARDS, SPARE A SECOND TO THINK ABOUT HOW THAT FUCKED UP PEOPLE BESIDES YOURSELVES YOU FUCKING ASSHOLES.

They can share The Worst crown when Eren steals it. That works.

Anyway, yay Hange and Levi. They join the realm of the officially not dead.

Like Falco!

Hell. Talk about awkward. Connie and Falco are both easily identifiable through their hearts. Connie’s has just been through a few more brutalities than Falco’s. He’s worn down and bitter, whereas Falco still as his eternal fount of optimism going for him.

Sasha’s dad is right; Connie will hesitate. It’s in his nature. He’s found the one thing in the world he can bring back from this war, and he’s desperate for it, but Falco is a little boy, awake and thanking him.

Connie joins the Survey Corps back when it’s a death sentence. He doesn’t run away from the hard things. He fights and protects his friends, and that’s done nothing except break him down into someone who’s considering killing a child to save his mother.

I don’t think there’s much suspense in Connie’s eventual choice. That’s not to say that Falco’s free from danger (even if Connie decides against it, deciding against something after you’ve put too many of the steps in motion... yeah), but it isn’t even a full chapter before Connie’s being confronted with the nature of his work (protecting people) and the nature of this choice (killing person).

However, there are a bunch of people wandering around on horseback in the middle of nowhere. We’ve got Connie and Falco, soon to be joined by Armin and Gabi, as well as Hange, Levi, Pieck, and Magath.

None of them are going to wind up near the walls. All the tension will have to be derived from their interactions, but what’s there? Hange, Levi, Pieck, and Magath have the most reasons to throw down, but also the most experience to know that maybe it’s time to talk. Connie’s future decision is practically written in stone, so why bother taking Falco out into the boonies? A dramatic reunion between him and Gabi isn’t going to do much we haven’t seen already. Quality bro moments for Connie and Armin? We could have done that back anywhere.

We have a cast divided in terms of geography, but not much else. Only Floch’s gang is perfectly fine with what’s going on here. Everyone else is in favor of figuring out a way to fight it. Throwing a bunch of pairs out in the woodlands when none of them are going to be fighting seems like wasted panel space.

tfw massively secret reveal in the woods like whoa and it’s a race to bring it back to the rest of the cast and explain that not all hope is lost and things are magically better

I sense a plot.

Hopefully this part of it involves less dead children.

Also, it’s impossible to tell because non-populated Paradis always looks the damn same, but there’s a chance that any number of the horse groups could be near Historia.

She gets a whole mention this chapter.

Almost like someone cares about her.

That’s two separate people in two chapters.

Whoa.

But also there’s the whole setting sun thing, and sitting outside doing nothing but glaring at the sun is a patented timeskip Historia activity. So maybe now she’ll finally have something to do.

No one else really has that, admittedly. It’s all a lot of watching Eren’s plan, thinking, “gee that’s bad,” and dealing with the fallout of who is already dying thanks to Eren’s plan. Everyone is very busy, but not providing constructive solutions to anything except pulling people out of buildings.

Based on the world as it is explained to us, there is nothing anyone can do against Eren.

Manga please. Please give me the explanation that changes this. We know it’s there.

But yeah, that creates a very anticlimactic dead space where everyone’s solving the problems in front of them, and shrugging at everything else. What else is there, really?

I think I’ll be in the minority when I make the comment that this chapter brought back more of my pity than disdain for Floch.

He’s a crappy person doing crappy things, and someone should probably shoot him in the head sooner as opposed to later. That would not be a bad thing to have happen. He’s invested in raising an empire that no one in the world needs.

He’s also alive through freak chance that left him the sole survivor of a suicide charge, and when he managed to bring his commanding officer to the people who could save him, and bring some sense to the chaos, his actions are invalidated.

Many things could be solved with Floch if he ever was implied to feel a fraction of empathy for people not himself.

That said, it’s... very glaringly obvious that this is his radicalized response to trauma.

The volunteer he kills is left with a mangled hole in his face.

That’s how many of Floch’s comrades die in Erwin’s last charge.

For their pride and obligation as Scouts, and their belief in Erwin’s strategy, they charge. And they all die.

Except for Floch.

Floch’s turned into many things over these four years. A liar is high on the list.

But this moment, and when he talks to Jean, strike true.

Jean’s in shock. Too much has happened, and he understands far too much of it. He’s completely blank, and that is a surface Floch can speak to. Floch knows, and has never forgotten, the shock and trauma the fight can cause. He knows how to put comfort, when he talks to someone like that.

“It’s over.”

He can talk about the rise of a grand new Eldian Empire all he wants, but he’s only smiling when he’s talking to Jean. He isn’t smiling over the new beginning. He’s smiling when he tells a quiet, horrified audience that the fight is done.

Floch’s not a good person. He’s lost in a variety of ways. The war of thought between Eldians and the rest of the world stripped him bare after the battle in Shiganshina flayed him, and he let all of the rot consume him.

All because he happened to live through one of the bloodiest fights in their island’s history.

He should probably be punched in the face and killed. Whichever order.

It’s still a sad fucking story.

-glances at Armin and Mikasa-

HEY SPEAKING OF

This chapter is just the rest of the 104th who haven’t officially experienced it going through their complete mental collapse.

Armin’s in hysterics while trying to hold himself together. The fact that he can still do that second part puts him at the top of the tier list. Mikasa’s lost, with her only avenue left being explaining to Armin why him running off isn’t actually going to fix anything. Connie’s out on his own, contemplating child murder. Reiner’s unconscious and better off for it. Jean’s a wreck. Annie’s spent four years in a dark hole and can’t even win a fight with Hitch. Historia’s main contribution to this arc is being sad. Eren directly caused more than half of all this.

Our Heroes.

Armin has always been the idea guy. He’s the person you ask when you don’t know what to do next. Mikasa doesn’t know what to do about Eren. Eren is literally the most important problem to solve in this world, even outside their emotional complications, so Mikasa asks Armin, her smartest friend, what to do.

Cue the waterworks. Armin goes ballistic, and just like everyone always has, yells at Mikasa for caring about the only family she has left.

She’s taken aback when Armin says he doesn’t know what to do. For the rest, there’s only sadness. She can’t even offer comfort or a denial when Armin takes in everything he’s just said and says he isn’t the one who should have survived Serum Bowl.

Mikasa and Armin have always chased after Eren. Together. They’re the most stable part of the trio. Now Eren’s destroying the world, and the first thing Armin does is lose it with his other best friend for looking to him to be her stabilizing force like he always has.

In Trost, Armin comes to realize that his friends have never looked down at him for the reasons he looks down on himself. Mikasa and Eren love him for his own good qualities. More people start to realize how smart he is, and as the plot progresses, more and more pressure piles on, with people coming to depend on his brilliant mind.

It fails him here. The one thing he’s always been able to offer simply isn’t there. Just like against Bertolt, where all he could come up with was sacrificing himself.

If that had worked the way he thought it would, Erwin would still be here. Solving all the problems Armin can’t.

Mikasa and Armin lose their best friend, and Armin flips out on the one he has left, when what they both really need is those few days of sleep and some damn hugs. Leaving both of them rather ashamed of themselves and isolated.

They’re soldiers. Their job is to keep going.

Also Mikasa’s scarf is gone, and I’d assume Louise has it, but I’m unsure of what the Drama value of that will turn into. Put a pin in it and wait.

Probably the most ominous content goes to Shadis.

The idea that the Yeagerists have the island, so blend in until it’s time to rise up... that is a horrifying potentiality. The time it will take for the Yeagerists to have control of the island is probably slightly more than it will take for Eren to destroy his first city (assuming that’s what he’s up to). If our next climax is going to be a rebellion taking the island away from the Yeagerists... we’ll see a hell of a lot of damage first.

I guess that’s a given, with where the plot is headed, but it’s still appalling to think that Paradis has come so far only to be thrown back into cages when their walls walk away.

I really hope that Shadis isn’t pulling a foreshadowing card. I’d feel more comfortable if his scene came before the scene in Marley, so it could more cleanly be marked as a link to them, instead of a link of what might come to pass in Paradis.

Though the link still stands.

Mr. Leonhart wants his damn daughter back, you fascist jackasses. Staying in line for a decade hasn’t made him forget that.

Anything I could say about Annie and Hitch would diminish my love of their time together. Hitch joins the MPs as a selfish brat, and she lives her truest self that way, but she also saves lives. When duty comes knocking, she sighs and opens the door.

Annie’s a selfish brat too. She’s not as immune to seeing other people as human as she wants to be. She would still kill everyone all over again to make it back to her dad.

Who was a right bastard until he realized he’d done fucked up.

After the long series of poor parenting we’ve gotten, it’s painfully refreshing for Annie’s dad to apologize to express how much he cares for her to her face. He might have fucked up everything else, but he was sorry and he said it. He actually took the first step in doing better, and a decade later, he’s still waiting to complete that journey with his daughter.

Yes, okay, the bar is so fucking low, but he still jumped it. The existence of genuine love at all is a long stretch better than certain other characters get.

Lots of waiting yet to come. Nothing can be done, and Colossal Titans take a long time to travel. If there isn’t a prompt list about what x character does waiting for the apocalypse yet, there should be.

Everyone in this chapter is really just waiting for everything to die. The extinction of the rest of the world is taken as an inevitability, with the only question being how you want to go down.

The world ends with a slow scream that keeps growing louder.

Someone needs to tell Eren to stop doing that.

#Shingeki no Kyojin #SnK 125 #Armin Arlert #Floch Forster #shingeki no spoilers #SnK spoilers #spoilers #tl;dr #chapter post

99 notes · View notes

gold-and-rubies · 3 years

Text

In It For The Long Haul - Chapter 2

I’m going to be posting these twice a day until I catch up. This is in MacCready’s POV. Warnings for violence and language.

MacCready sighed inwardly. Winlock and Barnes had tracked him down in an attempt to harass him out of the Commonwealth… again. He would not give in to them; he had too much on the line. He was just getting really tired of this.

“Can’t say I’m surprised to find you in a dump like this, MacCready,” Winlock said far too smugly for MacCready’s liking. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a girl slip into the room behind them. Great, he thought, I’m gonna lose another fucking job to these assholes.

“I was wonderin’ how long it would take your bloodhounds to track me down, Winlock. It’s been almost three months… don’t tell me you're getting rusty,” MacCready said nonchalantly, “Should we take this outside?”

“It ain’t like that I’m just here to deliver a message,” Winlock said. MacCready narrowed his eyes at that.

“In case you forgot I left the Gunners for good.”

“Yeah, I heard, but you’re still taking jobs in the Commonwealth. That isn’t going to work for us.”

MacCready was quickly losing his patience. They were getting on his last nerves, so he tried to get on theirs, “In case you forgot, I don’t take orders from you… not anymore. So why don’t you take your girlfriend, and walk out of here while you still can.”

That managed to rile Barnes up, who had otherwise been silent the whole time. “What?! Winlock, tell me we don’t have to listen to this shit,” he said angrily.

Winlock’s attitude changed from smug to pissed. “Listen up, MacCready,” he said threateningly, “the only reason we haven’t filled your body full of bullets is that we don’t want a war with Goodneighbor. See, we respect other people’s boundaries… we know how to play the game. It’s something you never learned.”

“Glad to have disappointed you,” MacCready said sarcastically.

Winlock scoffed, “You can play the tough guy all you want. But if we hear you’re still operating in Gunner territory all bets are off.”

“You finished?”

“Yeah… we’re finished. Come on, Barnes.”

As they left the room the girl, who MacCready had almost forgotten about, watched them warily. MacCready eyed her. Although she was not wearing the trademark jumpsuit, everything about her screamed vault dweller. From the nervous look on her face to the pip-boy strapped to her arm. From what he could see she lacked any real scars, and the damage she had was recent. She was also paler than almost anyone he had ever seen showing a lack of sun exposure. Her chin length red hair was neater than the average wastelander. Although her short height did not help her look older, she had to be somewhere around his own age, making her lack of scars all the more telling. He wondered what could drive her from her vault to look for help in a bar. The only one he heard of in the Commonwealth that still had people in it was 81. The vault that apparently had no experiment.

“Look lady,” he said, bringing her attention to him, “if you’re preachin’ about the Atom, or lookin’ for a friend, you’ve got the wrong guy. If you need a hired gun… then maybe we can talk.”

“It’s a good thing I do then… but who were they?”

Her voice caught him off guard. It was far lower and slightly raspier than he had been expecting, and even more shocking to him, it practically oozed confidence.

“Just some moron Gunners. Idiots couldn’t hit a squirrel with a rocket launcher. Nothin’ you need to worry about. What about you? How do I know takin’ your offer won’t come back to bite me?”

She did not answer his question. Instead she asked, “Do you take long term jobs?”

The longer she stood there the more intrigued he became. What the hell is she planning? He replied, “Depends. How long the job is, compensation, and what the job is all matter.” He tried to not be too picky about jobs, but some were not worth it. Especially the longer ones.

She nodded, “I… I lead a rather dangerous life. I need someone who can watch my back, and is willing to go take down raiders, Gunners, and anything else I’m sent to take care of. I’m also… I guess you could say new to the area, so I don’t really know my way around.”

Although it was nice to know what he was going to have to do, her description of the job just raised more questions. Was she also a mercenary? Who was sending her to do this stuff? Who was she?

She continued, “As for compensation… I’ll pay for all your ammo, food, water, alcohol when clean water isn’t available, and medical supplies. Any loot we find and payment we receive will be split equally. Along with any initial payment you request.”

The more she talked the more confused he became. So far it was a hell of an offer, but he wanted to know why she wanted his help so badly. The way she spoke also confused him. The way she worded things made her sound like some pre-war holotapes he had found once.

“As for time… I don’t know how long the job will last, just that it will be a long time. You can leave whenever you want though,” she finished.

This was probably the best offer he had ever gotten. He normally did not try to care about the boss’s personal life or who they were, as long as they were not a raider boss. He had some standards. This girl though was just so damn enigmatic, too much for his liking.

“That’s a heck of an offer, but I’ve gotta make sure it’s not too good to be true, so I’ve gotta ask. Who are you exactly?”

Her back straightened, shoulders went back, and she held her a head a little higher. A pose of confidence. “Claudia Flynn. General of the Minutemen… and survivor of Vault 111.”

He had assumed she was a vault dweller from the get go, so that did not surprise him. He did not recognize the number, though, which concerned him a little if he was being honest. Dwellers could be down right insane at times. He decided not to ask about it. Instead he focused on the fact that she claimed to be the general of the Minutemen.

“Minutemen? I thought you guys were destroyed in Quincy.”

“We’re rebuilding,” she said simply.

“But what’s the general doin’ hiring a merc?”

“There aren’t very many of us right now, and I want to help as much as possible, but I’m sure you know it isn’t exactly safe to travel alone. I will also have to… deal with more… personal matters. I don’t want to use Minutemen resources where they aren’t needed. Especially now,” she explained.

That was the first time she had said something that actually answered more questions than created them, although the "personal matters" were cause for some. He mulled over all the information or a moment. He'd taken far, far worse jobs. He’d be crazy to not act on the offer, even if it meant being more altruistic than he was used to. If she wanted to spend all her caps on him, who was he to say no? Besides if she really was the general of the Minutemen it would be a great way to get back at the Gunners for harassing him so damn much. And maybe, just maybe he could get her to…. He cleared the thought from his head before it gave him too much hope.

“Alright, hotshot. Sounds like a good deal, so if you pay the hiring price, you’ve got a new gun on your side.”

“How much?”

“Two-hundred fifty caps. No room for bargainin’.”

“Fair enough,” she said before setting her pack down on one of the ratty couches. She produced three leather pouches, two larger and one smaller. As she handed them over she said, “One hundred each in the bigger ones. Fifty in the smaller one.”

He held the bags in his hands for a moment, and looked at her before saying, “You just bought yourself an extra gun. Where to first boss?”

She started fiddling with her pip-boy before she said anything. He had always wondered just how useful those things were. She held out her arm when she was done, so he could see the map depicted on the small screen.

“We need to get to here,” she said, indicating the marker on the coast, “Can you get us there?”

“Shouldn’t be too hard.”

“Alright,” she said. A look of determination and confidence took over her face. “Is there a hotel or something here? We should rest before we head out.”

He was taken aback by her liberal uses of "we" and "us." Usually there was a strict dichotomy of "you" and "me." Maybe it was just the Minuteman in her.

“There’s the Hotel Rexford. Not great, but it beats sleeping on the street by a long shot.”

“Then we’ll stay there for the night, and head out in the morning.”

“Whatever you say boss,” he said. He tried to hide his excitement, but it had been a while since he had slept somewhere other than the back room of the Third Rail for a while. He was eager to see his new boss act on her promise of free boarding.

***

The next morning he met his boss in the lobby of the hotel. She had paid for two separate rooms, allowing him to have more privacy than he had had in a while. He used it to sleep as peacefully as one could in Goodneighbor.

He walked up to her as she messed with her pip-boy. Now that he could see her in proper lighting, instead of the neon red at the bar, it was even more apparent she was not some random wastelander. Her face, neck and hands had minimal grime on them. She had a few blemishes here and there, but they were hardly noticeable. She lacked the gauntness and weariness that everyone seemed to have. She was so focused on what she was doing that she did not seem to notice him until he said something.

“Boss,” he greeted.

“Hm? Oh MacCready!” she said, finally looking up from her arm.

“Don’t tell me you forgot about me,” he joked. Well, he hoped it came across a joke. When it came down to it he did not care whether his bosses liked him or not, but it certainly did not hurt if they did.

Luckily for him, she smiled. He tried not to stare, but he could not help it. They were not perfect by any means, but she had the straightest, whitest teeth he had ever seen.

He knew that vaults could be some of the most terrifying places in the world. Having grown up just outside of Vault 87 solidified that knowledge. But he wondered what could have driven her away from her own. She looked healthier than anyone he had seen, so there must have been some sort of luxury there.

Her voice shook him from his thoughts, “Ready to go?”

“Whenever you are, boss.”

As they made their way through Goodneighbor she asked, “Do you want to stock up on anything before we leave?”

He did not hesitate to take her up on her offer. "Could always use more ammo."

"Anything else?" she asked, friendlier than he was used to and that he liked.

Must be the first time she's ever hired a merc, he thought to himself. Her friendliness was better than the way he has been treated by other people, but he had found that when people you did not know well were this nice to you they were up to no good. Then again who was he to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"Nothing else that I can get here," he said.

"What kind of ammo do you use?"

".308."

He watched her as she walked up to trade with KL-E-0. The boss had a funny look on her face when she introduced herself. When she was done with the trade she handed him one of the boxes of ammo. His eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"How many caps do you have?" he half whispered. Bullets were not cheap.

"Doesn't matter. Besides I didn't just pay with caps. Threw some .38s in there too."

He decided not to press the matter further. If she was loaded and knew how to barter, he was not going to complain.

When they finally left Goodneighbor he took point, remembering part of his job was guiding her through the ruins. It felt odd taking point, since he was a sniper. He was used to hanging back, not leading the charge.

It was not long before they encountered a small pack of mongrels. Normally he would just try to skirt around them, not wanting to waste his ammunition on them, but that was not the case this time. His strong suit was long range, but he was still decent in close quarters. The boss on the other hand seemed to have no issue fighting so close. She took them down quickly and easily, despite the frown she wore as she did so. MacCready was not an easy person to impress, but she got pretty damn close.

He led them to the docks. He hated the ocean, but it was safer to travel along the water than to try to navigate the city.

They were quiet as they walked. Realization struck him. He had no idea what they were up to.

“So, why exactly are we heading to South Boston?” he asked. It was common knowledge that there was nothing but trouble there. It did not help that the only settlement that was there had been rumored to be wiped out by institute synths. When it came to threats, he took them very seriously, no matter how far fetched it seemed. He had learned that the hard way.

“I… I didn’t tell you, did I?” She sighed in frustration, seemingly towards herself, “We’re heading to what… my second in command called The Castle. Apparently it used to be the old headquarters. We’re going to take it back.”

He simply nodded. He noticed how her voice kept trailing off, like she was unsure or lost in thought. He tried to not put too much thought into it. It was best to not to get too invested in who the boss was. No matter how interesting a person they seemed to be. All he needed was the basic information to make sure he was not risking too much.

When they got to the end of the dock she stopped, and stared into the distance. She checked her pip-boy, then turned to MacCready, and asked, “Can I borrow your binoculars?”

“Sure, boss,” he said, handing them over.

When she was done she handed them back and pointed towards a squat, grey building, barely visible in the mist. She said, “You see that, in the distance?”

“Yeah,” he said, holding the binoculars up to his own eyes.

“Pretty sure that’s where we need to go,” she said.

They weaved their way through the buildings. Here following the water line would take too much time, and he had heard rumors of ferals infesting the factories in the area. They managed to avoid the raider camps. Their spotlights acted more like beacons, signaling to stay away.

He stopped in his tracks when a horrendous smell hit his nose. It was the smell of decaying flesh that had been sitting in the sun. He signaled to the boss to stop. She gave him a quizzical look as he brought up his rifle. He looked through the scope, and found the source of the smell. Super mutants, and their disgusting bags of meat.

“What’s wrong?” she asked in a low voice.

“Super mutants.”

“What’s a super mutant?”

He turned to look at her like she had just insisted the sky was neon pink. “What the fu- what do you mean, ‘what’s a super mutant?’” he asked. He knew vault dwellers were sheltered, literally, but surely they knew a super mutant was.

“I mean that I don’t know what it is,” she explained.

“How do you not know what they are?”

"No one's told me," she shrugged.

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Her friendliness had been one thing, not knowing basic knowledge was another. He began to wonder just how naive she was. He reminded himself of all the benefits of the job before he said anything else.

“They’re big, green, dumb, and ugly. And very dangerous,” he explained he sounded harsher than he had intended, but he did not care at the moment.

“That’s what they’re called?” she gasped.

Ok, so she isn’t totally fucking clueless, he thought. MacCready could be surprisingly patient, he was a sniper after all. The majority of his time spent sniping was waiting. But he had very little patience when it came to a lack of basic knowledge. For adults anyhow. He could understand a five-year-old not knowing everything about the wastes, children required patience, but an adult? Even if she was a vault dweller he felt like she should know the very basics. Fuck, am I in for a long ride, he thought.

He looked around them for a route that would not bring them too close to the mutants. He spotted a path that strayed away from them, but would wind up bringing them awfully close to a raider camp. He would rather deal with raiders than mutants any day.

“Follow me,” he whispered, “we’re gonna have to deal with some raiders, but it’ll be an easier fight.”

“Don’t need to convince me,” she said.

Together they quietly made their way closer and closer to the raider camp. It was still early in the day, but the raiders were already drunk and high off their asses. Better for them.

Just as he had suspected they noticed them, but before they could do anything the boss reacted like lightning.

“Cover me!” she ordered over her shoulder. She shot down one raider before she slammed the butt of her gun into the next one’s face. She ducked and dodged the one with a switchblade. The two of them took down the camp in no time. The fight against the mongrels had been one thing, the way she handled the raiders was something else.

He watched her as she patted down their bodies looking for loot. She handed him exactly half of the caps, stimpaks, and radiation medications she found.

“You weren’t fu-kidding about splitting everything equally,” he laughed.

“I mean what I say,” she shrugged, “let’s get going if there’s nothing you want.”

“Let’s get goin’ then, boss,” he said, leading the way.

When they got to the road that led right up to The Castle a man standing outside an old diner on the side called to the boss.

“General Flynn! Over here!” he called.

“Hey, Garvey!” she called back as she walked toward the diner.

Inside they were greeted by three more people. The man who had greeted the boss, Garvey, said, “Everyone’s here, General.”

He fought himself to keep his mouth shut. They were only going to attack this place with six people? Were they joking?

”This is Scott McNiall, Serena Martinelli, and Leon Whittle,” Garvey said introducing them, “Everyone this is General Claudia Flynn, and…”

“This is MacCready, he’s a mercenary I hired along the way. I don’t want to spread resources too thin,” she said.

“I see,” he responded, clearly not particularly happy about the decision, but he did not say anything more about it. Instead he turned around towards the stone building.

“Impressive isn’t it? It’s real name is Fort Independence, but the Minutemen always just called it the Castle. Now you can see why I wanted to take it back.”

“Definitely. For a six hundred year old, Revolutionary era fort, it’s in pretty good shape.”

How does she know what this place is? MacCready thought. He tuned back into the conversation just in time for him to hear the boss decide on a plan.

“Let’s split up and flank them.”

“Alright then. Let’s go. Try not to draw their attention until we’re in position.”

As they took their positions the boss turned to him. She asked, “So, what do you think?”

MacCready raised an eyebrow at her. A boss had never asked what his thoughts were on the job. He usually had to interject if he wanted them to know what he thought. The most anyone ever really asked was if he could do the job.

“Why do you care?”

“Uhh… because you’re a person? A person I’m asking to fight with me?” she said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“You aren’t asking me to fight, you’re paying me to fight,” he corrected.

“Still a person. And given that we’re going to be traveling together, I need to make sure you’re doing alright. Can’t do your job if you aren’t focused.”

He sighed, “Fine. Even though this place could use some work, it’s a pretty good lookin’ stronghold. Better in the hands of the Minutemen, than raiders or Gunners. Anything else you wanted?”

He winced internally. He had not meant to sound that harsh.

She rolled her eyes, and shook her head with an incredulous smile. He was surprised that she took it so well.

They settled into their positions. MacCready, the boss, and Garvey took the main gate, while the other three waited for a signal. Once the fighting began, it did not take very long. Mirelurks had tough shells, but with good enough aim and some distance they were ridiculously easy to take care of. When all that was left in the courtyard was their eggs, the group headed in.

“Ya know, it would have been nice to know how big those things are,” the boss said.

“Crabs weren’t that big?” Garvey asked, a little shocked.

She shook her head no.

Before he could ask what that meant, he changed the subject, “Damn. Looks like they’ve been nesting.”

McNiall chimed in, “‘Lurks like to hide in old buildings. Walls are probably full of ‘em.”

The boss nodded thoughtfully. She looked at the group before turning to MacCready, and asking, “You any good with a pistol?”

“Better with my rifle, but yeah. Why?”

“MacCready, Major Garvey, and I will clear out the walls. The rest of you take care of the nests and any remaining Mirelurks,” she said handing him her pistol. Her orders were met with a chorus of ‘yes ma'ams’.

She took her shotgun from it’s handmade holster on her back, and headed towards the building. The two men followed closely behind. Lucky for them it was mostly softshells and hatchlings inside the walls. They were easier to take down than the average mirelurk. When they reached the old general’s quarters they were not only met with what ended up being a face full of mirelurk slime, but also a missile launcher.

MacCready let out a low wolf whistle as she picked it up.

“Now look at this beauty,” he said.

She looked at Garvey with confusion. “How did they lose this place when they had this thing, and all these missiles?”

“Beats me. Like I said. They lost this place before my time.”

Just then the ground shook with a loud rumbling. The Minutemen outside started yelling.

“The hell…” she wondered out loud.

One of the Minutemen yelled for them to come see whatever was causing the chaos, and the boss took off like a rocket, missile launcher in hand. He and Garvey quickly followed suit. MacCready grabbed some extra missiles before leaving, just to be safe.

Outside they were met by what could only be a mirelurk queen rising out of the water and over the rubble. He had never seen one before, but he had heard about them. It was one of the most terrifying things he had ever seen, and that was saying something. It was only slightly shorter than the intact walls of the fort. It made a god awful clicking noise as acid spewed from its mouth. He was almost completely paralyzed with fear, though he would never admit it.

The boss on the other hand had more resolve. She shouted at everyone to get out of the way as she took aim with the launcher. The first missile did decent damage, it only caused the monster of a creature to recoil. The second missile caused it to go careening back into the water where it came from.

He looked at her in amazement as the others whooped and hollered around them. She stood there with a fire in her eyes as she spoke to them. It took a lot to impress him, but this certainly did the trick. After a show like that he was more willing to put up with her lack of knowledge of the world. Not many people could hold their own in a fight like that, and traveling with someone like that was worth most downsides, even if that downside meant there was a long road ahead.

Chapter 1 Read it on ao3

#violence warning #language warning #fallout #fanfiction #fanfic #fallout 4 #maccready #fo4 #sole survivor #minutemen #claudia flynn

3 notes · View notes

kaypeace21 · 5 years

Note

I really like your theories about Will having powers and they gave me an idea as well. What if El doesn't have powers any more because Will took them. We know he has a connection to the mind flayer so what if MF 2.0 used the leg wound to steal El's powers.

Yes, I actually mentioned that very theory in an old text-post of mine (link of it at the end). I think Will has ESP, lightning/fire powers, and can open portals/ has technopathy (the last 2 powers he shares with El). But he can also create monsters into existence. I mentioned the many examples in a previous video , and a bit in that text post (links of those will also be at the end of this post) .

But to describe EVERYTHING as briefly as possible.

Will created everything the demorgorgan, the mindflayer, etc- and his ‘story’ is very susceptible to other peoples’ suggestions . He always asks his friends what he should do when facing the d&d monsters (the demorgorgan/thessalhydra) - and they suggested “fire balling it” both times (which is all the upside-down creatures’ weakness). In S1 Jonathan/Nancy/Steve light the demogorgan on fire. In S2 they burn the mindflayer out of Will, and burn the vines. S3 they throw fireworks (fireballs) at the monster the mindflayer created.

In s2 , the gang read (in Will’s d&d manual) that mindflayers (the representation of his abusive dad/the thesalhydra shown at the end of s1) could be killed by zombies. Will was dubbed zombie boy in s2, and in s3 watches ‘day of the dead’ (a movie about zombies) and then writes a story about juju zombies. Will says in his d&d story “it bites your arm, flesh tears- aaaah!” But instead it bites El’s leg as she screams “ah!” as Mike rips it off her leg. Than the victims of the mindflayer turn into zombies and become ‘the thing’. Because when Will’s writing his d&d story he’s sitting right next to Mike’s ‘the thing ‘ poster.

And because after being m*lested by his dad he probably feels like a monster/ a ‘thing’. In s3, Lucas and Mike even debate which version of the film is better- so obviously the whole gang (including Will) has seen it. And in s2, he lies to his mom and says the mindflayer sketch was ‘for a story he’s writing’. But unbeknownst to him that’s what is actually happening.

However, s3 truly reveals how powerful he is. Because it’s not just monsters he creates . But he can alter reality itself (without a monster having to do it). When Mike hijacks Will’s d&d story saying ‘they’ll torch the chambers, sacrificing themselves’, killing the juju ’. Will gets angry and yells “Fine, you win.” And then Joyce and Hopper do just that when they pull the lever, and Hopper ‘dies’ sacrificing himself, and the Russians literally are eviscerated.

And In s2 Nancy describes the mindflayer (but she’s actually describing Will).

“So this thing is like a brain that’s controlling everything.”

Hopper then says “So how do we kill this thing shoot it with fireballs?”

And Dustin says “ No, No, fireballs you summon an undead army.”

But Mike actually nails it on the head when he says, “If the brain dies the body dies … closing the gate will kill him (referring to Will).”

Because it’s not the mindflayers’ brain - it’s Will’s brain!

The mindflayer is part of Will’s army ( not the other way around). I’m making a video on it, so I wont get into it now (especially since it would be like 30 paragraphs long and it’s just way easier to convince you with all the visual evidence). But essentially the upside down/ creatures represent Will’s s*xual abuse at the hands of his father. And in s3 almost every main person attacked was r*ped/m*lested by their dad- Heather, Billy, Jonathan, and El. The one exception is Nancy, but she’s targeted because she was r*ped by Lonnie in s1.

While in s1 and 2…

the scientists - ( that enter the upside down and are brutally killed)- represent Will’s dark thoughts/anger about Lonnie invading his “room”. Since it is where a lot of the abuse took place. We see Will in s1-2 (despite having a sweet demeanor) have a large “no trespassing” sign on his bedroom door. And similarly castle Byers (which he created) has a doorbell and a password - which shows he has serious issues with how much he values privacy (almost excessively).

Barb- Is the part of him, who hates himself for having same-sex attractions and being in love with his best friend (who is also a Wheeler).

And the hunters were killed- because it was said in s1, Will and Jonathan went on hunting trips with their father (where abuse took place)>

While we also see in s2 , all of Will’s father figures being attacked - Hopper with the vines,Dr Owens by the demorgorgan. And sadly Bob (who “was a lot like Will at his age.”). This probably represents his fears of having another father figure- and his subconscious lashing out/attacking them as form of self-defense. And Bob (who was alot like Will) being the one that dies, probably represents his desire to kill himself in s2, as well.

So in s3 with El…

Will feels alot of resentment towards her. El might have saved him twice (and it might of been an accident/ dr Brenner who’s really to blame). But Will knows she opened the gate . So to him, he spent a week in a place with no sunlight, food, or breathable air , having to experience that vine, dying, getting ptsd, being ostracized by everyone at school and being called “zombie boy” and a “freak”- being possessed by the MF, getting burned alive, killing Bob (the closest thing to a real father figure) and all those men (making him a murderer), and strangling his mom.’Because of her!’Not to mention besides being in love with Mike- he feels like she’s “ruining the party”. Because Mike is acting like an asshole to all his friends when dating her.

And then that’s when s3 starts to make a lot more sense. Will might not want anything bad to actually happen to El but he’s probably had these dark thoughts before. Will even says about the MF. He says the real Mf is still in the upside down, but ‘the part that was still in him… was still in their world.’ And it flashes to El’s face as he says it.

Essentially the Mf is motivated by his fictionalized story, thoughts/memories of Lonnie, and any dark intrusive thought Will has ever had about El , much to Will’s horror.He said in s3 that “I’m not worried about me, mom. I’m worried about you.” So the fact that he strangled her and almost killed her in s2, probably haunts him to this day- and he might of thought, ‘wish I strangled her instead’. And who does Billy/Mf look at right before grabbing her throat, and who is the first reaction shot we see when he starts choking her - Will’s horrified expression!

Maybe the Mf thought El was the most important, and that Will was nothing ( despite all the foreshadowing indicating the Mf held special intentions for Will), because he feels like he’s nothing compared to El? Will even says in s2 it wanted to kill everyone, but him, but now it’s saying that to El only? Maybe because Will wanted her to experience having such an entity say it to her too, and experience the same fear and isolation it caused him? In s2, why did the Mf chase Will and possess him at the school, when El (at the same time) was at the school as well (if it was always after her)? It’s because the Mf’s motivations are linked to Will’s feelings/emotions.

He probably also thought, how would you like a slug crawling/invading your body, like it did to me, huh?And although it doesn’t go to her mouth (probably because he could never wish that on anyone- if it symbolizes what I think it does). She still has a similar experience. And everyone is worried/horrified but Will is the only one sobbing (probably because he thought of this happening to her before).

After this he doesn’t even help move the car, he just stays glued at El’s side as if trying to protect her. And interestingly, this is when El loses her powers. Will may have even thought. If she never had her powers, none of this would have ever happened!

Will was always hinted to have powers from the very beginning.

In the 1st episode, Will wins Dustin’s xmen comic in a bet- and Dustin later asks the gang “Do you think Eleven was born with powers like the xmen?” While in the last ep of s1 (when Will returns) Dustin says to him “she’s like a wizard.” COUGH ‘Will the wise’ , Will’s alter-ego who happens to be wizard.

Will also has always been associated with bears (along with 3 other animal symbols that El also has). We see a zoom in shot of Will’s bear drawing right before the demorgorgan takes him from the upside down version of castle byers in s1. Bears symbolically represent “wisdom” like ‘Will the wise’ and were associated with the demorgorgan/upside down in s1 and 2 as well . Max and Nancy both compared demorrgorgans to bears- and Nancy and Jonathan used a bear-trap to capture the demorgorgan in s1. So when El tries to grab Will’s teddy bear (it was shown to be his in s1) with her powers. And Mike says “they’ll come back”. They might actually come back, because Will and EL’s relationship improves. Mike even tried to give El a golden bear as a gift (so maybe that signifies the giving back of her powers in s4 or 5 ?)

Will before the series began experienced ‘dissociative amnesia’ but is now remembering the abuse (and since he’s psychic) his memories are manifesting into monsters - he has little to no control over.

“Many survivors of incest are able to “forget” about the abuse until sometime later …when memories are triggered by certain events or when the body and mind are no longer able to conceal the memories.”

“Children are more likely to ‘dissociate’ so people who have experienced childhood sexual abuse frequently experience this. Dissociation is defined as ‘an experience where you feel disconnected in some way from the world around you or from yourself.’ During the traumatic incident the person might enter an altered sense of reality, detached from them selves and time.”

”Victims of incest learn early in their lives to detach themselves from their experiences. Some do this by pretending that the abuse is a dream.”

Bob talks about a clown that would “come to him every night” in his dreams. And that he ‘couldn’t get him out of his head.’ His story being a clue to the audience that the supernatural manifestations are coming from Will’s mind. While, in s1 Joyce talks about Will having nightmares and even asks him if he’s still afraid of clowns.

Even before Bob tells him the story about the clown, we see the the appearance of a clown (and not the other dressed up bullies) is what triggers Will to have a ptsd-flashback.

“clients who have experienced incest often report that their external world, including people, shapes, sizes, colors and intensities of these perceptions, can change quickly and dramatically at times. Some real or perceived threat triggers these distorted perceptions of self and outer reality.”

“Reports such as this one are not uncommon for survivors of incest and often are exacerbated as these individuals work through the process of remembering and integrating trauma experiences into a coherent life narrative.”

“There may be a “confusion about the reality of events” and the “meanings of available mental contents.”

So the reason he refers to them as “now-memories” is because they are things he’s already experienced (as memories) but he’s only now remembering them- because of his “dissociative-amnesia’ . His triggers being doors (fear when his father would get home) and bath tubs ( which are a common place for abuse to occur).

There are 4 hallmarks of a potential dissociative disorder

“An individual struggling with dissociation or a dissociative disorder may only experience one of the following or may experience multiple. Each individual’s experience with dissociation can be varied. Symptoms can last just a matter of moments or return at times over the years.”

1)“Dissociative Amnesia-The forgetting of a major event, such as a childhood trauma or forgetting (traumatic) things happening in real-time.”

2)“Identity confusion and alteration -When an individual forgets who they are or takes on a new personality unlike themselves.”

(x)

3)“Derealization-Feeling like the world is not real or is foggy.”

(x)

4) “Depersonalization-The sense of not being in control of, or not being connected to, one’s body.”

*Not to mention he has almost all the symptoms/warning signs of a csa victim. You can read in more detail here

The Mindflayer represents Lonnie Byers (psych/narrative analysis)

Will created the Mindflayer analysis (where I mentioned Will taking her powers).

Lonnie represents the mindflayer (video)

Will was born with powers (evidence compilation video)

* And just all my other St theory/character metas if you are interested / or missed them XD

#will byers #stranger things #stranger things theory

94 notes · View notes

mydeardeath · 4 years

Text

To belong with (4/8)

Whole series on tumblr (to belong series tag) or AO3

---

He woke up with a hell of a headache but at least he wasn't still in the alley. Lots of people would have loved to find him in this position. No, instead he was back in the manor, in his old room. Which wasn't much better. He would have preferred to be found by the outlaw. Unfortunately, Kori was in New York since Dick was here and Roy was in Asia. The only positive point was the plate of Alfred's cookies waiting for him on his bedside table with a glass of water. After swallowing it, he got up, going straight up to the cave, sure to find Bruce down there and the missing pieces of last night.

As expected, the old man was there but, more surprisingly, Dick and Damian were also present. The last was brooding in a corner, his jaw clenched and arms held against his chest. Jason turned to Dick, silently asking him what was going. But, by the look Dick gave him in return, it seemed the other didn't know much either. Then his big brother attention turned to Jason's sweets and he tried to reach for them. Jason quickly moved the plate out of his reach and went to stand beside Bruce, avoiding Dick pleading eyes. These were HIS baked goods, he wouldn't let anyone touch any of it. Focused on Dick, he hadn't noticed Bruce stealing one of his cookies and when he realized what had happened he turned an indignant look on his former mentor. Bruce didn't even spare him a glance, still bent over the computer. At least, it made Dick giggle a bit, breaking a bit of the heavy atmosphere.

Bruce suddenly turned to them apparently finished with whatever he had been doing when Jason arrived.

"Now, that you're all here we can begin. As you all know, yesterday dozens of people appeared all over Gotham through different breaches. Most of them were secured, they were all pretty disorientated and have yet to be interrogated. But, some of them have already been identified." Bruce showed a few documents on the screen. Some of the faces were familiar to him. He just couldn't remember why.

"They all have a common point. They're supposed to be dead. All presumed victims of robots attack six years ago." Jason felt Damian tense up behind him. "No bodies were ever found in the center of the attack so we can't be sure they were really here."

"Maybe the robots weren't here to kill, just to take people." Dick hypothesized.

"It's a far-fetched theory and we shouldn't rush into..." Bruce started only to be interrupted by Damian. "Tim may still be alive."

"Damian." Bruce sent his son a warning look, showing exactly what he thought of the idea.

"I think he's right." Every head turned to Jason, Bruce reproach dying in his throat. He hadn't expected Jason to side with Damian. "I thought I was just imagining things, but with what you said... I think it was really him. He was the one who knocked me out in that alley."

"Let's not make any hasty assumptions. We have to proceed with methods and not let our emotions..."

"I'm gonna get him" Damian cut him off once again, not waiting for an answer before making his way up the stairs.

"Damian !" Bruce yelled after him but his son completely ignored him.

***

Sometimes, Damian really wanted to hit his father in the face and demand he stops being so cold. He could see the irony here since he wasn't so fond of showing his emotions either, but this was about Tim. Bruce should be a least a bit more enthusiastic at the possibility that he was not dead as they had all thought. If there was a chance that Tim was alive and out there, he would find him and bring him home.

Damian called Barbara immediately after exiting the cave, waking her up. She started to complain at him for interrupting her well deserved sleep, saying it would better be important.

"Well, finding if Tim is really alive didn't seem to be a top priority for father. So, how important it is, depends entirely on you." Damian announced, his frustration evident in his voice.

Barbara sight but she listened when the boy explained the entire situation and what had led him to think that Tim might be back. Damian knew she most likely thought he was delusional and still hanging on flimsy hope. She didn't call him out on it and simply complied, using the eyes of every camera to look for Tim. He thanked her for at least trying because it didn't matter if she believed or not. What mattered was that she was helping him and that's all he was asking for. Plus it wouldn't be the first time one of them had come back from the dead. It wasn't impossible. Especially not in their family.

Damian started by checking every hospital and clinic for John Doe patients that had arrived last night. He had no trouble convincing the nurse to let him see with his own eyes every one of them. But, well, it wasn't hard when you were using the fact that you had lost your mate in the event of the robots attack and that you were hoping to find them back. Once again, it didn't matter if they believed that it was survivors of the attack that had reappeared or not, they all pitied him for losing his mate and didn't dare refuse him that.

Next, he went to all of Tim's old safehouses or any of the one the family had been using six years ago. He didn't get much result from it easier. The Drake mansion was also a dead end and Damian was running out of ideas.

Getting a bit desperate after checking Tim could have deemed safe, Damian decided to simply seek near Tim last known location. Fortunately, his father like to keep tabs on everything so he didn't have to call Jason to ask him where Tim had knocked him unconscious last night.

As he grew more and more frustrated as the hours ran by, Damian put on his Robin uniform despite the fact that it was still daytime and decided to pay a visit to every criminal hang out in case they were holding Tim.

He didn't get what he was looking for, but he did get to beat up some assholes and that help him feel better. Slightly.

***

All hope had left him by the end of the day. He had looked everywhere he could think of, in vain. There was no trace of Tim anywhere. He had called Barbara many times throughout the day, and he could hear the pity growing in her voice every time he did and she had nothing new to tell him. So he just turned off his phone to stop the constant buzzing of his father trying to contact him and went home.

He shed his clothes off on his way up to his room and plop down on the bed without bothering to take a shower. And for the second time in a day, he felt someone else's presence in the room. He hadn't thought they had anything left to discuss. He had made it pretty clear that he didn't care about supposedly being in danger and if that was really the case, he didn't need her protection. He hadn't needed her for years.

No dagger came to his throat this time. His opponent hadn't been waiting in a corner of his room this time but had been lying in his bed. In an instant, he felt their weight fell upon him and hands choking him. This was definitely not Talia.

He kicked them off him with a strong blow in the guts and send them rolling on the floor. Damian quickly got up and stood ready to fight. The intruder didn't waste any time to jump back on him, going for a nerf strike but he lacked the strength for it. His attacker seemed to have knowledge that a common thief would not have. But an assassin, especially one sent to kill him, shouldn't have been this weak. Because it made no doubt that Damian was stronger. In a matter of seconds, he had him in a headlock and was letting them struggle vainly against his hold.

He released them once they had stopped kicking. Damian went to turn the light on while the intruder was taking deep breaths, sitting on the floor. The man wasn't looking at him and most of his face was hidden behind his hair. Still, Damian could tell it was him.

"Tim" the name escaped his lips and the man raised his head towards him suddenly.

Damian fell to his knee in front of him and started to reach out to him with his hand. He stopped just before his face, not daring to touch him in fear he would disappear.

“Damian ?” Tim said softly, his voice barely more than a whisper. Damian let out a strangled laugh as his hand finally touched Tim.

“You came back.” Damian couldn't hide the wonder in his voice and he didn't care. This was Tim.

“Is this real ?” He asked Damian.

“I hope so. I missed you so much.” Damian answered honestly.

Tim apparently did too since he slammed his full body into Damian's and hung onto him as his life depended on him. Damian dared hugged him back. He could feel Tim's ribs under his fingers. The Omega had lost a lot of weight.

"Don't cry, Timothy," Damian told him, caressing his cheek.

"I'm not the only one crying here." He offered him a small smile.

"You were dead."

"I never died. One minute I was in Gotham fighting this waves of robots and the next I..." His voice broke down as his whole body started to shake.

"Shh, it's okay. I got you. You're home now." Damian soothed him.

Tim buried his face in Damian's neck, taking deep breaths of his scent. It helped him calm down and soon Tim was nodding off. He had probably been sleeping when Damian came home and their fight and talk must have wearied him out even more. Damian carried him to the bed, putting him gently under the sheets. He was ready to let the other man alone when Tim put his hand on his arm.

“Stay, please. I don't want to be alone." Tim pleaded.

"I'm not leaving you. I promise." Reassured, Tim went back to sleep, nestled against Damian.

#damitim #timdami #to belong series #part 12

2 notes · View notes

thepersephonecabin · 4 years

Text

Legacy and Bullshit Mindfuckery (fic)

Summary: Luvander has two things for the Adamo’s first child: a gift and a wish.

Please see full tags and warnings AO3

Note: So... How did we get here? Well, basically, when I was writing A Very Adamo Christmas for @foxesonstilts for the @festivebastion exchange I meant to put in a short bit about a Luvander giving Laure and Adamo’s first child a very special gift, but forgot until after finishing FestiveBastion. So I told myself I was gonna write a small addition, and then my latent need to see the airmen recover after the war took over and suddenly I had a 4k+ luvander character study on my hands. And also about halfway through my if-i-dont-write-this-right-now-i-will-never-sleep craze a tiny part of my brain was like “you should make luvander a trans man for absolutely no reason” and I did and actually really liked the way it fit into the story.

So anyway, I hope you enjoy!

A day and a half following the birth of Rory Adamo, Luvander found himself on the doorstep of the Greylace Estate once again. Wrapped in one arm, he cradles a soft drawstring bag, cream in color with a light pink ribbon around the top.

He didn’t bother knocking as he shouldered his way through the doorway. Even though he still primarily lived out of the apartment above the hat shop, this place was dragon territory, and therefore as far as he was concerned, it was his home as well.

“Hello?” he called out, slipping his shoes off at the door. Maybe if he was really lucky, Rook would come in and pitch a fit about like he would in the good old days.

Balfour emerged from the lounge with a book cracked open in his hands and questioning eyes. “Oh, Luvander. It’s you.”

“It’s me,” Luvander confirmed. “Where’s the chief and his young lady love? I had something I wanted to bring to them.”

“They’re in their bedroom, I think,” Balfour said before quickly amending, “Oh, no, not like that! I think it was just time to change her.”

“Ah,” Luvander said. “How is the not-so-little tyke anyway?”

Balfour smiled and began leading him up the stairs to Laure and Owen’s room as if Luvander hadn’t been there not two days ago. “Oh, you know. She sleeps and eats and poops and cries. Lucky the three of us don’t room up in the same area of the house as Chief Sergeant and Airlady Adamo or I’m sure we’d all be knackered already.

The three of us. Luvander knew he meant the three Second Wavers outside of Laure of course. Luvander felt a sick little spark of jealousy flare up in his stomach and not for the first time at their mention before he stamped it out with the guilt of it all.

Balfour continued, “Mom and Dad are still smitten with her though. I wager that by the sixth week in they might be out of the honeymoon stage.”

“Sixth? I don’t know if I could make it to the second,” Luvander said. Of course, he was happy to have a little niece to dote on, but Luvander had never seen much draw in the idea of having a baby you couldn’t return to its rightful owners when it began to shit itself.

Balfour laughed good-naturedly, “I think Adamo’s a bit more levelheaded than you, however.”

Luvander shrugged. “Maybe so, but I’ll stick to my instinct and take you up on that bet.”

They’d reached the Adamo bedroom now, and throught the door Luvander thought he could hear the baby’s wordless vocalization (Did most newborns make this much noise when they weren’t crying or was this one just especially talkative, he wondered) paired with Laure’s laugh and the low tenor of Adamo’s voice.

Balfour turned to him, touching Luvander’s elbow softly through his coat. Balfour wasn’t wearing his gloves today, Luvander observed. Good, he thought, he shouldn’t feel like he needed to hide them, especially not here, not with family.

“Before you go in…” Balfour began, “I wanted to ask how you were doing. I know Ghislain sailed out.”

Luvander resisted the urge to grimace. He liked to tell himself he did an okay job of deflecting everyone else’s attention away from his persistent problems with loneliness. On the good days he cracked enough jokes and sarcastic witticisms to keep the people around him too entertained to notice. On the bad days he threw himself into overworking, holed up in his workroom with little sleep and becoming overly perfectionistic about whatever he was working on until he felt like tearing it all apart again. But on the best days Ghislain was home, in this place Ghislain didn’t even think of as his home, but the place Luvander was, which in Luvander’s mind designated it as Ghislain’s home nonetheless.

Balfour, however had always been the one he couldn’t fool, and it was a fact that needled at him constantly. He didn’t enjoy it when others looked past the mask he’d so carefully crafted for himself like one of his custom hats.

Not that Luvander had anyone but himself to blame for that. Balfour always suspected Luvander’s yearning for affection and attention and approval had been more than the average loneliness, but then Luvander just had to go and fuck it up even further.

It had been at least a year and a half or maybe even two when it happened. He, Raphael, Balfour, and Rook had been drinking (because of course they had) in Balfour’s room at the Greylace Estate. These rooms were a damn sight bigger and nicer than the ones in the Old Airman, a fact that Luvander could never parse out about whether he appreciated or was annoyed by. As such, Balfour had set up a couch and a few chairs to fill the space between his bed and the opposite wall. Ever since Raphael turned up again, they’d started having little get togethers one or twice a month, alternating whose place hosted.

Then Thom’d been offered a job as a professor (a real one this time) at the ‘Versity and Rook had come back to Thremedon bitching and complaining the whole way back from whatever adventure they’d been on when they received the letter. Apparently Thom had already begun writing a letter back declining the offer when Rook found out and through some well-intentioned bullying and ripping of half-finished correspondence got Thom to accept. From Luvander’s understanding, Thom had decided immediately to pass on the job in order to continue looking after his older brother, knowing that Rook had very important reasons for staying away from Thremedon. He couldn’t ask Rook to go back there, and he didn’t feel comfortable letting Rook travel alone without eventually winding up dead in a ditch from asphyxiating from his own vomit either. According to him, Rook’s mental health had markedly approved once the Dragonsoul was destroyed and th’Esar’s plans thwarted. He’d finally been able to properly grieve, Thom said, but that didn’t mean he was ready to part ways and risk Rook relapsing without him to drag him out of it.

Rook found all this out and stubbornly refused to go along with that “bullshit mindfuckery” Thom was always practicing on account of the fact that teaching at the University had always been Thom’s dream job, and he would be damned if his little brother threw it away for his sorry ass. After all, while the ‘Versity had improved in regards to letting in more students from poorer walks of life since Thom had been awarded for his work with the Airmen, the same improvement hadn’t come in regards to hiring choices. For all any of them knew, this might be the last time a mollyrat was offered a job at the Empire’s highest learning institution in a long, long time. So, back to Thremedon they came, and Luvander, Balfour and Raphael’s little survivor’s club had expanded from three to four members. (There had always been an open invitation to Adamo as well, but he only rarely took them up on it.)

So, anyway, they’d been drinking thoroughly and Luvander more thoroughly than the rest. It’d been months since Ghislain had come to port- not his fault, some jobs simply took longer than expected- and Luvander was in the pits. That said, he’d been holding it together pretty admirably that night, and it had all been fine until Rook and Raphael left. Raphael said he had Royal Guard duty the next day- it was a job offer Luvander, Ghislain and Raphael had all received from the Esarina herself after she’d almost died by her own guards that night when they’d had to rescue the Adamos. Raphael had been the only one to accept.

But so when Raphael stood up to leave and appropriate one of the Estate’s carriages Rook also decided to leave “before the Professor starts hyperventilating over me” and figured it would just be easier to go back in one carriage. It was, in sober retrospect, a suspiciously sensical thing to come out of Rook Molly’s mouth, but who knew anymore. Luvander didn’t know what kind of bullshit mindfuckery Thom had exposed that man too while they were travelling, but Rook’d been all kinds of weird since they’d come back and by “weird” Luvander meant “vaguely decent.”

The two of them took their leave and after that the details grew fuzzy, but he did remember drunkenly confessing his depression about missing Ghislain to Balfour and Balfour being nothing but supportive as understanding.

“You’re so sweet,” Luvander had told him, slurring his words and cupping the other man’s cheek. “You know that? You’ve always been so sweet, Balfour. Sometimes I wonder how someone as sweet as you got mixed up with all of us selfish ingrates. You always deserved so much better than us. Hell, if you’d never met us assholes, you’d still have your hands.”

Balfour blushed and looked away. “My hands weren’t your guys fault, and even if I don’t have them, I have my girl and all of you. Besides, I’m not so inno-“

And that had been as far as he’d gotten before Luvander launched himself into Balfour’s lap and shoved their mouths together.

Now, it’s important to note that Luvander had always been a touchy drunk. He’s sure he’d made passes at all thirteen of the other airmen more times than he could count while trashed out of his mind. He even had one absolutely disastrous incident with Adamo that had gotten a very stern talking to about appropriate relationships between a superior officer and his subordinates the next morning. Luvander had deeply respected the things Adamo said to him at the time despite the massive hangover he was fighting his way through as he said it and the urge he had to hang himself rather than have this conversation at all. That didn’t mean he hadn’t brought up the irony of it in his speech at Laure and Adamo’s wedding, though.

Which was all to say that Luvander was no stranger to make-out sessions with his friends after a few too many drinks. In fact, drunken fooling around had been the bedrock upon which his entire relationship with Ghislain was founded. Even after Luvander and Ghislain were “official” they’d kept the relationship fairly open because Luvander wasn’t the sort to abstain from sex for months at a time while his lover was at sea. It had simply come with the condition that if anything that strayed from the “casual sex” territory and into the “feelings” territory had be to discussed- Ghislain wasn’t jealous about Luvander being with other people physically, but he was jealous about having to share Luvander’s heart and overprotective at times about the idea of someone taking advantage of Luvander’s emotions.

This had been different though. This kiss with Balfour hadn’t been borne of happy delirium or playfulness like most of his less-than-sober escapades were. This had been borne of deep, deep sorrow. A desperate effort to patch a leak in a dam ready to burst. The other reason it was different was because Balfour had only had had two drinks that night, and Luvander had had at least five times that.

On the bright side, if one had to have such a mortifying experience in their lives, Luvander could think of very few people better to have it with than Balfour Vallet.

The epitome of gentlemanly behavior, Balfour had gently broken off the kiss and softly and without malice told him that they couldn’t do this, not when Luvander was so intoxicated. Luvander had nodded and understood, but then broken into wracking sobs as he blubbered about how fucking alone he felt all the time. Balfour let him cling to him like a security blanket even though Luvander was still straddling him and repeatedly assured him that he didn’t care if Luvander covered his shirt with snot and tears.

Then Luvander woke up the next morning on Balfour’s couch with a blanket draped over him. His clothes were all intact with the exception of his shoes and his binder which he had a bad habit of sleeping in and Balfour knew it. Balfour must have peeled it off once Luvander had passed out along with the boots and then buttoned Luvander’s shirt back up and even replaced his signature scarf. Both binder and boots were now neatly laid out on the coffee table with care.

There were still a few bottles of alcohol too, and ordinarily he might have been tempted to drink them. This time though, he reckoned he’d done enough damage under the influence for one day.

That was about when Balfour appeared, already dressed for the day and carrying a tray of water and coffee. “Oh, you’re awake,” he’d said, kicking the door shut behind him. He sat next to Luvander on the couch and set the tray on the table. “I hope you don’t mind that I took off your…” he said awkwardly, wringing his hands like he always did.

It took Luvander a moment to understand he was talking about the binder. “Oh. Oh no, it’s- Balfour, I know you’d never do anything to me or go further than protecting my ribs from some rather tragic pain in the morning. And it’s not anything you haven’t seen in the showers before. If anything I think when it comes to invasions of peoples’ personal boundaries, I should be the one apologizing to you right now. What happened last night… the way I just went after like that was unconscionable and I promise it will never happen again. In fact, I wouldn’t blame you in the slightest if you never wanted to see me again.”

Balfour looked shocked. “Of course, I don’t want that. What happened last night wasn’t ideal, obviously, but you were plastered and having a rough day. I get it.”

Luvander could’ve both laughed and cry at that. “But it wasn’t just a bad day. It was… Bal, I think I have a problem.” He could practically feel the bile coming up just from saying those words out loud, but he told himself that if there was ever the time to admit it to anyone, this was it so he continued: “I think maybe I always had. Even before Xi’an it was like this, just not as intense or constant. I don’t know how to be alone. I don’t know how to feel unimportant or like I’m not the center of attention without letting it control me. When there were fourteen of us I could ignore it, right? Because there was always someone around, but now…” He wiped away tears with his scarf and adjusted it anxiously. “And, like, the way this place just fucking tossed all of us out like yesterday’s trash the second they didn’t need us anymore and that blasted medal ceremony was over didn’t exactly help.”

Balfour nodded slowly. “I think I know the feeling or at least a fraction of it. I felt so isolated and broken at the end of the war, but even before that I… well, I suppose I always felt like I was second to Amery.”

Luvander felt another pang of guilt. None of them had been sure how to react when Balfour replaced his brother in the Corps, but Rook more than anyone. Before Amery died he’d been the one of them that Rook was closest to, so Balfour’s presence was anything but welcome to him. So, whenever Rook had a problem, Balfour was usually who he took it out on. And Luvander had always just let him. Because sometimes crossing Rook was like crossing god in that house, but it didn’t excuse how cowardly he’d been.

“Got feminine parts between his legs, airman’s honor.”

That’s what Rook had said about Balfour when he’d tried to be kind to Thom that first day when the Professor had them do introductions. Even then, Luvander, the real one with “feminine parts” among them was sitting right there, and he hadn’t said shit to stop Rook.

(Luvander had always felt Rook didn’t mind trans men as much as he minded trans women. Something about the way trying to be more masculine was seen as noble, while trying to be more feminine made you a Mary in a world where women were always seen as lesser. But he also felt like Rook’s somewhat backwards and begrudging acceptance of Luvander’s presence was conditional, like it was something that he was able to revoke at the barest hint of insubordination. Luvander was tolerated as long as he fought well and shut up and was cruel like him, but that didn’t mean it was real. At least Thom had seemed to have trained some of that out of Rook over the years, but it was still a nagging fear for Luvander.)

Luvander didn’t say any of that. He just said, “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to fix it.” I don’t know how to fix me.

Balfour escorted him to the ‘Versity after that and made him talk to Thom about it. Thom being Thom, of course, looked at it as the academic he was. He talked about all kinds of fancy words like ‘schizoid’ and ‘histrionic’ and ‘dependent personality’. Basically, Thom said he couldn’t be sure exactly what the problem was without examining further. But he assured Luvander that there were coping mechanism they could try and that he had colleagues from the ‘Versity that he could ask for more medically focused advice as compared to Thom’s social theory perspectives.

Bullshit mindfuckery, Luvander remembered. As much as he wasn’t thrilled at the idea of Thom “examining” his psyche, he was significantly less thrilled about a perfect stranger doing it. At least he could trust Thom. At least Thom knew jackshit about how the airmen worked beyond the court gossip and bards’ song and those fucking statues that made them war heroes and not real people anymore. At least Thom was there when he woke up on an infirmary bed unable to talk for how deep his throat had been slit only to find out that four out of fourteen of them had come back. Even if Thom had been beside himself with grief, unaware that number five, Rook, was still breathing somewhere out there, at least Thom had borne witness for himself what they’d gone through, and Luvander wasn’t about to have to hash all of that to someone new.

But he couldn’t sit on his hands and not accept help when it was offered. Because he’d made Balfour a promise. He’d promised that he would never kiss Balfour again without fair and honest consent, plastered or not, and he’d meant it. He had so few friends left in this world. He wasn’t about to lose another due to his own selfishness and stupidity.

And so, he gave himself into the bullshit mindfuckery. He’d been meeting with Thom once every one or two weeks (or more than that if something set him off and crisis called for it). It was helping, Luvander thought. Slowly but surely.

Back in the present, Luvander shrugged at Balfour noncommittally. “It sucks, but I’m seeing the Professor tomorrow. And I guess now if I need someone to keep me company I could come and let the baby keep me busy so Mom and Dad can have some alone time.”

Balfour smiled at him. “You could have come over anyway. Well, I won’t push for specifics, but if you want to talk later…”

“I know where to find you,” Luvander confirmed.

Balfour gave him a bigger smile now. “Okay. I’ll let you talk to them then,” he said, and began descending the stairs, leaving Luvander at the at the door to the Adamo’s room.

He knocked briskly on the door and heard the Chief say, “Come in,” from the other side.

When Luvander opened the door, he found Laure on the bed over the covers cradling not-so-little Rory and making faces at her. Adamo was over by the radiator holding a bottle over the heat.

“Ah, I thought I heard someone out there talking to Balfour,” Laure said. “I didn’t know you were coming over today, but then again, I don’t think the pregnancy brain is totally out of my system yet.”

Laved waved moved to sit on the bed at her feet and waved her off with a hand. “It was unannounced. I had a gift for the baby and thought I’d bring it over.”

“Oh, that was thoughtful of you,” Adamo remarked walking over. To his credit, he only let a sliver of the wariness of a man who put up with thirteen uncontrollable ever-pranking monsters with dubious respect for authority for Regina even knows how long it’s been slip into his voice.

Luvander took the drawstring bag from the crook of his elbow and held it in his lap. “Well, I started working on this once you announced she was on her way. I guess I could have given it to you earlier, but it just felt like I should wait to give it to Rory in person. And of course, I didn’t exactly know you would choose to go into labor in a blizzard, so I didn’t have it on me the other night.”

He had a million things to say, a million possible preambles he could make, but he figured it was best to just show them. So, he pulled open the drawstrings, reached in, and pulled the carefully constructed figure of silver-grey fabric and held it up for inspection.

Adamo looked too shocked to say anything. Laure’s mouth had dropped into a soft “o” shape. But Rory had caught sight of her new toy and vocalized with one hand in her mouth and the other reaching out toward him with demanding hands. Bossy, he thought, Like her dad.

“I’m not sure I got all the details right since I was working off memory, plus she never really let me get that close to her anyway, but… Here she is,” Luvander said, because in his hands was a very small plush dragon.

“Is that…” Laure began.

“Proudmouth,” Adamo breathed. “Can I see her?”

“Of course,” Luvander said.

Adamo took it from him as if squeezing too hard would make it turn to nothing in his hands, turning it from side to side to see all the craftsmanship Luvander had put into it. Embroidered patterns where Proudmouth’s metal had been engraved, carefully cut and stabilized fabric made to take the shape of gears, a brass-colored ribbon where brass-colored brass reigns would’ve been. Every detail down to the shape of her claws had taken hours to craft and even more hours of meditating and sifting through bittersweet memories to recover. And here were the fruits of his labor all pieced together. Finally, Adamo let out a breath and said, “Looks just like her.”

“Well when you two starting talking about having kids, I wanted think of something special I could pass down to them, and eventually thought, well, every Adamo needs a dragon, right?” Luvander said. “So, I settled myself of making a different for each of your kids, if you have more that is. And it felt important that Rory got Proudmouth as your firstborn. I think… I think if things had turned out differently than they did Proudmouth could have been her birthright what with the way Anastasia picked two Vallets in a row to ride her.”

Adamo’s face as always was had to read, but somehow with a dragon in his hands, he looked years younger, and Luvander could tell whatever he was feeling he was feeling a lot of it.

Then Adamo smiled and said, “Thank you. It’s perfect, Luvander, really. I guess we should give Rory her girl and see if they choose each other.”

He passed the dragon to his daughter’s grasping hands, and they all watched as Rory immediately pulled Proudmouth to her chest.

“I think that’s your answer,” Laure laughed, dabbing at her eyes.

And in that moment, it seemed to Luvander that the world shone brighter. Welcoming a new generation was always hard, especially when the old one had lost so much, but it felt nice to be able to give the Airmen a proper legacy- one that wasn’t bronzed in statues, written in theses, or whispered behind hands at palace balls. But one that was simple- from father to daughter. And wrapped up in that gifted legacy was a wish, the most powerful wish Luvander had ever made, sewn into every stitch and seam: I wish that the ones who come after us won’t need our bullshit mindfuckery in the first place.

And then, Rook ruined the moment when they all heard a loud bang of the front door opened way too forcefully, followed by “BASTION FUCKING DAMNIT, WHO LEFT THEIR BOOTS IN THE DAMNED DOORWAY, I THOUGHT I DIDN’T HAVE TO DEAL WITH THIS SHIT ANYMORE!”

Laure, Owen, and Luvander all looked at each other, and all at once they burst into laughter.

#volstovic cycle #havemercy #the oc's #rebloggable #my fic #screams into the void im actually so proud of this fic and i dont know why #also i know janie isn't on tumblr anymore but i just think of her every time i write about luvander so im wondering if it would be weird to #hey remember me? probably not we talked like 2 times but i wrote a fic about luvander and i miss seeing you in the fandom because i dont ha #ve a pillowfort

1 note · View note

swanwinged-princess · 5 years

Note

The Hunchback of Notre Dame owo

@wouldhope// Disney Headcanon Meme

The Hunchback of Notre Dame - What is your muse’s religious beliefs? Have they ever experienced oppression at the hands of religion?

//Ok well FIRST of all

youtube

//And also this is;;; probably gonna be long;;; made twice as long because i’m gonna do one for standard!tutu (the one where she’s basically swan jesus) and one for verses/aus where she’s… at least a LITTLE bit more normal (see: her dad’s not a LITERAL DEITY)

I’m actually gonna start off with the latter here bc i think the former is probably gonna be longer anyway SO

(continues under cut)

In verses/aus where Tutu’s father isn’t a literal, actual spirit/deity/entity/god/what-have-ye (BNHA/affiliated spinoffs; duckverse/anthro/etc.; wizarding world; etc.):

She is… SOMEWHAT religious; definitely not overly so (see: not an asshole about it) but believes in angels/miracles/god/heaven and-or the afterlife. Definitely christianity-adjacent but not any particular type of christianity; possibly believes in hell/purgatory/some sort of punishment system after death but doesn’t really like to think about it, and her qualifications for GETTING there are stuff like, say, ‘committing many horrible murders’ or ‘being an unapologetic bigot’ as opposed to ‘not believing in jesus’ or ‘enjoying having sex’ or whatever.

She doesn’t really even, say, go to church regularly (she’s heckin BUSY come on), but does enjoy being IN church, especially alone; it’s like a bit of a meditation for her/helps her clear her head and feel closer to god/spirituality/the universe/heaven/her mom.

She also prays pretty much every day- specifically once in the morning and at night- but also prays informally whenever she feels the need, and probably wouldn’t own much religious iconography besides maybe a few cross necklaces– you know, small, tasteful, very expensive; delicate, real silver or gold, maybe a single pearl right in the middle of the cross but that’s about it.

Whereas on the OTHER hand

//HOO BOY//

In main verse and associated, she’s… um.

Ok, so the Swan King may not technically be an actual GOD per se, but, well… He’s close. And people DO worship him. Not as many as there used to be, but they’re still there, and generally speaking basically everybody in the kingdom and round abouts that area observe it (swanianism or something idk) at least casually, by at least saying ‘swansdown’ and ‘swanfeathers’ and ‘by the swan’ instead of, for example, ‘oh my god’.

There’s, like, one official church, with stained glass and pews and everything, where all the high-class weddings and funerals and etc. get held there, but there aren’t really any ‘priests’ and they don’t really hold services.

There are lots and lots of old swan statues all over the area from centuries back, and while some of them got moved onto the tops of buildings/in fountains/ended up centers of various village squares, a lot of them had sort of… had temples built around them over the years- it just sorta happened- and that’s mainly where the average people observe their worship.

Also, the Schwanensee royal family featured pretty largely in the theology, being sort of… the same thing as saints in Catholicism; whenever anybody was born/died on the sacred island a messenger dove got sent over to the mainland and there was an announcement made about it to the village. The sacred island/lake wasn’t really thought of as a real place- it was more like if you could see heaven a little bit from a high window, or if you climbed a really tall tree.

So when the island was basically burned to the ground and almost all the royal family was killed, it was… um…..

Kind of a big fuckin’ deal.

When Tutu was rescued from the ruins, and everybody saw her, and everybody knew who she was, it was an even bigger deal. Everybody, in unison, basically decided that this tiny, traumatized, soot-covered, gray-feathered 6-year-old was the chosen one who was going to save them from everything from minor disagreements to, y’know, being ripped apart alive/having your heart and emotions pulled out and eaten by flocks of devil birds.

People even started… worshipping her.

After the initial adjustment period, she actually handled it pretty well; at least externally. Of course, anyone who knows anything about actually being royalty knows that the whole trick is to be royal on the outside and a cobbled-together mess sustained by stress like that physics thing where you hold up a legless table by strings and the buckets of water on it, but as she got older she actually managed to get more of a handle on it.

All in all, she’s…

I mean, she’s more or less got it. Apart from sudden attacks of crippling, soul-crushing anxiety. But she really, really, really wishes that people would stop, or at least give the whole actually worshipping her a rest a little. Generally speaking, everybody in the kingdom (or at least in the castle village) does genuinely like her, but sometimes she gets people who want to, like, kneel at her, or try to touch her dress/feathers as she walks past, and when she tries to talk to them they start flinching away and holding up their little carved swan amulet necklaces like they think it’ll protect them and she’s just like dad dammit i am trying to be friendly do i have to say ‘be not afraid’ or something every time i go up to introduce myself to someone???

But yeah, generally speaking it’s not really a problem from the swan-leaning side. Where it starts going wrong is the raven-leaning side.

The swan-leaning people are all in all, y’know, normal fucking people, and their religion-worship-belief-etc. only ever gets to obnoxious-christianity levels.

But the raven-leaning people can generally be qualified altogether as a crazy ransacking-and-pillaging murder cult.

And they actually have backup from real, actual infernal blood magic demon stuff, a seemingly infinite supply of flocks of murderbirds and various and sundry quirky miniboss squad-types, whereas the normal people really only have Tutu and, allegedly, the faerie folk (those affiliated with the Lilac Fairy/Queen, at least) but they haven’t been seen in generations so it’s really anyone’s guess on that.

They do a lot of, you know, general murder and mayhem- or at least they did, but the last really big thing they managed to pull off was the massacre on the sacred island, and technically speaking they actually failed to complete their objective because Queen Leda put Tutu to sleep with some ~magic~ and hid her in the hollow base of a swan statue in the middle of a rose thicket, which, by some sort of ‘coincidence’, didn’t seem to catch fire very much, and they were all too drunk on moonshine and bloodlust, and generally crazy and stupid, to actually look further for any survivors when everything was on fire and there were crows everywhere and they just sort of decided ‘yeah that’s it let’s go home’ and fucked off.

At the current time, most of them aren’t actually too much of a threat because most of them are the stupid crazy ~3edgy5me~ idiot types– y’know, the kind who’d, say, march around waving factory-produced tiki torches at night and demand a police escort if they’re gonna be shouting in the general vicinity of a pride event because they’re ‘fearful of their safety :’(’

so, like, nowadays they’re really only like Team Rocket-level nuisances on a day-to-day basis because the kingdom had learned from their history and swore in a lot more ‘guards’ and ‘knights’- enough to mostly keep the peace in pretty much every town unless things get really, really bad.

Uuuunfortunately, it’s not just idiots who want to wear black cloaks with pointy hoods to look like beaks and wave big curved swords around– i mean, it’s MOSTLY that, but also a lot of very smart, very greedy, bored, evil, and/or scheming people end up gravitating towards anything that’ll give them a lot of dumb people who they can tell what to do.

So occasionally- very occasionally- they actually do something that’s… actually impactful, and everybody who gets out of it in one piece talks about how fucked up that was and ‘curse those raven bastards’ and etc. etc., but the crowmen (as they’re informally known) are also surprisingly good at apparently vanishing without a trace so it’s hard to catch them or do anything really constructive about the problem as a whole.

Weeellllll, okay, ADMITTEDLY a few various gangs of them HAVE managed, by coincidence or the type of brief narrative luck that dumb people like that seem to have sometimes, to briefly kidnap Tutu, but she either gets rescued very quickly OR escapes by herself while they’re arguing with each other about HOW to kill her, WHETHER to kill her, and what the prospects of killing her now or maybe ransoming her and then killing her LATER would be, or they all sort of trip over their own and each other’s feet, cloaks, and swords and blunder their way into harmlessness in one way or another.

TL;DR Tutu sort of... IS a part of her religion like how Jesus is a part of Christianity/associates and all things considered she’s handling it pretty well. Her entire family was murdered by basically a crazy satanic cult who still run around causing problems, but not as much as they used to, so.... Does that count as religious oppression???

#wouldhope #{ask}#{I'll Be Your Lucky Girl; mun tag}#{headcanon}

5 notes · View notes

twdeadfanfic · 6 years

Text

Life at the end of the world Pt50

Summary: Your life as a zombie apocalypse survivor. It starts with the Reader settling into the camp at the quarry, before s1 and then follows the show events and storyline, more or less, but with the Reader in it.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Warnings: Slow burn, violence, language.

Author’s note: English’s not my first language so maybe there’re some mistakes, I apologize in advance. For the same reason, I can’t write character’s accents and things like that. At any rate, I hope you enjoy it. Part 50 of 54

.Masterlist

---

“There you go, white for Alexandria.”

You finished tying the piece of rope above Daryl’s elbow. You didn’t know who had come up with that idea, but it was smart. Everyone would be identified with a color depending on their place, green for the Hilltop, red for the Kingdom, white for Alexandria. That way, it’d be easy to know where everybody was from and to know who were your allies...they were so many and most of them would be seeing each other for the first time, so it was hard to recognize every face. This way, it’d be easier to know if someone was on your side or if it was an enemy.

“I should be going too...” You complained in a grumble.

“Yeah? Okay, take a deep breath without wincing.” Daryl challenged and you rolled your eyes, knowing fully well that your bruised rib wouldn’t allow you to do so.

Few days had passed since the Saviours attack and you were doing better. Your head was fine, your side wound tender but doing okay and your bruises less purple, though your rib was still a pain and you moved slower than you liked, your body still hurting, though it was bearable.

You knew you’d be pretty much useless during the fight but still, you wished you could go. You felt useless. During the last few days, everyone had been working on getting everything ready to attack the Sanctuary, making plans, building armored cars...

They had also gone to some of the Saviour’s outpost, dismantling them and getting more weapons, thanks to Dwight who seemed to still be on your side and who gave you the information that you needed.

You had been recovering, though, and hadn’t been able to help much, along with Rosita and Michonne, who also didn’t seem happy about going to miss the whole thing.

Maggie had left after checking on you, leading Hilltop even though Gregory was still there. Carol had left pretty soon too, back to the Kingdom. You had hoped that now that she’d come back to Alexandria, she’d stay there again but she seemed to be favoring the Kingdom now, red rope and all...you didn’t know how you felt about it, though you were saddened about not having your friend there, especially when you had been hurt and bedridden.

“Just...be careful.”

You were worried about the whole plan and Daryl’s part on it. It was good, it was well thought, but it was dangerous nonetheless.

The idea was to join the forces of the three settlements, you had quite an army now, get the new weapons and drive with the armored cars to the Sanctuary. There, they’d attack them with gunfire, while they waited for the other part of the plan to work. Another group would get the attention of the massive herd of walkers that roamed close to the place and Daryl would lead it on his bike to the Sanctuary, after the others manage to open the fences, so the place would end up surrounded by walkers.

After that, more groups would divide and would attack the remaining outposts, taking as many weapons as possible, so they wouldn’t go help the Sanctuary.

It was ambitious but you had enough numbers now to make it work, but that doesn’t mean you weren’t scared about it going wrong and your family ending up hurt or worse...so many things could go wrong. It’d be the second time Daryl would lead a big herd of walkers on his bike, and you were as worried about it as the first time.

Daryl nodded and bent to kiss your forehead

“You too, you’re still healing.”

“I can’t hurt myself in here...” You were going to be here sitting down, doing nothing while the others fought...you hated it.

Daryl hummed and turned to look at your brother.

“Keep an eye on her.”

“We should be there too,” Michonne said as you, Rosita and her watched as all the vehicles drove off Alexandria.

“Yeah...”

“Now you know the feeling...” Carl said.

“You’re always joining the fights,” Michonne reminded him. “Besides, someone has to take care of Alexandria with us looking like this...” She chuckled darkly, pointing at some of your bruises.

None attacked Alexandria, though, and when the vehicles came back they brought news that plan had worked, the Sanctuary was surrounded by walkers and the Saviours couldn’t leave, so in two days you all would go back there to ask for their surrender.

But people had died, many people and there were lots of people injured too.

You guessed it was bound to happen, but still, it took you all your strength to fight your tears at the image.

Daryl wasn’t back yet but you tried not to worry much, you already knew he’d be back later, first he was going to the outposts to take the Saviour’s weapons with Rick, before Rick went to try and make another deal with the scavengers.

You didn’t like that a little bit, but had respected Rick’s decision. If the woman who threw you off the roof was still alive, though, you were going to deck her.

“Hey, Y/N.” You had been lost in your worries and Rosita’s voice startled you a bit, making her chuckle when you jumped and winced. “Michonne and I are going to see the Sanctuary, see what our people did to it. Thought you might want to come too.”

You bit your lip, unsure of what to do. Yes, you wanted to go, wanted to see it yourself, but also you wanted to wait for Daryl, needing to know he was alright.

“I want to...but Daryl isn’t back yet...”

Rosita nodded, she didn’t need you to explain any further.

“It’s okay, wait for him, we’ll tell you how is it when we come back.”

“Be careful out there, please.”

***

When you finally heard the bike and saw Daryl driving into Alexandria, you had to stop yourself from running to him, knowing you’d hurt yourself doing so, but walked towards him as fast as you could. Daryl saw you and parked his bike next to you, but didn’t dismount.

“Are you okay?” You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, holding him tight.

“Yeah, you?” He kissed your collarbone and nuzzled at the crook of your shoulder.

“I’m fine.”

“It worked,” Daryl told you, pulling away to look at you.

“I know...but so many have died...” You had a lump in your throat and Daryl’s face was dark too.

“Yeah...” He nodded. “And they took out the whole Kingdom army, besides Carol, Jerry, and Ezekiel.

“No...” You gasped in horror.

You couldn’t believe all those people were gone...they were so many and so skilled...it was just too horrible. Daryl pulled you close again, giving your lips a quick peck, but pulled away sooner than you’d have liked and you noticed he had scrapped one of his cheeks and his jaw was bruised.

“What happened?” You asked as you trailed your fingers gingerly over his injuries.

Daryl averted his eyes, silent for a second. “Fell off my bike...” He finally mumbled.

“What, how?” You asked but Daryl just shrugged uncomfortably. “Come on, I’ll help you take care of it.”

“I’m fine.” Daryl shook your hand off his arm. “I have to go talk with Tara.”

“What for?”

“About the plan, I need her help...”

Daryl replied evasively and you were confused, everything was done, now you only had to wait.

“There’s something wrong?”

“No, just...” Daryl tailed off and you didn’t understand why he wasn’t telling you.

“Daryl...”

“Cos Rick’s plan’s not good enough.” He finally grumbled. “We don’t have the Kingdom no more, lots of our people have died, we gotta do something...and we have all those walkers around the Sanctuary...”

“Yeah, we have the Saviours trapped, plan worked.”

“It’s not enough...we could make a hole on the wall of the building, let all the walkers get inside and eat those assholes. End it today, for good.”

“What, no!” You shook your head at his words. “Do you want me to list you everything that could go wrong?”

“I don’t care.” He mumbled.

“Well, I do! And you told me there were workers in there too, victims of Negan, the walkers would get them.” You couldn’t believe Daryl wouldn’t care about innocent people dying or that he’d want to do something so reckless.

“Workers are on the north side of the building, we break the wall of the south side, workers should be fine.”

“How sure are you of that?” You asked but Daryl just shrugged.

“We gotta win.”

“Yeah, but not like this...Daryl, you can’t do it.” Daryl didn’t say anything, looking away from you, so you kept talking. “Does Rick know about it? It’d mess the plan everybody already knows.”

“It won’t mess it, the walkers get in and then we go, ask for the Saviour’s surrender if they’re still alive, they won’t say no.”

“You didn’t answer me.”

“Rick doesn’t want to do it but he’s wrong.” Daryl finally replied, though you had already guessed it. “We already lost a full truck of weapons fighting over it.”

“You what?”

“Got into a fight with Rick...” Daryl replied and you shook your head in disbelieve.

“You and Rick fought?!” Suddenly an idea sprung on your mind. “Are those even from falling off your bike?” You pointed at his scrapes and bruises. “Or for fighting with Rick.”

Daryl didn’t reply but the way in which he averted his eyes gave you all the answers you needed, and you couldn’t believe it.

“What the hell, Daryl?!”

“I did fall off my bike...” He murmured, turning to grip the handlers of the bike again.

“Forget it.” You told him when he turned on the engine of the bike. “We already have a plan.” Daryl kept ignoring you, looking anywhere but at you. “Please...Daryl!” But he was already driving away.

You didn’t know if you were feeling more angry or irritated, or plainly sad, all you knew was that you felt like crying and you hated it. You contemplated following Daryl but you were too upset to want to argue with him again, you rather wait until you cooled off and he forgot about that idea...which you hoped were soon.

Instead, you decided to help with the injured people. You had been at the infirmary for a while when you saw your brother making his way to you, looking worried.

“Daryl and Tara just left in a big truck.” He told you. “What’re they going to do? Thought everything was done for the day.”

You couldn’t believe it, you couldn’t believe Daryl had done it, that he had left to follow his reckless plan without telling anyone else but Tara, without telling you, and you couldn’t believe Tara had agreed.

You shook your head, so upset and angry that it almost overcame your worry, and you walked towards a car a fast as you could, which wasn’t that fast to begin with, intending to follow Daryl and Tara.

“I can’t fucking believe this...”

“Hey, hey, wait,” your brother reached you easily and stopped in front of you. “You can’t go out there like that.”

“Hell I can’t...” You tried to brush past him but he stopped you from getting into the car.

“No, you’re still hurt.” Chris didn’t back away and considering he was quite taller than you, probably you weren’t looking that menacing, no matter how irritated you were. “Daryl told me to keep an eye on you, you’re not going out.”

In another context, your brother’s concern for you would have made you melt, but you were too upset.

“Then he should have thinking it twice before going to do something stupid.” You swallowed hard, trying not to cry, but the lump in your throat wouldn’t go away.

“He’ll be fine Y/N.”

You shook your head, tears burning in your eyes.

“He’s off to do something reckless and I should have stopped him.”

You should have followed him when he went to talk with Tara, but you hadn’t quite believed he’d go off like that, without saying anything else, without speaking to anyone else, without telling you.

So many things could go wrong in that plan, even if it worked...and if it worked, innocent people could end up hurt or worse...you couldn’t believe Daryl was actually going to do it.

Your brother didn’t say anything, as if he didn’t know what to say, but grabbed your arm and gently walked you away from the car and you didn’t resist.

“Come on, there’s still a lot of injured people who need help.”

You nodded, not quite trusting your voice to speak, and followed him.

***

When Rosita came back without Michonne, your heart almost stopped beating.

“She’s okay,” Rosita assured you before you could worry any further. “We found Daryl and Tara, you know what they want to do?” You just nodded. “I couldn’t do it, I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“I know...” You said weakly.

“Michonne stayed though...they should be back soon.” Rosita patted your arm.

When Michonne came back, though, neither Daryl nor Tara were with her and you felt like you might just collapse out of worry an anxiety.

“They’ll be right back.” Michonne tried to comfort you, noticing how distraught you were. “I was going to help them but then...I couldn’t...we already have a plan that could work, I don’t think it was worth the risk, crashing that truck on the wall surrounded by walkers...”

She was now mumbling more for herself, seeming torn, as if it hadn’t been an easy decision, and your heart beat faster, scared when you heard the full extent of the plan.

“What...”

Michonne’s eyes snapped back to you as if she had forgotten you were there and she reached out to take your hand, squeezing it gently.

“It’ll work and they’ll be fine, it won’t take them long to come back.”

You nodded in silence but you left, couldn’t get yourself to keep helping around, your mind was everywhere but there and you felt like you might just cry at any moment, so you went back home and sat down on the porch, hugging your knees to your chest.

You had been so worked up during the day, but you felt like your anger was ebbing, leaving you feeling empty as if your strength had left you too...you were upset and angry, sure, but you were mostly feeling sad.

The sun began to go down without you really realizing it and finally you saw Daryl was back, making his way towards your home. You let out a relieved sigh, your worried and scared heart calming his beats, but said nothing, and Daryl stopped before walking up the stairs of the porch, looking at you and shifting his weight from foot to foot awkwardly as if waiting for you to say something or as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. When you didn’t say anything either, he walked up the stairs and sat down on the ground next to you.

“Is Tara okay?” You broke the silence, you might be angry and upset, but you were worried too.

Daryl hummed a yes and you turned to look at him, noticing blood on his forehead...for crashing the truck, you guessed. You reached out to brush his fringe away from his face and gingerly brushed your fingers near the wound, inspecting it, but it didn’t look bad. When Daryl went to lean into your touch, you had already pulled your hand away.

“You should clean that.”

“It’s nothing,” Daryl mumbled quietly. “You’re mad.”

“Yeah.” You nodded but didn’t sound that angry, mostly tired and sad.

Daryl didn’t say anything else and finally you couldn’t hold it back any longer.

“I can’t believe you’d do something like that.” You turned your face to look at him but he was looking down. “We had a plan already...and it was too risky. Something could have happened to you, to Tara...”

“Was worthy...”

“No, no Daryl, it wasn’t” You replied, tired and frustrated.

“It worked, the Saviours’ll surrender.”

“And innocent people could die.”

“Innocent people already died because of Negan.” Daryl frowned at you. “Lots of our people have died, we had to end this now, we gotta win no matter how.”

“I’ve been helping around all day, I know lots of us have died!” You snapped “And it does matter how.”

Daryl didn’t say anything else, he was looking away again and you stayed quiet too, feeling too tired to want to fight with him, no matter you were angry and disappointed.

“I have to tell you something...” Daryl broke the silence and you looked at him, scared when you saw his expression though he kept his eyes averted. “Eric...he...he didn’t make it...he died, I don’t know how but-“

“What?” It seemed like Daryl was going to keep rambling but you cut him off before he said anything else. It took a couple of seconds for your brain to process what Daryl was saying and even then you were just as confused, it couldn’t be.

Aaron and him hadn’t come back with the others, but it was normal, they had already told you that they were going to the Hilltop to check on Maggie and wouldn’t be back until the fight ended. You had already made plans to go visit them and Maggie...

“I’m sorry...”

Daryl was finally looking at you but you were in shock. Eric gone? It couldn’t be...you remembered how Aaron had worried over him, he didn’t want him to join the fight, but you had been so sure they would be alright...it couldn’t be possible.

Daryl was looking at you with pained, sad eyes and you tried to hold back a sob, feeling tears rolling down your cheeks. Daryl reached out as if to wipe your tears but you pulled away, getting onto your feet, wincing a bit as you did it too fast, and began pacing back and forth, bubbling with sadness and anger.

“You knew? When you came before?”

Daryl nodded, looking down, making no attempt to get up, his fingers drumming nervously on the floor.

“And you waited until now to tell me?!” You hadn’t wanted to raise your voice but you couldn’t help it.

“Didn’t have the time...” He mumbled.

“Didn’t have the time...” You shook your head in disbelieve. “Didn’t have the time?! Our friend’s dead!”

“I had to-“

“I know what you had to do.” You cut him off before he finished his sentence.

“I had to do it, don’t care if you think it ain’t right, it is and now the Saviours die.” Daryl snapped, his voice angry but low, finally looking at you.

“Yeah, yeah, it was pretty clear you didn’t care what I thought.” You snapped back, rubbing furiously at your tears, and Daryl didn’t say anything else though he still looked annoyed.

“Aaron...is he okay? Where’s he?” You asked, your back to Daryl, trying to get a hold of yourself.

“He went to Hilltop. Rick found a baby in one of the outposts and Aaron offered to take her to Hilltop.”

“A baby?” You turned around, raising an eyebrow at Daryl in confusion.

“Hmm hmm...Rick killed his father so we didn’t know what to do with her.”

“Rick killed his father?”

“Was a Saviour, attacked Rick, what did you want him to do?” Daryl sounded annoyed again.

You didn’t know so you just shook your head softly...the man had attacked Rick, was your enemy, would have you done the same? Wouldn’t have you killed him yourself, no matter he had a baby with him or not? The idea sat uneasily in your stomach, though.

Daryl didn’t say anything else and silence fell between you two.

“Anything else you might have neglected to tell me?”

You asked and Daryl didn’t answer. You thought he wasn’t going to say anything but then he began talking.

“I killed Morales.”

You frowned in confusion, taking you a moment to place the name until you remembered...he had been from your group, back at the quarry...so long ago.

“What?” You were too confused to formulate an actual question.

“He was a Saviour, had Rick held at gunpoint.”

“So you killed him.”

“What did you want me to do, Y/N?” Daryl sounded angry but tired too.

You said nothing... you knew that if you had been in that situation, you probably had done the same... it wasn’t that what you were really angry about, but it felt like the final straw.

You were angry and upset about Daryl carrying on with his reckless plan without caring about the consequences, without telling you he was leaving, seemingly blind to everything in his desire to end the Saviours, no matter how many people he killed to get it done, fighting with Rick even. And you were so upset about him not telling you about Eric before...You were broken-hearted by the loss of all your people, by the loss of Eric.

The events of the day felt like too much and you felt like you couldn’t take it anymore, so without another word you turned on your heels and walked into the house, leaving Daryl on the porch.

_____

Here we go, season 8, the hardest to write...and this chapter was painful to write.

Thank you for reading and if you had a moment, leave me a comment so we can talk, tell me your thoughts!

I never thought anyone’d like to be tag in any of my stories so thank you! It means the world!If you want to be tagged please let me know.

It seems some tags are still not working, then others start working but another stops, I don’t know what to do. If you manage to see this and notice that your tag isn’t working, please let me know.

@momc95@jodiereedus22@osweetdevilo@sapphire1727@coffeebooksandfandom @the-destielr@checkintoreality@daddys-little-princess67@sesshomaru-lover@crossbowking@coltcas@feartheendlesssummer@izumi37@gruffle1 @cutiepiemimi13@drina365@kuolematkorjaavat@daeshaunex2 @xtinkersimsx @stressed-lasagna @moraglefay @phantom-fangirl-stuff @teenyforestfairy@yenne-yen-illustrations@mychemicalimagines @hyphymanatee @nikkipea@crazycatladyalustriel @miniprz @wolfkg@paybackbarnes @haleypearce @nikki082489

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon/reader #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon fic #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fanfiction #the walking dead #twd fanfic #the walking dead fanfic #twd imagine #the walking dead imagine #twd fic #the walking dead fic #twd #twd fanfiction #the walking dead fanfiction

92 notes · View notes

ibelongtonegan · 6 years

Text

Apple Pie (Negan one-shot)

This story is for @flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash’s “Fall Into Negan” writing challenge. The prompt that I chose was “Apple picking” and first I intended to write something sweet and fluffy but my dirty mind went down the gutter pretty quickly. I blame it all on Negan, he made me do it! It’s my first time ever participating in a fic challenge and I was super excited to write this story.

Photos source: (x)

Summary: you come across an apple orchard but when Negan, the owner catches you stealing his apples, you have to pay a hefty price for your crime.

Characters: Negan x Reader

Word count: 4,269

Warnings: angst, dirty talk, smut (breath play, cum play, oral sex, orgasm withdrawal, rough sex, vaginal sex), swearing

Tags: @flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash, @negans-network, @emoryhemsworth, @ridingmoxley, @ladysyn

Let me know if you would like to be added to my forever tag list!

I appreciate feedback and most days don’t bite. So don’t be shy, please feel free to comment, message or ask me anything!

At first, you couldn’t believe your luck. You stumbled upon it by pure chance, when you decided to cut through the forest following a narrow path. It led you to a clearing about the size of a baseball field that looked like it belonged on the cover of a cheesy harlequin novel. There it was right in the middle of the vast field surrounded by knee-high grass. An orchard with two dozen apple trees. The branches laden with ripe, red apples, inviting to be picked. The soft flesh and sweet juice of the fruit begging to be tasted.

You looked around for any signs of people but there was no sound or movement, except for the merry chirping of the birds and the soft rustling of the leaves in the light autumn breeze. The nights were getting colder but the sun still felt pleasantly warm on your skin.

You made your way to the trees to take a closer look. Since the start of the apocalypse, most trees stopped growing fruit altogether or their produce was eaten up by birds and worms before rotting away but these trees were different. Their branches were hanging low due to the number of apples on them and from up close it was evident that their fruit was not only big and ripe but perfectly healthy as well. A rare find, in fact, an impossible one. Too good to be true.

Not being able to withstand the temptation, you lifted your arm and brought your fingers around a red globe smiling down at you. You tugged on it carefully and the branch let it go easily as if rewarding you for relieving it of its heavy cargo. You rubbed the surface of the fruit with the sleeve of your sweatshirt to clean away the thin layer of dust covering it. You lifted the apple to your mouth and took a hearty bite, sinking your teeth into the crunchy fruit. The juice spilled out at the corners of your mouth and flowed down your chin. You moaned out loud and closed your eyes in pleasure as the sweet sensation spread in your mouth. It was the most delicious fruit you had ever had. Or maybe you had not remembered how good apples tasted, not having eaten one since the apocalypse had begun.

You lifted the hem of your hoodie to form a make-shift bag and started picking the apples into it. You could probably carry about two dozen easily back home. They would make an excellent ingredient for a sauce, compote but the dish you were most excited to make from them was a pie. The classic family recipe passed down from mother to daughter for generations. A simple shortcrust pastry filled with the delicious fruit and spiced up with cinnamon, nutmeg, and cloves. The perfect dessert for Sunday lunch best served with hot vanilla sauce. You could practically feel the sweet, spicy taste of the pie in your mouth and saliva started pooling on your tongue.

You were about to grab another apple from a tall branch when you heard a cracking noise behind you. Turning around quickly you noticed a tall man with short black hair leaning casually against one of the apple trees only a couple of feet away from you. A mischievous smirk played on his lips that didn’t quite reach his dark hazel eyes as he looked you up and down curiously. His black boots, grey pants, and black leather jacket were a rather unusual choice of attire, but the red scarf around his neck stood out in particular. He looked more like a rock star than a survivor of the apocalypse. You had no idea how he managed to sneak up on you unnoticed. Apparently, you got so caught up daydreaming that you let your guard down completely. Luckily it wasn’t a walker but you knew all too well that sometimes people were far more dangerous than the half-dead. And while the man’s posture was relaxed and didn’t convey any threat or malicious intent, you wanted to be rather safe than sorry. You took a quick glance around the clearing but there was nobody else around besides you and the stranger.

Watching you intently the man spoke first, his voice deep and oozing confidence.

“Well, would you look at that. What do we have here? Little Red Riding Hood picking apples for her granny!”

“Uhm…can I help you?” you opted to go with being polite for starters.

“You most certainly can. First of by telling me what you are doing out here on your own? These woods are very dangerous for a pretty little thing like you.”

“I can take care of myself,” you replied confidently.

“Oh, I’m sure you can. But what if you come across the Big Bad Wolf?” the man asked flashing his perfect teeth.

You raised an eyebrow at his answer, contemplating if he was only joking or being serious with you. Judging by the smirk still tugging at the corner of his full lips, it was the former.

“It depends. Does he bite?” you quipped holding his gaze.

“You will find out soon enough. He might just gobble you up whole.”

The dangerous promise made a chill go down your spine. You have just met this man and he was shamelessly flirting with you already.

“Don’t mind me, doll. Keep doing what you were doing,” he continued motioning towards the apples in your hoodie-bag.

You hesitated for a second trying to assess the stranger. He didn’t seem to pose any danger, leaning against the trunk of the tree lazily, his hands tucked away in his pockets. He didn’t have any weapons on him, at least not where you could see them. If he tried anything you could take him out with your knife or run. Either way, he seemed to be harmless. Crude but harmless. He wasn’t the first man to hit on you and you were certain that you could hold him at bay. It didn’t hurt that he was easy on the eyes too. Maybe too sure of himself but quite good looking nonetheless. Before the apocalypse, he would have been the type women’s magazines called tall, dark and handsome. Making up your mind finally you continued to pick the apples but positioned yourself to keep an eye on him at all times.

"What are you going to do with them?” the stranger inquired nonchalantly.

"Apple pie,” you admitted with a shrug.

“I love apple pie. Especially with a lot of cream," he mused licking his lips and eyeing you suggestively up and down.

“Well, there’s plenty of apples here for both of us. Suit yourself and pick some for a pie,” you scoffed with an edge to your tone. You didn’t like the sly look on his face.

"I don't think so, Little Red. I'd rather have a taste of your pie."

That comment should have been your first warning that something was wrong.

"Are you one of them?" you asked trying to reach a particularly big apple sitting on a higher branch. You didn’t like where the conversation was going but disregarded the uncomfortable feeling in your stomach in favor of distracting him by changing the subject.

"One of who?" he asked picking up an apple that had fallen down on the ground. You noticed that he was wearing a glove on his right hand, which only added to the list of strange pieces of clothing on him.

"The people living at the big factory down the road behind the forest. They call themselves the Saviors."

"Nope. Never heard of them before," he said seemingly uninterested and started tossing the fruit up and down in his palm as if it were a baseball.

"They are a pretty scary group, have lots of guns and have most of the communities in the area under their thumb. Almost everybody works for them now and have to scavenge or grow stuff for them that they collect every week," you informed him, glad to have found a safer topic to talk about.

"Interesting. How do you know all this?"

“I passed by a place three days ago and they told me about them. Alexville or something like that. They murdered two of their citizens.” There were about fifteen apples in your hoodie now and they were starting to weigh down the fabric. A couple more and you were good to go. Unless the stranger caused you any trouble.

“You mean Alexandria?” he wondered and started tossing the apple back and forth between his hands.

“Yeah, Alexandria that’s the one! A really nice community with beautiful houses and they even have tap water and solar panels,” you added the awe evident in your voice. You could still feel the sensation of the hot shower you were allowed to take when you spent the night at one of the abandoned houses of the community. “You know them?”

“Briefly,” he replied nonchalantly still playing with the apple in his hand.

"They told me that if the communities don't deliver to the Saviors, they get punished brutally. I heard some really gruesome stories about their leader too. He's a bully asshole everybody dreads. His weapon of choice is a crowbar riddled with nails he uses to kill walkers and his enemies with. Rumor has it that he calls the thing Lucy. A pretty silly name for a weapon, if you ask me. Wouldn’t want to stand on the receiving end of it though."

"Probably better not to cross paths with him then."

"Yeah, tell me about it," you replied with a laugh. "And I heard that he has multiple wives. Can you believe it? I'm glad I could evade him and his minions so far. Which community did you say you were from again?"

"I didn't," the man stated and let the apple fall to the ground. "And you are wrong,”

This should have been your second warning.

"Wrong about what?" you asked puzzled and lowered your right hand to the knife holster on your belt.

He was looking at you like the cat that ate the canary.

"The bully asshole and his weapon. It's a baseball bat wrapped in barb wire. And he calls it Lucille."

He lowered his hand and picked up something from behind the trunk of the apple tree that was until this point hidden from you.

It was a baseball bat wrapped in barb wire.

Your heart sank into your stomach. It was him. You were chatting with no other than the leader of the Saviors. The bully asshole with the baseball bat everybody dreaded.

“You would be the leader of the Saviors?” you asked mouth agape not being able to hide your horror.

“Uh-huh. Negan, Lucille.” He pointed at his chest and then held out the baseball bat in front of him as if introducing her to you. “And you, Little Red?”

“Y/N,” you mumbled nervously. You called him a bully, an asshole and his bat name silly. You were in trouble and were frantically trying to think of a way out of it.

“That is a beautiful name. Are you on your own out here?” the man continued, taking a step closer to you. You could hear an apple burst under his boot.

“Uhm…actually no. My friends are...just on the other side of the clearing. They should be here…any minute, you know,” you replied gulping hard, trying to sound confident, but your body betrayed you, forcing you to take a step back instinctively. Your answer earned a snicker from Negan.

“Any minute, you say?”

“Yeah, we’re out on a run together, you know. About 10-15 of us. It’s a large group. They were right behind me and don’t take well to strangers so I think you should go before…”

“Before?”

“Uhm, you know, before they come back. I wouldn’t want them to hurt you.”

He let out a throaty chuckle exposing your dishonesty.

“Nice try. But I think you’re just lying to me now. So, care to explain why you were trying to steal my apples?”

"Your apples?"

"This land is mine. The trees on it are mine, therefore the apples are also mine. And I do not take lightly to thieves.”

If your list of crimes wasn’t long enough, you have just added theft to it.

“And how the hell was I supposed to know that?” you insisted getting impatient with his taunting.

“Theft is theft, no matter the excuse. You were going to steal my apples and I can’t let something like that slide.”

“Sorry, I didn’t see your name tag on them,” you quipped getting fed up with his cockiness.

If he thought that you were going to cave in just because he claimed to be the owner of the trees, he was in for a big surprise. As far as you were concerned, the apples belonged to whoever picked them first.

“Don’t smart mouth me, Little Red,” he growled tightening his grip on his baseball bat. “You better watch your mouth or I will not go easy on you.”

“Oh. I’m pissing my pants already,” you mocked, rolling your eyes at him. His arrogance was starting to get on your nerves and you were adamant not to let him intimidate you.

“Oh, believe me, you will be, if you keep sassing me,” he warned his lips tightening into a thin line. His ice-cold stare left no doubt in you that he meant what he said. “I know how to teach a little brat like you a lesson. And when I’m done with you, I can promise you that you will be much more obedient.”

“I’d like to see you try,” you challenged him with a defiant look.

“Careful what you wish for,” he scowled darkly not pleased with your response.

You shouldn’t have been testing him, but your stubbornness got the better of you. No man no matter how brutal of a leader he was rumored to be was going to mess with you. Negan’s eyes were dark with anger and you could practically see steam coming out from his ears.

“You tried to steal the apples. That’s a statutory offense under Georgia law. These apple trees are mine, therefore, I'm entitled to fair payment for them. Or, if you can’t pay, to an appropriate form of punishment. So what's it gonna be? Payment or punishment?"

You thought about the short list of valuables you had on you. Besides the necklace on your neck, a lucky charm tucked away in your pocket and the knife in your sheath nothing of substantial value and you were not going to lead him back to your community.

"I don't really have anything with me right now but I can go back to my base and get you something. I have some supplies that I can give you, food, medicine, tools, even some ammo. I’m sure we can make a deal," you offered hoping that he would take the bait. The moment he let you go you would bolt and never come back.

"Oh, no doubt about it. But no, I want my payment up front. Or...there may be another way," he offered with a twinkle in his eye.

You eyed him suspiciously. He was too excited about his own idea.

“You can pay your debt in kind. Come back with me to my place and bake me a pie from these apples. Easy peasy."

“It sounds like a good deal,” you started as if giving the idea some serious thought. “But if you want an apple pie, I suggest you start picking the apples for it because these are mine and I’m sure as shit not giving them up to you!”

Negan let out a loud laugh.

“You’re a wild one, aren’t you, Little Red? I love that! But I'm afraid that leaves you with a single option: to take your punishment like a good girl."

“I think not. Sorry, but I have somewhere to be.”

You looked behind your back trying to calculate the fastest escape route into the forest. If you reached the trees, there was no way he could get you. But the apples could be a problem. You had no intention of giving up the spoils but their weight was substantial now meaning that they would definitely slow you down.

Negan seemed to have read your mind immediately.

“Don't even think about running from me. I'll catch you and punish you anyway. Don't make matters worse for you," he threatened.

"You seem a little old to outrun me, don't you?" you asked playfully.

Negan, however, did not seem to appreciate your humor as the smug smile disappeared from his face immediately and his mouth tightened into a thin line.

"Run from me if you dare and then you'll find out. But if I catch you I'll give you a taste of what I mean by punishment. And it will be a big gulp that you might find difficult to swallow. But swallow it you most certainly motherfucking will.” His nostrils were practically flaring at this point.

You held his gaze for a moment before giving him a conspiratorial wink.

“Game on, Big Bad.”

You sprinted as fast as you could towards the forest hoping that you would reach the trees before he caught up with you. But luck was not on your side today. You have barely managed to reach the middle of the field when you felt a strong hand grab your left arm and pull you back roughly. You didn’t even have time to marvel at how fast he could catch up to you.

"Let me go, I haven't done anything,” you protested, but Negan was holding you firmly against his chest. “Fine, I will give you back the apples!” you huffed in defeat.

“Too late for that, Little Red,” he hissed. “Now is the time for your punishment. You are coming with me.”

And with that, he dragged you away towards the forest before you could put up a fight.

The kitchen of the Sanctuary was a mess. The apples scattered all over the floor, the bag of flour knocked over, the bottle of milk spilled on the kitchen counter. But you were a mess too. A hot, sweaty, wet mess lying over the kitchen counter, your legs spread open wide, panting and moaning as Negan was eating you out greedily.

He kept his word and took you back to the Sanctuary straight away. Upon arriving at the vast factory he led you to the kitchen and instructed the chef to gather all the ingredients for an apple pie. You had no idea how they managed to compile such an impressive pantry but within five minutes the kitchen counter was full of with everything you needed and all of it was fresh and of the finest quality. Negan had dismissed the entire kitchen staff ordering that the two of you mustn’t be disturbed even if walkers were roaming the halls.

You started measuring out the ingredients but didn’t get past the flour. You couldn’t stop talking back to Negan as he kept hovering over you insisting that he wanted to oversee your baking and commenting on every step of the process. Fed up with his overbearing behavior you threw the bag of flour down on the counter effectively engulfing the both of you in a cloud of white powder. Negan looked like he was going to murder you right there but then found another way to shut you up. Before you had time to protest he had you pinned against the counter and was kissing your lips roughly effectively taking your breath along with every cheeky remark you had in store for him away. One thing led to another and before you knew it Negan had you lying naked with your legs over his shoulders, lapping up your juices with his tongue.

Negan definitely had a way with words but the way he used his tongue on you was like nothing you had ever felt before. Keeping his hands firmly on your inner thighs forcing your legs wide apart he licked and sucked on your most sensitive part his ministrations filling the kitchen with sinful noises. He kept his eyes fixed on you revelling in the way you arched your back up from the table completely engulfed in pleasure.

“Fuck...Negan! I’m gonna cum!” you sobbed your body on the verge of shattering into a thousand pieces.

“No, Little Red. I’m not done with you yet,” he purred with a cruel smile.

You whined out in frustration as he removed his hot tongue from your aching core effectively robbing you of your orgasm. Desperate for release, you lowered your right hand to your pussy and started rubbing your clit but a sharp slap on your ass made you stop and cry out loud.

“I said, not yet, Little Red!” Negan grunted and grabbed your wrists forcefully pinning them down on the counter next to your body. “Behave or I will jack myself off and leave you with nothing.”

A pitiful whine escaped your lips in protest earning an amused look from Negan.

“Beg for it. Tell me what you want me to do to you,” he commanded making your insides coil.

“Fuck me, Negan. Please fuck my pussy,” you pleaded looking up at him with a wanton look in your eyes.

“Look at you, Little Red, being so good and obedient for me. I think you deserve a reward for that.”

He stood up and pulled his hard cock from his pants. He stroked his dick a couple of times spreading the pre-cum over his shaft before positioning himself at your dripping entrance.

“Oh my, Big Bad, what big cock you have!” you moaned watching his impressive length in rapture.

“The better to fuck you with, my dear,” he replied with a toothy grin and then entered you painfully slowly, taking his time.

You moaned out loud at the exquisite feeling of him pushing inside you inch by inch and stretching your walls, your tightness making him grunt in pleasure. Once he was fully buried inside you, he started to move picking up speed with every thrust as he was fucking you on the counter with deep, hard strokes. Your breasts were bouncing wildly along with his movements and you raised your hips to meet his, digging your nails into his back.

“Look at you, Little Red. Taking my big, fat cock like a good girl,” Negan praised as he placed his gloved hand around your throat.

In your lustful haze, you barely registered the meaning of his words as he brought you closer to the climax he had denied you earlier. You closed your eyes and enjoyed the sensation of his cock hitting your most sensitive spot with surgical precision.

“Keep your eyes open and look at me while I fuck you,” Negan husked in your ear and tightened his grip on your throat when you didn’t follow his order instantly.

You reluctantly obeyed him and looked into his dilated pupils that felt like being sucked into a dark vortex. You would have resisted if you had the willpower but in that moment you had every intention of falling right into the abyss and letting it consume you.

You could feel yourself starting to tighten in sync with Negan’s thrusts getting erratic signaling that he was getting close himself.

“Cum for me, Little Red. Cum on my cock!” he growled and you did as you were told, pulsing around his length and spiraling into a mind-blowing orgasm that seemed to go on without end. Black spots clouded your vision as you felt Negan start to throb and shoot hot spurts of cum inside your walls while yelling a series of expletives under his breath. He kept thrusting into you, riding out his orgasm until he was completely spent.

Trying to catch his breath Negan rested on his elbows next to your body but left his softening member still inside you. Your legs felt like jelly and tangled off the cold metal surface sending goosebumps over your sweat-covered skin.

“So...Big Bad. Was this my payment or punishment?” you managed to say between breaths.

“Both, Little Red. This was my way to fuck some obedience into you,” Negan murmured wiping his sweaty forehead with the back of his hand.

“And you think it worked?” You looked up at him through your eyelashes with feigned innocence but Negan could see right through your game.

“Oh, I hope it didn’t,” he rasped poking his tongue between his teeth. “Because I’m pretty unrelenting when it comes to teaching a lesson and I intend on fucking it into you over and over again to make sure that you remember it.”

The prospect seemed remarkably appealing to you.

Negan stood up and carefully removed himself from you. You winced at the loss of contact and the soreness between your legs. He looked down at you watching mesmerized as his cum started dripping out of you onto the counter adding to the mess that was covering it already as a result of your food fight earlier.

“Fucking hell, if that ain’t a cock-hardening sight, your pussy filled to the brim with my cum.”

You rolled your eyes at his remark but liked the obscenity of it nonetheless.

“So does that make us even or do I still owe you that apple pie?” you inquired biting your lower lip.

He gave you a devilish look before answering.

“No need for that, Little Red. Your cream pie was delicious enough already.”

#fall into negan writing challenge #negan #negan fan fiction #negan fiction #twd #the walking dead #twd negan #twd fan fiction #twd fiction #the walking dead fan fiction #the walking dead fiction #jdm #jeffrey dean morgan #negan's network #negan's thirst squad #my shit

242 notes · View notes

serahne · 7 years

Note

What's your final opinion on v3 characters?

Mmmm, I’m still not done with the FTE so I’ll mostly base my opinion on the main game, alright ? Under cut because it’s ridiculously long, but then it’s me so who is surprised.

Shuichi : I warmed up to him along the way, but I’m still not over-enthusiastic about his character. Sure, he shines a little during the trials, but over than that he really needs to get a personality as soon as possible. He is very generic. And after Hinata, there was no way the same kind of protagonist could really surprise me in a positive way, anyway. Could be worse, could be better, 5,5/10

Kaede : I’m a little disappointed by her because - just like everyone - I had so much hope for our new female protag ! And don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed controlling her : she is a leader, with charisma and a positive mindset, and who doesn’t wait for things to happen before acting. I really wish a lot of her screentime wasn’t devoted to boost Shuichi’s ego, though. She also suffers from Kodaka’s usual ‘she is a girl so she can act inappropriately with others girls, the fans will love it and just say that she is into girls’ trait that always annoys me : no, a girl, even a lesbian, doesn’t enjoy humiliating another girl, especially sexually. 6,5/10

Kokichi : Sadness hit me in the head yesterday, and I’ve been mourning him all day, because if I don’t, no one in-universe will anyway. He just makes me sad. He is just a kid, who doesn’t trust anybody and is still trying to do his best to stop the game, working twice as hard as everyone, never getting any support from anyone. And yes, chapter 4 was awful, and no, I don’t blame the others for ostracizing him, I understand, but that doesn’t make it less sad, in my opinion. I think my only ‘problem’ is that chapter 5′s trial fell really flat for me, and I was left with a ‘all that for this result ?’ kind of feeling. I would have loved to see him chapter 6. 8,5/10

Maki : I was really worried by how she acted in chapters 1 and 2, but I knew she would eventually become the Maki I expected her to be, and I was right. She had the best arc in the whole game, and watching her slowly open to others ( not just Kaito or Shuichi, but everyone ) is great. I still worry about her, because she really sounds like a lost child sometimes, but she is so strong, I’m sure she’ll get around and will overcome whatever is in her way, because she sure as hell deserves her happy ending. 9/10

Miu : Talk about a surprise, haha ! She really wasn’t on my radar when the characters were revealed, and I immediately fell for her ? I think just like for Kokichi you have this ‘what awfulness is she going to say next ?’ feeling, but beyond that, she is really enjoyable ? The way she hides behind her arrogant facade or uses her sexuality as a weapon is both fascinating and sad ( this is a trend, I feel sad for all the characters I love I think ). She is super smart and I hate how she is so dismissed by the others, but I’m super happy by how popular she is in the fandom because she deserves it ! 8/10

Angie : Another very good surprise. I liked her well enough in chapters 1 & 2 but I wasn’t crazy interested in her character either, you know ? But chapter 3 was amazing, especially with the concept of lie/truth at the core of the game, and explains why it’s so different from hope/despair : Angie’s lie is giving hope to people, but that’s a lie, is it a good thing ? It’s never really answered, and this idea of ‘good lie’ carries over the next chapter, too. So, I can’t wait to do her FTE because she really climbed up the Character List with her last chapter ~ 7,5/10

Rantaro : Hum… I think at the end of the day, his character is more interesting as concept than anything else. I like him well enough, he is very gay and his scene with Kaede is adorable, but I really didn’t have enough time with him to enjoy him fully. I’m interested, though. I lowkey hope for a spin-off about his own killing game. 6/10

Kaito : He… isn’t my type of character. I can’t say he is a bad character either, but the ‘dudebro’ attitude tends to annoy me, and just… I don’t know what to say, he just doesn’t talk to me at all, even if I can understand why people like him and that he is a good person and is trying to help his friends and stuff… Just like for Kokichi, his role in chapter 5 didn’t work on me. He also is one of the few I’m glad he died before the final revelation, and the way he did, too. Kudos to him for ‘Maki Roll/Harumaki’, this is very cute. 5/10

K1-B0 : Aw, the cinnamon roll. He is objectively useless before chapter 6, but his eagerness, his naivete, the way he just dreams of so many things, and is trying his hardest to fit in and be a good person. I love Kibo. Everyone deserves a Kibo, he is so pure. The only thing that pisses me off is that I don’t know how to write an AU where he appears since he is a robot. *Sigh* 7,5/10

Tsumugi : Probably the only character I deeply dislike in the cast. For the obvious part : she is boring, she doesn’t do anything until the last hours, she isn’t nice or clever or anything, she is just there taking the place of actually interesting characters. For the subjective part, I’m not a fan of the ‘wow, for 6 chapters you thought I was totally normal and well-balanced and on your side ? Du-du-dun, I’m actually super crazy and the responsible for everything.’ The first two games avoided this trope, which was great. I don’t see why it appears here. I dunno. Her character just doesn’t work to me, and I did her FTE so. Meh. 2/10, two points because she makes 2 Death Note reference.

Korekiyo : Urgh, why does the incestuous mass-murderer has to be so similar to me. I swear, beside this little flaw of his *cough cough* we think super-alike, and that can be explained by me studying history, sociology and culture in general, but also being a cynical asshole who saw too much shit to be offended by anything. I like him. But chapter 3, though. *shudder*. 7/10

Tenko : Definitely not a fav of mine in chapter 1, she slowly but surely grew on me in chapter 2, and especially in chapter 3 when she is the spy in Angie’s group. Which makes her fate in chapter 3 even worse, because I was like ‘nooo, I’m starting to like you’. The ‘man-hating lesbian’ trope annoys me, and so does her obsession with Himiko ( especially in trial 2 oh my god ) but I’ve started to see that she could be more than that. Which… good. Curious to see her FTE, too. 5/10

Himiko : Urgh, Himiko. I swear until chapter 3 she was probably my most disliked character. She was really a baby, and I don’t have that much patience for it. After chapter 3 she starts to become more active and determined, which is good. She is still not a fav of mine, sorry Himiko. I also don’t see what you have against magicians, they are great ! 4,5/10

Kirumi : Okay, this is actually a character whom I’m sad died that soon, because she had some potential. We saw that potential during her post-trial, the way she thinks so highly of herself despite her ‘I’m just here to serve’ mantra. She is interesting. Unfortunately, her FTE didn’t really give me anything, but I’m interested in this lady. The second trial was ridiculous though, and I’m still not sure why she would go through such complicated scheme to hide the victim’s body, haha. 6,5/10

Ryoma : Another character who deserved to live longer, or even to be a survivor as far a I’m concerned, with some character growth. He is interesting, and thanks god he breaks the curse of the weird looking character being an annoyance for everyone. I tried to do his FTE, but I’m apparently unable to pick something he liked, haha. 6,5/10

Gonta : I mean, sure, he is a Pure Soul and what happened to him in chapter 4 broke my heart. But let’s be honest : he isn’t that interesting. Heh. I don’t really know what to say, he really doesn’t do that much by himself during the game, he was a little too stupid to survive, too. 4,5/10

#ndrv3 #ndrv3 spoilers #I love these characters #well most of them #even the ones I don't 'love' have some good parts anyway #I answer stuff #about dr #anon

9 notes · View notes

elizas-writing · 7 years

Text

TV Reviews: Thirteen Reasons Why

This... was a tough one to get through.

I read the book by Jay Asher when I was 15 and fell in love, so when I heard there was going to be a Netflix series, I was all aboard and excited. But that quickly switched to concern as the criticisms came out almost immediately. I was still willing to give the benefit of the doubt and maybe some good would come out and... well, let’s start with the story.

Heads up that there may be some slight spoilers, but just in regards to discussing the graphic content of the later episodes. I’ll keep it as vague as I can, but it’s something that still needs to be talked about. If you’re still concerned about content and if it’ll trigger you, I hope this is extensive enough. And I will make a separate post for major spoilers

A small town is shaken after the sudden suicide of a teenager named Hannah Baker. With a lawsuit building up against the high school, there are more questions than answers to why Hannah did what she did. That is until one of her former classmates, Clay Jensen, receives a package of cassette tapes, starts playing one, and hears Hannah’s voice, saying if someone is listening, then they are one of the reasons why she was pushed to suicide. And the series revolves around Clay trying to figure out Hannah and find out the truth from those who hurt her.

From the get-go, anyone can tell this series was a massive expansion of the book. While the book was entirely in Clay’s perspective and he finishes all the tapes in one night, in the series, he actually interacts with the people who listened to the tapes before him, trying to uncover the truth. Each tape gets an hour long episode for Clay to slowly digest everything Hannah says, especially with anticipation building up to his own tape and how difficult it is to listen to the crap she endured. You also see multiple perspectives, including the others on the tapes, and how they were affected. Of course, there’s also the Bakers filing the lawsuit and trying to figure out their daughter, and Clay and Hannah’s relationship is also expanded. These changes are welcome and necessary if all these stories are to be told in their entirety, so I appreciate the producers knew not to cut corners, especially with the subject matter.

I liked the differences between scenes set in the past and those in the present with the former in warm tones and the latter in cool tones (and also Clay having a scar through the series). It’s obvious yet clever signs to tell when the story is being told out of order; I just like little details like that. It was also fun to watch scenes play out like a typical YA drama (indie music and all), but they don’t overstay their welcome and draw you back into the gritty reality of it all. The show doesn’t shy away to bring up subjects like slut-shaming, rape cultures and the double standards of high school girls and boys. And Tony grew on me to become one of my favorite characters of the whole show from his demeanor to his design; he’s just fascinating to see how he’s involved in all of this without actually being on any of the tapes.

Out of the many criticisms, people say Hannah committed suicide for a sick revenge fantasy rather than actual depression. Even though I don’t interpret it as such, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t see where people were coming from, especially since the show plays up Hannah to likely be an unreliable narrator. But even though a ton of people listened to the tapes before Clay and were told upfront how and why they hurt Hannah, they’re still hypocritical assholes and remain in total denial of any wrongdoing even at the last episode. It reminded me a bit of Heathers and how everyone reacted to Heather Chandler’s supposed suicide right down to the memorials and going on and on about how sad and tragic she really was when in reality, everyone hated her. There’s almost a dark comedic aspect (not to the same level as Heathers) where everyone suddenly cares about the signs of suicide, blissfully ignorant that they were witnesses and enablers of Hannah’s bullying, particularly Courtney-- who I swear reminded me way too much of nearly every high school girl I knew in ASB with their high and mightiness. They were just fake. It’s still problematic as hell, but I think it’s an interpretation that needs to be taken with a grain of salt when you break down the facades these people are putting up to avoid accountability. Some definitely start reevaluating their behavior and what is and isn’t the truth with some powerfully emotional scenes, even calling each other out for their bullshit, but those still in denial are important to note as well for the true nature of people even in the face of tragedy.

Besides, it’s not really a problem with how Hannah chose to distribute her suicide note; she’s just sadly not that well written, at least compared to the rest of the cast. Everyone else has pretty clear cut signs of depression and other mental health problems, but you don’t really see that with Hannah until the last couple episodes or so. There are definitely mentions of loneliness and lack of prospects for a future, but compared to everyone else, it’s almost glanced over, which sucks because, well, she’s supposed to be one of the main focuses of the story. Some of the reasons she listed aren’t even that well explained as to how she was affected, so it leads to a number of viewers interpreting her as selfish and manipulative when we know that wasn’t supposed to happen. And yeah, I understand depression varies person to person and teenagers don’t always know how to communicate their problems and trivial things to adults can be big deals for teens-- I was a teenager once upon a time too--, but Hannah just needed way more focus rather than trying to make characters like Justin sympathetic even when they honestly don’t deserve it. There’s also a lot of inconsistencies from the characters’ actions to the messages that just muddle everything up, but I’ll save that for spoilers.

But the big talk of this show? The graphic and triggering content as you can see below (shout out to @bezukhova for making this chart, and I tried seeing about pin pointing other time slots to skip, but it’s edited with so many jump cuts, it’s near impossible).

Yes, it’s about as unnecessary as you would think and only serves for shock value. I give Netflix credit that they had the automatic warnings when they did, and I think it’s a start for an easier time for their customers to stream movies and TV shows comfortably. But... why?? Was there a reason to push it this far and even go out of their way to change Hannah’s suicide method from the book?

And yes, I did watch the Beyond the Reasons special to understand why they did what they did. They dragged on quite a bit about being “real and authentic” and “want[ing] it to be painful to watch.” For starters, if you can’t figure out that suicide and rape are horrible things in the great year of our lord 20 fucking 17, I don’t know what the hell is the matter with you; you don’t need a TV show to spoon-feed it to you. Not to mention, they’re still losing a potential audience of people who might be looking for such a fictional narrative for some form of help in their trauma and having them sit through the same things they already endured is a horrible way to go about that. I know people who flat out refuse to watch stuff like Game of Thrones because of the rape content; it doesn’t matter if the rest of the show is good. These survivors know what will likely set off an anxiety attack, and that is not a game they’re willing to play, period. It’s honestly kinda insensitive that they didn’t take that into consideration when making those scenes which sucks because it does include some interesting talks about rape culture (to an extent anyway, but again, spoilers).

There are ways to portray this content and be subtle. Compare some of this content with how it was handled in Perks of Being a Wallflower (definite spoilers if you haven’t seen the movie or read the book, but this is important to compare).

Towards the end of the story, Charlie starts having an anxiety attack when he tries to have sex with Sam. This sets off a ton of flashbacks of repressed memories of his aunt sexually abusing him shortly before dying in a car accident. And his mental state deteriorates to the point where he contemplates suicide. All you see is his aunt touching his leg and saying “don’t wake your sister.” All you see is the camera pan towards a knife on the kitchen counter (you don’t even see him pick it up) before the police break in and Charlie wakes up in a mental hospital. That’s all you need to figure out why Charlie is breaking down. No over-the-top graphic content, just subtlety because damn it, your audience is capable of critical thinking. This is how you do it without making your show a giant trigger.

And to top it all off, Thirteen Reasons Why fails to deliver clear-cut solutions to the problems presented. It’s just misery on top of misery for everyone, and if you’re trying to go for a “it gets better” message, it doesn’t work. I know the ending is super ambiguous and there’s potential for a second season, but how long can some of your audience afford to wait when all you have to offer is one link to a website? The only worthwhile stuff they talk about is about rape culture and dispelling myths and a quick guide to consent. But if teenagers have a hard time verbalizing their problems, what can they do to fix that? How can we identify signs of depression and suicide way earlier on? How can we better listen to victims and not shame them? What are the best mental health centers and hotlines to reach out to? How does someone going through similar trauma as Hannah cope in a healthy way? A lot of the solutions the producers discuss are so vague and offer little to nothing for the audience, especially those who might be seeking help.

I’m sure this review might seem all over the place, but that’s pretty much my thoughts on the show. The scenes that are done well are worthwhile like Jessica in the later episodes or whenever someone calls someone out on their bullshit. And the whole cast does well with what they’re given to deliver such raw emotional pain and conflict. And I know the crew was had good intentions to make a statement about dozens of issues for teenagers and knew to take its audience seriously. But on the whole, it’s pretty clunky at times. I think it’s one of those shows where you have to watch yourself to make your own opinion, but this is not the go-to resource if you’re looking for help, especially if the graphic content can make you feel worse. I’m sure others will find more good in it than bad, and I don’t totally regret checking it out, but from what I was expecting, it was kinda a disappointment aside from some select scenes and performances.

#thirteen reasons why #13rw #review #tv review #reviews #netflix #my writing

5 notes · View notes

reviewsofgergo-blog · 7 years

Text

Reviewing: Stranger Things- Season 2

I’ve been waiting for the continuing of this awesome show for a year now, last year when I saw the trailer of it I was immediately interested and wasn’t disappointed when watching Stranger Things. Luckily Netflix uploaded the whole season at once, so I could start my autumn break with finishing the new season in nearly a day.

Stranger Things is a great show for those who like supernatural things, conspiracy theories completed with a bit of a drama. The whole story is about a parallel, darker and evil version of our universe. The series is full of action and unbelievably funny, it is colored with bunch of jokes. The main characters at first are four boys, Will, Mike, Dustin and Lucas, who are best friends. They are weird and nerdy, so they are not the most popular guys around the town. The other main person in the story is Eleven, the alive human experiment, who has special abilities, she can move things with her mind and also capable of contacting anyone alive, based on only a picture.

The characters are also very lovable and human. Nearly every one of them is complex, has a background story and it is also true that besides the things they are going through in the story, they have problems in their “not-supernatural” lives. For instance Will and his brother Jonathan have a father who doesn’t seem to care about any of them. Thinking about the background story of Hopper the police chef, we can highly understand his drinking problems, the way he acts and every other intuitions he has. The happenings with his daughter also defines why he cares so much about Eleven in this season.

The fantasy elements are various in the show, but mostly are in connection with the parallel universe itself. It is usual in the story-line that we do not really receive complete information about the happenings, but we get some hints and some other hints later, so by the end of the season we get to see the full picture. The fantasy elements are also clever in my opinion, because the show runners are pointing to other pieces of works inter-textually. After this season a fan theory came out that a new (easy come-easy go) character Bob, is an IT survivor from Stephen King’s universe. There are several accordance in the story of his and the King book’s story. Bob is from Maine and in the bonding-time scene with Will, he tells him about his previous experience with nightmares as a child. He could only get rid of the clown who chased him when he faced him and sent him away. I don’t really believe that the makers wanted to fit these two worlds together, but it is a funny coincidence.

This season have put some new characters to the show, on the other hand the writers have made some developments in the characters of the first season. Steve, the boyfriend of Mike’s sister, Nancy, for me became more likeable. In the first season I was not a big fan of him, I always thought that he was just an asshole. However, in this season they introduced another side of him that makes him easier to understand and see that he is actually a good guy in the show. I also liked the chef’s, Hopper’s change in attitude, we could see him developing to the stage of a caring father towards Eleven, who he hides for a while in the first few episodes. Also, my personal favorite, Dustin had been advanced, he have finally grown his teeth. I really miss his pronunciation when swearing, I liked it a lot how he used to say all those swear words with a twisted “s” sound.

The new characters that appeared on show were also entertaining for me. The main two are step-siblings, Max and Billy. Max is a very cool character she is confident and funnily vulgar as well. Billy, his stepbrother became the new and also worse Steve for me in this season. Compared to him Steve always used to be a nice guy. On the other hand I can forgive him, because every time he was on-screen something interesting happened and I really liked his music style. My top new favorite was the detective who was investigating in the case of Barbra. I liked his scenes with Nancy and Jonathan, he made me laugh out loud a few times. And I would not leave out from the list the new monsters and especially D’Artagnan, the demodogs (-thanks for the awesome name, Dustin).

In this season I had several favorite scenes, one of them was the “big-talk” of Dustin and Steve about girls and hairstyle advice by Steve. This was the moment when I started to like Steve and as he said it about himself, maybe he is a better babysitter than a boyfriend. The other top moment was after D’Art have eaten the cat of Dustin’s mother. When Dustin was sending her mother away supporting her nearly made me choke to death.

Summing up all this in my opinion this season of Stranger Things was just as entertaining as the first one and I hope they are going to make a next season such good as well. I’ve read it somewhere that they are making two more seasons, I hope the sources were reliable, because ST is one of the best fun out there.

#homework strangerthings2

0 notes