#he’s got so much potential I just hope they don’t squander it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

scarlet-streak-fanfics · 2 years

Text

[Untitled] Pt. 1 (2.9k Words)

So, listen, listen. I was listening to World’s Smallest Violin by AJR and for some reason got Sherliam vibes, so now this exists. I’m so sorry, but I hope at least some of you enjoy it! Please give me title suggestions.

Sherlock allows his head to rest against the back of his chair, his eyes fixing on the smoke gathering at the ceiling from the cigarette perched haphazardly between his lips. He knows he should open the window—John has been trying to get him to quit ever since he moved in, and Ms. Hudson has threatened to kick him out of the flat over smoking indoors on more than one occasion. Apparently, the smell gives her a headache, and the smoke damages the ceilings and furniture; he made the mistake once of asking if the damage really mattered if he and John were the only ones who would ever live there. The rise in rent the following month was enough to keep Sherlock from pushing the landlady’s buttons for a good while. Still, he can’t bring himself to care about anything besides tuning out his older brother’s scoldings. Mycroft had stopped by for his weekly attempt at making Sherlock find more steady work and actually make something of himself besides a drug-addict “consulting detective”. He can hear Mycroft pacing the apartment as he continues his lecture, “It’s all well and good right now—your Lord of Crime is keeping you in enough work to pay rent. However, once he’s caught or slinks off into the shadows as criminals are oft to do, you’ll be out of a job. If Mother were still alive—”

“She’d be bloody disappointed at the failure she gave birth to.” Sherlock finishes bitterly, removing the cigarette from his lips and holding it between two fingers as he releases the smoke from his lungs. The older Holmes brother stops, all his attention focusing on Sherlock. “That’s not what I was going to say and you know that.”

“It’s what you meant, innit?” Sherlock stands up, stepping behind his chair to open the window and turning his back to his brother. He leans on the windowsill, tapping the ash from his cigarette to the streets below. “Ma always wanted us to be something more. That’s what all the fancy schoolin’ was for, right, Myc? Why you talk all posh and rub elbows with the nobility.”

“Yes, but I don’t expect that from you because I know that we are not the same person. However, that doesn’t mean you lack the potential for your own greatness. You have a brilliant mind, Sherly, and you’re squandering it.”

“Unlike you, pushin’ papers all day as the Queen’s lapdog.” Sherlock’s sarcasm is not lost on Mycroft—he finds himself being spun to face his older brother, cigarette falling from his fingers to the street below. “You know just as well as I do that one of us had to continue repaying the debt of our family—I took that burden so you could find a path of your own and this is what you’ve done with it!”

“I don’t recall askin’ you to make that sacrifice for me.” Sherlock looks his brother in the eyes, face and voice the picture of defiance. Mycroft studies him for a moment before letting the hand he’d used to turn Sherlock drop back to his side, a huff of defeat leaving him. “Just think about it, Sherly. I know you’re better than this.”

Sherlock doesn’t try to stop his brother as Mycroft departs from the apartment. He doesn’t bother to close the door after him, leaving it slightly ajar as he returns to the window and fishes a fresh cigarette and his lighter out of his pocket. Usually, he’d already be on his way to the nearest bar, but it’s barely sunset. John made him promise after one too many mornings where Sherlock stumbled in hungover, bloody, and bruised from whatever nonsense he’d gotten into the night before that he’d tell John when he was going out, what bar he was going to, and when he intended to be back so the doctor could retrieve him if necessary. He understood this rule in principle, but it was particularly frustrating on evenings when John was out with his fiancée Mary and wouldn’t be back until much later.

Sherlock is startled out of his brooding by a gentle knock on the door, followed by a familiar voice that makes his heart leap. “Apologies for the interruption, Mr. Holmes. Judging by your brother’s frustration and your own preoccupation, it seems that tonight may not be the best night for us to have dinner. Shall I come back another time?”

Damn it, he’d forgotten that he’d asked William to go to dinner with him to discuss a case—after all, that was his best reason for requesting the lord’s company without scrutiny. He turns, smiling stiffly at Liam as he stuffs the unlit cigarette back in his pocket. “Of course not, Liam! Just let me grab my coat.”

He moves towards the coat rack, a fake smile still plastered on his face. As he tries to pass William, the nobleman places a hand on his chest to stop him. “Please, sit. We can get dinner another time.”

Sherlock hangs his head slightly, shuffling to the couch like a scolded dog. Much to his surprise, Liam sits on the opposite side of the couch from him instead of in one of the armchairs near the window before tugging on his sleeve. Without thinking, Sherlock obeys the nonverbal request, allowing himself to be guided to lying on the couch, lanky legs thrown over the armrest and head resting in William’s lap. This had been a new development in their friendship—a silent understanding that they were both touch-starved and trusted the other to know when contact was needed. However, the close proximity is something he was still getting used to, and he can feel his cheeks heating up slightly. “What’s on your mind, Sherlock?”

He still finds it amusing that William will only use his first name when they’re in situations like this, like the barrier of physical intimacy needs to be broken first. “Nothin’, Liam, I promise.”

“It doesn’t seem like nothing.” The statement leaves no room for argument, and Sherlock deflates, still trying to avoid eye contact with the nobleman. “Really, Liam, it’s just an argument me and Myc have been havin’ for a while.”

“About?” Sherlock snorts. “Him bein’ forced to have an unemployed drug addict as his only family member. Myc’s not too keen on the concept, never has been.”

He can feel Liam studying him and, not for the first time, wonders if this is how he makes people feel, like a bug under a microscope. He expects some sort of analytical response, some brilliant answer to this problem; he doesn’t expect William to pull his hair out of its usual ponytail before running his fingers through it. “Oi, Liam, knock it off. I’m not a little kid.”

The request is half-hearted, and he leans into the contact slightly, closing his eyes and ignoring the chuckle from the other man. “You feel inadequate.”

Again, a statement, not a question, and one that makes Sherlock's eyes pop back open with surprise. He knew Liam was good, but he’d thought it’d be harder to read that particular insecurity. Still, he tries to play it off with a lighthearted tone. “Well, who wouldn’t next to Mycroft. He’s the golden child. I’m sure you get that all the time with Al, yeah?”

William stares at him, red eyes partially obscured by blond lashes as his fingers comb through Sherlock’s hair at a languid pace. Sherlock can tell that he isn’t falling for that answer. “What do you want me to say, Liam? That I agree with everythin’ he’s sayin’? It’s true, innit? I’m wastin’ my life on murder and drugs because I can’t find anythin’ else that can keep my attention.” Sherlock wants to add ‘except for you,’ but he feels that the nobleman might not take kindly to being listed among his more unsavory vices. “And Myc’s right, once the Lord of Crime disappears, I’ll be back to the occasional serial killer and petty crime. Neither pay enough for rent, and I’m no good at anything else. I’ll be nothin’ again.”

He hates that he’s spilling all his insecurities out in front of William, but he also knows that logically there’s no person he’d trust to understand him more. Even if Sherlock thinks all of this is stupid and petty, William will listen without judgment. “You are far from nothing, Sherlock.”

“How do you know?” He knows he sounds like a petulant child, but that’s far from his primary concern. William smiles slightly, obviously preparing to humor this stubborn mood of Sherlock’s. “Because I know you. A man who was nothing would have been of no interest to me on the Noahtic.”

Sherlock grunts in acknowledgment. “Still, you read all you needed to know about me at a glance, Liam, even the drug habits. There’s nothin’ more to me than what you’ve already seen.”

“Is that so? I find that unlikely, considering you continue to surprise and entertain me at every meeting.” Against his will, Sherlock can feel the corners of his mouth turn up slightly. “For example, I have yet to hear you play that violin piece you’ve been composing.”

Sherlock’s eyes widen for a moment before letting out a bark of honest laughter, propping himself on his elbows to look at William better. “How’d you know I was tryin’ to compose somethin’, Liam?”

“The sheet music on your desk–I’ve noticed it changing during my past few visits. Additionally,” he grabs one of Sherlock’s hands, pulling it up and forcing him to shift his weight fully to one side. William turns the hand over so the palm is facing up, gently pushing the sleeve down slightly, “there are inkstains on your hands and wrist–you aren’t usually a writer, and the sheet music is rather smudged. I’d suggest slowing down and allowing the ink to dry properly in the future, Sherlock. It’d be a shame if your work was lost before it was finished.”

Sherlock is almost dizzy with the sheer delight of witnessing the blond man’s deductions–in fact, he’s more certain than ever that nobody had ever truly seen him before William came into his life. However, before he can articulate that, their conversation is interrupted by someone awkwardly clearing their throat, and Sherlock suddenly remembers why he and William were supposed to go out that evening. He shoots his roommate and his fiancée a guilty, apologetic smile. “Sorry, we were just leavin’.”

John doesn’t seem to believe that for a second, but has the good manners to not argue. William, ever the gentleman, gracefully rises from his seat and crosses the room, offering his hand to Mary. She hesitantly takes the proffered hand, and William bows gallantly, placing a kiss on the back of her gloved hand. “Lord William James Moriarty, at your service, Miss..?

“Mary–Mary Morstan.” She supplies, and he straightens up, releasing her hand. “Miss Morstan, please take my sincerest apologies for this rude intrusion on your evening. We will take our leave at once.”

“We’ll be going to the bar down the road, should be back before too late in the evenin’.” Sherlock adds as he gets up to trail after William. John’s expression is one torn between gratitude at Sherlock keeping his promise and sheer mortification at the notion that his roommate is taking a nobleman to their local bar. However, William seems to misread this as concern. “I assure you, Mr. Watson, I’ll make sure he returns safely. Louis and Albert will be expecting me home in a few hours, after all. Do enjoy your dinner.”

The two men exit the apartment and are soon walking side by side down the street towards the bar in question in a companionable silence. Upon their arrival, Sherlock immediately orders his usual, claiming one of the bar stools. He intends to drink until he forgets his conversation with Mycroft. After all, Liam has never drunk before when they’ve gone out together, so he can be depended on to get Sherlock back to 221B in one piece. William takes a seat next to him, looking as elegant and confident as ever despite the rough surroundings. “D’you want anythin’?”

“No, but thank you for the offer, Mr. Holmes. I believe we had work to discuss, yes?” Sherlock groans, draining the rest of his drink and signaling for another. “Yeah, but I was hopin’ you’d forget.”

It doesn’t escape him that William has returned to addressing him formally, but he decides to push aside that disappointment and dive right into explaining the latest case that Scotland Yard had requested his assistance on. William listens patiently, occasionally nodding or making affirmative noises so Sherlock, who slowly becomes drunker as the evening goes on, knows he’s still listening. By the time he’s finished giving all the details, Sherlock has lost track of how many drinks he’s had, and, frankly, he doesn’t care. It must be enough since he doesn’t remember why he wanted to drink this much in the first place. William’s voice, probably giving his perspective on the case, vaguely registers in Sherlock’s ears as he drops his head on the bar, turning it just enough to look at the nobleman through half closed eyes.

Liam really is too pretty, he decides. It’s not fair of him to still look that perfect next to the wreck that is drunken Sherlock. William snorts, brushing the tangle of dark hair away from Sherlock’s eyes. “I appreciate the compliment, Mr. Holmes, but I believe this means it’s time for me to be escorting you home.”

“S’you c’n read m’mind now, huh?” Sherlock slurs his words slightly as William helps him up to his feet, the dark haired man slinging one arm around his blond companion’s shoulder and start out of the pub. Liam doesn’t respond until they’re fully outside, walking under the gas lamps that line the dark street. “There’s no need for mind-reading when you’re drunk enough to speak your mind, Sherly.”

“Y’know, I like when y’call me that, Liam.” He leans heavily on the other man, taking the excuse to enjoy more physical contact and honesty. To his chagrin, he can feel William’s shoulders shake slightly with repressed laughter. “I believe you’ve mentioned it before. Feeling affectionate, I see.”

“Only with you.” That gets a laugh out of the nobleman as they reach 221b’s doorstep. “I’m honored, Mr. Holmes.”

“Sherlock.”

“Sherly.” Sherlock knows the goofy smile on his face must make him look like an absolute fool, but he doesn’t really care. He can blame it all on being drunk tomorrow. For now, he’ll just enjoy this time. William helps him up the stairs, and they discover a note on the door: ‘Walking Mary home. Be back soon.’

Sherlock perks up slightly. “Does this mean I c’n get you t’stay until John’s back.”

“Well, I’m certainly not leaving you to your own devices in this state, Sherlock. I value your friendship far too much to risk your safety so blatantly.”

“Hey, ‘m not that bad!” William makes a dismissive noise, guiding him into the dark apartment to the same couch they’d sat on earlier. “I’ll get you some water. Stay put, alright?”

Sherlock grunts in affirmation, leaning his head against the back of the chair. While he waits for Liam, his eyes roam the room lazily, eventually landing on his violin. He’d left it leaning against his desk chair again, apparently–very irresponsible of him, but that’s not surprising. Then He vaguely remembers that William had mentioned that he hadn’t heard the song that Sherlock was composing. He staggers back up to his feet, walking over to pick up his violin before rifling through the papers on his desk. “Oh? What are you doing, Sherly?”

“Playin’ th’song for you.” He glances over at William, who looks like an adult trying to humor a very small child. “I’m sure that can wait until my next visit. You need the rest now.”

Sherlock waves him away with the hand holding the violin bow, returning his focus to the smudged sheet music. He expects more argument from Liam as he begins to play, but it never comes. A look in the nobleman’s direction reveals that he’s once again sat on the couch, watching Sherlock with relaxed crimson eyes. This is all the encouragement he needs to double down on his efforts, closing his eyes and allowing the muscle memory of his repetitive practice through the composition process guide him. It isn’t perfect by any means. More than once, he plays a wrong note and has to fumble to recover, but William never makes any comments on it. As Sherlock continues playing, his confidence grows, and that change in emotion is reflected in the song.

Once he reaches the end of what he’s composed, Sherlock opens his eyes again, suddenly embarrassed at the abrupt ending. “It’s still a work in progress. Still, not bad, innit?”

“I think it’s perfect.” The warmth in Liam’s voice catches him off guard, and suddenly Sherlock is glad that the only light in the room is from the gas lamps outside. He lays the violin back down on the table, stumbling through the dark room to collapse on the couch next to William. He leans against the blond man, letting his head rest on William’s shoulder as exhaustion starts to hit him. If he was more awake and sober, he’d be certain that, as he drifted off to sleep, Liam says to himself, “Just like you, Sherly.”

50 notes · View notes

sextonsharpwinhalstead · 2 years

Note

The Reaident lost me around season 3 but Mina leaving was the last straw like by the time Nic was gone I didn’t really gaf. New Amsterdam was my shit but season 3 was a whole mess and season four was worse. And now that I know Helen’s gone it’s like what’s the point lol. Like Max is okay but he needs someone to reel him in and none of the people left can really be person for him. Maybe Iggy once upon a time but he’s gone off the rails these days. And don’t even get me started on Lauren’s silly lovestruck ass. Like that’s my girl but she is a mess lol. Not sure what this final season will be like at all…

Yeah, this is why I feel like my blog is about to shrink in size cause my shows are leaving so much to be desired. The Resident got really junky when Mina left and especially after Nic was killed off. Gigi-Conrad are not selling it. Plus from the promo pics it looks like we are going to be hit over the head with Slade and her dad. Which is such a rehash of Nic and her complicated relationship with her dad or even Conrad and his. I just don't f*cking care. I didn't see a single picture of Jessica (Billie) I'm just tired.

New Amsterdam broke my heart harder than any of my shows. The amount of potential just squandered and for what? Are we really going to have to watch Max mope around next season? No thank you and no I'm not here for watching him move on again I don't care. And without Helen there is no one too root for sans Dr. Wilder who I feel like is going to still be a supporting character. Floyd is so boring I don't care about him reuniting with his jackass father. Iggy is a narcissist, Lauren is a spoiled relationship annihilator....like what are we returning to? The most I hope for is the reason for Helen leaving Max that's it I think I'll probably let the episodes stack and maybe watch them later.

#the resident #new amsterdam #ask sextonsharpwinhalstead #mina okafor #nic nevin #helen sharpe #max goodwin #lauren bloom #floyd reynolds #iggy frome

3 notes · View notes

anthonybialy · 4 months

Text

Division Between Bills and Patriots Not Distinct Enough

The Bills forgot what year this is. They decided to not change the calendar forward by one as is tradition. Heading toward 2004 was not a sign of progress. This is not the Patriots of old in the same sense your BlackBerry may be ready for an upgrade. Winning while uninspiring is a habit that’s become ingrained. Urging the playoff aspirer to get it together has become a ritual like the year going up.

It’s reassuring to know a game isn’t fixed. Buffalo assuaged those NFL observers expressing a common concern by avoiding any appearance that play could’ve been rigged. Obtaining four turnovers in a half and only being up by six is a seeming impossibility that they brought into actuality without any assistance from crooked refs.

A game pieced together like a dream still feels strange. The result resembled your brain having spent Saturday night thinking of what would happen the next morning. The mild nightmare happened after slumbering. A one-score game represented fear manifesting itself. The inability to affect surreal difficulties is common, although usually not while out of bed. Playing in a frequently disheartening manner symbolized our deepest worries and frustrations. It’s time for this team to wake up.

The Bills spent the afternoon reversing the unfortunate instant setting of tone. Envisioning Steve Tasker in the studio shaking his head at a touchdown without an offensive snap is how I coped. Imagine commiseration if it helps.

There’s lots of venting following a divisional win against a despised and declining fellow member. The Bills have earned a scolding. It’s remarkable in its way for a team with so much dynamic talent to keep finding ways to not be exciting. The impressive record belies a season spent looking quite nonchalant.

Bailey Zappe was Buffalo’s best quarterback. He kept throwing their way. I don’t care why. I’m more concerned with him looking impressive during fleeting but troubling moments. The year may be over, but I will remain haunted by horrifying memories of Zappe running across then down the field into the end zone deep into 2023.

Zappe didn’t literally hand away the ball, although he came close. Virtually scoring touchdowns for his enemy differs from actually doing so. Buffalo won’t be handed that many sweet drives next game, so at least there’ll be fewer to squander.

Seeing what the offense did with spectacular field position is a test of character that brought a failing grade. Three consecutive possessions with the ball’s shadow nearly reaching the goal line should result in way more points according to my very objective and measured opinion. The offense enjoyed the best results upon finally using running backs Stefon Diggs and Josh Allen to their potential.

Throwing is a bit trickier. Extremely online fans spent the week making the case that Allen’s the MVP before he put up a backup’s statistics. The figurative argument took a real setback. Buffalo turning into a rushing dynamo shows how surprises can emerge at any point during a year.

Elite performance is steady. That’s not limited to football. The great maintain consistency in any field. A true contender shouldn’t rely on spectacular plays against a club that’s finally facing its punishment for soul-selling.

It’s not like you decline fantastic highlights like when cornerback Ed Oliver proved he's more than just an interception machine or Rasul Douglas taking the ball at will from hapless quasi-competitors. Some devastating inflictions result from an afternoon of dominance such as fourth-quarter interceptions after methodically marching to a big lead. By contrast, hoping the guy who’s even worse than Mac Jones literally throws away possessions is unsustainable over time.

The very last regular season game could have been a scripted finish, and not in the bookie-aligned sense. As with the struggles during wins, it doesn’t matter how this team got there even if we could do with less trepidation.

Playing well from the start offers a chance for this to not be the last game. That includes the very first kickoff. The AFC East Bowl constitutes a test in multiple ways. Speaking of tested, fans acutely recall what’s led to this monumental scenario. Frequent setbacks accompany even satisfying triumphs. The Bills haven’t had many of those. Winning in the face of self-sabotage is impressive in its way. It’d be even nicer to not treat themselves as their own rivals.

The regular season’s coda is the perfect setup to seize an opportunity they’ve earned despite themselves. We’re supposed to be impressed by putting away a game that never should have been close. Please learn the lessons, as there won’t be more examples otherwise. They finished the job. Playing thoroughly for a change will keep them from being finished.

#Buffalo Bills #AFC East #NFL #football #Josh Allen

0 notes

priscilla9993 · 2 years

Text

The Downhill Spiraling Tea Party (pt. 1)

Each part of this analysis has a part number to it.

This is one of my favorite scenes of Season 7 that has stuck with me long after the show has ended as a powerful dynamic and rush of emotions. But the fact that it’s in Wonderland is not what I remember most, it’s the Tea Party table.

Alice is distraught, eyes tearing up as she had been crying before turning around from hearing the door creak, indicating that Ella or Henry had entered the tea party area after following her and drinking the vial she left on the table. In her guilt and sadness, she wonders if her Papa was okay and how much her actions could have jeopardized him after, causing her to ask Ella, “My papa, is he okay?”

There isn’t time for Ella to explain as Alice grows increasingly frustrated at herself in explanation, partially for Ella to hear, but mainly for herself to come to terms with what had occurred.

Alice needs a hug, looking like she’s so broken. She justifies, “I didn’t mean to hurt him. I didn’t think that…”

That the cure wouldn’t work, that taking this chance of being together was worth the risk, and about how she jumped too quickly into false hope. For Alice, she’s probably thought about the moment of reunion with her papa for so long. But when the moment came, she squandered it by endangering him by poisoning his heart more and giving him hope that she had found a way for them to be together again.

Ella rushes over to Alice, a woman she barely knows, but can tell is hurting. Just look at how fast she moved from one end of the table to get to her. Also, nice hidden Mickey.

She comforts Alice by saying that her papa “is in good hands. He’s gonna be fine.” I assume Ella might have hugged her or definitely tried to soothe her in any other way if Alice had accepted the soothing words.

But Alice can’t trust sugar coated words, especially when she’d been wrong before about the cure from Drizella and look where that got her.

“You don’t know that. You can’t!”

Alice is in pain and takes a realistic approach, not wanting to fall back into false hope by lashing out at Ella’s kind words.

I’m glad Ella doesn’t take offense to this, as she knows Alice isn’t really angry at her, but that’s still rough for anyone to hear. Look at how much she’s backed away and I can’t imagine it’d be easy for her to get yelled at when she meant well, having also had a whole lifetime of being nice and getting berated by her stepfamily.

Alice sighs, saying, “I better stay here.”

It’s not said happily. For a girl who claims Wonderland to be the one weird trip she doesn’t want to be remembered for, she can’t deny that she comes back to it as soon as she’s crestfallen. Her words imply that Wonderland is better than nothing and lonely, but it’s where she can’t harm anyone, much like when she wanted to leave Hyperion Heights as Tilly when she thought she was a potential threat to others’ safety as a murderer. I.e. the scene in 7x14 where she says, “I better leave before I hurt anyone else.”

Running and waiting are both things she is good at, cursed or not, so what’s the harm in a bit more? The harm is that it’s extremely sad and isn’t the best solution for her. A thing I want to point out is the setting. Alice could have chosen anywhere in Wonderland to be, but she chose a place of past comfort turned into a solemn place of misery, the Tea Party.

On the table, we see the usual cakes and tea sets. But we also see a wrist strap/shoe, top hat, gauntlet, some yarn, a piece of fancy cloth, a paper fan, and eventually Ella’s mother’s locket. I didn’t think about it too much until rewatching the scene, but Alice would have to clean up the mess of the Jabberwock attack and bury her friends before deciding to create a memorial from their items on the long table. I believe there is a sword and shield nearby somewhere, but I’m too lazy to look up the screenshot for that.

It’s the calm looking aftermath of a battlefield where Alice is the sole survivor, having to deal with the loss of many companions/friends and almost punishing herself by being there at the head of the table, thinking about what could have happened if her papa was gone too. Would she have put something there in memory of him or would her burn mark/scar be a permanent reminder of her tie to him?I don't want to know how many times that has happened where Alice had a rough day or depressing thought and then tried to distract herself with something happier, pretending the pain away. There's a part of me that headcanons that Hook, her papa, in the past tried to cheer her up or change to a better topic every time she was upset from being stuck in the tower. Alice probably mimics that in this scene. Playing the host, she pretends Ella is a guest who has just arrived in time.

Especially in Ella's presence, Alice tries to not let her be worried or feel hurt at the circumstances by eerily having a change of topic and pace as she says, "Oh! Would you like a cup of tea?" It's where she's masking her pain to the point where it's jarring and anybody would assume Alice had fallen down a mental rabbit hole.

In one second, Alice’s true feelings are replaced with a smile that doesn’t meet her disheartened eyes. She’s not fooling anyone, but she lies in hope that it will become truth.

Ella is a no nonsense kind of woman when it comes to signs or problems that don't have a clear cut solution, but she doesn't let up when someone is hurt and even comes to a nonsensical place for answers. I like to think she would have asked something and called Alice out on changing the subject. But Ella doesn’t pry and watches, letting it play out.

#pretty in blue scene analysis #alice jones #ella mills #ouat s7 #ouat 7x08 #pris speaks

1 note · View note

ohnococo · 3 years

Text

A Mess | Zeke x F!Reader x Reiner

Summary: You and Zeke sleep together from time to time, even though he knows Reiner has a thing for you. Eventually he decides to do something about it. (MODERN AU)

Warnings: Sleazy Zeke, Sex, Cumshots, Threesome, FWB

MINORS DNI/18+ ONLY UNDER THE CUT

Zeke had this innate ability to just make things messy in a way that favored him perfectly. He’d done it with you - starting out as friends with benefits and progressing that into something a little more shameless that had your whole friend group seeming a little tense about you two potentially dating, knowing none of Zeke’s trysts lasted long. He was doing it again now, albeit this one had been a much slower build up. He’d been stoking this fire from before the two of you had even begun fucking, in fact.

He saw the way Reiner always looked at you, the schoolboy crush he’d harbored from way back when he was, well, an actual schoolboy. Except now he was very much a grown man and was very much still squandering every opportunity he’d had to get with you.

Zeke knew what Reiner was like, what reservations and morals the younger man had that he certainly did not share. When Zeke had finally made the move to kiss you in front of your friends - or rather next to them while you were all on the couch during a movie - Reiner hadn’t been pushed into action. No pulling you aside for a sudden confession of love, or plea to give him a chance. Instead, Reiner seemed to decide that instead of it being now, it was going to be never. The idea of two long-time friends of a close knit group dating was already a bit awkward for everyone, you all were never the type for love triangles and unnecessary drama, there was no way Reiner would add an attempt to date you to that awkwardness. A girl dating one of her old guy friends is one thing, romantic even if it all works out, but a girl dating two - meaning most - of her guy friends leaves a bad impression. That’s what Zeke figured Reiner had reasoned, at least.

Messy bitch that he is though, Zeke decided to test Reiner’s resolve at being the noble martyr, tortured by his unrequited love that was all his own doing. Maybe he would lighten up a bit more too. So Zeke did small things to set the wheels in motion, making plans with the two of you to play a board game or watch a show then finding some excuse to leave suddenly half way through. Pretending to be much more drunk than he is while setting you on Reiner’s lap at a party, exaggeratedly slurring out, “Keep an eye on her while I go piss. She’s a wily one.”

Through it all Reiner was respectful as ever: hands to himself except for sliding you off his lap to take his seat while he stood and waited for Zeke to return, never even entertaining making a move on you. It drove Zeke up a fucking wall, especially when Reiner would end the nights he’d been stranded at your house (while Zeke feigned some sudden need to pick up Eren and drop him off at his dorm) with a text to Zeke at a nauseatingly sensible 9:30.

Reiner: Hey just got home. hope Eren’s didn’t puke in your car again lol

Reiner was big, Reiner was beefy, and Reiner was a fucking coward. Zeke didn’t know why he cared so much. Maybe because he was always trying to show his friends he was better than them in some way or another and Reiner had just taken it on the chin. Maybe it was because he felt a little bad for fucking around with someone who had been a dear friend, he didn’t intend for this to go anywhere after all, and Reiner did really like you. Zeke would never admit it if it was indeed the second one, though, so he just decided to get messier.

It was easy enough with the three of you being the only ones in the group to have the shared interest of board games. So he invited you both over to his place to try out a new game he’d gotten. You and Reiner chalked up Zeke’s smug demeanor to him showing off another overly-complicated board game he’d surely win despite playing it for the first time. Really, it was the undeniable feeling that tonight would be fun keeping Zeke in such high spirits.

One game in - that Zeke won of course - and he’d already managed to coax Reiner into drinking. Just a beer to start the game, then one more to keep it going. He wasn’t getting wasted by any means, not a man his size, but Zeke knew him well enough to know that he wouldn’t have a third beer and drive. So while Reiner set the board up to start again, Zeke gave him another beer, clearing the table of old drinks and setting the new one down casually enough that his friend wasn’t even thinking about how he’d get home after finishing off the new drink.

The game went by, Reiner went through another bottle, and as Zeke was satisfied with winning again he decided to bring this part of the evening to a close.

“I’ve had enough of winning for tonight. The two of you will have to have a 1v1 on your own sometime to catch up with me.” Zeke teased, packing away the little pieces.

Reiner is quick to respond, “Pretty cocky for a guy who still can’t win at Sorry.”

Zeke takes the bait, only because he wants Reiner feeling confident for later. “Only because that game is pure luck.”

“Sure it is.” Reiner stands and stretches, grabbing his bottle to put with Zeke’s recycling. “Anyway, I should head out now, it’s getting late.”

“Not after four beers you shouldn’t.” You warn, Zeke can’t hide the way the corners of his mouth turn up, you did always pay awfully close attention to Reiner, didn’t you?

“Shit, you’re right - mind if I stay in your guest bedroom?”

Zeke shrugs, no stranger to having one of his friends crashing at his house, “Go right ahead.”

“Thanks.”

Zeke is quick to get you alone, and you only half push him away as he begins kissing at the spot on your neck that has heat building in your stomach as soon as you’re both in his bedroom. He’d made sure to leave his door cracked, and made sure to pick you up and lie you down on the bed before you noticed. As you sigh at his touch he decides he’s waited long enough for the main event, pulling your pants and underwear off in one rough motion and burying his face between your legs.

“Zeke, stop it.” He knows your protests are hollow, your hands coming down to tangle in his hair rather than push him away. His tongue works its way gently but purposefully through your folds, just barely brushing over your clit before working his way back to tease at your entrance. Your moan is only half out before you’re clasping your hands over your mouth, looking down at him and laughing. “At least wait until Reiner’s asleep.”

He smirks up at you and makes a deal, knowing you don’t understand the full extent of it and know he won’t be losing anyway. “If he’s not asleep in ten minutes, that’s his problem.”

You think for a moment, biting your lip, but as he locks his lips around your clit you’re not really in a position to protest as you rock your hips up against his face.

Zeke goes easy on you, sort of, he refrains from sliding his fingers in your tight little hole while he laps at your swollen clit - and he at least listens when you ask him to slow down for a second, giving you the chance to catch your breath and keep yourself from getting to the point where you can’t control the noises you make, but you were still getting steadily louder. The ten minutes go by slowly for the both of you, as Zeke teases at your most sensitive spots, until you’re glistening beneath him. His wait is over as he kisses his way up your body, pulling your shirt up and off as he goes until his lips meet yours.

“It’s time.”

You’re too far gone to pick up that hint of something else in Zeke’s voice as he flips you over so you’re on your stomach facing the door and he’s quickly in place behind you, pulling you onto all fours. You’re too ready for his cock to pay attention to how loud his soft slap on your ass is before he pulls off his pants and rifles through his bedside drawer for a condom. You turn your head to watch him as he slides it on, arching your back so he can get an eyeful of your awaiting pussy. He’s not feeling gentle or merciful tonight, and that doesn’t seem to be what you want anyway as you groan at the feel of his cock stretching you wide as he enters and bottoms out inside of you in one smooth motion.

Zeke knows you’re holding back though, doing your very best to stifle the noises he’s forcing from you as his cock slides against your walls just right, and that’s not what he wants. He slaps your ass again, hard, and you keen before getting a hold of yourself to send him a look of warning over your shoulder.

“You think Reiner’s still awake to listen to how good you sound when I fuck you?” You tighten around him, pussy fluttering at the thought, and that gives Zeke the final push to do just what he’d intended. “Do you want to find out?”

There’s no time to think about the implications of his question, as Zeke wraps his arm around your waist, hoisting you up so your back is pressed to his chest as he sets a brutal pace.

“Reiner!” Zeke’s voice booms, and this time when you’re pussy clenches around him he knows it’s not just due to the pleasure coursing through you. “Reiner, come here!”

“Zeke-”

“Shh…” He brings the hand that was previously gripping your hip tightly up to cup your face, rubbing his thumb over your lips, “He knows what we’re doing. If he doesn’t want to see it he’ll stay in bed.”

You’re blushing, equal measures embarrassed and aroused, and the wait only makes your heart beat faster. A few moments of what was no doubt tortuous conflict passes and you hear the door to the room next to Zeke’s open slowly, followed by another long moment before Zeke’s door is pushed open fully.

“See, I knew you weren’t that much of a coward, Reiner.” Zeke’s voice is straining from how hard he’s fucking you, and how excited he is to have his plan come perfectly together as Reiner locks eyes with you.

He looks you over slowly as none of you speak, watching your tits bounce as you take Zeke, swallowing hard at the sight of your slick dripping down your thighs, ears ringing at the sound of skin on sin. He’s already hard and tenting his boxer briefs, hair already disheveled from tossing and turning in bed as he listened to you try and fail to stay silent. Zeke is happy to let him watch, but he decides he wants him to do something more than just stand there like a lost dog.

“Well?” Reiner is snapped from his daze and looks at Zeke as if he’d only thought about him being there. “Are you going to do something about it?”

Reiner looks at you, and your soft cry of his name thrusts him into motion as he comes to join the two of you on the bed. He cups your face in his hands, kissing you and drinking in your moans as your pussy flutters around Zeke’s cock. Reiner is soft, so soft compared to how hard you’re being fucked, but intense as he groans into your mouth and bites at your bottom lip. He pulls away to breathe, but only for a moment before he’s working his way to your neck to leave all the marks he’d dreamt of gifting you with for years. His hands are quick to find your clit, rubbing soft circles as Zeke continues to work at you from inside, and your hands quickly reach for his cock in turn.

“So big…” you sigh, savoring the feeling of running your hands over his thick cock through his underwear, before pushing them down as far as you can reach with Zeke pulling you into his thrusts. Thankfully, it’s far enough to free Reiner’s cock and you shiver in Zeke’s grasp as it rubs against your stomach while Reiner presses his body to yours. You barely have your fingers wrapped around him before he’s thrusting up into your hand, already groaning, already close - you wonder for a moment if he’d already been touching himself to the sounds of you.

Zeke would guess yes, and can’t help getting his sly little digs in even as the two of you do exactly as he’d intended, “Close already? Good thing I’m here to satisfy her.”

Reiner doesn’t take that easily, working your clit faster and the way your pussy grips Zeke has him hurling closer to the edge right along with you both. Reiner breathes his words into your skin, sending shivers through you again and again, “Cum for me… cum with me…”

You do, and both of your work against each other stutters as you cum together, Reiner painting your stomach as your pussy threatens to undo Zeke right along with you. He holds on, however, fucking you through your orgasm as Reiner thrusts into your hand until the last of his cum is covering your soft skin and the fluttering of your pussy slows.

Zeke pulls out and releases you, sending you forward and into Reiner’s waiting arms as he pulls off his condom and finishes himself off on your ass, adding his mess to the mix as well. Reiner keeps kissing you, rubbing your back, smiling at the way you shiver when Zeke begins rubbing his cum into your skin.

“That was…” Reiner starts, then stops, looking into your eyes and trying to parse what just happened.

Zeke doesn’t want to give him too much time to think, knowing that just leads to more annoyance with Reiner, so instead he lies down, pulling you with him. “The bed’s big enough for three.”

Reiner pauses, still thinking instead of doing, until you’re patting the space on the bed next to you. “C’mon, Reiner, lets get some rest.”

For you, he’ll listen to anything, something Zeke huffs at as you rest your head on his shoulder, and your hand on Reiner’s chest. You’re first to fall asleep, and Reiner lies there staring at you dreamily, finally basking in the moment for once. Then, it’s Zeke’s turn to think, and think too much as he considers just what he might have started. He wasn’t sure what he felt, not quite jealousy… but not victory either. He felt smug, but also like he’d gotten himself in over his head. Maybe he wanted Reiner here for different reasons than he’d originally thought. Maybe he wanted you for different reasons than he’d originally thought too. Zeke closes his eyes and decides everyone’s had enough thinking for the day, deciding to sleep before he dwelled too long on the mess he’d made.

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

#aot smut #not sfw #my writing #milestone 100 #zeke yeager x reader #zeke x reader #reiner braun x reader #reiner x reader #zeke x reiner x reader #zeke x reader x reiner #reiner x zeke x reader #reiner x reader x zeke #reiner #zeke

518 notes · View notes

otomegema · 3 years

Text

title: Convergence Theory pairing: Gojo Satoru x Reader summary: You are a lesser family member of the Gojo clan, so far removed you don't even carry the name, but you carry the Limitless ability and thus the potential to be a bride to the future head of the clan— a fact you patently reject at fifteen. Twelve years later you are a second grade sorcerer struggling to obtain first grade status when the object of your deepest objections offers you a deal. rating: Mature for now, explicit later most likely because WHY NOT tropes: fake dating/engagement, rivals to lovers, slow romance Link: Archive of Our Own

August, 2005.

That summer had been oppressively warm, a layer of heat trapped beneath a layer of moisture that made even the light fabric of your yukata stick to your sides. It was the kind of weather that made your body beg for relief, to lay shivering and sweltering under the barest breath of cool air.

Your mother had opened the outside screens in the room, letting you sit on the porch overlooking the small garden at the center of the expansive, traditional home. The view was lovely, overlooking a manicured garden, a small koi pond bubbling pleasantly even as the night air chirped with the sounds of insects.

The main house was equipped with air conditioners in some of the rooms— just like your parent’s own home, only a short distance away, but somehow so far removed from the atmosphere of this place it felt miles away. Centuries. The clock on the wall seemed suspended in time, halted too by the weight that fell over this place.

There was nothing to be done. When the head of the Gojo family called, even the smallest vine, hanging from the tiniest branch, curled in. Your great grandmother had bore the Gojo name before she married, a detail of minor significance that had not effected your own family until your birth. You had often heard your parents discussing the main family in hushed voices when they thought you were not listening. First with excitement and eagerness and then with worry.

There had been a phone call, an order disguised as invitation.

Gojo Satoru, heir to the name, barer of the Six Eyes, was turning sixteen in December, a scant four months away.

Six Eyes. Two words that managed to leave the bitterest taste of bile in your throat.

It had been thought the next Six Eyes would be born in your generation, your parents hopeful at one point that you were the one so blessed. A hundred years of waiting ended by the birth of another child, honored above all other sorcerers. Your had been born with the Limitless, that much was certain and an extra unnaturally keen ability of foresight… the signs were there. The possibility that the the massive potential of the Limitless was within your grasp if you could only prove to possess the fabled Six Eyes…

You were hailed for a short time as possibly a true child of the Gojo blood, a blessing. A boon. And then not even a short year later that boy was tested. No two Six Eyes could exist and it was him, not you, who was truly blessed.

You ran your hands up the back of your neck, dislodging the hair stuck your heated skin.

And worse yet, now you would suffer the indignity of being paraded around with every other eligible girl with a single drop of Gojo blood diluted enough to be proper for marriage.

Gojo Satoru needed a betrothed and only the best would do, naturally.

You were to be polite, courteous and docile. Laugh at his jokes, bat your eyes. Play the role of the pursued for the pursuer.

Did you even want to be selected? Once hailed as the promised child, now degraded to probable broodmare ?

You sucked your teeth, holding back a feral shriek somewhere deep in your throat. There was a knock on the wooden frame of the room, lazy and slow. The door slid open before your mother could get you to return inside to the low tables and too hot tea laid out.

You were all but deaf to the sounds of stilted, forced polite conversation, but could not ignore the sudden presence of a young man who came to sit down hard at your side.

Gojo Satoru was not an unattractive young man. He had the signature Gojo coloring, his eyelashes even as pale as driven snow. You yourself had even inherited two streaks of white in your hair, framed near your face and standing in contrast against the rest.

But that handsomeness was hard to enjoy when his expression was one of such utter indifference. He did not even bother to remove the dark glasses that shaded over his eyes, but you hardly were offended. It would have been all the worse to have to look at the very thing you coveted most in this world. Taunting you. Dismissing you.

How many girls had he been forced to sit with today? Judging by his bored expression, too many.

“This is the part where you tell me your name.” He said, voice amused, yet slightly condescending. Behind you both, his parents spoke with your own, but that too was part of the charade. All eyes were on you. All ears tuned to your words.

“You know my name.” You said with a thinly veiled sigh. His attention shifted just a fraction and you noticed with an indignant flush he was wearing his school uniform. Shirt untucked, jacket unbuttoned. You had been forced to spend hours getting ready for this meet-up.

He tilted down his glasses to give you a halfway appraising look and you turned away.

“Goin’ for the aloof angle then? Some other girls tried it too. As if you pretend hard enough that you aren’t interested somehow I will be.”

How fucking arrogant.

Your fists clenched in your lap.

“It won’t work.”

“I’m not working any ‘angle’.” You grumbled, “I was told to be here so I’m here. That’s all.”

“You expect me to believe that, huh?”

“I don’t care what you believe.” You spat back, turning to shoot him a piercing glare.

There was silence then, even the voices behind you seeming to falter and lower as if worried they were missing out on some secret hushed conversation.

“Ohhh, wait. I remember now! I do know your name.” Gojo continued, taking off his sunglasses and wiping off some smudge or dust from the lens, “Aren’t you that girl they thought was gonna have the Six Eyes in her?”

Your fist clenched tighter.

“I get it now. Sour grapes and all. Tell ya what…” he spoke softer and leaned in until you felt his breath against your ear, “If you ask me really nicely, for one night, you still could."

The only sound that came after that was the harsh strike of skin against skin. The contact of your palm connecting to his cheek stunned not just the adults inside, but you.

No self respecting sorcerer with the Limitless ability would have been taken by surprise and yet here you sat, having successfully struck the heir to the Gojo name right across his smug face.

You drew your hand back. His pale cheek had turned a throbbing red so quickly, his smirk raised as his glasses slid down the bridge of his nose and revealed how his blue eyes danced with open amusement.

***

September, 2017.

The uproar that followed that moment twelve years ago had been profound. Your parents had spent the remainder of the visit profusely apologizing and demanding explanations… and the entire time Gojo had stared only at you. Blue eyes wide and engulfing, a smirk etched in the corner of his mouth even as he got up and strode out without another word.

You remembered he had whistled as he went. As if it were all according to plan.

No betrothal was agreed to that night nor any night since. You were never summoned to the main house again.

It had been the most freeing moment of your young life, opening the world from the one pinpointed hope you’d be born with the Six Eyes or wed to the one who had it into a kaleidoscope of possibility.

You attended Jujutsu Tech’s Kyoto branch, keeping far out of the way of the rising star of the Gojo clan.

Well.

Sorta.

So the problem with having an inherited technique that allowed you to “see” curses and cursed energy users from great distances? Gojo Satoru. The man was such an expansive supernova of energy that when you opened your mind and utilized your gift of telemetry to try and pinpoint targets you had to navigate around his massive, dominating aura.

It was like counting stars against a sunlit sky. The ability, that should have been astronomically useful, rendered inert if Gojo Satoru was on the field.

You tried not to have your own missions line up with his. Which meant keeping tabs on him. Which meant having to live with this gnat, this buzzing fly of cursed bullshit constantly humming in the background when you used your gifts.

You wished everyday you had swatted him harder.

Missions in Tokyo were the worst, but you accepted them without complaint. The fact you’d even managed to rise to second grade despite your public humiliation of the main family’s golden child was a miracle in itself and not one you would squander.

The task was simply. There was a cursed entity that was utilizing the signal within electric devices of all things to move from device to device, rapid as an electrical pulse. It had already killed five non-sorcerers in surge related house-fires in two days. The risk of it causing a massive firestorm in any district rising.

The air had begun to cool in Tokyo, the heat of the summer giving way to fall. You sat on a bench, wireless com already clipped to your ear, the only sound so far the faint static of the open radio and the sound of your breath. The air had that crispness already, the bare cusp of autumn. You steadied your thoughts and began to shut down your senses.

The cursed energy of the young sorcerer students around you began to glow in your mind’s eye, the rest of the world fading into shades of imperceptible grey. Blurring. Distorting.

If you had the Six Eyes, you would be able to see it all. But instead, you blinded yourself to everything but the cursed when you utilized your skill.

You shut your eyes and with a soft breath you whispered, “Cursed technique— Limitless Telemetry: Grey.”

The city revealed itself to your five senses like a massive overflowing of information. Had you not taken the time to adjust, quickly shutting down your hearing, sight, taste, smell and touch in order to compensate, the mental load would have stunned you into a comatose state for several hours. Another thing a Six Eyes user would never need to do. You mentally chastised yourself for allowing the distraction of a deprecating thought, and focused instead upon your sixth sense. The one that tracked beyond the physical.

You were effectively helpless in this state, but within your mind you breezed through the city like a thumb pressed over the pages of a book. Flipping at your leisure as you focused in upon the fastest moving pulse of cursed energy.

In your “peripheral vision” or what acted like a sort of peripheral vision, you could sense the constant presence of Gojo. It was far away, diluted. You wondered if perhaps he was overseas for the barest moment until your senses snapped together and fell upon your target.

You spoke. Your words falling on your own deaf ears as you gave the location into the com. You perceived the movement of the three students. Good kids, fast learners. One boy was even a scion of another great house and the one girl among them possessed a cursed technique of extreme value. The other boy, the pink haired one, you had yet to understand, but his cursed energy output was impressive.

The entity moved. You adjusted, giving new instructions. The curse had not yet caught on to the fact it was being tracked, a fact you would use to your advantage as long as possible. If the curse sensed you, it could easily close the distance and attempt to seek you out… which was why sitting in a park, far from any electrical devices other than your battery powered radio was the safest place you could be.

And if worse came to worse, at least it would be drawn out in the open.

The entity jumped again, following the planned route the three had decided upon to box it further and further into a section of the city that they had already prepared to shut down. Without power, the curse would have to break free of its hiding place within the electric current.

How did a curse even get into the power grid? Too many lost football games on TV? You chuckled a bit to yourself without thinking, providing the newest coordinates as you watched, like an omnipresent spectator as the energies of the curse and the students moved.

This is why I score the highest at Pac-Man…

Everything was going according to plan. You had begun to even let your thoughts wonder, your focus softening just the barest fraction as the students rounded the final corner and blocked the curse into the chosen spot.

And now here comes the switch…

You braced for the surge of cursed energy you expected to feel from it’s ejection…but the power stayed on. You had to stifle the sensation of panic that sparked through your heart, your cursed energy rising a fraction.

And there it was. You felt the shift, the sudden adjusting of the entity. The students flared bright, attacking to try and ward off its escape, but without the power shut off they were waiting for, the curse easily vanished, pulsing through the city and heading now straight ahead… to you.

It’s fine. Fine. Nothing electric by me, so no fast travel.

It couldn’t pass through the coms. It would need to branch off into another grounded circuit and then physically come out to face you in the empty park.

You could hold unto the technique a little longer. Guide the students a little longer. You snapped information in quick short terms. Watching the cursed energy approach closer and closer until it reached the last building at the far end of the park.

And then, inexplicably, it jumped again.

The force in which you were propelled did not immediately register to your mind as your senses flickered and began to come back on line one by one.

The first was touch.

And thus pain.

Your muscles contracted, shot full with an electrical pulse. It wasn’t as bad as it could have been, the strike coming indirectly as if someone had forced the curse away. Something blinding and bright exploding over the far-reaching vision of your Limitless technique before your ability snapped off like a cut thread.

Your hearing came back first from sheer force of will. Sight returning in blurry, slowly filling shapes. You forced yourself up from the ground, feeling scrapes biting along your palms.

“You fucking dick.” You managed to hiss, your vision returning just in time to witness the exorcism of the curse by none other than Gojo Satoru.

***

“You used me as bait!”

Your voice reverberated off the hallway walls, your mild injuries tended to but your grievances still in desperate need of airing.

You were only comforted by the fact his students had not been involved in the deception, having also thought Gojo was away while they worked under her guidance in the meanwhile. You were no teacher, but you had taken enough students through missions to be adequate at “babysitting”.

Gojo grinned easily, eyes hidden behind his blind fold as he ran a hand up his neck, feigning a bashfulness you knew had not an ounce of genuineness to it.

The bastard had quietly set up a god damn daisy chain of extension cables into the park, ending plugged into a cheap TV set… right next to you. And he’d done it only after you’d entered your Limitless, taking advantage of your lack of senses to literally bait you like a god damn fish hook and then swoop in to destroy the curse.

His students had been a distraction. A means to force the curse into seeking you out and getting into the open where it could not easily run again. It was the most convoluted, infuriatingly, ridiculous brilliant bullshit you had heard in a long while.

“Pretty clever, yeah? I’ve been practicing my multi-layer tactics.”

“That wasn’t a tactic, it was a gamble and a shitty one at that!”

“Yeah, yeah, but did you die?” Gojo asked, tilting his head to the side. His voice was tinged with amusement and you wondered for a moment if he even remembered you and this was some elaborate “gotcha” twelve years in the making… or if this kind of backhanded backstabbing was common place for him.

“It was interesting to see your technique in action. I could probably give you some tips on how to make it more effective, but they’d be pretty useless to— well. You. So I figure I’ll just make the tweaks and practice it myself!”

You stayed silent.

“What did ya call it? Limitless Telemetry?”

You turned and walked in the opposite direction.

“Whoa— hold on.”

Your exit was cut off, the grinning face you wanted nothing more than to connect your fist into coming back into view.

“I’m kidding. Don’t run off and cry now, we got some other business I wanna discuss.”

“If you’re planning on pitching another mission to me, I pass.”

“Nope. Well— yes. But not like this one.”

You sighed, side stepped, and continued around him again.

“I’ll buy you lunch!”

You stopped.

“And maybe even some kakigōriiiiiiii—“ he continued, his voice lifting to a sing-song tone as he stretched out the word. Your stomach twisted and grumbled in response. Using your Limitless always took so much out of you… a side effect you wondered if he experienced to.

You turned to look back at the man who hadn’t so much as glanced your way in years and wondered again if he was so stupid he didn’t remember who you were or if he was hatching some new plot.

He smiled in what you assumed he thought was a disarming and charming way.

“Fine.”

***

You had settled for a sweet plum flavor, dipping your small wooden spoon into the shaved ice and enjoying the way it melted across your tongue. Flavors always felt more pronounced after you used your Limitless, smells more intense. The sights sharper. It was probably just a placebo effect from being without them, even for a short amount of time, but regardless you enjoyed the sweet flavor and the fruity smell of the different syrups… most of which were coming from Gojo’s own cup.

He had gotten every flavor. The shaved ice in his cup a rainbow of color and tastes as he scooped several together at a time.

The lunch he promised had yet to come, but the treat was enough for now as the sugar helped give a little more pep to your body and your mood. The amount of calories you expended using your gifts was another thing entirely.

The two of you walked a ways in silence, giving you time to observe him for the first time in over a decade.

He had changed, that much you could tell. There was something less harsh in his general demeanor and he had grown considerably since he was fifteen. The boyishness of his face had sharpened, the man overtaking his features. He was broader, less lanky than his teenage self and while his easygoing and devil-may-care attitude was still present, there was something less— edged about it. Less angry.

“Your hair is shorter now,” Gojo said suddenly, “And your chest is bigger.”

You immediately frowned. A look of open disgust flashing over your face. Gojo laughed.

“Thought I forgot about ya, didn’t you?” He slid a thumb over his cheek, the gesture making you flush at the memory of what it felt like to slap the smirk off his face.

“Honestly? Yes.” you answered shortly, taking another bite of your ice.

“Nah. I remember, just figured there was no point in makin’ nice. You seem to be doing fine on your own these days. Second grade, yeah?”

“Yes.”

“As short worded as ever.”

He strode off, forcing you to match his pace. He found a park bench and sat down, sprawling out lazily. You sat next to him at his insistence, knocking your knee into his own until he closed his thighs a bit more with a chuckle.

“Thought you’d be a first grade by now.”

“I have not been recommended.”

He snorted, “Bet you know why.”

You clenched your teeth, holding back a sharp word and an even sharper desire to toss your kakigōri right in his face. Arrogant as ever. Some things, you guessed, did not get better with age.

“The great and fabled Six Eyes holding a grudge over a love tap? How trite.” you said, trying to keep your words indifferent.

“Is that what it was? I had a bruise ya know.”

“You could have stopped my hand before it ever even touched you. You wanted me to slap you so you could get out of having to do anymore meetings.”

His laugh was all the confirmation you needed.

“Is that what you’ve thought all this time?”

“It’s what I know.”

Gojo turned his attention back to his shaved ice, the two of you sitting in silence long enough for the weight of it to become uncomfortable for you. Finally you shifted and scrapped your spoon down the ice, leaving trails of melting syrup.

“What is it that you want?” Because that was what this was about wasn’t it? He wanted something. The main family never disdained to speak to the lower members without a need and Gojo Satoru was not about to be the exception.

“I’m going to recommend you for first-grade sorcerer status.”

You scrapped your spoon through so harshly a chunk of colored ice fumbled down the side of the paper cup and down your hand. You dodged just in time to avoid it landing with a wet smack on your pants.

You gaped openly at him, but Gojo kept his attention fixed on his ice, happily stirring it up into a soupy, syrupy mess.

“… and yet again I ask, what is that you want?”

Gojo leaned back, tilting his face towards you with an easy grin. You wondered if he saw the world the way you did with your Limitless with his eyes shaded. Seeing only the impressions of energy and sensation. Could he see your expression? The confusion in the downturn of your mouth or the suspicion in the narrowness of your eyes?

“Nothing too crazy! Just need a fiancée.”

The breath punched out of your lungs.

***

You waited outside the small convenience store across the street, feeling your cheeks beginning to lessen in redness from both anger and embarrassment at your sudden outburst.

When Gojo returned from inside, his hair was still wet… and there was still some redness from the syrup stuck to the strands. You hadn’t been able to control the impulse to throw your kakigōri at him, the breaking of your composure having flowed directly down your arm. It could have been worse, you supposed. You could have punched him.

He had needed to rinse off his blindfold, the fabric now folded and tucked into his back pocket. He had replaced it with the dark glasses you recognized from his youth, giving you a glimpse of the bright blueness of his eyes every once and awhile.

Gojo sighed and tossed a damp paper towel into a bin and turned to you expectantly. You gingerly handed him back his own dessert, having minded it for him while he went into the men’s room to clean up. It was practically soup now and you winced when he lifted it to his lips and drank it.

“As I was saying—“ he began with a smack of his lips.

“No—”

“—it’s a pretend engagement.”

Your mouth hung open, half ready to utter another refusal, which you swallowed back in as he waited expectantly for you to cease interrupting him.

“You let me take you on a few dates, we put on a show of my courting a potential betrothed and in exchange I green light your promotion.”

You narrowed your eyes, biting the corner of your lip into your mouth in obvious consideration.

“For how long?”

Your directness didn’t seem to offend him. Quite the opposite actually. Every time you curtly dropped a single or few word sentence he seemed to only smile brighter.

Gojo shrugged, “A few months. Maybe more. Until I figure out a permanent solution.”

“Your parents want you to get married?”

“The whole clan wants me to get married, sweetheart. I am the strongest.”

And now came the obvious question.

“Why me?”

Gojo shrugged, “You were one of their first picks to start with, so they’ll approve. And there isn’t a risk of you falling for me…”

His lips upturned into a sly grin, “… too quickly.”

You scoffed.

“Family will back off. I get a bit of peace until I have to kick you to the curb, and you get to be a first-class sorcerer. Everyone wins.”

“I’m not going to fall for you.”

Gojo gave a sad little nod, like he was agreeing with a deluded person in order to keep them calm and reasonable.

Granted, you did just effectively hurl a slushy at him a few minutes prior.

“This seems a bit extreme, even for you. Why do you think I’d even say yes? You know exactly why you got slapped. Can I expect that same level of charm from our future ‘dates’?” you asked, kicking yourself for having implied in your words you knew him well enough to even know what was extreme for him. The comment did not go unnoticed, even with his half expression hidden you could tell his interest was piqued. The last thing you wanted to do was to explain to this insufferable man how his very presence was as constant as the sun. Always nagging in the back of your mind and in your abilities.

You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“That was awhile ago. Most girls find me pretty charming these days. As to why you’d say yes— given it is probably your best chance at getting to first grade sorcerer status, I can’t think of a reason you wouldn’t.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. Fifteen year old you would be outraged, furious. She would not have considered this offer for a second. She would have stamped her foot and told him exactly where he could stick his offer.

But twenty-eight year old you had learned that very often principles were made to be damned.

“And the fact I can tell you are just dying to say yes.”

There was that arrogance again.

“You still buying me lunch?” you countered and the smile he gave you was a bit different than the ones before.

“Wow. No one will even question how I could have been charmed by such a talented freeloader.”

“I am exceedingly charming.”

“And what an arm. You play softball or you just start a lot of food fights as a kid?”

“I want sushi.” You said, the finality of your voice inarguable. You thought he might have rolled his eyes, but nevertheless you got your lunch and even managed to bargain a single day to think about the offer.

#gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x oc #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujustu kaisen fanfiction #gojo satoru fanfic #gojo satoru x you #IDK WHAT I AM DOING LOL #YOLO

89 notes · View notes

swan-of-sunrise · 3 years

Text

Specs and the Flyboy (Chapter Nineteen-Part Three)

Summary: (Y/N), Jack and their friends finally face off against Leviathan and the Secret Empire.

Pairing: Jack Thompson X Reader

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: Ya girl wrote this while dealing with sleep deprivation, cramps and the after effects of the vaccine, so I hope it’s good ‘cause at this point I can’t even tell lol Thank you all so much for reading! I hope that you enjoy!

Chapter Nineteen (Part III) Leviathan’s Weapons Facility, Lithuanian Soviet Socialist Republic (Previous Chapter)

While the two of them were ushered down the staircase that led into the crate-filled warehouse by Michael and Dottie, (Y/N)’s mind raced as she struggled to think of a way out of their current conundrum. I’ve been in plenty of tough scrapes before but even I’ll admit that this one’s the toughest one yet, she thought to herself, her eyes rapidly scanning the large room; there were large, frost-covered windows towards the ceiling, several boarded-up skylights and the two metal doors she spotted were both guarded by Leviathan soldiers. By the time they reached the base of the stairs, (Y/N) had counted a total of twenty armed enemy operatives – seventeen Leviathan guards, Attwell, Underwood and Michael Carter – and from the brief glimpse she’d gotten of their friends hidden behind a stack of crates, it looked as though both Pinkerton and Sawyer were badly injured and the others were trying to bandage their blood-soaked wounds. So, we’re out-gunned and out-numbered, she concluded with a sinking feeling as she bit her lip in worry.

“So, Chief Thompson did survive his daring escape!” Attwell grinned, walking out into the empty space amidst the crates and standing before the two of them. “Truth be told, I was hoping that we’d meet again; I detest leaving loose ends, and killing the SSR’s golden boy once and for all would’ve been a genuine pleasure.”

Beside (Y/N), Jack’s shoulders tensed but he tilted his head to the side in mock contemplation. “What, you couldn’t do it without your Leviathan goons backing you up? What a real tough guy.”

Attwell’s fist quickly connected with Jack’s stomach and when he doubled over in pain, the man struck him across the face and sent him sprawling to the ground. “Stop it!” (Y/N) started towards her partner but the sudden feeling of a pistol barrel against the back of her neck stopped her cold; tearing her eyes away from Jack, she met Attwell’s gaze and struggled to keep her voice steady as she spoke, “He’s not the one who’s screwing up your deal with Leviathan, I am.”

“Of course, of course, the infamous codebreaker.” Attwell stepped closer but she held her ground, raising her chin in defiance and refusing to look away despite how uncomfortable his stare made her feel. After a tension-filled moment, his face broke out into a stomach-churning smirk. “It’s a shame that such promising talent’s being squandered by the SSR, by those who dismiss and condescend you at every turn. I was very much like you before joining Hydra; I was overshadowed at Cambridge by my perfect older brother and his two brilliant flatmates; while William, Michael and Adam flourished in their respective fields of study, I floundered and was subsequently expelled but as luck would have it, I was approached by Hydra and offered a chance to unlock my true potential; and here I stand before you, Agent (Y/L/N), to offer you that very-same chance. With the new Leviathan, your immeasurable skills would not only be recognized but they’d also be celebrated. You and Michael could work side-by-side in our efforts to break through as the world’s leading superpower and once we achieve our goal of fully weaponizing Zodiac, Agent (Y/L/N), you’ll have everything you’ve ever truly desired.”

Out of the corner of her eye, (Y/N) noticed Jack’s hand resting on his waist and while Attwell talked, her partner’s index finger had tapped away. It only took her seconds to realize he was sending out a message in Morse Code on the walkie-talkie still clipped onto his belt and once she did, she knew exactly what she needed to do.

“You know, it’s a good thing you’re decent at codebreaking, Specs, ‘cause you’d make a pretty shit spy. You fidget too much.”

If Jack can think up an off-the-cuff plan to get us out of this mess then I can buy us all a little time by being a good spy, she thought with resolve just as Attwell finished up his speech. Taking a page out of her partner’s book, (Y/N) raised an incredulous brow at the man as the corner of her mouth curled into a humorless smile. “There was a time when I would’ve given just about anything for people to recognize me and my skills, to appreciate just how hard I’ve worked to get where I am today. But then I grew up and realized that the only person whose appreciation I needed was my own. Mr. Attwell, I don’t need to be celebrated or appreciated by anyone, but especially not by a pathetic imitation of the Red Skull.”

The man’s expression instantly grew cold at the comparison. “Then it would seem that you’re of no use to us.” His gaze shifted to look at whoever was holding her at gunpoint and he nodded. “Shoot her, Michael.”

“Stop!” All of them looked over just as Peggy jumped out from behind their makeshift barricade with her rifle pointed directly at Attwell. “I’ll give you the key.”

“Peggy, no!” The barrel of the pistol pressed harder into (Y/N)’s neck and she winced in pain. However, her horror was quickly replaced with dawning comprehension when Peggy flashed her a pointed look before briefly glancing in Jack’s direction. She knows about whatever Jack’s planning, she silently realized, playing along with her old friend’s ruse by rearranging her features into a look of righteous indignation.

Moving to stand beside Attwell, Dottie raised the hand that wasn’t holding her rifle and gave the younger woman a small wave. “Hiya, Peggy. You know, you really should’ve listened to me back in New York; I told you there were currencies in the world stronger than money. I practically spelled all of this out for you! But the great Peggy Carter couldn’t figure it all out on her own, so she needed the help of…” Dottie turned to (Y/N) with a frown. “What’re those revolting nicknames you call each-? Oh, never mind, I don’t want to know.” Turning back to Peggy, the spy shrugged. “Well, I suppose not everyone’s perfect, are they?”

“No, they’re certainly not.” Attwell agreed, gesturing with his head for Peggy to lower her weapon and holding out his hand once she’d set it on the ground. “No tricks, Agent Carter. The key, and you and your friends are free to go; it appears that at least one of them is in need of medical attention, so I’d be quick about it if I were you.” When Peggy’s eyes flicked over to where Michael was standing behind (Y/N), Attwell chuckled darkly and shook his head. “No, I don’t think dear old Michael’s going anywhere but by all means, Agent, go ahead and ask him if you don’t believe me.”

For the first time since they were ushered into the warehouse, Peggy looked directly at her older brother. Her hardened expression slipped and for the briefest of moments, (Y/N) recognized the vulnerable young woman she’d known all those years ago at Bletchley Park who mourned her beloved brother’s death. While her lower lip trembled, Peggy finally addressed Michael. “Not too long ago, I had a dream about you and you told me that you’d be right alongside me if you could. I didn’t believe it was possible, even when (Y/N) and Jack told me it was, but now we have a second chance at being a family again. Michael, you can finally come home.” She blinked away her tears and gave him the ghost of an encouraging smile. “Please, Michael, come home with me.”

(Y/N) could feel the pressure on her neck ease up but just as she was beginning to think that Peggy had succeeded in getting through to him, Michael coolly replied, “This is my family, Agent, the only family I have in this world.”

Peggy’s face crumpled as Attwell laughed in amusement. “I told you so! Now, the key for your friends.”

God, I hope that whatever Jack’s planning happens sooner rather than later, (Y/N) silently prayed, sucking in a breath while the younger woman approached Attwell. Once Peggy reached into her pocket and withdrew the familiar Arena Club pin, the man looked over at Dottie and gave her a nod; the spy slung the strap of her rifle over her shoulder and made her way over to one of the many wooden crates near them, kicking the lid off of it and lifting a small metal box out of the loose excelsior. The box looked innocent enough but as Dottie walked it over to Attwell, (Y/N)’s blood ran cold and she knew that the moment Peggy handed over that key, Leviathan would possess one of the world’s deadliest weapons and they’ll have lost.

“Get up, Chief Thompson,” Michael barked and while Jack got to his feet, (Y/N) was roughly pushed towards him. “And you, stand over there with him.”

(Y/N) did as he said, standing beside Jack and keeping her eyes on the scene unfolding before them as she murmured, “You okay?”

“Yeah, you?”

“Peachy-keen.” She watched Dottie hand the metal box over to Attwell, her anxiety steadily building within her while he examined the box’s intricate lock. “Are you going to fill me in on the plan or what?”

The corner of Jack’s mouth curled upwards and he quietly replied, “Patience is a virtue, Specs, just be ready for it.”

“Be ready for wha-?”

Just then as Peggy’s hand stretched out to give Attwell the Arena Club pin, the warehouse wall opposite them exploded. Rubble and splintered pieces of crates flew through the air but before (Y/N) could fully react, gunfire broke out all around them. Amidst the chaos, Jack latched onto (Y/N)’s hand and ran, yanking her behind the nearest tower of crates as bullets whizzed past their heads; both of them crouched on the ground and peeked around the wooden crates, and her eyes widened in amazement at what she saw. The explosion that had knocked down part of the warehouse wall hadn’t been an explosion at all but rather one of the Howlies’ trucks and as (Y/N) watched, Daniel and Henry used the truck’s doors as barriers while they exchanged fire with the Leviathan guards. Moments later, she spotted Peggy dart out from one of the aisles to join her boyfriend behind the open truck door.

“Wa-Hoo!”

Dugan’s deafening war cry from across the warehouse was punctuated by a fresh barrage of gunfire, and (Y/N) couldn’t help but revel at the familiarity of it all; her eyes were suddenly drawn to two men sprinting down the aisle towards her and Jack, and it took her a tense moment to recognize them through all the chaos.

“There you guys are!” Howard exclaimed before ducking down beside them, followed closely by an anxious-looking Edwin Jarvis. Reaching into the satchel that was slung over his shoulders, the inventor withdrew two handguns and offered the weapons to them. “You know, you two’ve got a real habit of gettin’ into trouble…”

Jack rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Says the man who was mind-controlled into almost gassing all of New York last year.” Springing up, he fired off several shots before ducking back down. “How’re we looking, Jarvis?”

“Well, Chief Sousa’s dramatic entrance provided enough of a distraction for Mr. Fieldman to escort Mr. Pinkerton and Mr. Sawyer out the front; their wounds aren’t life-threatening, but Mr. Fieldman promised he’d help treat them once they reach the clearing.” The butler set another satchel on the ground in front of them. “And we’ve brought more guns and ammunition, as per your request.”

“You know, Thompson, you said in your message that you needed a big diversion, but that whole entrance was my idea; I actually took it from one of my studio’s newest scripts, where a gangster steals-”

“Of course, Mr. Stark, your genius knows no bounds.” Edwin hurriedly interrupted the inventor’s rambling, glancing over at (Y/N) with his brow furrowed in worry. “And have you broken Mr. Carter out of his brainwashing? Where is he?”

Looking around the edge of the crate, (Y/N)’s heart dropped when noticed that several important people were missing from the gunfight. “Where the hell did they go, Jack?”

Jack craned his neck to see what she was looking at and swore loudly. “Shit, I-wait, they’re on the stairs!” By the time (Y/N) spotted them, Attwell, Dottie and Michael had reached the top of the stairs and had disappeared around the corner. “Jarvis, stay here with Stark and cover us, then go help the others.” Edwin nodded and her partner turned towards her, his blue eyes scanning her face for any signs of trepidation as he asked, “Are you ready, Specs?”

“As I’ll ever be,” (Y/N) pulled an extra ammunition magazine out of the satchel and tucked it into her pocket before giving Jack a determined nod. “Let’s finish this once and for all, Flyboy.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Compared to the chaotic warehouse they’d come from, the rest of the facility was eerily silent and it wasn’t at-all difficult to follow the footsteps of the fleeing trio through the deserted hallways.

“You know that this is probably a trap, right?”

“Naturally.”

“Good. Just wanted to make sure that we’re both on the same page.”

Before (Y/N) could get another word in, a figure she soon recognized as Dottie dropped down from above them and began attacking; the spy kicked the guns out of their hands, ramming her knee into (Y/N)’s stomach and knocking the wind out of her before spinning and using her leg to slam Jack into the wall beside them. (Y/N) took advantage of Dottie’s momentary distraction and aimed a side-kick at her thigh, but the spy merely turned her sharp fall into a somersault; she stood and threw a punch that (Y/N) was quick to duck, and then she grabbed the spy’s extended arm with the intent of wrenching it behind her back. Dottie predicted the move, yanking her arm free only to wrap her hand around her throat and roughly shove her back against the wall.

The back of (Y/N)’s head erupted into a sharp pain while Dottie flashed her a condescending smile. “I already told you, you’re too easy! It’s almost pathetic to see you try so hard to be as good as Peggy.”

“Don’t need to be as good as Peggy,” (Y/N) choked out as the fingers around her throat tightened. “Just…just good enough to keep you distracted.”

Dottie frowned in confusion and that’s when Jack slammed the butt of his gun against the back of her head. The spy tumbled to the ground in an unconscious heap and (Y/N) doubled over, her hands firmly clutching her knees as she coughed and gasped for air. “(Y/N), you okay?” She nodded and allowed Jack to take hold of her shoulders, his soothing encouragements helping her finally regain her breath; once he was sure that she was fine, her partner handed over her dropped gun and rested his hand against the small of her back to urge her forward. “C’mon, let’s go…”

They left the motionless spy behind and continued down the hallway, turning the corner and finding themselves at the entrance of a dimly-lit boiler room. Beside (Y/N), Jack shuddered and she recalled the story he’d told her of the mission he and Peggy had conducted to investigate one of Leviathan’s training facilities; she nudged him with her elbow and gave him a brief smile, wishing that she could offer him more comfort but not wanting to distract them both from their mission. Jack nodded as if to say he was fine, but his shoulders remained tense while he silently gestured for her to go left into the room while he went right.

(Y/N) crept behind the various boilers and pipes, careful not to slip on the slick ground as she did. If I end up surviving all this, I think I’m going to sleep for a week straight, she thought to herself, her heart rate steadily increasing with each step she took. While she edged herself around another heavy piece of industrial furnacing, she found herself trying to think of how to break Michael out of his mind-control long enough to save him; Jack insisted that cognitive re-calibration was the only way but after being present for Peggy and Michael’s reunion, she wondered if reminding him of his past or even recent actions would also do the trick. But a sharp skid noise right behind her made her forget her train of thought and turn, dodging the knife just in time.

“You really should’ve taken my offer, Agent (Y/L/N),” Attwell spat out, slashing at her with the knife again and forcing her to stumble back into the center aisle of the boiler room; the blade sliced against her forearm and she stifled her cry of pain, dropping her gun and leaping out of the way as he aimed for her again. “Soon, you and your foolish friends will be dead and Leviathan will have more power than you could possibly imagine!”

“Don’t you ever get tired of hearing your own damn voice?” (Y/N) retorted, her hand shooting out and twisting the red-colored knob beside them; a pipe next to Attwell spewed out pressurized steam and he let out a shriek of pain as the steam enveloped the right side of his face. Not wanting to stick around, she turned and sprinted further into the vast room, a part of her hoping that she’d bought herself enough time to save Michael. Skidding around a corner, she was immediately met with the sight of Jack and Michael engaged in a vicious fight on the floor; her partner was trying to wrestle something out of the other man’s closed fist, but he was so preoccupied with his task that he didn’t see Michael’s other hand brush the handle of a nearby gun. (Y/N) kicked the gun away from him, pinning his shoulder to the ground with her knee and spoke the first thing that came to mind. “Visions, light, cheered, night, dream!”

As she finished reciting the five words he’d used to encode his final message to Peggy, something shifted in Michael’s dark eyes and his clenched fist relaxed, allowing Jack to snatch the Arena Club pin from him. Before any of them could say or do anything more, a fiery ache erupted along her shoulder blade and she cried out in pain as she pitched forward. “(Y/N)!” Jack looped his arms underneath hers and dragged her over to half-lean against a pipe; her vision was partially clouded by the pain, but she could still make out the bloody knife he’d just pulled out of her upper back and tossed onto the ground beside them. “No, no, don’t look at that, just keep your eyes on me!” He pressed his trembling hand tight against the wound and when she nearly whimpered, he held the side of her face with the other and frantically nodded, his blue eyes steadily filling with panic that he struggled to control. “I-I know it hurts, baby, but I have to keep pressure on it; it’s not very deep, but I can’t have you fainting right now so keep your eyes on me, c’mon-”

“How touching,” Both of them looked up to see Attwell and Michael standing before them, the former with a self-satisfied smirk on his half-seared face and the latter staring stonily down at them. “Let’s make a new deal, Chief Thompson: Give me the key, and I won’t let Agent (Y/L/N) slowly bleed out on the floor of this boiler room.”

“Bastard.” Jack spat back, but his hand left (Y/N)’s face long enough to retrieve the Arena Club pin from his pocket and throw it into Attwell’s waiting hand. “You better start lookin’ over your shoulder now, Attwell, ‘cause I won’t rest until I kill you myself.”

Attwell shrugged and ran his fingers over the pin, twisting it sharply to convert it into a key. “Such fiery attitude in the face of doom was precisely why I was looking forward to killing you. But then I realized, forcing a man like you to live with your mistakes is a far worse punishment than death; and to make this victory sweeter, I plan on unlocking Zodiac in front of you both, so you can see just how spectacularly you failed yourselves, your agency and your country.” He turned to Michael with his brow raised in expectation. “Are you ready to make history, old chap?”

Michael nodded. “Of course…” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the metal box containing Zodiac; (Y/N) tried getting up, unwilling to sit back and let Leviathan win, but Jack’s strong arms held her in place against him. When she met his gaze, he gave her a barely-discernible head shake and with her jaw clenched tight, she watched Attwell push the key into the lock and turn it clockwise; the lid popped open and the man breathed a sigh of relief, reaching into the slightly-smoking box and holding an electric-blue colored vial with strange etchings carved into the glass.

“Beautiful, isn’t it? So much potential for war and destruction, and it fits within the palm of my hand.” Attwell looked up at Michael and continued, “My brother never appreciated such things, you know. He never truly appreciated you, either; once you were found out to be a deep-cover spy for the SOE, I saw an opportunity to mold you into the person you were always meant to be. Do you remember the first thing I told you after you came out of Hydra’s operating room?”

Michael’s hardened expression faltered, almost as if he was struggling to control his actions, and in an instant, he drew his gun and shot Attwell directly in the chest. There were tears in his eyes as he finally replied, “‘Michael, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.’”

The box and the vial slipped out of the dying man’s hands and as he began to sway dangerously on his feet, (Y/N) lunged forward and caught both in her hands before they could hit the ground. While Attwell’s lifeless body collapsed to the ground in a heap, she and Jack hurriedly placed the deadly Zodiac back into the box and slammed the lid closed; she let out a shaky breath, unable to grasp everything that had just happened. Michael dropped to his knees, tossing his gun to the side and rubbing his head with one hand; still mindful of her now-oozing wound, Jack held her a little closer as they both warily watched the unsteady man turn away from Attwell’s body to look at them. “I-It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Agent (Y/L/N). I’m Michael Carter, SOE.”

A smile slowly stretched across (Y/N)’s face and a sense of relief was beginning to wash over her as a familiar voice called throughout the boiler room. “(Y/N)? Jack?”

“We’re back here, (Y/N) needs some medical attention but we’re okay!” Jack called back, meeting (Y/N)’s gaze and flashing her a lopsided grin. “You’re gonna be fine, Specs, you hear me?” With a relieved chuckle, Jack leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her sweat-covered brow before resting his cheek on the top of her head. “We’re all gonna be fine.”

“Hey!” The first person who rounded the corner was Daniel, whose gun was already at the ready when he pointed it at Michael. “Hey, get the hell away from them!”

Jack held out a placating hand to the chief. “Easy, Danny Boy, he’s good right now; he’s the one who killed Attwell.”

Lowering his gun, Daniel limped over to where they sat against the pipe and knelt down as best he could to examine her knife wound. “Looks like the knife missed everything important, thank goodness. What the hell happened down here?”

Jack detailed everything they’d dealt with after hurrying out of the warehouse as their friends joined them; Edwin began treating her various wounds with Henry’s assistance, Howard carefully stowed the box containing Zodiac and its key into a satchel and Dugan worked on locating a weak point in the wall to blow a quick exit for them. There was a flurry of voices and activity surrounding (Y/N), but all her attention was on Peggy and Michael; they were talking to each other in low tones, Michael looking heartbreakingly unsure and Peggy trying her hardest not to cry, until they both surged forward and hugged one another. For the second time that day, (Y/N) was reminded of Freddie but while she watched the Carter siblings finally reunite, she didn’t feel sadness or envy, but rather pride. She was proud of herself, for having helped stop Leviathan’s plans and for having made-do on her promise to reunite her oldest and dearest friend with her beloved brother. If anyone deserves a second chance at happiness it’s those two, she thought to herself, taking a deep breath and resting her head against Jack’s strong shoulder.

They did it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Only one more chapter left!! Like I said, idk how I feel about this chapter as a whole so I’m sorry if there��s mistakes/it’s bad, but next week’s is gonna be great! Thank you guys so much for reading! If you haven’t checked it out yet, I created a Spotify playlist for this series and it’s linked down below!

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/21pWY7OiMFj8LaYpxhtVtW

Chapter Twenty

“Specs and the Flyboy” Masterlist

Tagging: @nnon-it-up @fluffymadamina @remmyswritings @ourstarsailor @darkusangelus @josis-teacup @marvel-jackt-loki-buck @yeetyeetchickenmeat @sameoldbaby @theserenityspace @seeing-but-not-observing @supervoldejaygent @momc95 @brooke0297 @kinda-c0nfused @outoftheregular

#jack thompson x reader #agent carter #jack thompson #peggy carter #daniel sousa #howard stark #edwin jarvis #dum dum dugan #pinky pinkerton #happy sam sawyer #the howling commandos #michael carter #dottie underwood #marvel cinematic universe #strategic scientific reserve

106 notes · View notes

hypnomicimagines · 3 years

Text

In Another Life [Jinguji Jakurai]

You don’t know what you did to end up on the receiving end of a knife.

You had been peacefully slumbering, your parents in the next room over having finally quieted down after an extended fight that you hoped would lead to a divorce. It was a bit dark to think such things but you were a teenager now, you were beginning to understand adult issues and you could tell that there was something hovering over them causing these outbursts. Perhaps separating wouldn’t be in their best interest but you were simply tired of the yelling, of the constant negativity, of the inability to exist in your own house without having to be stressed about when the next fight was coming.

You fell asleep thinking about them but your dreams had been far more pleasant, a technicolor daydream of another life, one where you were unapologetically happy.

And then you woke up to a knife to your throat.

Your eyes met your attackers briefly, a chill coursing through your veins at that complete lack of emotion in them. You were used to being surrounded by anger and hatred, but there was something foreign about this look. It’s like his eyes (you thought it was a man, a boy, but it was rather dark) were devoid of any emotion, telling you ‘this isn’t personal’; luckily you were feeling enough emotions for both of you but remained too afraid to move, frozen in place as you lock eyes with your attacker.

What were you feeling now? Acceptance? You wished you could say goodbye to your parents. Would this mystery man at least let you do that? There are a thousand thoughts running through your head but you notice as time ticks on that he’s unmoving, that he can’t seem to tear his eyes off of you. You almost want to ask if he’s okay despite how nonsensical it would be to do so flinching when he finally moved. The knife is no longer pressed to your throat and as he’s pulling away, a sliver of moonlight drifting in through your window reveals that his hands are shaking.

Was he as scared as you were?

Was he feeling regret?

You don’t get an answer, your vision blurring before you’re left alone in your room once more. You almost think that he was simply a hallucination before you feel something wet sliding down your neck, fingers coming up to curiously feel around the area, stained red with your blood. You sat up from your bed and ripped the covers off, running screaming down the hall for your mother as you suddenly realized something bad had almost happened. The rest of the night is filled with your screams, your tears, life as you knew it ending.

You didn’t think much of it now that you were an adult.

You had a fulfilling career, owning a club of your own in Shinjuku where you often hosted costume nights and other little celebrations to give people a respite from their boring day jobs. You loved greeting all types of customers, making long-lasting friendships that might benefit you in the long-run, working until the wee hours of the morning when you finally dragged yourself home (though there was a backroom at the club that you sometimes made a temporary place of rest as you got too exhausted to walk back to your apartment). Your life had been on a steady track for such a long time you didn’t think anything else could possibly upset it, after all, what could be more senselessly tragic then finding the dead bodies of your own parents?

You had run into their room that night and thankfully, the carnage had been mostly hidden by the dark but the scent of copper hitting your nose made you realize quickly what had happened. Had that same person who ominously loomed over you killed your parents first? Or had it simply been a job done by multiple people at once? You didn’t want to think too deeply about it, for the sake of your sanity you knew you couldn’t play detective, but for many people it left a pressing question in the back of their minds.

Why did it happen? Why were you left alive?

All you knew was that you were alive. You had lived through that night, being shown some odd sliver of mercy from that dark, emotionless figure, and you weren’t going to squander what you had been given. You would live your life, unquestioning, mourning your parents but doing your best to live a life that would make them proud.

You met him one cold December night, walking down the street with an unfortunate number of shopping backs in your arms. They weren’t difficult or too heavy for you to hold but you were looking forward to being home, hoping that you’d get there soon so you could decorate your home with the new decorations you’d had. You were deep in thought when you’re suddenly bumped into by a gaggle of squealing women, eyebrow raised as you hear them speaking of some type of rap battle going on. You had been curious about the upcoming DRB, of course everyone and their mother had been talking about Matenro in Shinjuku, but you found yourself too busy to look too far into it.

But there they were.

The blonde was the number one host in Shinjuku, you’d passed the billboards countless times, and the other one was the most exhausted looking office worker you had ever seen. At first their leader, the one with long flowing hair adorned in a doctor’s coat, had his faced turned in the opposite direction, politely greeting some fans that had the courage to approach them. His mannerisms made him seem polite enough but those women were swooning, leaving you curious as to what he looked like. He had to be a bombshell, right? No one acts like that for some average joe.

And then he turns toward you, his eyes drifting through the crowd until they meet yours.

You’d recognize those eyes anywhere.

They’re different for sure, they’re no longer blank but filled with an emotion that you’re not aware of. You are, however, aware of how hard this man is staring at you now and as confident as you are in your looks, you’re pretty sure he’s recognized you as well. For a second you have to wonder if this is the end of the line, if this man is about to actually take you out since you know some rather scandalous information about him, but then again how could you ever prove it? It takes all the will power in your body to tear your eyes away from him, pushing back into the crowd that had slowly started to form around Matenro until you’d managed to sneak into an alley.

Your night continues unimpeded, thankfully no man is standing by your bedside when you wake up the following afternoon; you’re almost a little disappointed as he looked far more beautiful after all these years, you certainly wouldn’t have minded getting a house call from him. The trauma you had gone through was really rearing its ugly head with your sense of humor but it was amusing in the end to see that your potential assassin had turned his life around into not only becoming a doctor, but also a famous rapper. You almost wished you had approached him just to see what he would say, what he would do, but that plan had officially been canceled as you suspected you wouldn’t see the man again for a very long time.

That night was when he came for his first visit to your club.

You spot him sitting at the bar and he’s rather hard to miss, not to mention he’s so recognizable that you’d have to be blind not to realize who he was. Doing a quick internet search helped you refresh your memory on his name, Jinguji Jakurai, and there were quite a few articles about what a skilled doctor he had turned out to be (as well as his past experience being in a famous rap group which was often compared to the group he was part of now). Did his teammates know who he was? Did they know what he did? Or were they just as blissfully unaware?

“Did you come back to finish the job?”

You shoo away the bartender before speaking with Jakurai, knowing this is a conversation you’d like to deal with one on one. The club wasn’t technically open yet but he must’ve talked his way inside by flashing a handsome smile; you could only imagine all the things that smile of his could get him. You don’t get to see it as he doesn’t find your joke nearly as funny as you do, almost flinching as you bring up a past he likely wants to forget about. You have to deal with the reality of that past though and so does he, regardless of how you both personally feel about it. But you’re curious as to what this visit is about, ready to call for security at any given moment should things go south.

Jakurai takes a few moments to respond, taking a sip from his grapefruit juice (you noticed the lack of alcohol in his drink right away) before he responds.

“I never thought I’d see you again.” His hands remain wrapped around his glass, Jakurai casting a contemplative glass at its contents.

“That’s fair enough because I can say the exact same thing. But… Why are you here, exactly? Did you want a thank you for not killing me? Because like thanks and all, but you still got my parents so we’re not exactly even in my book.” Another wince of pain, but he takes your shot with grace, nodding his head as you continued on. “I’m glad to see life’s been treating you so well, Doc, but mines been a mess. So what is it that you want?”

“To apologize,” Jakurai stated firmly, eyes coming to meet yours. “For all the pain that I have caused you.”

“Your apology isn’t accepted.” He’s not at all surprised which sort of pisses you off, of course this assassin rapper man has it more together than you. There are long buried emotions beginning to bubble to the surface and you consider grabbing his glass to dump the contents all over him, Jakurai removing his hands from it as though he had read your mind. But as quickly as the anger bubbled up it simmered down, your heart still hammering in your chest as you tried to regain control of your emotions. “Can you at least tell me why? Did you… Were you the one who did it?”

“…I didn’t. I don’t believe that would make you feel any better about what happened but I… You were the first person who made me truly believe that I could no longer live the life I was living.” Jakurai’s voice softened, “You were like a light in the darkness, too bright to look at yet I couldn’t bring myself to look away. I wanted to thank you as well for all that you’ve done for me but it didn’t seem right to do it in the same breath.”

“You… I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to think of this. You’re thanking me? You didn’t kill my parents but you were definitely about to kill me but you… stopped because I was some light to you? Some person who made you realize killing other people was wrong? You know how that sounds, right?”

“There’s a lot in my life I wish to atone for.” Jakurai flashed that handsome smile that had gotten him into your club early, “I don’t expect your forgiveness but it wouldn’t feel right to be reunited with you without expressing my regrets.”

He stood from the bar and placed money on the counter, straightening himself out and brushing his hair from his shoulder as he prepared to leave. It felt wrong to leave it there, to allow him to exit your life once again as quickly as he had entered it, especially when you felt you were still owed something. You reached across the bar to grab at his sleeve, tugging on it and watching as Jakurai turned around with a surprised expression on his face.

“Just.. come perform here or somethin’, okay? Get me some business and maybe I’ll start to think about forgiving you. Maybe.”

Jakurai smiled but this time it was more amused in nature, as if he didn’t expect something like that from you.

“As you wish.”

And your wishes were fulfilled.

You met Hifumi and Doppo through Jakurai, listening to them both speak highly of their leader and all that he had done for them. For all intents and purposes, it seemed he truly had turned over a new leaf, as far as they knew anyway. He hadn’t really given you any reason to doubt his change in character, even now when you look into his eyes you could tell something had changed within him, and Jakurai did uphold his promise to have Matenro perform. He even came back whenever the three of them weren’t busy, increasing publicity for the club further as now it was assumed you were good friends of the three rappers instead of just a one-off gig.

You could say that was very close to what was happening.

You were fond of Hifumi and Doppo, you always threw free drinks at poor Doppo who came in to complain about his boss and laughed at all of Hifumi’s stories that were at Doppo’s expense. Chatting with them had been much too fun for you to cut it short so you spent your nights at the club with them at their VIP table, Jakurai quietly watching the interactions between the three of you with a content expression on his face. You didn’t know how happy it made him to see the three important people in his life getting along well, you probably hadn’t even guessed how important you truly were to him just yet.

“I still see you as that light,” Jakurai confessed one night after the club had closed, not a hint of shame on his face, “However, now that I’ve gotten to know you… You’ve become so much more to me. It feels out of line to say such things after all I’ve done…”

“Yeah, it sure does.” You feel a little awkward now because you felt the exact same way, completely fascinated by this man, enamored with him like a lot of the women in his life seemed to be. Yet you were the one who got to be close to him like this, who got to sit face-to-face alone with him while he wasn’t on the job, and that had to count for something. “But you… You mean a lot more to me now, too.”

This is the first time you’ve ever seen a look of genuine surprise on his face but you quite liked the way his eyes raised and the corner of his mouth twitched, not sure if he should smile or frown at your statement. He let out a sigh but he it was out of relief more than anything, knowing he didn’t deserve even that out of you after what he had done. To find love with the one target he couldn’t kill… How many sleepless nights had he spent thinking of you, worrying over what might have become of you?

“This is like, kinda fucked up, you know? Like what type of weird way to meet is ‘I almost killed you but realized I couldn’t and now we’re in love’? Like seriously, there’s gotta be like ten trashy, poorly written romance novels about-“

You continued to ramble on nervously, knowing this hardly made sense but at the same time who cared? This was your life after all, and if you wanted a pretty doctor to kiss you to make you feel better, then you would get it! Past be damned, you were going to take this God given gift of a man and use him for all he was worth.

Jakurai’s fingers gently touch your face, running along your jaw towards the small scar, the scar he had made, before he suddenly shied away. But you don’t want him to leave, you crave his touch now, putting his hand right back where it was and looking up at him with pure determination. There were heavy sins weighing him down, resting on his shoulders, but he had only been a child himself, something that made forgiving him a little easier to swallow. You believed him when he said he hadn’t been the one to kill your parents and you believed him when he said he was remorseful for the lasting impact he had on your life.

“Jakurai, I’ve come up with a way to forgive you.”

“Is that right?” Jakurai’s smiling his beautiful ethereal smile that always causes your heart to skip a beat, “How might I be of service?”

“Kiss me.”

“I have a lifetime of mistakes to make up for,” Jakurai whispered against your lips, hands cradling your face in a loving manner, “I don’t deserve you.”

“You say that yet…” You reached over to run your fingers through his silky hair, twirling a strand of it around your finger, “I can’t account for your other mistakes but that doesn’t matter to me now. You’ve changed for the better, you save lives every day, so as long as you keep doing that… I think that I… I forgive you, Jakurai. So please, accept my heart and protect it.”

Those words he never thought he would hear finally reach his ears and he’s so filled with joy he could hardly contain himself, brief tears gathering at the corner of his eyes before he leans in to press his lips against yours. You want to pull away, to tease that he had only kissed you now because he was trying to hide the overflowing emotions he was currently dealing with, but it felt far too good to leave Jakurai’s embrace now.

If you could help it, you’d never have to live without his embrace again.

#Jinguji Jakurai #Jakurai Jinguji #Hypnosis Mic #Hypnosis Microphone #Hypnosis Mic Imagines #Hypnosis Mic x Reader #Hypnosis Microphone Imagines #Hypnomic #Hypmic #Jinguji Jakurai x Reader #Jakurai Jinguji x Reader #Scenario

72 notes · View notes

swanhookheart · 3 years

Text

Angry Grishaverse book review time!

After watching and LOVING s1 of Shadow and Bone, I read the trilogy! I was not impressed.

Spoilers incoming for Grishaverse stuff, so if you don’t want those, don’t read on!

Watching Shadow and Bone this past weekend, I was hooked : Darklina, the lore behind the amplifiers, the Aleksander backstory… I was really impressed and hoped that this was it--that at last, I’d found a fantasy series that was going somewhere big, something I could really, thoroughly sink my teeth into.

*Sigh*

Then I read the books.

The reader / viewer enters the Grishaverse associating darkness with pure evil. The Fold, described early on, is shown to be this bleak, awful, ruinous place where people go to be eaten alive by volcra and hope goes to die. We therefore, naturally, associate the Darkling--who possesses the power of shadow--with that evil from the off. I’m speaking as someone who only got into the Grishaverse last Saturday. My initial thoughts were, “oh, he’s being set up to be viewed as dark and scary; this is the expectation Bardugo wants us to have so that we’ll be blown away by some great twist later. Count me in!”

But that twist never came. He was set up as evil, and he stayed evil. Surprise, he’s the Black Heretic! Surprise, he’s an abomination effectively created by Morezova’s greed! Surprise, he’s ruthless and horrible and does cruel things! Except none of those things are actually surprising, given he was SET UP from the beginning to be viewed that way. He did bad things, walked a bad walk, and talked a bad talk. I kept thinking “ah, so he’s gonna get a sweeeet redemption arc,” and then he just never did. That element of the story was predictable to a nauseating degree, and that predictability made the entire universe feel a bit flat. If the reader saw more of his backstory, had more real, logical, sound justification for why he does the things he does (like in the show, where they at least tried to paint his actions as borne of some misplaced sense of servitude / protection for the Grisha or where we saw him actively struggling at points to grapple with the darkness inside him), then maybe the trilogy wouldn’t have been such a letdown. And yes, I know about his sacrifice or whatever later on. It’s not enough.

In villains, I and probably plenty of others like to see humanity. We want to empathize with our villains to a certain extent--to understand them just a little bit--so we can fully commit to hating them when they violate our trust. The Darkling didn’t have that human, redeeming quality, though--at least, not in the books. In the books, he was just a power-hungry jackass who simultaneously didn’t want to be alone and kept trying to kill his only opportunity not to be alone. His single-mindedness, his lack of human empathy, the simplicity with which he pursued this made him seem almost stupid to me as a reader. For someone who’s lived hundreds of years, he’s kind of an idiot when it comes to other people--which, itself, almost seems incongruous with his having lived for so long. If he’d maybe had more backstory or more in his story to justify his actions, maybe he’d feel like a better villain. But atm, all I’m doing is rolling my eyes with him. I couldn’t love him because he didn’t put in any work toward being a better person. Even in the end, he doesn’t actually do the work or repent. But I also can’t hate him because the source material hasn’t given me enough actual human qualities to hate or to feel betrayed. His character just… missed the mark for me.

As did Mal’s. Fucking MAL, oh my GOD! This dude’s literal only personality trait was loving Alina. Cool, he could track--for Alina, mostly. He could fight--for Alina. “I am become a blade”? Sir, you got a whole-ass tattoo announcing that you’re an object in this woman’s service? No WAP is worth that, and I’m speaking as a very bisexual woman. My dude, it’s weird, it’s extra, it’s just too much. I’ll go back to the Darkling for two seconds to say that, ofc, his actions were painted as problematic and misogynistic and gross. But, like, the possessiveness Mal displays with Alina kinda feels on that same level? Why are we pretending he’s better when he actively tries to keep her low, keep her powerless, and keep her his? Again, dude got a tattoo of her sigil. He was fully prepared to be the leader of her guard even if she married Nikolai just for the opportunity for some sexytimes. I know that YA is about really intense emotion, the fire of teenage hormones and stuff, but that all just felt a bit toxic. The way that his entire life revolved around her while she tried to balance the role of saint, hero, orphan, and all the things she was just felt goofy and like a wildly unhealthy dynamic.

Their whole relationship also felt really obvious, as I guess the Darkling being revealed as the trilogy’s big bad did. It was predictable, set up to be that way from the start. There were no surprises. It was Mal, and then it was still Mal, and in the end, it was also Mal. We weren’t really shown any of what made them so drawn to each other, we were just kind of told and expected to be fine with the intensity of it. But it read as being way too much for me, and god, it kept getting worse. Again, this one felt like low-hanging fruit--low effort, lazy writing. Nothing about it actually read to me as romantic, just as too much. They didn’t so much as fall in love as just start out that way, and reading that was somewhere between boring and uncomfortable. At least with the Darkling or hell--even Nikolai--we saw some of that chemistry unfold on the page. We were shown some of what made them work the way they did. There was something underpinning their relationship, and not just “oh, they’re supposed to be together”. I mean, after all JKR’s bullshit, I feel totally fine saying fuck authorial intent. If you can’t even be bothered to actually put your shit on the page, don’t ask me to blindly accept your version canon as gospel truth.

We could have had Deckerstar vibes, Beauty and the Beast vibes, seen light and dark come together and surprise us by actually working well together. But no, we saw a special girl lose everything that made her special and settle for some mediocre fuckboy from her hometown. We get characters that actually have the potential to be dynamic and make for a good story, but she still ends up with this bland, vanilla, trick-ass bitch? It’s a major letdown when you’ve actually been exposed to decent fictional couples, tbh.

OOF! And the ending? Oh jesus fuck, that ending. Darkling just… dies. Just like that. I read three whole books for that? I know he comes back and dies again and all, but the whole trilogy felt like it was building up to something more, something deeper and greater and more profound. He was horrible for the things he did, sure, and he deserved defeat as long as he refused to waver from his power-hungry, destructive path. But his death brought about no closure. He and Alina never actually had the fight they needed to or reached an understanding with each other. Everything is left undone, unsaid, unexplored. The ending just felt super anticlimactic on the page, and so, the trilogy as a whole fell completely short of any mark I hoped it might hit.

Did I hope Darklina would be endgame? Sure. But I’d also have been A-okay with a tragic ending if it had been done right. Did I think it would have been a lot more interesting to see a redemption arc for Darkling than just… more of the same? Or maybe Mal develop a personality outside of Alina? Absolutely. There was so much potential, and it really feels like Bardugo squandered all of it. And for what? This was nearly as disappointing as the eighth season of Game of Thrones. I probably won’t be watching future seasons if they follow the books, but I guess I’m glad for the day or so of fleeting pleasure I got when I still had hope for a properly told story.

#Shadow and bone #anti-mal #darklina #shadow and bone spoilers #grishaverse

85 notes · View notes

bidisasterforzutara · 3 years

Text

What Already Is

*Deep breath* ok...so I read this article quite a while ago and wanted to discuss my take on it but never found the time to (and mostly bc I’ve been afraid to do so) but I feel like now is the time, especially as zutara month nears its end

As everyone who follows me knows, this is a blog for zutara positivity and I try to spread this and search for it often. While there are some things I agree with in this article, I thought it was simply...too depressing for the most part and wanted to write a new take on it for anyone who’s willing to listen.

Keep in mind, this is my opinion, and you’re free to disagree and simply ignore this post if you do. But like pretty much all my posts, if this can spread even a little positivity and help even one person, that would make me extremely happy. So...here goes:

Firstly, I’d like to address that it’s ok to be disappointed at the ending. I myself cried. But then I stopped and thought: can’t we just ignore Kataang? Why should bryke have free reign in our minds? Is it so wrong so create our own canon in which zutara is happy together? Because being “gutted” after so many years is...very saddening to me. It’s just allowing bryke to win in my eyes. As if the original ending was the ONLY possible way Zuko and Katara can be happy together, when this simply isn’t true. And the “painters” who DO in fact finish the “second eye” are the fan artists, fanfic writers, and fans you go on to praise in the next few sentences

THEY are the artists who make zutara canon. Not bryke. So I ask: how can they have “squandered” potential when they’ve got so many amazing artists complete their story? Why do bryke need to apparently be the only ones to complete their story?

With all this content that you admit we have over the course of so many years...it just seems wrong that you still believe zutara was squandered.

As much as I love Dante and as amazing of a person he is...I really wish he’d said “canon is what we make of it” or something along those lines instead of the quote he says here, because i honestly think this fandom as a whole would be MUCH more positive if he said so, including this article writer.

I’m sorry...we’re NOT bound by a shared ache of zutara’s “squandered” potential. We’re bound by their beauty, their parallels, their perfection as a couple. We’re not aching. We simply want to spread love for this beautiful ship. And like I said before...is their potential really squandered if we’ve got COUNTLESS fan artists creating content for them in countless different ways?

Sure as hell doesn’t sound squandered to me.

“Rather than bemoan what could have been” therein lies the issue, you ARE bemoaning them rather than stating the fact that canon is what me make of it. You continue to be upset but...there’s really no reason to be. Just because one interpretation aired on Nickelodeon with a large budget doesn’t make it ANY less valid than fan works. Zutara is VALID. and canon. And we certainly weren’t robbed. Not “could have been”. Rather, “what already is”

These last few lines are SO INCREDIBLY CLOSE to understanding the point I’m trying to make. Fan artists and fans are the ones who complete the portrait. WE are the ones who breathe life into this ship.

But again...this is NOT an issue of “what could have been”. It’s “what already is”. Why should our fan works be considered nothing more than fantasies? Isn’t the original show a fantasy as well? Aren’t these characters all just pixels in the end? They’re fictional. And as such, we have the power to decide the outcome for them. Fan works are EQUALLY as valid as the source material and shouldn’t be considered as a simple “what if”. If you want them to be canon, they are! Ik this is a nuclear take but canon really is what we make of it, and the sooner every fandom realizes that you don’t have to be bound by one specific interpretation, the healthier our experiences will be.

We create art year after year not bc we’re depressed over zutara, but because we love them so much and want to create countless stories for them that the original show never could. Doesn’t mean we were robbed. Doesn’t mean zutara is doomed. It just means we’re an extremely talented, dedicated fan base with a hell of a lot to offer

Also...idk if this writer is aware of the live action but they seem to value on screen confirmation (who doesn’t?) so if they somehow end up seeing this post and weren’t convinced by the first half, bryke left the atla live action. We’re most definitely going to get zutara. They will have a happy ending (especially since the show runner has a good enemies to lovers track record... 👀)

And one last thing...some of you may think I’m overreacting and maybe I am, but zutara is a HUGE hyperfixation and has been for almost a year. I’ve never gotten this attached to a fictional ship. So pls refrain from any “it’s not that deep” comments. This is my opinion, and you’re free to ignore. But for anyone who reads this and agrees, I hope this helps and I hope I’ve offered a more positive perspective to this otherwise well-written article. This is NOT by any means an attack on the writer, just a rambling opinion of mine :)

It’s like I’ve said countless times before: canon is transformative 💜

#zutara #atla #zutara is canon #ri rambles #long post #wanted to get this out for a looooong time #Zuko #Katara #canon is transformative #canon is what we make of it #fanon #transformative works #I really hope this doesn’t upset anyone...#anti kataang #atla live action

71 notes · View notes

constant-eggs · 3 years

Text

I’ve been seeing a lot of posts about William on Supergirl from fellow Supercorp shippers, so I wanna talk a bit about Kara and Lena’s love interests and how they are viewed, and also about racism in the show and fandom. This has probably been done to death but I’m new to the fandom — I binge watched the show over the winter and just started using Tumblr in a real way about a month ago. So anyway, back to the men:

There’s the major three: James, Mon-El, and William. Jack is cool too — he should’ve had more than two episodes which is part of the issue I’m going to get to, but he never got to be a major player.

So let’s talk about James. Now, I liked him a lot, particularly in season 1. Of the three main love interests for Kara, he was the only one who (season 1) writers took time to establish as a character separate from her. He had hopes and a backstory (of course), and his own idealism that usually uplifted and sometimes contradicted with Kara’s. He was honest, and vulnerable, and when he made a mistake (like calling Superman against Kara’s wishes) he grew from them. Because he respected Kara, and himself. Now the chemistry between Kara and James for me felt good — it wasn’t earth shattering — but it was typical in what I’d come to expect from a heterosexual pairing. And I would argue that had the writers not done a complete 180 on Kara’s feelings for James in S2 and had let them keep growing together as characters, that the chemistry and relationship could have been really good. But they didn’t because as the writers themselves said, they’re ‘in the drama business.’ So having a healthy, supportive partner for Kara wasn’t their priority, James was sidelined, and then they never figured out what to do with his character from that moment on. Also, I do think that race played a part in the writers’ decision to change direction with their relationship, and it’s...disheartening.

Now real briefly on James with Lena: it reminded me a lot of Laurel 1 and Oliver — when they talked about each other to other people— I believed that there was love, but when they were together, I didn’t see any real spark. Even their drama wasn’t particularly interesting — so I won’t even get into it. But it’s been long enough in this post for me to get to the point of it: the fault of the deterioration of James as a character lies with the writers. They chose to sideline him, have his values constantly shift, and have his character development stagnate post S1. He could’ve had interesting stories as Guardian, could’ve worked more closely with Kara when he replaced Cat Grant, or any number of things. But his potential was squandered. And if they were so dead set on having a male love interest for Kara, he was their best option of the three.

Mon-El and Kara had chemistry. To me, it was very much sibling chemistry in nature, which is kind of funny considering that in the comics he was a pseudo brother to Superman. To be clear I’m talking about Kara and Mon-El and not Chris and Melissa who are married, because they aren’t their characters. That’s how I think he should have stayed — as an antagonistic, shallow brother type who slooowly became decent through character growth and not specifically to become Kara’s love interest. But the handful of times Mon-El did the right thing — rebelling against his parents, trying to be a hero etc. it was because he liked Kara. How boring is that? As a love interest he was subpar — and he continued to be a liar. I don’t hate him like some fans do — and I’m well aware that he was a shallow partner who owned other people on his planet, and a habitual liar. I also see that this show is fantastical in nature where I am rooting for Lena after nearly mind-enslaving the entire population just last season. And also in a universe where a primary hero — Oliver Queen, was a serial killer (as are Laurel 2, Sara Lance, and Mick Rory to name a few). So that isn’t the main reason why I don’t like Mon-El for Kara. I just feel as early Kara felt: She deserves so much better than him.

What is there even to say about William? He’s essentially the audience in character form — the chorus in an Ancient Greek play telling us how we should feel about whatever action he’s being sidelined from. If they wanted him to be endgame, he should’ve been introduced bare minimum a season earlier to give him a fair shot. He needs to be better integrated in the fold, and at this point there isn’t a lot of time to do that well.

I’m making this post though because I don’t agree with some of what I’m seeing in fandom. Yes, I too dislike Mon-El as a love interest for Kara, but I’m not going to yuck someone else’s yum. Same goes for William and James. If you see something romantic, that’s okay. If you’re a multi shipper, that’s okay too. I was into other Arrowverse shows when Karamel and Supercorp animosity was at its highest and saw some of what went on and now I see some people uniting over their mutual dislike for William. But his underdevelopment as a character is once again entirely on the writers and execs. Not Staz Nair. And @motorcyclegirlfriends has a much more nuanced post about how race plays into characters being empathized within fandom and the screen time they are allotted by writers and directors. https://motorcyclegirlfriends.tumblr.com/post/649196192472924160/what-a-lot-of-the-nice-fellow-fans-dont-harass

We shouldn’t be tearing down actors of color or characters of color out of frustration over (potentially/hopefully) queer (white) characters. We should instead be asking for them to have more well rounded stories, just as we ask for better LGBT rep — the two aren’t separate. If Supercorp doesn’t become canon it won’t be because of the subpar heterosexual romances they were given. It will be because the writers see the love story they’ve created, inadvertently or otherwise (even doubling down on it in S5) but chose to ignore it. I really hope that isn’t the case. Us fans deserve more complex, messy slowburn romances, and Supercorp could be up there with She-Ra as one of the best ever portrayed. Here’s to hoping.

#supergirl #supercorp #james olsen #mon el #william dey #lena luthor #kara danvers #let’s be real lena gets the screen time of a co lead #which I love but give me more #kelly olsen #brainy #m’gann m’orzz #j’onn j’onzz #nia nal #and yes william dey if he is going to be the endgame love interest

62 notes · View notes

seqka711 · 3 years

Text

Ranking the six main boy/girl ships in Yu-Gi-Oh from best to worst!

Not all main girl ships are created equally, I'm afraid. Let's take a look at each ship and see what's up! (Except Sevens because as I mentioned in a previous post, I am way too far behind to comment on anything in that show.)

First up is Anzu and Yugi! And YES I do ship them! However, I don't ship Atem and Anzu. Anzu was friends with Yugi, and started to see him in a different light when Atem started showing up. However, those changing feelings also started to influence her feelings about Yugi as well. We saw that in Duelist Kingdom. Then in season 2 when she realizes they're two separate people, she gets really confused! Anzu doesn't know how to feel anymore! Then Atem and Yugi are both playing wingman for each other, so that's not helping matters. I don't really ship Atem and Anzu because Atem just doesn't seem super interested in their date. I know he had other things on his mind, but if they wanted me to ship it, now was the time to show off some chemistry and they didn't.

We saw in GX that Yugi grows up to look just like Atem and he also grows more confident over the course of the series. After the end of Duel Monsters, I think they're both too hurt by Atem's passing to be digging on each other. But, distance makes the heart grow fonder, and I feel like she's gonna come back from the states and have some heart-pounding feelings when she sees him again. And Yugi's feelings didn't change, they were just put on the back burner. So hopefully when they meet back up, sparks are gonna fly! At least, I hope so. <3

Next up is Asuka and Judai! When I watched their first duel, I was 100% on board with this ship. They were cute, they had great banter, it was a fair fight. I loved it! But over the course of the series, I started losing interest in their relationship, fast. By the end of season 2 I was pretty convinced they had abandoned Asuka x Judai for Asuka x Manjoume, and honestly, I was 100% on board with that, I love a good romcom couple and those two have dysfunctional romcom energy. Plus they had evil power couple vibes when they were running the Society of Light together, so I thought for sure they were gonna have Manjoume and Asuka be better friends post possession.

Then season 3 came a long and I was like "woah, they DID do that on purpose! I was right!" when we saw the Judai x Johan x Yubel love triangle they spent the entire season on. Asuka and Manjoume were of course relegated to background characters, as was everyone who wasn't a transfer student. And then the series ended with a pretty definitive Judai x Yubel ending and I was like "cool I like it".

But then season 4 made me question everything by making it clear that Asuka was still crushing on Judai?!?! Uhhh.... what? You haven't mentioned this crush in OVER TWO YEARS ASUKA. You've both changed so much! I thought the whole point was "she had a fleeting crush on him in year 1, but people change and so do our feelings"! I thought they had her fall out of love with him on purpose!! You're telling me the writers just wanted us to ASSUME she was still in love with him this whole time?!

I honestly love the whole "had a crush on him, now that I know him better, he's an amazing friend but I don't like him that way anymore" dynamic and they RUINED IT so bad. And for what? To say "well they fought the whole time, but now look! They can tag duel together!" Well, jokes on them, because a few episodes later Judai and Johan will show off some of the tightest teamwork in the show and I'll have to throw Asuka x Judai in the trash. </3`

Yusei x Aki!!!!!! AHHHHHH I LOVE THEM. Their first duel is very romantic in my opinion. Yusei lives to help people, and it's actually a flaw of his that he'll help people no matter the cost. Usually that's sort of a "who cares" flaw in a protagonist, but for Yusei, it adds a lot of depth to his character. The reason he helps people even at the cost of himself is because he feels enormously guilty due to his parents' involvement in Zero Reverse, and he feels like he owes the world (but especially Satellite) everything. Yusei tried to go to jail in Kiryu's stead, but failed, and I think that only compounded his guilt even more.

Then, when Yusei sees the chance to help Aki, he does it. He's scared of her, but he rallies his courage to face her so that he can help her. And it's only natural that Aki would fall hopelessly in love with him after he continually put himself at risk over and over again JUST to help her. I love the episode where she rescues him from being kidnapped and then accompanies him on a riding duel. I think it hits me harder because it reminds me of how much I want to drive a motorcycle but can't because of reasons I won't go into. But part of her desire to learn to riding duel is because she wants to feel the same things Yusei feels. And that's so cute!

Unfortunately, I do have a certain headcanon that gets in the way of my shipping desires. I won't get into the whole headcanon, but I think Yusei might have ended up time travelling back in time to fix Zero Reverse and prevent Zone's future. And Aki wouldn't have come with him because we see her in the flashforward. Yusei is still giving her strength though. And I like to think that maybe a much older Yusei was able to help a much younger Aki control her powers and not enter a cult in the new timeline. And if my headcanon isn't true, then GET MARRIED AND HAVE BABIES GUYS. <3

On the one hand, I love Kotori x Yuma. They’re so adorable! Not only is Kotori surprisingly self-aware of her crush (usually the YGO girls love to deny it) but Yuma clearly treats her differently from the rest of his friends, even though he doesn’t know why (yet). Kotori’s confession at the end of the show is SO CUTE AND ADORABLE and Yuma accepts and I love it!

But… I can’t love it as much as I WANT to love it. Kotori’s character, especially in Zexal II is kind of boring. I liked her a lot in Zexal I actually. I thought it was fine to have a character not duel as long as she was doing something else. In season 1 she occasionally gets shit done. Or she’s there for comic relief like when she’s riding the duel coaster. Or arguing with Orbital 7. It wasn’t much, but it was something. In season 2, she’s a total non-entity. I thought the duel where she gets possessed was very funny, but I almost wish that her getting possessed by a Barian was played for drama rather than laughs.

I think what could have been cool is either a) after she can hear Astral, her and Astral team up for a duel or b) when watching Yuma she started to memorize his strategies. Or both. Or neither, just get this girl something to do BESIDES watch Yuma! In the end, my love for how adorable these two are is always somewhat soured by Kotori’s squandered potential. <3

Speaking of squandered potential, Yuzu and Yuya are next on the list. I love these two A TON! I’ll be perfectly honest and admit my biases here, I am NOT the biggest fan of Arc-V. The show had a lot of problems, and I’m harsher on it than most.

But one thing I really did like about the beginning of the show was Yuzu! She was independent, driven and her dueling was getting better as the show progressed. Just like Kotori, she became a non-entity in the latter seasons. However, I ship Yuya x Yuzu more than I ship Yuma x Kotori because Yuya was always keeping Yuzu in mind during the latter seasons. So it still felt like the ship was in focus, whereas with Kotori x Yuma, the ship kind of disappeared since more important things were going on. For Yuya, nothing was more important than getting Yuzu back, so really I had no choice BUT to ship it. How could I not? It was so sweet! She was his whole world! I wish we got more scenes with the two of them together though. Them never tag dueling is a crime against humanity. Also its total BS that only Yuya and Yuzu got to come back, but whatever, I guess. I was happy that the two of them reunited and even HAPPIER that the show was finally over. <3

Last and basically least, Yusaku x Aoi. Or Playmaker x Blue Maiden. I’ll be honest, I don’t ship this at all. The show doesn’t go through any effort to get us invested in their so-called “relationship” and if I had watched this show on its own, unaware of the series’ tropes, I wouldn’t have assumed they were a “ship” at all. With Judai x Asuka, I actually liked the fake out (at least until S4 when I wondered whether or not the fake out was actually on purpose or if the writers are just morons) but with Yusaku x Aoi I get frustrated because it wouldn’t have been that hard to GIVE them some chemistry. They’re both interesting characters, and I think Aoi and Yusaku could have had an interesting dynamic if Aoi had learned Playmaker’s identity a lot sooner.

What I think the show should have done was have Aoi discover Playmaker and Soulburner’s identity at the same time they discovered each other. Then have Aqua come into the fold a lot earlier. Trios are popular in fiction for a reason, and I think Yusaku, Takeru and Aoi would have been an excellent trio. Specifically, with both Yusaku and Aoi being so reserved, their relationship would be very understated. But that’s not a bad thing. It just means that the writers would have to put more focus on the little things. Like, maybe after a while of being friends, Yusaku sits next to her in class. That would be a small thing for other people, but for those two, that’s huge! I could also see there being a fun episode where Ai tries to trick them into going on a date but fails spectacularly. The two of them end up spending time together to foil the plan. That could be really cute! LITERALLY ANYTHING is better than NOTHING.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that I don’t ship this because the writers thought they could get me to ship it just by having boy meets girl and then having them shake hands over a hundred episodes later. And no. I refuse. I need a LITTLE more than that, please and thank you. </3

That was a very long post! All in all, 4/6 ain’t bad at all! Or maybe it’s more like a 3.5 since I only gave Kotori and Yuma a small heart? It doesn’t really matter, I’m a multishipper. At my heart and soul, I’ll ship anything. Like I said I don’t ship Judai and Asuka, but I totally have shippy fanart of them on my phone, lol. It’s more like… which of these ships would I defend in court and which ships do I only like because I’m trash that’ll ship anything?

Oh, I guess I did title this as a ranking... Well, I'm sure you can figure out my most and least favourites by how much I used caps lock, so it should be fine.

Give me ANY Yu-Gi-Oh ship (straight, gay or in between) and I’ll dissect it like I did these six.

23 notes · View notes

priscilla9993 · 3 years

Text

Pretty in Blue scene analysis: Alice and Ella

Warning: Picture heavy and may split into more parts in the future for easier scrolling

I think about this tea party scene a lot. Probably one of my favorite scenes from this whole season and it sells to me. This lengthy thing started off as a distant summary with bits of my favorite details and ended up being a play by play of the sequence with some analysis or opinions interlaced.

There isn’t time for Ella to explain as Alice grows increasingly frustrated at herself in explanation, partially for Ella to hear, but mainly for herself to come to terms with what had occurred.

She justifies, “I didn’t mean to hurt him. I didn’t think that…” That the cure wouldn’t work, that taking this chance of being together was worth the risk, and about how she jumped too quickly into false hope.

For Alice, she’s probably thought about this moment of reunion for so long.

But when the moment came, she squandered it by endangering him by poisoning his heart more and giving him hope that she had found a way for them to be together again.

Ella rushes over to Alice, a woman she barely knows, but can tell is hurting.

Just look at how fast she moved from one end of the table to get to her. Also, nice hidden mickey.

But Alice can’t trust sugar coated words, especially when she’d been wrong before about the cure from Drizella and look where that got her.

Alice is in pain and takes a realistic approach, not wanting to fall back into false hope by lashing out at Ella’s kind words saying, “You don’t know that. You can’t!”

Alice, sighing, says, “I better stay here.”

Running and waiting are both things she is good at, cursed or not, so what’s the harm in a bit more? The harm is that it’s extremely sad and isn’t the best solution for her.

A thing I want to point out is the setting. Alice could have chosen anywhere in Wonderland to be, but she chose a place of past comfort turned into a solemn place of misery, the Tea Party.

On the table, we see the usual cakes and tea sets. But we also see a wrist strap/shoe, top hat, gauntlet, some yarn, a piece of fancy cloth, a paper fan, and eventually Ella’s mother’s locket.

I didn’t think about it too much until rewatching the scene, but Alice would have to clean up the mess of the Jabberwock attack and bury her friends before deciding to create a memorial from their items on the long table. I believe there is a sword and shield nearby somewhere, but I’m too lazy to look up the screenshot for that.

I don't want to know how many times that has happened where Alice had a rough day or depressing thought and then tried to distract herself with something happier, pretending the pain away. There's a part of me that headcanons that Hook, her papa, in the past tried to cheer her up or change to a better topic every time she was upset from being stuck in the tower. Alice probably mimics that in this scene. Playing the host, she pretends Ella is a guest who has just arrived in time.

In one second, Alice’s true feelings are replaced with a smile that doesn’t meet her disheartened eyes.

She’s not fooling anyone, but she lies in hope that it will become truth.

Maybe responding no to the tea in confusion, but as Alice prepares to pour tea from a teapot, Ella watches her before looking at the rest of the teapots nearby Alice, noticing one that has a locket perfectly placed like a brooch.

Ella takes no time before grabbing the locket and asking, "Why do you have this locket?" The matching locket which symbolized an eternal vow of love in a set of enchanted lockets. It was a piece of her mother which she had never expected to find in her search for answers to her past, so she could let go of a part of herself that clung onto wanting to know her mother.

Alice is quick to react and protect what was a precious item that her gone and dear friend, Cecelia, cherished.

Yet, when Alice forcefully grabbed her hand clutching the locket in restraint, saying that it wasn’t Ella’s and to give it back, Ella couldn’t let go of it.

Even though Ella told Henry earlier that it was a locket which gave her painful memories of a broken promise, it represented what she needed, proof that her mother was there in Wonderland, just as she had believed as she refutes, “It was my mother’s.”

That’s when it clicks for Alice and she calms down, letting go of Ella and the locket, in understanding and amused disbelief. “Oh you’re that Ella. You’re Cecelia’s Ella?”

We can assume Alice had either met another Ella (highly unlikely) or that she couldn’t believe that she’d meet her dear friend’s, Cecelia’s, daughter. Time moved differently in Wonderland, or maybe it/he didn’t make rounds at all where the tea party stood, and so Alice would have spent a decent amount of time there hearing Cecelia tell tales about Ella, Drizella, Anastasia, her husband, and the life she left behind. She’d definitely refer to them with shorter nicknames except for Ella, otherwise Alice would have realized the shortcomings of hearing the name Drizella later in life. Maybe there would be a light sprinkle of Rapunzel too, but she’d keep it under wraps. Ella must have been a teen when Cecelia spent afternoons, potentially years, happily and sadly learning all she could about the Poisoned Heart Curse with Alice.

But there they were, Ella all grown up as a fine young woman and Alice lost in her emotions and the scope of time in Wonderland.

And the disbelief gets reciprocated in Ella as she looks down at the locket...

then back at Alice, making the connection before asking, “You know my mother?” Ella says this in present tense. She doesn’t know what happened to her mother at this point, but she presumes her mother is alive.

Alice, who always loved a good puzzle as this slots into place, smiles in such a Jones way, proud of knowing the brave Cecelia that Ella called mother, giddily replies, “Oh yes!”

Ella is not amused. Her face is set in hurt and disdain. She gets straight to the point and asks, “Do you know where I could find her?” Ella clearly has a lot to say to her mother; a woman who abandoned her, unknowingly set her down a grim life, and left her father a broken man.

Not a talk for games, niceties, and definitely not over a tea party. “I have some questions, starting with why she never came back?” Her father may have left as soon as he realized his locket had stopped glowing with their love for each other, but Ella needed her mother to know how much pain was caused in her leaving and to prove that she had come far without mother. She’s not over it and her vulnerability becomes her strength.

Alice’s face drops. This was not going to be one easy pill for anyone to swallow; the hard truth for Ella and the sad reality for Alice to relive in her explanation.

“Oh… that.”

She doesn’t want to talk and that much is evident. Distraction time.

Alice sits down to prepare for an agonizing recollection, playing with a piece of cake to distract herself.

Ella sits down opposite, signaling that she’s ready for the tale, however long it spans. She doesn’t understand the sudden change in mood, but slightly agitated asks, “What?” Ella has waited a long time for this and she wasn’t going to back out now with her headstrong nature.

Alice looks up, realizes Ella is still there, and sighs. Neither of them drops their gaze. She was probably hoping that Ella would ignore this just like earlier.

Getting serious, Alice puts down her fork as she explains, “Look, it was just another tea party. And then, the Jabberwock attacked us.” A tea party that started out like any other, but one that clearly went wrong that day, something that wasn’t meant to happen and it was an all out attack against a legendary dragon.

Alice says with great sentimentality to Ella, “Your mother fought valiantly.” Ella listens intently, her whole body pulled forward in willingness, until she hears this and slowly backs away, leaning back in the chair in shock.

She might have been angry earlier, but this wasn’t something she intended to hear. The blank expression on her face says it all. The image of her mother that she had built in her mind had been kind, but carefree and selfish enough to leave everything behind for fun.

However, this description of her mother being brave and heroic shakes Ella to her core. Maybe the woman wasn’t as bad as she thought.

Alice continues with the hard facts. “In the end, I slayed it. But…” Alice takes a dry swallow, almost as if biting back the words she was going to say next, saving herself from the weight of it all. However, Ella needs to know and Alice has probably never shared what happened that day to anyone until Ella came.

The rest of the words come out with a squeak and faltering, but Alice finishes, “I was the only one that survived.” She looks off into the distance and pauses for a moment, not quite there anymore in the present.

Alice doesn’t divert the topic after this, but she doesn’t continue anymore, maybe in self preservation so that she doesn’t cry or make Ella feel uncomfortable.

Ella doesn’t say a word until Alice looks back at her, reeling herself back to re-engage with Ella and answer any further questions since she’s the only one that can do it.

Ella is definitely sympathetic and sad towards Alice, but asks the big question, “My mother... is dead?” She had spent so long holding a grudge and never expected her mother to be gone. For Ella who had already lost nearly everything she cared about, this came as a shock.

Alice confirms this and gives her condolences with a sincere, “I’m so sorry.” While this can be seen as a comforting phrase people typically say to those who have lost a loved one or experienced a hardship, some part of Alice feels guilt for not being able to slay the Jabberwock sooner or at least saving Cecelia if she couldn’t save everyone.

Alice doesn’t make herself sound like the hero, but rather the person who put the last straw on the camel’s back after everyone had given their all, along with their lives, to weaken the Jabberwock so she could finish it off. She might have fought just as valiantly, pushing through every moment and not letting her friends’ efforts go in vain, before slicing through the Jabberwock with the Vorpal Sword.

However, she doesn’t relish in the victory and lives on with survivor’s guilt, probably coming back to the tea party more often than she likes to tell them, as if they were alive and listening, about her adventures and pretend how they might feel if they experienced it instead of her. It’d be more of a pity party than anything.

Ella is able to read past this and says, “You don’t have to be sorry.”

Considering Ella took something from Regina’s speech to her in “The Garden of Forking Paths”, I think she’d prefer to relieve some of Alice’s stress from survivor’s guilt as she spent a lot of time herself also dealing with the guilt over Anastasia’s untimely death-like sleep similarly to how Alice felt over her mother and the aftermath of the Jabberwock attack. Alice nods during this, but it’s doubtful that she truly believes it herself.

Ella continues, tearing up and dry swallowing out of frustration, bitterness etched in every word, “That woman left her family for a tea party. She doesn’t deserve any tears.” Her voice breaks off and she looks away. Although she feels a deep sadness at her mother’s tragic death, Ella probably feels a gaping void in her heart that isn’t filled or content with this.

She’s not okay and tries not to tear up. It didn’t change the fact that her mother had chosen to leave her and the rest of her family behind. Her late passing didn’t justify her hurtful actions and Ella was done. There was nothing more she wanted to know and if anything, it supported her remarks from before.

Alice is slightly offended and confused by this, but mainly concerned at Ella’s perspective and feelings on her mother. Alice had got someone who understood and sympathized with the curse's grave consequences through Ella’s mother. So she asks softly, “You think that’s why she came into the Infinite Maze?” Her tone is gentle, but there’s an edge to her question.

What Ella doesn’t know is the story behind Cecelia’s familial betrayal and it lies in the obvious reason why the maze is called Infinite. The name sticks and no one goes in or out without a good reason to. If Cecelia was anything like Alice had said, if she was truly stuck there, her determination would have gotten her out in some way. Cecelia was wrong choosing to sacrifice her own happiness for her family’s, something Rapunzel also attempted to do, without giving them as much as a goodbye or a clue to where she was going once she found out she had been poisoned. But she had done so with good intentions in lieu of hindsight.

Ella is too despondent to think about anything else and asks defeatedly, ”Why else would she?”

Cecelia didn’t leave on a whim and Alice defends Cecelia’s memory by showing Ella proof on why her mother left. Alice pulls back her shirt sleeve to reveal a spiral burn mark on her wrist, prompting, “Look familiar?”

*cue the sad Knightrook theme and watch me sob*

While Alice knew the full extent of the mark, how it cruelly connects and repels loved ones like herself and her papa, Ella wouldn’t have.

To Ella, it would have been a weird burn or birthmark her father had which held no meaning. Even if she had asked about the mark, it’s doubtful that her father would have answered. She would be even less determined to ask after he came back from his journey as a shell of himself, her mother gone for good, creating the tension that current Ella still feels.

Luckily, Ella does recognize it and asks, "Yeah. My father had a mark just like that. What is it?" It’s a straightforward question, blunt just like her personality, but it unintentionally emotionally hurts Alice.

Potentially, there is residual physical pain too as when Ella reaches out to touch Alice’s wrist in an attempt to examine it closer, Alice pulls her arm out of Ella’s reach and moves out her chair as if someone’s touch could sting or inflame it more.

There are a few shots in the season and definitely one in this episode where Alice grabs onto her wrist after her papa’s heart flares green with poison when she’s too close in his vicinity.

Fortunately, she takes no offense to Ella’s curious actions and proceeds to provide closure to her mother's death and reason for leaving. Alice continues in a more hastened and angered manner, walking the length of the table and describing the mark/curse replying, “It’s part of the curse of the Poisoned Heart.”

“It appears when you’re touched by the one you can’t be with.”

Her anger dissipates to one of inner sadness. Her words drift off as she recalls the grimness of what she’s saying, a mark she’ll forever bare.

Ella empathizes with Alice, having seen firsthand the outcome of those affected by the curse earlier with Hook and Alice being repelled by the curse. She worriedly starts, ”But if my father had the same mark…”

Her eyes are brimming with tears as she comes round the table to meet up with Alice.

Alice supports Ella for coming to her own conclusion with a nod and raised eyebrows, implying, “Yes, you see now?”

Ella finishes her sentence, confirming they’re on the same page, “My mother’s heart was poisoned too.” She appears remorseful and stunned as she manages to conclude that her thoughts of her mother leaving had nothing to do with no longer loving them or her father. It was really so that her parents wouldn’t have to watch their love in pain, one dying and one emotionally wrecked.

“She never stopped loving us. She left to protect us.”

Ella takes in that her mother loved them all enough to let them go.

I love how it is with these lines that Ella holds close to her heart her mother’s locket. Before she had just been gripping it loosely in her hand more out of possession and disappointment, until then, in which it transforms symbolically into an item bringing her comfort and pride.

In tumbles what I’d call the Knightrook theme again as a familial sentiment is declared.

Alice gives Ella a wry smile. Maybe it was a good thing that she was alive to have met Ella after all. She imparts a grave statement but well intended remark to make light of the situation, “Trust me, if your touch could kill the one you love, you’d want to be lost too.” This line relates to Alice and both of Ella’s parents. I’d give it a chef kiss.

Poisoned Heart Lore

From what I’ve gathered, Alice’s or Marcus’s touch could both kill their loved one. Although Cecelia was the one who would have gotten killed by his touch, it can be presumed that she decided to stay “lost” in Wonderland since the girls needed him more and Rapunzel poisoned her to get her out of the picture anyways, whether she knew it or not.

Not only would Cecelia have known because the locket glowed brighter with each step he took closer to her, but potentially the poison would have jump started in her heart. If their love was as strong as Ella experienced, Cecelia would also realize he wouldn’t leave Wonderland without her if he saw her. She did the hard thing and possibly left the locket on the teapot so that it would stop glowing and he’d give up with what it meant on his end of the locket. Marcus, in turn, lost his spark to live with purpose after he assumed she had shunned his love of her.

Lastly, it comes as no surprise that Alice, in the past and especially after her ruined reunion with her papa, wanted to stay lost in Wonderland until there came a day where a true cure was found or the curse was lifted.

Character Positioning

There is a brilliant correlation with where they are positioned throughout this scene. At the beginning, Alice is in a chair at the head of the table and Ella is at the opposite end of the table, having just entered through the garden door. They are nothing more than acquaintances.

By the time Ella spans the length of the table to comfort Alice, they are on the same side of a supportive moment before Alice gets distraught with the idea that maybe nothing is okay and feels guilty about her actions that caused her papa pain. Alice quickly closes herself off with a diversion of topic and treating Ella as a guest with tea, physically placing a barrier between them with the table.

After the pieces fit into place on how their stories collide and they have an understanding of how the other feels, Ella follows opposite Alice’s movement as they both reach the end of the table, the side closest to the door. I like to say that the head of the table was the closest to entering deeper into the maze, slipping into a dark mindset or worrying emotions. The fact that they both end up near the door gives me reason to believe that they gain hope and are at a natural progression towards continuing on with life; the two characters coming back to the same side physically and mentally. Imagine if they hadn’t had this conversation how different their lives or paths would have gone.

Back to the scene...

“But if you knew getting near Hook could kill him, then why did you risk it?”

Ella asks this since Alice contradicted herself and didn’t stay lost. Ella has her mother’s choice embedded in her mind and takes this moment to compare. Cecelia didn’t risk that chance, so why would Alice, a woman that puts so much thought into her words and actions, risk it?

This is the face of regret as she takes a deep breath.

It doesn’t last long before a nervous smile breaks on Alice’s face as she admits, “I met a pretty sorceress.” Her posture shifts, feeling ashamed and judged, but perhaps a little proud too.

For a woman who had bad experiences with witches, growing up in a tower for most of her life due to one, you would think that she would have thought twice before accepting this stroke of fate claiming to have a cure for something they’ve just met her with. But ah yes, love or the hints of a crush, what makes most people go blind to deceitful intents or dubious words/actions, made her overlook a person’s witch like tendencies and be reduced to nothing more than a “pretty sorceress”. First thought that came to her mind really.

Soon as the smile appears, it drops as the harsh reality strikes and Alice recalls, “She said she could cure us, but clearly it didn’t take.” There’s nothing but shame, pain, and sadness rippling through her words.

Ella displays sadness at this tragic tale, but maybe feeling how too many of their experiences have lined up so far, asks for clarity, “This sorceress, what was her name?”

In comes Alice, could kill with her flirty nature and wistfully dreamy stare into the distance, Jones. Might have been a bad leap into hasty actions and questionable decisions, but it gave her great happiness to have met someone who seemed so nice and pretty at first.

Alice gets confused and slightly playful at the memory, not sure of anything other than “she had a funny name.” Alice goes on rambling, “Dru, dra, driz? What was it?”

Ella doesn’t wait for Alice to finish as she finalizes the thought with disdain, announcing, “Drizella.”

I like to headcanon that it is after this point that Ella explains that she has to get back to Henry and why it’s so concerning that Drizella got to Alice first. If Ella and Henry were able to follow Alice, and Ella had left Henry behind to run through the little door, then Drizella must be in hot pursuit and mischievous while they were conversing. With a newfound respect for each other, I can imagine how well it was for them to plan how to use their knowledge to quickly distract and get payback on Drizella to save Henry once they found her. Clearly Ella got the element of surprise in tackling Drizella and Alice got some lighthearted revenge on Drizella by mirroring her out of Wonderland.

I love this scene so much as it has short dialogue but reveals so much about the characters; their morals, mindsets, and experiences with parts of themselves and others. It would have been improbable for them to bond if it weren't for the Poisoned Heart curse and the human ability to love. The curse of the poisoned heart may be angsty, but it's a nice plot point for some fiery scenes and realistic character development.

Afterwards, Ella is willing to give herself a chance at true love with Henry and believing in signs, knowing it's not for naught like she thought it was between her parents. She, following the new and bright glow of the enchanted locket, leads herself back to Henry and eventually kisses him for taking a chance on her when she had given up on herself. Alice, in turn, is more hopeful that her papa and herself will reunite again under better situations. She gives her trust to Ella by handing over the White Knight piece and a message for her papa. If you’ve made it this far, thank you for reading and I’m super glad to have gotten this off my chest and down into words. Tumblr was a pain to draft this on.

#alice jones #ella mills #ouat s7 #ouat meta #alice jones meta #ella mills meta #cecelia tremaine meta #pretty in blue #ouat 7x08 #minor knightrook #idk what else to tag

15 notes · View notes

mandoalorian · 3 years

Text

Home [Ezra Prospect x Reader]

Home [Ezra Prospect x gender neutral reader]

Warnings: yearning, yearning and more yearning. I just wanted to have a go at writing for him.

Word count: 2k

Rating: PG

Authors Note: I’ve never ever wrote for Ezra before and I find his character just a little bit complicated but I hope this is somewhat coherent and enjoyable :)

MASTERLISIT | Submit a request!

"I feel like I don't belong here." you swallowed as you stared straight ahead into the green forest. Your eyes were stinging and you knew if you just gave it a few more moments, tears would threaten to spill. "I never thought I'd leave Puggart Bench." You rubbed your eyes and took a deep breath. The sun was setting just off the horizon. The day was coming to an end.

"Cee lived on the Pug," Ezra grumbled as he clawed through deep damp soil, digging out aurelac. Ezra paused as he remembered his reluctant associate. "I miss her." He finished. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched your partner pull out the aurelac sac and carefully harvest it.

You didn't say anything— you figured it was best to stay quiet. It was hard though. Ezra promised you, as the days went by, it would get easier. But it didn't. You were beginning to believe he was a liar. You missed your family; your parents and your friends. You wondered if they were still out there— somewhere. You wondered if they missed you. No. You forced yourself to shake away the feelings. If they missed you, they would've come back for you. They would've rescued you.

You and Ezra walked back to camp in complete silence, apart from his occasional grunt and groan as he pushed his tired legs through the thick waves of grass. When you arrived back to your shared tent, Ezra was the first to go in. He always was. You knew his routine. He'd strip himself out of his environment suit and usually take a shower. He wanted to wash away any chance of the dust spores.

You promised him for that as long as he wore his environment suit out of camp, he would be safe. You would remind him that your shared tent had the best air filtration system he could ever ask for. But the loss of his arm had struck a kind of paranoia within him. You didn't call him out for his impulsive behaviour. You let him be. Although this trauma hurt, you still loved him for who he was. You knew his sense of pride had deteriorated since the incident and you wish you could do something to restore his confidence in himself. It was these little quirks what you loved so much about Ezra.

You lingered outside the camp for a few minutes, taking in the fresh air. Now that Ezra was occupied, maybe you could release all your pent up emotions. Cry it out. You shuffled along to the large fawn tree which hung above your camp and sat down on the grass. You picked up some pine that had fallen and began to scrape a tally mark into the bark of the tree. You had been on the Green Moon, with Ezra, 365 days and counting.

"A year is a long time, moonbeam," you heard Ezra from behind you. His voice was just as soft and articulated as ever. You noticed he'd showered, judging from his damp hair, and he had lazily put his environment suit back on. You blinked at him and then turned away.

"You should go back inside," you told him, your gaze fixated on the tree that marked your days like a calendar. "Your hair is wet, you'll catch a cold."

Ezra crouched down before shuffling next to you and you took a deep breath. "I've been here many years," Ezra admitted. "In fact, I don't remember much of my life before I came to the Green Moon."

"Why did you come here?" you asked, your voice breaking.

Ezra took a moment and stared into the sunset. "Like all Prospectors," he told you. "I guess I just wanted to make something of myself. It got lonesome, sure. But then I met Cee, and she gave my life purpose. I had responsibility."

You knew Ezra had a deep respect for Cee, the young girl who accompanied him a few years back. "I wish I had known her." you hummed, fumbling with the zip on your environment suit.

"I think she'd like you," Ezra smiled and you spotted the sparkle in his eyes. "She liked reading books too."

"Oh really?" you giggled.

"Yeah," Ezra laughed as he reminisced. "She was smart like you too. I was glad when she left, truly. I knew she didn't want to stay on the Green moon. It's no life for a young child. And despite my attempts I just knew she wasn't safe here." Ezra's explanation was followed by a pause and you noticed the cherry smile fall from his lips. "But I still miss her." he admitted.

Then, in one swift and abrupt motion, Ezra turned to face you. He nudged his gloved hand over yours, cautiously, but with an air of confidence that you hadn't seen from him in a long time. To your surprise, he interlocked his fingers with yours and held your hand. You swallowed down the nervous lump in your throat and found yourself gazing longingly into his dark brown eyes.

After a few beats of silence, the both of you turned your heads back to the sunset. Something so special and unique about the green moon was that every evening, there was a special moment that only lasted a few minutes, where the stars would peek out from the orange pink sky. It was often hard to catch. Tonight was your first time witnessing the unanticipated beauty with your partner.

"It's beautiful." You whispered, taking note of each star and trying to draw upon any constellations. Ezra didn't respond. The silence wasn't awkward or uncomfortable, but instead it was comforting. You knew that, no matter what, you and your family were under the same sky. Possibly looking at the same stars, despite being potential star systems away. "Don't you ever want to leave?" you questioned Ezra with a sigh.

"And go where?" He asked. You realised his voice had dropped octave and you turned back to look at him. The whole time you had been admiring the sunset, Ezra had been admiring you. His grip on your hand tightened as if he was afraid to let you go.

"Anywhere but here." you lulled, feeling the tears brim your eyes again. "There's a whole universe to explore."

"I've found that I quite like staying put. After many years of drifting between planets, I prefer to just stay here." Ezra shrugged his shoulders.

"I know I've lived here, with you, for a year now— but I still consider Puggart Bench my home." you frowned. You dipped your head and rest it on his shoulder.

"For me, home isn't a place," Ezra told you. You pondered his words during the beat of silence. "Home is about who I'm with. For a while, Cee was my home. Now it's you." You pulled your head off him and looked at him with furrowed eyebrows. He noted your confused expression and opted to continue his explanation. "Cee gave my life purpose. She was only young and I knew I had to provide for her. I had to go out on digs and earn my keep, make sure not to take any days off. I had to find food for her and make sure she could sleep at night. I tried to educate her but honestly? I think I learned more from her than she learned from me."

"Oh." You smiled a teary smile and looked back into the sunset. The twinkling stars were soon fading away.

"But you, my dearest moonshine," Ezra wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you back into him. "You give my life reason. Now that you're with me, I have a reason to wake up every morning. I have a reason to tidy around the tent and not let it get ridiculously messy like it would before you. I have a reason to help you plant the crops and water them when you're not around."

"Oh Ezra," you smiled. "But you don't have to do those things." You shuffled into his warm embrace. You loved the way Ezra held you. It made you feel safe. Protected.

"But I do it because of you," he responded. "You're my reason." After a long silence you pulled away from Ezra. "Come inside?" Ezra asked you. "I brewed some of your favourite herbal tea."

"Really?" you smiled.

"Really." Ezra replied. Not letting go of your hand once, he slowly dragged you back into the tent and sat you down on his bunk.

He squandered over to the little heater where he was boiling some hot water and poured it into your own special mug. You took off your environment suit and made yourself comfortable. Taking a spoon, he pressed the herbs into the side of the mug, creating a tea-like consistency and handed the warm drink to you. You wrapped your hands around the mug and took a sip, humming in delight when and savouring the taste.

"You like it?" Ezra beamed with pride. He was so cute.

"Mhm," you nodded and took another sip. "Tastes like home."

"Oh? You had the same herbal tea on Puggart Bench?" He questioned, also undressing out of his environment suit and sitting next to you, wrapping his blanket over you both. His blanked smelled like him. Like the forests and fresh grass.

You shook your head. "No, you've only ever made me this herbal tea." You told Ezra and that's when it hit you. You considered Ezra home. You finally understood his analogy under the fern tree— about how home is a person rather than a place. You looked up at him and he was smiling down at you.

Ezra was truly your home. He cared for you, protected you. He looked after you when you got sick and cooked for you when you couldn't feel like it. He made sure that the temperature in the tent was never too hot or too cold. When you got tired on digs, he'd even carry you home. You had never experienced such love from anyone before. That's what it was. Love.

"I'm sorry I wasn't much use today on our dig." you hung your head in shame. Ezra wrapped his arm around you again and pulled you down onto his lap.

"That's okay, it's been a rough day. I'm just grateful for your company." Ezra slid his gloves off his fingers and began to gently trace your face. You let his eyes close under his touch.

"How come you're always so understanding?" You whispered, reaching your hand upwards and cupping his cheek. His brown stubble grazed your skin but it felt nice. You liked it.

Ezra wanted to tell you the truth. He wanted you to know that he was never like this with anyone. Just you. He wanted you to know that he was totally and completely infatuated with you. Now that you were in his life, now that you were his home, he couldn't imagine spending his days without you. It broke him knowing that you wanted to leave the Green Moon. That you wanted to leave him behind. He couldn't escape the thought.

After the silence, he noticed you had drifted off to sleep. He gently picked you up from his lap and tucked you into his own bunk, not wanting to wake you. It was okay if you slept in his bed tonight. He was more than happy to take the floor. He admired how peaceful you looked and he was glad you were finally getting some well deserved rest after such a difficult day. He spent a few minutes watching as you gently snored. He wondered what you were dreaming about. He wondered if you dreamt about him the same way he dreamt about you.

"I understand you," Ezra whispered. "Because I love you. You're my home."

Your sleeping body didn't stir in the slightest at his words and he pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. He hoped that one day he could kiss you for real. He hoped he could show you how much you truly meant to him. But today just wasn't the day.

Permanent taglist: @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie - if you would like to be added to my taglist please let me know!

#Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal x reader #ezra prospect #ezra prospect x reader #prospect #ezra prospect x you #pedro pascal x you #fan fiction #pedro pascal fanfic

94 notes · View notes