#hes trying so hard to be positive but hes just a kid in a warzone with broken glasses | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bonny-kookoo · 3 years

Text

Remedy | JJK x Reader | 💜☁️🔞🤖

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Android!AU, Android!Jungkook, AI!Jungkook

Warnings: mentions of war, PTSD, Panic attack, confused!Koo, soft reader, like my god I just wanna put her in my pocket and keep her safe, aka that’s what Koo wants to do, protective!Koo, praise kink, unprotected sex but izz fine Kookoo can’t knock her up anyways, soft sex, it’s very soft ngl, there’s a bird, some sad Koo, kook cries here and there, comfort and rehabilitation

Summary: JJK, Or J-Jungkook097 was a tactical fighter-type Android, used in modern war as a simple weapon and nothing more. Now retired after serious injuries, he has to adjust to modern life outside the war zone or he’ll get scrapped; and that’s where you come in, a rare human being ready to take on that challenge.

"Ah, what a waste, really." A worker says, looking the body of the Android over. "You sure you don't want him?" He asks, and the older worker shakes his head.

"I can't let him around my kids by himself, and I don't want him to snap around my wife either. He's not suited for my home and family." He says, looking the male robot over, before he pulls out his phone. "I think I know someone who just might take him." He says, hurriedly texting, before he gets a call back.

"Huh. Is he factory reset, or still running?" You ask, as Seokjin connects cords to the back of the android's neck.

"We tried to have him reset himself, but there's been problems." He explains. "He told us he did already, but that can't be true since he'd need a command to do it- his model isn't equipped with those AI options. Maybe his memory overloaded and deleted stuff as a survival protocol, we don't know. He's a military model, after all, they didn't let us see his original save data- they just downloaded it and went their way, leaving him for us to dismantle if he couldn't reset him properly for a new system." He says, as you type in some stuff, before viewing the screen you hold in your hand.

"So he's technically still running on his original warzone-system?" You ask Jin, and he nods, sighing. You furrow your brows, and the older male looks over at your tablet to see what you're looking at. "Are you sure? This is.. his AI settings are all set to.. look at this; companionable, friendly, all his settings are set to a companion-android, not a fighter type." You mumble, confused by this.

"Wait no no no that wasn't like that when I last looked at him." Jin says, taking the tablet from you as he types in some stuff. "Huh. This is weird." He says, showing you something. "Look at the protocol."

You do. "Huh." You say, looking at the last line of code.

Last change made by: JJK_OSADMIN

"He changed his own system." You say, and Jin is standing up now.

"I'm taking him with me, I can't let him-" He starts, but you do as well, placing your hands ontop of the Androids chest as if you're guarding him.

"NO! I already signed, I own him- Jin, I have to look into this- and he's set to friendly, he won't get hostile that easily." You try to reassure him, and he sighs after a while, taking his jacket from the chair close by.

"Keep me updated." He says, as he leaves you be.

The Android still sitting limply on your chair.

"Alright JJK. Time to wake up." You say, closing the small panel before you sit in front of him, waiting for his system to run the commands you had typed in before unplugging him. It takes a moment, but there's movement after that; his body slowly starting to sit properly, muscles moving into place, and system running it's diagnostics to detect any change in hard- or software made. It marks down his eyes, the small patches of skin re-made, and that his body-liquids had been replaced.

He feels good.

His eyes open slowly, iris moving and focusing in Various degrees before they meet your form. "Hello." He simply says. "Are you my new owner?" He asks, and you nod, expecting that question. He's not been factory reset, which means even though his memory was scattered, and his system had been changed, he was still aware of everything vital. He nods, before he looks around. "I'm now supposed to run on the companion protocol, correct?" He asks, and you shrug. He's confused, as you suddenly smile at him.

"I don't know." You tell him. "Companion, Individual- what would you like?" You ask, knowing it will bring his current system to it's limits. He's not made to make decisions like that, and you think it's quite endearing to see him suddenly think like that.

"I.. choose?" He mumbles, before he looks at you seriously. "I'd like to be given a small time frame to properly research before I come to a conclusion." He says, and your eyes widen.

You look at him, still friendly as ever. "So, you want to figure out what you want first?" You ask, and he nods, a bit hesitantly. "Okay. Just tell me when you've made up your mind then." You say, and he nods.

"What are my daily tasks?" He asks, and you shrug again. "This is frustrating." He says, and you laugh at that.

It's weird to hear it. But he notes it down as a positive response from you.

"Just don't burn the house down while trying to cook or something." You joke, and he seems to take it seriously.

"Why would I set your home aflame while attempting to cook? I'm not even capable of either task.." He says, and you get up, grinning.

"Don't worry so much. Just properly charge for now- we'll see what's gonna happen as it happens." You say.

He nods.

Jungkook knows that around 75% of fatal accidents occur in a mere household. He also knows, that a regular home is the safest place to live. Yet there he was, on the floor, holding his ears as an attempt to block out the sound of his nightmares. "Jungkook?" You ask, as you turn off the microwave. He's still shaking as you sit down in front of him, close- but not touching, unknowing if he would react to that negatively or not. "Can you hear me?" You ask, and he hesitantly retracts his hands from his ears, letting the sound in again. The beeping of the microwave is now gone, only the soft ticking of your clock on the wall and the buzzing of your fridge remain. "I'm sorry that scared you." You say, smiling apologetically as he shakes his head, face serious. His eyes move frantically as they glow an orange hue, showing his system status.

"No, I should apologize." He says. "I don't know why I displayed this reaction to a mere household object." He admits, and you open the microwave to take out your meal, before sitting down on the kitchen floor. "You shouldn't do that- the tiles are very cold-" He starts, but you wave him off.

"Its fine. Both." You say. "You're probably still confusing some sounds and things with your past use as a warzone model. So it's normal- your system has to adapt. You have to adapt." You say. "We all need some time to heal after what you've been through." You say.

He sits quietly after those words, watching you as he goes through his research on you. You're a very unusual individual, displaying a lot of behaviors he hasn't seen before. You take care of everything with a sense of care that makes him come to the conclusion that you're probably treating the machines and robots like living beings. Such as the oldschool robot-dog that he's seen under your living room table. It's currently charging, but he's seen you interact with it- genuinely displaying happiness and excitement at the very basic AI of the pet-robot that's missing a leg.

Its broken, just like him. But you're taking care of it, just like you take care of him.

You're very caring with him, too. He's seen you search for skin patches that match his color almost perfectly, even though they were more expensive than the usual models found in stores. You apologize for 'hurting' him, even though it's sometimes nescessary to repair him. You ask him about opinions, and let him roam around freely around the house.

You're a very friendly person.

And he, unknown to you, starts to create new files inside his system.

You're not there when he wakes up the next day.

He scans the house for any movement, but there is none that would lead him to the conclusion that you're there. There's no sign of you, and he becomes frantic, suddenly.

If his system would've worked properly like it should have, he would've remembered that you had told him yesterday that you would make a small trip to the local grocery store around the corner. But his system isn't working properly, already displaying several scenarios of you getting hurt, or vanishing, or leaving him alone.

He’d seen it before, so many times, hell; he’d been the reason of so many deaths in the first place and it never bothered him. So why was his internal system going absolute haywire at the mere idea of something happening to you? It was to be expected really- with how fragile you are, mentally and physically, it was bound to happen at some point. So why, if he knew it deep down already, did it make his pulse race and his skin feel weird?

You’d told him to stay home, but there was no way he’d be able to let you out of his sight. Because no, there were no emotions involved; they’d been restricted for him at the beginning after all, he was simply looking out for you. Probably a bug, maybe his system thought you were someone to be protected, a new mission to keep him occupied, that was probably it. It wasn’t because you had been so sweet with him, it wasn’t because of how gently you were in correcting him whenever he did something bad, it wasn’t because you were an absolute divine being in his eyes.

“Kook?” You said, an almost painful huff of breath escaping you when he crashed into you, holding you, his arms squeezing you a bit and his face burying itself into the crook of your neck, every sense drinking you in, saving the proof that you were okay, you were real, you were completely fine. “I-“ you started, and his eyes ripped open, suddenly realizing that he may be hurting you. As if burned he reacted, hands hovering over your shoulders as he looked you over.

“I apologize, I’m so sorry, does it hurt bad-“ he spoke hurriedly, eyes already glazing over with tears he didn’t even knew he could shed. Why did he suddenly feel so upset? His entire system was overloading, tears finally flowing and disrupting his sight so badly that he didn’t see your face anymore; sending him into panic even more. “I’m sorry- I’m-“ he pressed out, but there was nothing working anymore it seemed.

Only a few minutes later did he slowly come back to his senses, first thing he noticed being the way you held his body close, softly speaking to him while you were petting his head. It was such a weird sensation, yet it somehow soothed his mind back, as he realized that you were both on the ground. He was way too heavy, why were you doing that? But when he tried to get up, you held him tightly. “Take a Moment, Jungkook. You’re okay, I’m okay, just a breathe, yeah?” You said, and he nodded. “Let’s go back inside then yeah?” You softly said, and he nodded.

“But you need to buy groceries. We don’t have sufficient stock of-“ he started, but you giggled, the sound something he knew he liked. He didn’t quite know what to think of his newly found preferences for things, but he simply let it happen for now.

Because liking you could never be a mistake, he decided.

He calls out for you one day, his hands holding something you can't see yet. His eyes are wide open, his optics moving around frantically as he calls again. "Creator, please!" He calls, as you finally spot him, walking over as he looks at you with a worried expression. "Please- I don't know what to do. She flew against our window and probably has a concussion- you can help her, right?" He says, and you don't get curious as to why he immediately knows the birds gender and diagnosis; he can scan the tiny body, after all.

"Ah, come into the kitchen." You say, and he follows quickly, still delicately holding the tiny body in his palm, careful not to drop it. "Lets put her in a box and a nice quiet place, yeah? She'll recover on her own probably." You reassure him as he watches you place her in an old box without a lid. "Put her where you found her, okay? That way she'll know her way back easier." You tell him, and he nods, determined, as he walks back towards where he had found the bird.

Jungkook, in a way, was slowly changing nowadays.

He was a curious being, always eager to learn about the most mundane things. True to his purpose he picked up on things very easily; learning how to draw and paint very quickly. He had recently gotten interested in a video game you used to play before your work took over your time- and you loved seeing him have genuine fun with it.

He wasn't doing things anymore because they were asked of him. Or because they were an order.

He was developing hobbies, you'd noticed.

Of course you kept Jin updated about all of these things, and he had been happy to learn that his reboot was going well- joking around that he was glad he hadn't killed you in your sleep yet. And while, at first, you were quite wary of him walking around the apartment, nowadays, you couldn't imagine Jungkook even hurting a fly.

Just like with that tiny bird.

He was a gentle soul, simply a bit clumsy sometimes- apologizing over and over after breaking your alarm clock once, the alarm setting off another one of his 'episodes'- moments of flashbacks he got from his past purpose in war. You had reassured him and had let him watch as you fixed it again, praising him along when he gave you the right tools.

Praise. That was something he seeked as well.

And it wasn't just that he wanted aknowledgement of his own achievements. It was more your attention that he wanted. He wanted to be around you whenever possible, even sometimes dancing around the topic of maybe sharing a bed one day- but he had also been wary of hurting you in your sleep, by rolling over or something alike.

Always so thoughtful.

But he would be able to hold you that day; when you had complained about being tired, he had suggested a nap to you. Instantly taking on that chance, you laid down, rolling over as he was still on the couch with you, already having laid down prior. He was unsure at first where to put his hands, until he decided to just go for the common human way of affection; holding you close.

And he made a note inside his system, that he truly deeply enjoyed the feeling.

He finds you on the couch, crying, after an argument on the phone. That in itself isn't the issue he's having, however- it's the sudden wave of protectiveness rolling over him, drowning his senses as he walks over to you, his orange glowing eyes now scanning your form. "What did he do?" He asks, knowing that it was a former partner of yours, constantly calling you asking for money. It's a bad habit of yours that you can't seem to say no; and now that you did for once, he had bitten your ear off with bad remarks and names you'd rather not repeat. "I'll hurt him, just say the word. He needs to feel the same pain you do-" He's shaking a little, you can see it now; his hands unsure where to place themselves, his eyes watching over you, his breathing a little faster. He starts again, and you put a hand on his shoulder to stop his words.

“Jungkook no, he didn’t hurt me in like, a physical way.” You tried to explain, tears now forgotten as you try to calm the Android on your couch down- still absolutely terrified by your state. “I’m gonna be fine.” You say, but he doesn’t seem convinced. Or is it something else?

“But why am I hurting?” He asks suddenly, and your eyes widen. Well, why was he? Technically he was capable of understanding emotions, that wasn’t shocking. What was confusing to you however was just how he was able to share your pain. And it was obvious he did; the way his eyes glistened and his body shivered, overwhelmed by whatever was happening. “Why does it hurt to see you hurt?” He almost whispers, lost with the situation.

Jungkook was indeed a very weird android- you’ve noticed that long ago already. He was emotional, sometimes moody, and slowly began to develop an actual personality the more he was living with you.

Something his model shouldn’t be capable of.

And maybe that should scare you- maybe that should worry you, maybe you should call up support for answers, but you don’t. You do what’s best for yourself and what you think is best for him in that moment; you lean forward, and wrap your arms around him. And it doesn’t feel at all like an android you’re hugging in that moment, because an android wouldn’t cry with you. An android wouldn’t hold you like this, wouldn’t tremble in your hold like this. It makes it easy to forget that Jungkook isn’t human.

And that in itself is absolutely dangerous.

Somehow, his system had bypassed the blockade to his emotional capacities.

He had noticed it ever since you had been out to restock groceries by yourself, but he had been a little unsure back then. He now knows, for sure, that something had happened.

It was confusing, to say the least.

So many things were somehow suddenly starting to fall into place for him; his favoritism to being close to you, or his system failing whenever you weren't nearby. It also makes sense that he's standing right in front of your bedroom door that night, knocking as you open it. He feels a weird sense of protectiveness seeing you tired and vulnerable like that, and he sits down on the side of the bed where you join him. "Is everything okay?" You ask, and he shakes his head.

Nothing is okay, everything is confusing, and he's unsure what to quite think of all of this. "I feel.. confused. Scared. There's.. fear, in me, boiling up and interrupting my thoughts." He explains, and you nod.

"Feeling is scary, huh?" You ask, as he looks at you.

"How do you do it?" He asks, and you lean your head a bit to the side in question. "There's.. so much of it. How do you.. separate it, keep it in order? Its all over the place, and it's.. so distracting. Its so overwhelming- I can't seem to calm down." He mumbles, serious face turning frustrated as his fingers play with the fabric of his pants.

"We don't." You say. He looks at you for a moment, before you continue. "We just.. let it run through us, I guess. If you don't, it'll make you sick after a while. " You say, and he looks at you.

"But.." He starts. "I fear I might start to display reactions a male android model isn't supposed to openly display." He almost whispers.

"You don't have to openly do it." You reassure him, placing a hand on his shoulder, before moving a bit, body facing him as you open your arms. "It's just me; and I won't judge. You can be whoever you want with me, Jungkook." You say, and he lays down next to you in your arms, momentarily enjoying the quietness and closeness of the affectionate gesture.

"There are no bad feelings, Jungkook." You tell him, and he listens, as he lets them run through him, just like you told him. The sadness, the comfort of your body against his, the.. adoration he feels towards you. Everything, even though it hurts him, physically, something he only ever thought was a artistic way of describing emotions. "There are only wrong actions." You say. "If you feel the need to cry, cry. If you're angry, scream, shout, or find something to channel that into. But if you bottle it up-" You say, "they will lead to mistakes. They will bring pain, and they will bring remorse."

His voice is strained as he talks. "But how do I know when to act on them, and when not to?" He says, and you chuckle.

"You'll learn, Jungkook." You reassure him. "You'll learn."

And he nods against your shoulder, before you can feel him shake a little less, quiet sobs racking through his body until his exhausted body falls asleep to charge.

"Remarkable." Jin comments, as he watches the lines and lines of codes. "He has started to self-code his own system. He's quite literally learning." He says. "All by himself. This is amazing." He says, before he disconnects Jungkook.

"He's still a bit jumpy sometimes, and the microwave is still his worst enemy-" You say, as Jungkook reboots again, eyes slowly focusing as they start to glow again. "But he really is amazing." You say, and Jungkook beams at that, proudly smiling.

It's rare for an android to display such emotions, and he's still often very much void of any clear visual feedback in terms of facial expressions- but he's learning, and he's evolving, growing, in a way. Seokjin closes the panel on the back of Jungkooks neck, as the android stands up to walk closer to you. "Jungkook." Jin says, and the android turns towards the young man. "Do you look after her well?" He asks, and Jungkook nods. "Make sure she stays hydrated during the day, yeah? I highly doubt she's told you she struggles with that." He says, and you whine, as Jungkooks head whips around, eyes scanning your body as he furrows his brows.

"Creator, you need to drink at least 2.5 Liters of water per day. It's vital for your health, which is already very delicate." He says, and you glare at Jin for telling him anything about that.

"I'm fine- and also, please don't call me creator. I'm not anything like that." You say, picking up the walking puppy-robot as Jungkook nods.

"What should I call you then?" He asks, and Jin perks up.

"Call her baby!"

"Jin NO-!"

"No matter what she tells you-" Jin says, holding Jungkooks shoulders as he looks at him seriously. "She likes it." He says, and Jungkook, serious as ever, nods, noting it down, as you groan.

"I hate you both!" You say, and Jungkooks eyes widen.

"You.." He says, voice almost not heard over the laugh of Jin. "Hate me?" He asks, and you immediately regret your words. Jungkook still hasn't figured out sarcasm yet- the entire concept still a little too complicated for his system to grasp, so you walk closer to him, holding his cheeks in your hands.

"No no no, I don't, I could never-" You promise him, as he nods with already glossy eyes. "I just said it as a joke, okay?" You say, and he nods again, biting his lip a little before Jin clears his throat.

"I'll head off now." He says, already putting on his coat. "Thank you for letting me see him- it's really amazing to see him grow like that." He says, and you nod, giving him a short hug before he leaves.

And for some reason, Jungkook feels jealous, watching you so close to him.

Jungkook is in love with you.

He's come to that conclusion all by himself, and he's proud of it, but he's also very unsure about it. He has done a lot of research, scanned every source he could find and validate; and he has found a new interest in activities humans do in relationships to show their partner love and affection. He's not stupid, he knows what intimacy is, and is also aware that he's capable of doing these things with you; but he's also a little unsure, if you'd want that.

After all, there's nothing he could give you.

So one night, he stands in front of your door again, knocking, as you open it.

"Do you think.." He starts. "I'm capable of love?" He asks, and you look at him. "Because I think.. no, I am very sure I love you." He admits, and you get up, but there's no stopping him. "I don't know what it's like for you, but I have observed my newfound emotions, and there's a pattern I've detected; whenever I'm with you, around you, whenever you give me attention, or when you touch me, theres always the same emotions involved; there's this need to take care of you, to keep you safe, to be close." He rambles, and you listen to him as he talks, walking closer to you as his hands find your shoulders. "There's this.. urge, to partake in human intimacy with you. I want to.. show affection the common way, like kissing you, or holding you, things like that." Your cheeks grow a little red. "But I don't know if you are experiencing the same things. My research shows that.. that we could only do these things, if it's the same for you." He says, and then, almost as if hes whispering. "Is it?" He asks, and you struggle to answer. "Do you.. feel the same.?" He asks again, waiting for you to say anything at all.

You stay silent.

Its a sunday when a letter arrives at your home.

When you open it, there's several papers inside; Jungkooks personality tests, official papers that make it possible for him to leave on his own. When he reads them, he's serious, as he watches you smile at him.

"Jungkook, this is great, isn't it?" You say, trying hard to not let it show that you dread letting go of him. "You can finally get an apartment- maybe make something out of your talents, and earn a living. You're free to go now." You say, biting the inside of your cheek as he looks at you with wide eyes.

"But.." He starts, softly. "I'm yours." He states, and you shake your head, swallowing hard.

"Jungkook no.. you're you. No one owns you anymore." You say, and he suddenly shakes his head, throwing the papers in the kitchen sink as he walks towards you, his hands on your shoulders.

He looks at you, serious, as his optics focus on you. "You were the one who told me that every machine should be treated with respect." He states, as you look away from him, his hands shaking you a little as he tries to get your attention back on him. "You said even we androids have souls." He says.

"I did, but-" You start, but he cuts you off.

"And if we do, if we really do-" He speaks, his hands now holding your head, his face drenched in desperation. "Than it belongs to you." He states, and your eyes widen. "It's yours." He repeats. "If having it for myself means I have to leave you, I don't want it."

"I don't.. want to take advantage of you, Jungkook." You say. "You're.. everything is still new to you, I don't want you to regret this-" You start, and he leans down.

"I won't. I've run every possible scan I could, calculated every possible outcome, you know I can't lie to you. I could never regret this.." He says, as he leans down a little. "Can I..?" He asks, and you smile, jumping over your own shadow in a way, as you give him a nod. "I.. can you.. say it?" He asks. "Just once?"

You take his hands in yours, as you lean closer. "I love you, Jungkook." You say, and he gasps, his systems going absolute haywire in the best ways possible. He's again filled with emotions, but this time, they don't hurt; they make him feel light, as if he weighs nothing, they make him close his eyes because suddenly even the slightest light is too bright for his optics.

"Again." He asks, and you comply.

"I love you."

"Again."

"I love you."

He sighs, as his lips finally meet yours.

There's no magical fireworks or anything like that- but Jungkook decides that he doesn't need these things. The feeling itself, the emotions flooding his body are enough to outshine any beauty of reality itself. There's nothing he could ever compare to this, he decides.

He's unsure if Androids have instincts, but in that moment, for the first time, he doesn't care. This seems to be one of those situations to let his emotions run through him, lead him, show him what to do, he decides. His hands roam over your skin, ears catching every sound you make as he moves on autopilot it seems. He's letting go, he's finally doing something he really wants.

And it's all thanks to you- you've given him the chance to be himself.

You've given him the gift of feeling loved, as he finally comes as close to you as lovers ever could; entering you carefully, senses on high alert as he feels your walls around his length. He had been unsure of why pleasure seemed to be described as fun and intimate, but now he can relate to these claims fully. He's so full of love, so overwhelmed, that he simply rests his forehead on your naked shoulder, eyes closed as he simply lets himself feel. He doesn't care about his whines and groans, only focusing on you and your body, on the feedback every muscle sends to his systems, enjoying the way you make him feel.

Its truly magical, he notices.

He doesn't even notice his nor your orgasm at all, but it doesn't matter.

Because at the end of the night, he finally holds you close. Not like before, but this time, as lovers.

"I've given her exactly 0.26 milliliters of a 1 to 1 water and fruit sugar mixture every day at appropriate times." Jungkook seriously tells the vet, as he looks at the bird on the metal table.

"I see. Good job." He praises, before looking at you. "A warzone-type?" He asks, and you nod. "Barely noticable. I have one too, that's how I knew." He comments, before he turns to Jungkook again. "I'd say the bird simply likes your company, Jungkook. She just want's to stay with you That's why she comes back." He explains.

"Like me and Baby?" He asks, and you giggle at the nickname Jungkook keeps using.

"Yes, like you and her." Namjoon says, utterly entertained by you and Jungkook. "So I'd say let her be around. She's perfectly healthy, otherwise." He says, and Jungkook turns around, box in hand, as he smiles.

It's quiet that evening, sun slowly setting and drenching the walls of your shared apartment in a golden glow. Jungkook watches your sleeping form, leaned against him on the couch, as he simply remembers all of the things he's experienced because of you.

He truly is a machine capable of love.

Because you taught him how.

#bts imagine #bts #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #bts smut #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook #Android Jungkook #robot Jungkook #bts reactions

983 notes · View notes

ecoamerica · 1 month

Text

youtube

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

17K notes · View notes

bpdanakins · 3 years

Note

i just infodumped to my friends about bpd anakin and i have No Regrets snakjdkajfsk

anyway, doth thee have any more bpd anakin (or just anakin in general) headcanons becuase i am living for this

I am So Sorry this took so long, but hopefully the length makes up for it. Thank you so much for sending this to me bc BPD!Anakin is my entire life. I could talk about it all day, every day.

I’d like to thank @apple-grass-and-smiles for helping me organize my Thoughts on all of this, prompting me to focus on certain things and giving me feedback in general too.

Okay, here goes:

Anakin fidgets!! I’m not even sure if this is a headcanon but if it is I will die on this hill. He can’t stay still for the life of him and doubly so when he’s anxious, nervous or Ready To Do Something Already.

We know Anakin can’t hold eye contact to save his life when he’s upset or insecure, but I can also see him having issues with touch when he’s upset, unless it’s from certain people only (Padmé always gets a pass, for example).

Anakin’s quick to let some small stuff go, but larger things people do that hurt him (whether intentionally or not) aren’t really ever forgotten, and he just kind of takes that in and suppresses it, until random moments when it pops up, he remembers, and it just hurts like it’s happening all over again. The people around him often have no idea what fully sets him off, bc to them, his reaction now seems out of nowhere while his mind’s still stuck on this other thing. - His reactions also seem sometimes like they’re Over The Top, but even just remembering past hurts can feel almost disabling at times. It’s worse when he ends up ruminating on it, because the hurt and feelings of betrayal just keep building up over and over until it almost blots everything else out.

When he’s happy or surrounded by those he loves, everyone kind of can feel it too, bc he’s just fuckoff powerful in the Force and esp other Force sensitives kind of gather around his space and just… his affection and excitement are literally infectious.

This probably runs closer to ADHD than BPD for sure, but get him talking about anything mechanical (robotics, engineering, racing, etc) and he will go from 0 to 100 so fast you’d get whiplash. No one minds though bc, as I said, his excitement is infectious and honestly those around him just adore listening to him go off even though half of it goes over their head. - Ahsoka may not ever get Gotta Go Fast, but she definitely loves it when he really talks her ear off about all this stuff, bc it makes her excited to learn and she picks up on all of it easily. (There’s a part of her that wants to emulate him and she does def look up to him obviously.) - We see it with Obi-Wan, but people love to use his love of all things mechanical as a way to distract him from things that upset him. It doesn’t always work but they try.

With Obi-Wan, he ends up on the side of Anakin’s splitting like, all the time. And unfortunately sometimes Obi-Wan can’t tell that Anakin’s lashing out not because of something Obi-Wan’s actually done, but bc Anakin’s young and Obi-Wan’s the figure he can project a lot of his frustrations on. - It can lead Obi-Wan to being confused and hurt sometimes, bc he doesn’t always understand Anakin’s thought processes when this happens, and it definitely sometimes cuts him to the core. On the reverse side, though Anakin might not always say it to his face, Obi-Wan definitely can overhear him at times when Anakin’s ready to 1v1 anyone who even so much as makes a frowny face about Obi-Wan, which helps Obi-Wan remember that Anakin does love him too, actually. - It ends up being one of the points of frisson between Anakin and Mace, bc Anakin can’t read body language perfectly, especially when it comes to feelings of abandonment or someone seemingly not loving who Anakin loves to the same degree. Mace has a drier sense of humor at times and defs has a more resting frowny face, and this rankles Anakin at times bc he can’t always tell when Mace is just chilling vs being disappointed, and while Anakin will take it all personally, he ALSO takes any perceived criticism to those he loves personally too. - Both Mace and Obi-Wan don’t get this bc they have a perfectly fine relationship. Anakin’s just Like That. - (And super overprotective of people’s perceptions of Obi-Wan. Anakin will go off about Obi-Wan being mean and all that, but fuck you and your entire family tree if you ever even think Obi-Wan’s anything short as the most amazing Jedi to ever Jedi.)

Everybody and their mother can see the pedestal Anakin puts Padmé on, and surprisingly she rarely is on the end of his splitting. When he does, he just internalizes it bc he can’t stand the idea that he’s somehow seen her in a wrong light, or he feels guilty for getting angry with her. - He also defines a huge chunk of his life around loving her, making her his center for a lot of his decisions and reactions, so when they’re off, his whole world seems backwards. It makes him Really uncomfortable and unsure. He gets panicky and upset and often people have no idea what the cause is so they just end up a lil panicky in return. - He tends to take it out on others, by doing an exercise or by disappearing to fiddle with something. - Pads has an easier time recognizing Anakin’s emotional needs, bc in some ways they’re the same as hers. She’s good at reaching out to him, comforting him and reassuring him of her love. And in turn, he like, never fucking shuts up about how much he loves her, and those moments are what make her feel so special around him. Being loved by Anakin makes someone feel important and even get tingly, bubbly happy feelings, because it’s hard to doubt it sometimes. - There’s a part of her that sometimes worries about how Intense he is, but, like I said, when his positive intense emotions are focused on you, it feels wonderful. And he’s genuinely super sweet and gentle, and she appreciates that, when she tells him to back off about something, he’ll listen to her wishes. (I’m using movie Anakin as my base here bc TCW!Anakin in this regard is just…. bad y’all lmao)

Anakin’s anxious about Ahsoka All The Time. He’s afraid he’s a bad teacher, he’s afraid he’ll mess her up somehow, he’s afraid he’ll hurt her or she’ll get hurt, and that’s why he can’t stand the idea sometimes of her being on her own. It��s not a lack of trust in her abilities, but because he feels responsible for her, and that’s why he’s always ready to put himself between her and literally anything that could potentially hurt her. (Even if it’s not a physical threat.) - There are times she finds this amusing and times this makes her angry, but mostly she is long suffering. There are times she appreciates it though, bc she’s still a kid and isn’t always sure which way is up, especially when in a war. Anakin is often a cornerstone for her, and though she’d literally NEVER admit it, his overprotectiveness can sometimes be a reassurance. She knows she can handle herself just fine, but when she has an inkling of doubt, she’ll remind herself that Anakin will be there, and then go and take care of the problem herself. - She doesn’t always get his moments where he’s not always falling over himself to talk Obi-Wan up or go out of his way to sass at him. To her, they have a wonderful relationship and she rarely notices when Obi-Wan might say something that pokes at Anakin wrong, so she often just winds up ???? when Anakin is huffy or annoyed with her grandmaster. - She sees Anakin’s anger issues a little more easily than others, and she worries about it but always brushes it off or downplays it, bc she always sees why he’s angry, and also always just assumes (like everyone else) that he can Handle It. - Anakin’s recklessness and impulsivity are some of her favourite things about being his padawan. He’s literally never boring to be around, and Ahsoka needs that sort of excitement to sometimes push aside the knowledge that she’s literally in a warzone. Anakin’s also really good at doing this intentionally; he’s literally always worrying after her, and all he wants to do is take care of those he loves and make them happy, so sometimes he’ll be Extra just to get under her skin or distract her and honestly this is the basis of where their playful competitions always come from.

If Ahsoka is long suffering, Rex is doubly so. Sometimes it’s all he can do to keep up with Anakin and Ahsoka, but he appreciates Anakin “thinking outside the box”. He also appreciates knowing that Anakin is just as loyal to him and his men as he himself is (well… Anakin is until he isn’t lmao) - Rex, like Pads, is really good at picking up Anakin’s moods and even trains of thought, so he’s always able to work around that, or even see where Anakin’s mind is going when coming up with a plan. They make a really good team bc while Anakin can jump from one idea to another without them seemingly correlated, Rex immediately follows Anakin’s leaps and they just end up in sync. - That being said, Anakin can be really confusing at times. His moods are often so all over the place, that Rex generally has no idea what tf is going on. He deals with it by learning to be calm when Anakin’s unable to, and just ride out Anakin’s worst moods until they pass by, learning not to let it all phase him. Anakin lowkey hates it when he’s upset, but once the worst of it passes, he really appreciates that Rex will just… not press like Obi-Wan, or balances out the moments Anakin’s mind is so cluttered by instead just keeping a good focus on things.

Probably everyone’s most baffling symptom of Anakin’s is his paranoia. Obi-Wan kind of sees it the most, because Anakin is always testy with the Council and often feels put on the spot, dismissed and looked down upon. To everyone else, they don’t get where Anakin’s ideas come from, bc everything seems chill on their end. His fretting about others’ well-being is straightforward enough, but his instant panic-turned-anger shift when he receives any criticism (especially the perceived type) always gives people whiplash. It’s hard to keep up with, hard to see what it was that got to him so much, and hard to know how to help (particularly when they’re worried that trying to help him will feel like “taking sides”). - Ahsoka takes Anakin’s POV of the Council pretty easily, at least when it comes to him. This is mostly bc she’s not there when there’s a meeting or tension around them, nor was she there when Anakin first arrived, so she just assumes they must genuinely often have issues with him too. She doesn’t see it to the extent Anakin does though, but she recognizes that sometimes he seems to blow things out of proportion when he’s upset, and figures it’ll just blow over once he’s calmed down. - Pads, on the other hand, is always kind of aware of Anakin’s fears of losing her. He often not-so-subtly looks for reassurances that she loves him and won’t leave him, that she’s feeling alright or not angry/annoyed with him. She chalks it up to his trauma with his mother (and she’s partially right), so even when sometimes it gets on her nerves that he seems to doubt her so much, she tries to remind herself of that and let it go.

Those closest to him can pick up that Anakin tends to see the negative in things, and is generally really hard on himself. They try to help out by giving praise where it’s due and just overall Being There, but it’s Rough to know they often don’t get through. (Palps, on the other hand, knows how to weaponize this.)

The saddest part is that I don’t think anyone once thought Anakin was Seriously Ill, partly out of ignorance, partly bc they assumed it had to do with his age/upbringing, and partly bc, eventually, everyone was dealing with trauma and even if someone wanted to send Anakin back to the Temple to have a nap or something, they legit couldn’t bc there was a war going on and he also would never have tolerated it at that point in time. - Obi-Wan’s the one who worries about all of this the most, because he’s always felt such a huge responsibility for Anakin and loves him a lot, he’s just never fully been able to understand how to get on the same wavelength as Anakin. - Anakin, too, actually never fully figures out that there is something Going On. Everything’s always overwhelming him and even though he prefers doing things at 100mph, sometimes it seems like there is Too Much going on, and even during peace times it just felt like he couldn’t keep up with everything. He hates internal reflection but also can’t stop overthinking about everything, and so he just ruminates and goes in circles and often just ends up going nowhere when it comes to dealing with things. He tries his hardest all the time, he is ALWAYS trying, but doing stupid stunts, fighting droids, making robots and speeding everywhere all the time is truthfully only a bandaid. - Being surrounded by those he adores and receiving affection from them/seeing them happy boosts his mood a lot but he doesn’t have enough self-awareness to guess at why his happier moods just won’t last. - Sometimes he can figure out when he’s being irrational and then just takes it out on himself, which only exacerbates his bad episodes.

Palpatine doesn’t help. He’s abusive, manipulates Anakin all the time and is the Worst and definitely makes everything Anakin is struggling with harder and I think we should all just punt him into a sun thank you this isn’t a headcanon I just want everyone to know how much I hate him

#this is like... super long im sorry lmao #and it's probably a bit all over the place anyways #long post #also idr much about mace's characterization so i'm Pretty sure he has a dry sense of humour but idr so lmao forgive that #borderline anakin skywalker #also a lil bit of #adhd anakin skywalker #i focused a bit on his bpd + his relationships here #but if there was something else you'd have preferred my ideas on please lmk #or even if this was remotely close to what you wanted in general #star wars #anakin headcanons #this is my first time doing a like... headcanon list or just some rambling list of ideas so skjlkjsd rip me #gray-does-stuff #ask

93 notes · View notes

cozycryptidcorner · 3 years

Photo

The Mad Prince, Chapter 11 (sfw)

Chapter 10

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course, didn’t you know?”

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

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

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

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

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not.”

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

“Do you want to talk-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Quiet mumbling, all things you can’t catch.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You mumble something in affirmation.

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

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

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

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

You’ve felt this way before.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That is… acceptable,” the prince says.

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

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

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

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

“You’re awake.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You swallow thickly. “Don’t do what?”

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

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

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

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

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

“So I stopped.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Materlist || Ko-Fi || Patreon

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

87 notes · View notes

wayward-wren · 3 years

Text

What up lads new Philza Lore dropped

Been thinking about this since it's been revealed that c!Phil is immortal, or at least centuries old. I like analysing things, and my brain has been chugging away analysing c!Phil since this new revelation and I finally found time to sit down and get my thoughts out.

Unless specified, I'll be talking about the character Philza from now on! Let's get into it. Putting a cut in because it gets long. Also most of this is gonna be from memory because it's getting late and I'm not digging through 4+ months of vods!

remind me to never use the new Beta posting layout it gave me a word limit and then yeeted like 800 words i hate it here lets see if i can remember what I wrote

I’ve moved a lot in my life. I think on average about one new city every four years. This has meant a lot of goodbyes, a lot of meeting new people and breaking into new circles. When this new information was revealed, I instantly felt things click - I could relate to Phil suddenly.

Being centuries-old would create similar emotions, I think. Constantly being around people you know you will outlive, constantly finding yourself in new circles and groups. It takes a toll.

Being centuries old effects how Phil views relationships, people and countries.

Because I’ve moved a lot, I’ve noticed that I’m starting to get the attitude of ‘I can’t be bothered.’ I can’t be bothered going out of my way to meet new people, to make new friends I’m likely to move away from in a few years.

I’d imagine Phil would feel much the same way. Making close connections to people is impossible for him, really. He knows he’s going to outlive those around him and so the effort to put into growing relationships seems pointless.

I think this is most seen in his and Wilbur’s relationship. Wilbur clearly wants his attention - his pride - and clearly hasn’t gotten it to the extent he wants. (“I wonder if Phil would be proud of me” comes to mind. Plus I’m sure there’s something there with his relationship with Fundy and that cycle of bad parenting. And yes, it likely contributed to his spiral into madness, but this post is about Phil, not Wilbur.) But from Phil’s perspective, he knows Wilbur isn’t going to live as long as he is.

It explains why he’s so quick to kill Wilbur as well. Wilbur is too far gone, and Phil makes the decision to kill him before he does more harm. He’s long ago accepted the fact that his son will die before him, and so he is able to kill him.

Likewise, his relationship with Tommy reflects this. He doesn’t reach out to Tommy because there’s no point in making a new bond with someone who he will outlive. (especially with Wilbur’s death so fresh). However, he does make it clear that if Tommy reached out to him, he would have answered - more on that later.

His age also means he’s always looking at the big picture. He’s likely seen countless countries and empires and kingdoms rise and fall and he knows that they’re all temporary. He doesn’t see the importance in them like those who live and die within the lifespan of a nation.

He doesn’t see the small details. He doesn’t understand why Ghostbur is so upset about a simple sheep’s death - one with unlimited lives as well. In his mind, it’s just an animal. In Ghostbur’s mind, Friend is a friend, an important small thing. Phil is so used to moving on from things, he doesn’t understand the importance of pets and nations and a home.

This is all temporary in his mind, and lives are more important to him than a country. L’manberg was corrupting people (Tubbo, quite possible Wilbur in his mind) and thus it didn’t serve its purpose and needed to go before it hurt more people. (plus I wonder if there were some underlying anger and frustration towards L’manberg for the loss of his wings. It’s basically canon now (everyone say thank you Sadist!) that Phil’s wings were damaged during the explosion, and I would imagine for someone so old, losing limbs like wings and being grounded would be a shock and some of that may have been projected onto L’manberg)

(I also want to talk briefly about his and Techno’s relationship. While we haven’t had any canon confirmation, I don’t think Techno is fully mortal and it makes sense for Phil to gravitate towards other ancient beings. Plus my friend pointed out another theory in that Phil could be a patron of some kind for Techno, something Blood God related, I don’t know we need more information Techno please give us character lore I beg of you)

OKAY! I rewrote what I already had sometimes I hate Tumblr anyway onward let’s write this out before I pass out I’m tired.

Phil is willing to create relationships - but on his terms.

I said Phil is distant and hesitate to create bonds with people but this isn’t necessarily true. I want to point out Fundy and Ranboo and talk about his interactions with them and then talk about Tommy.

At the start of season two, Fundy, Ghostbur and Phil were really driving the lore. Phil seemed to be trying to bond with Fundy, and I think a lot of that likely had to do with guilt from what happened to Wilbur but there’s something deeper to it. He makes an effort to be there for Fundy and to help him.

Likewise, he went out of his way to save Ranboo from lava (though the overlap for in character and ooc is large there, I think it still applies), and brought him home after Doomsday, saving him from his own mind.

Phil seems himself as a benevolent being. He sees himself as right, and part of that is being there for his grandson, or helping out a hybrid in trouble.

However, it’s important to note - this is on his terms. He’s lived so long, he doesn’t want to put energy into relationships that won’t give him back something. For Fundy, I think a lot of it was making up for what happened with Wilbur and family responsibility, but he enjoyed spending time with Fundy (it’s been a while I need to rewatch some of those vods I think).

With Ranboo, again I feel like there’s a small part in fulfilling some need of Phil’s to feel like he’s being ‘good’ and plucking this kid out of a warzone makes him feel good. But at the same time, Ranboo is polite, quiet, generous - the perfect kind of person to put energy into building a relationship with. Plus, I would not be surprised if Ranboo reminds him of Techno.

If a relationship takes too much, or isn’t worth it - Phil drops it and doesn’t bother trying to fix what is broken. Why would he? He’s just going to outlive whatever the problem is. He lived in L’manberg, but he was never a part of it. He dismissed Tubbo so quickly when he saw Tubbo was being corrupted by his power and position. He didn’t follow up on Fundy or check that he was okay or make any effort to reach out to him when things started to go down.

And that brings us to Tommy. We’re all upset at how Phil reacted to Tommy’s exile and the following, but I think it makes so much sense. Like I said before, he doesn’t put the effort into reaching out to Tommy, but he would have gone to the Beach Party if Tommy had reached out to him. He was happy to see Tommy at Techno’s place, he was willing to create that relationship and bond.

But from Phil’s pov, Tommy was thrown aside by his home, found shelter with Techno, and then betrayed Techno by siding with the people who threw him aside. (and Techno is loyal to the few he trusts, so a betrayal like that will hit hard and Phil can see that). It makes sense that Phil decides that isn’t a relationship he wants to put energy into fixing.

(Also to clarify, I’m not saying Tommy was wrong to side with L’manberg and Tubbo, or that Techno was right in lashing out like he did. I’m just saying it’s a complex issue, and seeing all sides of it is important - they were both betrayed that day).

Living so long means Phil only cares to put effort and energy into relationships that benefit him, in whatever way. If someone is too difficult or needs too much effort, then in Phil’s mind there’s no reason to pursue that relationship.

Being so old makes Phil overly confident in himself.

Philza is always in the right. Full stop. End of story.

He’s lived so long and has so much more experience than anyone else that he thinks he is in the right all the time. His fatal flaw is his pride and - much like Techno - he refuses to see anything from anyone else’s point of view.

He saw L’manberg’s corruption, saw that it as a nation was hurting people and made the decision that it was doing more hurt than good so of course he joined Techno and Dream in destroying it.

He sees the big picture and so of course Friend’s death doesn’t matter, Friend was just an animal. Ghostbur is too naive and foolish to understand that now.

Unless he learns to listen and see someone else’s point of view - which will be very hard, because he’s so old and connecting with people is hard for him - he’s going to continue to think he’s always in the right.

Conclusion

There’s a few things I want to see/think might happen with Phil’s character, one more likely than the other.

First off - Karl.

If anyone knows how to look at the big picture, if anyone knows how insignificant the simple things are and how pointless it can be sometimes it’s the server’s resident time traveller. But where Karl differs from Phil is that he cares.

Karl goes out of his way to help, risks his memory and sanity to make things better for his friends. Pours time and effort and energy into relationships that may be onesided or temporary - heck, have you seen how much effort he goes to to be liked by everyone? Sometimes too much.

I’d love to see some Karl and Phil interaction. Maybe in a Tales episode (young Phil? Backstory? Maybe?) or even in regular canon. It’s unlikely probably, but I think it could be an interesting discussion. Someone write a fic.

Secondly - death.

CC!Phil has made it no secret that his character is probably going to die at some point (if only for ghost WINGSSSS). Honestly? I think it could be a great direction to take the character.

If Phil could find something worth dying for, could find the joys in the small things, could focus on the little details enough to realize - ‘oh. This does matter’ I honestly think that would be cool. A sacrificial death, maybe even for something as ‘insignificant’ as a pet (although pets can be important on this server). I’m not sure, but I think making peace with death would be a great way to take an immortal character’s arc.

There’s more I could talk about - for instance, I haven’t even mentioned the ‘not as painful as what I inflicted on their enemies’ comment and Phil’s whole ‘angel of death’ vibe, or the fact that he’s always only had one life. But it’s getting late and I’ve been writing this for like an hour and a half and I’m really tired. Feel free to add on!

#dream smp #dsmp #mcyt #philza #philza minecraft #this was fun #please reblog i put a lot of effort into this and i'd love people to see it!#let me know what you think ^-^#i'm going to have to find some songs and write something at some point probably #anyway sleep time #this is nearly 2000 words guys #im putting my highschool english essay skills to very good use

47 notes · View notes

repcommquotes · 3 years

Text

Kal is not even seven years old when he’s adopted. Kal is picked up off a battlefield severely traumatized as a very young child after surviving in a warzone for at least a year all alone, essentially since he was a five year old - after his entire world is torn apart. He’s haunted by nightmares of his parents corpses, he’s seen their crushed bodies.

Then he’s offered ‘safety’ by Mandalorians. Munin renames him almost immediately meaning even if someone was looking for Kal under his birth name, they probably wouldn’t be able to find him. There’s no indication Munin was even going to see if he still had living family left in the form of aunts, uncles, or grandparents either- he’s already made the decision to adopt Kal. Then Munin treats him like crap under the guise of toughening him up and talks a big game of offering a better life to a child who has no genuine ability to consent or fully understand the implications, a child that just wants safety, security, and family again.

Munin is incredibly hard on him then softens up up that lesson by being ‘kind’. Just like Kal would be training his Commandos to face death and then sneak them pieces of cake.

Kal treats others as he himself was treated.

Kal looks at the Nulls and he sees himself because they are him. He looks at these kids and thinks he will save them the same way he was saved while he never dwells too deeply on what it cost him, or what it would cost the Nulls in turn.

Read More includes the Repcomm passage.

Mes Cavoli, Mid Rim, approximately fifty years before the Battle of Geonosis

“ Get up! Get up and run, you little chakaar, or I'll drag you up."

Falin Mattran could see the curling smoke of the mercenaries' camp a couple of hundred meters away, but it might as well have been a hundred kilometers. He couldn't get up: he couldn't go on. He knelt on all fours, struggling for breath, every muscle burning, but he refused to cry.

He was seven years old. Nearly. He thought it was six years and ten months, but he'd lost count in the war.

"Can't," he said.

"Can." Munin Skirata was a big man with pockmarked green armor and a blaster that fired metal pellets. He loomed above, voice deafening, face invisible behind a helmet with a T-shaped visor that scared Falin the first time he saw it. "I know you can. You survived Surcaris on your own. And you're not strolling in your fancy Kuati park now, so shift your shebs, you lazy little nibral."

It wasn't fair; life generally wasn't. Falin's parents were dead, and he hated the world. He wasn't sure if he hated Munin Skirata, but if he could have killed the man right then, he would have. Only exhaustion stopped him. He almost reached for the knife he'd taken from his father's body when he realized Papa was dead and was never going to wake up however hard he tried to rouse him, but he couldn't take his weight off both arms without collapsing into the dirt.

"You can do it if you want to," Munin yelled. "But you don't want to, and that makes you a nibral. You know what a nibral is? A loser. A waste of space. Deadwood. Get up!"

Falin wanted one thing, and that was to show that he wasn't lazy or stupid. His dad had never called him stupid. Neither had his mother; they loved him and made him feel safe, and now they were gone forever. He struggled into a kneeling position, then stood up, swaying and tottering, before breaking into a run again.

"That's more like it." Munin jogged alongside him. "Come on. Shift it."

Falin's legs didn't feel like part of his body anymore. He'd run so far that they wouldn't do what he wanted; he was trying to run, but stumbling along in small steps, unable to find a steady rhythm. His lungs screamed for a rest. But he wasn't going to stop and be a nibral. He didn't want to be one of those.

Ahead was as near to home as he was ever going see again, a camp that moved from place to place each day, where he sobbed himself to sleep every night with his fist crammed into his mouth so the Mandalorians wouldn't hear him and think he was a baby for crying so much.

He could see the Mando soldiers standing around in the camp, watching. They all wore armor. Even their women were tough soldiers, and it wasn't always easy to tell who was under that armor, male or female-or even if they were human.

Falin willed his body on, but it wasn't listening. He pitched forward flat on his face.

Every time he tried to get up, gravel and dirt cutting into his palms, his arms gave way again. He sobbed in frustration. The finish line was still a long way off. But he had to get up. He had to finish.

I'm not lazy. I'm not a nibral. I won't let him call me that-"Okay, ad'ika," Munin said, scooping him up in his arms. He sat Falin on one hip as if he was used to carrying kids and strode into the camp. The sudden switch from yelling to kindness was confusing. "You did okay, lad. It's all right."

Falin hit Munin as hard as he could, but his balled fist bounced off the metal breastplate. It hurt. He wasn't going to let Munin know that, though. "I hate you," he said, now certain at last. "When I'm bigger, I'm going to kill you."

"I bet you would," Munin said, smiling. "You already tried once."

The other Mandalorians watched, some with helmets on, some not. They'd finished fighting their war here. They were waiting for a ship to take them home.

"You trying to kill that boy?" One of the men stopped to ruffle Falin's hair. His name was Jun Hokan, and he was eating shavings of that horrible dried fish stuff, gihaal, carving them from a big chunk with his vibroblade and popping them into this mouth the way some folks ate fruit. "Poor shab'ika. Hasn't he been through enough?"

"I'm just training him."

"There's such a thing as too much."

"Come on, he's mandokarla. He's already managed to survive on his own. He's all guts, this one."

"Guts or not, I didn't have my boy do proper training runs until he was eight."

Falin didn't like being talked about as if he couldn't understand what was going on. In the center of the camp-tents made of plastoid sheets strung over pits, then covered with grass and branches-a pot of stew was cooking over a crackling fire. Munin set him down and scrubbed his face and hands clean with a cold wet rag before ladling stew into a bowl and handing it to him.

"We'll have to get you some armor when we get home," Munin said. "You need to learn to live and fight in it. Beskar'gam. The Mandalorian's second skin."

Falin slurped from the bowl. He was always hungry. The stew was more like a broth-no lovely fat dumplings like his mother made-and he didn't like the fishy smell, but this was a banquet compared with what he'd scavenged in the ruined city for a year.

"Don't want any armor," he said.

"You can do all kinds of things when you're wearing armor that ordinary folks can't do, Kal."

Munin called him Kal. In the man's own language, it had something to do with knives and stabbing. Munin had nicknamed him Kal because Falin had tried to stab him with the three-sided knife when they first met; the Mandalorian seemed to think it was funny, and hadn't been angry at all. But Munin fed him, and didn't hurt him, and in the weeks since Falin had been part of the mercenary camp, he'd felt better even if he wasn't happy.

Sometimes Munin called him Kal'ika. The mercenaries told him it meant "little blade," and showed that Munin was fond of him.

"I'm Falin," he said at last. "My name's Falin." But he was already forgetting who Falin was. His home in Kuat City seemed like a dream mostly forgotten when he woke up, more a feeling than a memory. His family had moved to Surcaris while his father did engineering stuff on the new KDY warships there. "I don't want another name."

Munin ate with him. When he wasn't shouting, he was actually a kind man, but he could never take Papa's place. "Starting over can be a good thing, Kal'ika. You can't change the past or other folks, but you can always change yourself, and that changes your future."

The thought grabbed Falin and wouldn't let go. When you felt powerless, the idea of being able to make the bad stuff stop was the best thing in the world, and he didn't want to feel this bad ever again. He wanted things to change.

"But why do you make me run and carry things?" he asked. "It hurts."

"So that you can handle anything life throws at you, son. So that you never have to be afraid of anyone again. I'm going to make a soldier of you."

Falin liked the idea of being a soldier. He had a vague but long list of beings he wanted to kill for hurting his parents, and you could do things like that if you were a soldier. "Why?"

"It's a noble profession. You're tough and smart, and you'll be a great soldier. It's what Mandalorians do."

"Why didn't you kill me? You kill everyone else."

Munin chewed thoughtfully for a while. "Because you don't have parents, and me and my missus don't have a son, so it sort of makes sense that we do what Mandalorians always do-that we take you in, train you, set you up to be a soldier and a father yourself. Don't you want that?"

Falin thought about it for a long time. He didn't have an answer, other than that he was lonelier now among other beings than when he'd lived on his own in the rubble on Surcaris, because all the Mandalorians seemed to belong. They were close-knit, like a family. And they hadn't killed his parents; they'd just rolled into town a year later while the war was still raging. He still felt angry, though, and they'd do as a focus for his anger until the real thing came along.

"You think I'm lazy and stupid," Falin said.

"No, I just say that and shout at you to get you mad enough to push yourself to the limit." Munin watched him empty the bowl and then refilled it. "Because strength is up here." He tapped his head. "You can make your body do anything if you want to badly enough. It's called endurance. When you find out just how much you can do, how much you can face, you'll feel fantastic-like nobody can ever hurt you again. You'll be strong in every sense of the word."

Falin wanted to feel fantastic. On a full stomach, life seemed vaguely promising as long as he didn't think about his mother and father, lying there among the shattered beams of the house they'd rented on Surcaris.

It was an image he couldn't get out of his mind. He got up to wash the bowl in a pail of water and then sat down again next to the fire to look at his father's knife, as he did every day. It had three flat sides, like a pyramid stretched out to a point. He'd never been allowed to touch it while his father was alive, but he'd taught himself to use it because he had nowhere to run and nobody to look after him. He could throw it pretty well now. He practiced a lot. He could hit any target, moving or otherwise.

"What's it like being a soldier?" he asked.

Munin shrugged. "Often boring. Sometimes scary. You travel a lot. You make the best friends you could ever have. You really live. And sometimes-you die too early."

"Do I have to follow orders?"

"Orders keep you alive."

It wasn't quite dusk, but Falin could hardly keep his eyes open, and he sank into a delicious numb fatigue as the world receded. He tried to stay in that twilight state because sleep inevitably brought the dreams; but he was just too tired. At one point he was aware of being picked up and carried but he didn't wake fully and the last thing he felt was settling into a pile of warm blankets in one of the shelters that smelled of machine oil, smoke, and dried fish.

It was then that the dream started again. He knew he was dreaming, but it didn't help. He walked through the front doors of the house on Surcaris, all the walls shattered and fallen with just the doors left intact, and he didn't recognize what he stepped on as his mother until he saw the blue fabric of her favorite tunic. He looked around for his father.

Papa was lying by the remains of the window, and Falin knew something wasn't right, but it took him a few moments to work out that most of his father's head was missing. He knelt down to take the knife from his father's belt and thought he saw him move.

It was always then that he woke up. It hadn't been like that in real life-he'd huddled next to the bodies for ages before he decided he had to run and hide, and took the knife to defend himself-but in the dream, it was all faster, different, more horrible. He jerked awake, heart pounding.

"Papa's head ...," he sobbed. "Papa's head's broken."

Munin Skirata hugged Falin to his chest. "It's okay," he said. "I'm here, son. I'm here. It's just a bad dream."

"I want it to stop. I want to stop seeing Papa's head."

Munin didn't yell at him for crying. He just held him until he stopped. Falin clung to him and sobbed until he couldn't get his breath anymore. He realized that the three-sided knife was on his belt now, in a new leather sheath, and he didn't know where that had come from.

"It'll stop, Kal," Munin said. "I promise. And nobody's ever going to hurt you while I'm around. You're going to grow up strong, and you're going to be happy."

Falin decided he didn't mind being called Kal if it made the nightmare go away. Somehow, the two things were now connected: if he stopped being Falin, he stopped seeing his parents' bodies. Munin Skirata sounded so certain and felt so strong and solid that Falin believed him. You could change if you wanted to. You could do anything if you wanted to.

"I'm not really a nibral, am I?"

" 'Course not, Kal," Munin said quietly. "I shouldn't have said it. There's no word for what you are in Mandalorian."

Falin-Kal-didn't understand. He looked up into Munin's face for an explanation.

"Hero," Munin said. "We don't have a word for hero. But you're a real little hero, Kal Skirata."

Kal Skirata. It was who he was going to be from this moment onward. He fell asleep again, and when he woke the next morning-no dreams, no nightmares-he saw that the world was a different place.

18 notes · View notes

ecoamerica · 2 months

Text

youtube

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

17K notes · View notes

zombiekillerky · 3 years

Text

[Snowball Warzone] - Sleepyboisinc Fanfic

{Family Dynamic only, no relationships at all in this story}

[This story is set back when they were young and Phil still took care of them]

"I here by declare this land to be SNOW VILE" Tommy shouted at the top of his lungs on the small snow mound he was standing upon at the moment. Making Wilbur and Tubbo glance back at him in confusion as they were making snow angles on the other side of the yard. Tommy watched them confidently with a smirk on his face as they got up. Taking note of the devilish look in Wilbur's eyes. Brushing the snow of of his hands so he could wipe his nose with out making his face cold and wet.

"Why Snow Vile Tommy....aren't there other names you could have chose from?" Tubbo asked as he sat up from laying back on the snow. Noticing Wilbur doing the same as he brushed the snow off the back of his hat. Tommy flashed him a smile as he shrugged his shoulders slightly in return. Meaning it was a split second decision he had made and didn't put much thought in to it at all.

"Because Tubbo, as President I have thought long and hard about this decision on the name and that is what I have come up with....not totally because I randomly just thought about it right now not at all no" Tommy replied with a laugh as he bent down and wiped some of the snow off of his knees. Regretting his sitting position while he was piling the snow for his mound in the first place earlier on. The boys had gone out to play in the fresh snow that occurred the night before hand. Begging to go out last night but Phil convinced them it wasn't safe enough to go out in the first place and to wait for morning. The snow was one of their favorite things to happen in the year for many reasons. It was fun to play in, started wars and adventures and it also brought the family closer together. It meant to Christmas was just around the corner and the up coming days for it were always memorable among them all. But the blonde couldn't get much in to it, for now he needed to start his new nation of snowmen and women. Who knows how long it would take for him to make them all before sun down at the rate.

"Wilbur could you help me make a flag for my hill, I think it would be good for my country and my soon to be snow people that I will rule over!" Tommy asked as he glanced back over to the brunette where he thought he had last seen him. Surprised to find a snowball coming at him quickly with laughter following behind. The blond fell to the ground, over doing the dramatic side a bit as he laid there. Holding his chest where he had gotten hit like he had been killed. Hearing Tubbo scream his name before landing on the ground next to him in sadness. Bringing his head up on to his lap as his eyes were slowly shutting.

"NO Mr president Don't DIE no!" He yelled, not even above the age of 11 and he knew what that meant already. To everyone's surprise Tubbo did know a lot of things that no one thought he would. Maybe the fact that he had some small trouble reading made everyone think he didn't know about important stuff. But the looks on their faces when he did say something no one knew were priceless.

"t-tubbo....my friend...m-my vice president"

"yes Mr president what do you need?"

"come....c-closer to me Tubbo...I-I need to tell you something....something very i-important"

"what? what is it Tommy......please tell me?"

"......tell Wilbur......that I ate his last cookie inside....and"

"Yes and what?"

"that....he sucks!" Tommy said before letting his head fall back to act like he was dead. Snickering as he heard Tubbo cry out his name in agony and sadness as they sat there in the cold snow. But the scene was broken by the laughter that filled the air by all of them. Tommy soon raised his head as Tubbo fell back on to the ground with laughter. They couldn't contain it any more and their show was now sort of over.

"Sike I'm still alive Bitch!"

"Tommy watch your mouth!"

"sorry sorry....but I'm still alive and I declare war on your country Wilbur! With Tubbo on my side we will foil your plans you terrorist! You will feel the pain and suffering of Snow vile for your actions!" Tommy shouted as he helped Tubbo up off the floor, trying to hold back his laughs still as they raced over to the mound. Or the city capital as Tommy would say. Trying to build up their wall for the war that was about to happen and get so much worse between them.

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

Phil just watched from inside as they all played the scene in front of him like a show. Laughing at their acting and their show as he gathered things to make hot chocolate for when they came in for breakfast. As he stood there by the window he heard the stairs creak behind him and a small muffled yawn. Turning around to see Techno standing there with an unimpressed look on his face as he came down. It seemed he had a rough night, and depending on how he was acting was what side of the bed he slept on too. Phil smiled warmly at him, the smile was returned as the young pig hybrid covered his mouth as he yawned once more. The small bags underneath his eyes told all. Running his hands through his hair to untangle the knots from his restless sleep he had.

"They're outside if you're wondering, raced straight out there as soon as they woke up.....Your things are by the door, I also fixed your gloves since they had a rip in them that you neglected to tell me about" Phil said calmly as he sat the coco mix on the counter top. Making his way over to the fridge for the rest of the ingredients he needed. The small grunt was heard a reply, telling him okay from how many times Techno has done it before hand.

"Sorry about that Phil, just slipped my *yawn* mind a little bit....you know I have trouble remembering somethings with my low attention span" Techno replied with a sly smirk, Phil couldn't help but giggle as he nodded his head.

"That is true, but could you just come to me next time? You know I have spares in the closet some where"

"I suppose" Techno replied, meaning that he wouldn't really remember to after this conversation. The blonde adventurer smiled softly at him in return as he watched him glance out the window quickly. Phil could tell from the very start Techno was not and never a morning person. But after a few minutes he was back to his normal attitude he had most of the time. Waking him up was the worst thing though if they all needed to do something.

Techno sighed as he grabbed his light jacket, gloves and hat. Being that he was a piglin hybrid his body warmed up naturally very easy. Making it apparent that he didn't need much to keep him warm and assured Phil he was fine several times about it. But warm biomes were in fact one of his worst enemies at the moment from how hot he could get.

"Make sure you don't beat them to bad Techno" Phil commented quickly, knowing how competitive he could get. Techno glanced back at him with an evil smirk on his face, watching Phil roll his eyes slightly as he ran some fresh water in to some of the cups.

"How ever do you mean Philza....that is something I would never do......are you implying something?" Techno replied sarcastically back as he crossed his arms slightly, hoping Phil would get that he was joking. Earning a laugh from his father figure as he worked at the counter, he did get that he was joking then which was good. He wouldn't admit it but Phil did have a point about his competitiveness. It wasn't as bad as Tommy's ego though which was something he couldn't let him add on to when beating him at a snowball fight outside. He would hear it from him for weeks that he was beaten by him and like Tommy says was beaten by the alpha male.

"Nah mate, just go and have some fun before breakfast is ready kid." Phil replied with a soft grin, noticing Techno's eyes softening from his sarcastic expression. Technoblade flashed Phil one last smile before heading outside the warm house he wanted to stay in overall. He would rather stay inside with Phil then out in a cold war zone. Immediately regretting his decision as soon as he stepped foot out there, his face being met with a snow ball from the left side of the yard. The yard went silent as they're eyes landed on him standing there. Wiping the snow off of his face with an annoyed look that said all. Tommy knew that was his snow ball too, he knew he was in big trouble if Techno knew that. He was screwed, his could feel the blank stare and his blood ran cold. Chewing on his bottom lip out of nervousness.

"Well if it isn't The mighty Blade waking up finally! You're on our property you terrorist! Pay your taxes by giving us cookies or LEAVE" Tommy shouted, confusing the hybrid standing there with a poker face almost. The blonde was trying to cover up the tension and his nervousness by his shouting. The look on Tubbo's was changed once he heard Tommy say those words. Realizing they could have used Techno's help against Will to make it a somewhat fair fight. But now that the two older kids were on the same side there was no telling what could really happen between the groups. Techno looked over to Will , watching the brunette shrug his shoulders with a smile as he continued the ball snow in his hands. The hybrid smirked slightly as he turned his gaze back to Tommy standing there. Trying to appear taller almost as he stood to show dominance., ignoring the fact that both Will and techno were taller then him by a lot. Taking notice on his anxiousness as he stood there with fake confidence. He already knew he was screwed the moment Techno took a step outside. Techno could use that fear against them, but today he felt like being a little nice at least for now anyway.

"YOU KNOW I HATE GOVERNMENTS AS MUCH AS I HATE ORPHANS TOMMY! NOW YOU SHALL FEEL THE WRATH OF ME THESEUS! WE WILL DESTROY YOUR LAND" Techno shouted to play along with their game they played. He busted in to a sprint over toward Wilbur behind his snow and ice built wall. Hearing laughing and shouting on the other side of the yard from the youngest duo taking camp there. The tension between them all fell as soon as they heard Techno speak.

"Took you long enough! I needed the back up, they've been at it all morning ever since I tried to assassinate Tommy earlier when he built the mound"

"Sorry, you know I don't do well with mornings Willbur" Techno replied as he started to grab some snow off the ground. Making snow balls to add to his pile as ones were being thrown over their wall by the two youngest boys on the opposite side of the yard. He smirked as he chucked one over their wall. Hearing a faint scream from Tubbo in return which meant he managed to hit him with only a quick glance for accuracy. Wilbur started to laugh as he threw more over, he didn't even look he was just throwing them over the wall. Tommy screamed as he ducked, yelling at Wilbur with words no one could even understand.

"TUBBO DO SOMETHING!" Tommy screamed as he covered his head as more snow balls were being thrown at them. Watching as the brunette tried to throw some back in return but failed miserably.

"I'M TRYING TOMMY! HOW DO YOU HAVE SO MANY SNOWBALLS PREPARED!!" Tubbo yelled back to them, hearing laughter loudly erupting from their side. Techno stood up with a sly smirk as he showed the snowballs in his hands he made. Now that he was standing up he could get a better shot at them from where he was. The piglin hybrid took his shot, hitting Tubbo twice as he tried to throw more snowballs Tommy had made. He even managed to get Tommy in the arm as well. Hearing his shrieking and laughing as he ducked down for more cover. They really did stand no chance against them both, they should have had Techno on their side when they had the chance to recruit him. Now he was the reason why they were loosing so poorly. Who knew the mostly antisocial piglin hybrid would be so good about snowball fights.

"Why don't you guys just give up already and let us take over your land? you have clearly been defeated by us!" Wilbur shouted at the both of them from his side. Standing up with no fear at all of them trying to attack. Tommy looked over at Tubbo who stood up with his hands in the air,

"Tubbo what are you doing!"

"Tommy...I er Mr. president we stand no chance against them. As your vice president I advise you that we should give up in defeat"

"But we can't!.....No I'm not giving up!" Tommy said as he stood up, giving techno the challenge of changing his mind. Technoblade smirked as he threw another snowball at him, hitting him square in the chest. Tommy sighed as he wiped off the snow, realizing his defeat was the best moment Techno has had this whole time fighting them.

"B-But we can't give up Tubbo-" As soon as he was about ready to continue Tubbo started to scream. Hearing Wilbur's laughter coming closer toward them,

"Air Strike!" The brunette yelled as he ran as fast as he could and dumped the mound of snow he gathered in his arms on him. Covering Tommy's head and shoulders the white fluff that made him freeze in his spot. At first he didn't know how to react, but then everything set in. His vocal cords should have been damaged after the scream he had let out. Hitting Wilbur's arm as he cussed him out with only the few words he knew so far. But because of his height difference he was only hitting his forearm and hip. Leaving Wilbur in a laughing mess as they all stood there near the mound.

"Well I can safely say it is my honor to take over Snow Vile and run this country as my own chaotic one. Banishing these two to do all the work for ever!" Wilbur said with his own little evil laugh as Tommy stepped down from the mound. But even with their win Techno wasn't finished yet, not until the country was destroyed for good. The piglin hybrid uncovered another snow ball from within his coat pocket that was covered by his cloak. The brunette flinched as he felt it hit him in the dead center of his back. He turned in awe as he saw Techno running closer.

"NO BODY CAN HAVE THE GOVERNMENT, NOT IF I'M AROUND!" He yelled as he tackled Wilbur to the snow covered ground, glad the the snow piles covered their fall as they laid there on the ground. Laughing at each other as they laid there, surprisingly WIlbur didn't get as cold as he thought he would because of Techno's heat. Soon having Tubbo and Tommy follow their lead and add on to the pile after Wilbur was done putting snow in Techno's hair as pay back. They were all laughing as they laid there especially at Wilbur's attempts to get up off of the ground. His complains got louder about how cold his back was but the only thing that changed was Tommy added some snow on to his neck and face once he got up off the dog pile as he would call it.

"Kids come on! Breakfast is done and you don't want your hot chocolate to get cold as in you Tommy"

"But Phil they took my country and you know it's not good when it's cold. It's just chocolate water soup after that!"

"No you mean my country"

"It was mine first you terrorist" Tommy replied, noticing Tubbo and Techno had gotten off of Wilbur and started to head to the door. Wilbur smirked as he shook the snow off of him, throwing some at Tommy before sprinting toward the door. Past Techno and Tubbo on the way in in order to get away from the little gremlin that chased after him. Phil rolled his eyes as he let the other two boys inside and shut the door after. Hearing the bickering subside at the table as they started eating. Knowing that it would soon return once they were done and would head back outside to finish what war they have started.

23 notes · View notes

themuzzleofnemesis · 4 years

Text

4–Memory of the Battlefield; Scene 2

The Muzzle of Nemesis, pages 151-157

--I had intended for my aim to be a direct hit, but the bullet hit not the moving target but the wall behind him.

“…Tsk.”

As I clicked my tongue, my prey disappeared around the corner of the hallway.

He likely intended to escape by running out of the house.

I would have to put a stop to him. There was the risk of him joining back up with the USE army soldiers.

I quickly gave chase.

He had already opened up the door to his foyer. I immediately raised my gun, but before I could fire he fled out of the house.

“—Dammit.”

Fleeing from someone who sought to kill you wasn’t actually all that simple a thing. Normally your legs would lock up, and you would lose your standard ability to make judgments.

Up to this point I had never had someone who could remain calm and swiftly run away.

--Corrupt though he may be, it was nothing less than what I’d expect of a general.

I left the house in pursuit. …The front gate was still closed.

Where did he go?

I looked around me, but there wasn’t anyone in sight.

--I strained my ears.

Aside from the gunshots reverberating from far away, and the angry shouts…There was the faint sound of a man’s labored breathing.

And a child crying.

…Behind the house?

Normally there was no way I’d pick up on such quiet noises.

But the mask I was wearing currently—It gave me senses that went behind that of the average person.

Even if it was the power of a demon…There was no reason not to make use of it in this battlefield.

I went around the building and went along the back yard.

When I did—

“Found you, General Tony Ausdin.”

He was glowering at me, both his arms raised rather than hiding away.

“…? Who is that behind you?”

There was a figure at Tony’s back.

…Two figures.

A heavily pregnant woman and a boy of tender years who was tightly clutching her right hand.

…Is this Tony’s family?

Yet he might have escaped if he’d gone alone.

--I cautiously closed the distance between us, keeping my gun raised.

Tony was also holding a pistol. It would be dangerous to approach too carelessly.

“—What are you after?” he asked me.

It was obvious that he was just trying to stall for time, but I decided to answer him anyway.

“I would think you have no need to ask that, General. –You know better than anyone how this civil war started, and why the capital of Levianta has become a warzone.”

“…”

“A vicious general who slaughtered his own country’s people and then got his crimes dismissed via bribery…That is the face of the people’s anger towards you and the Dark Star Bureau.”

“But that…Zenosai Village was…an accident.”

“Are you still insisting on that!? The undeniable truth is that many people died! And you need to take responsibility for it.”

“…Do you plan to kill me with that gun?”

“Of course. That’s what I came here for.”

“—All by yourself. What happened to your fellow soldiers?”

“They’re in the middle of finishing up the main course.”

“…You mean the Dark Star Bureau.”

“It’ll fall too before long. There’s no one left to protect you.”

But upon hearing that, Tony faintly smiled. “Ha ha…I wonder.”

“…”

“If you’re waiting for something, give up.”

“--!?”

“The soldiers of your guard unit were arrested a while ago.”

“…Shit.”

Tony’s shoulders slumped.

--Or so it appeared; he rapidly brought his gun back up to bear and fired at me.

Lightning-quick, I “dodged” the shot.

“A-are you kidding me!? You avoided the bullet!?”

“--That was an impressive quick-draw. And what was more, your aim was true. …I can see how Shiro would have lost to you.”

“…You knew Second Lieutenant Shiro Netsuma?”

I held up the gun to display it to Tony.

“This look familiar to you?”

“…The ‘Naga Custom .44’. That belonged to Shiro.”

“I’m going to kill you with this gun entrusted to me by Shiro. And I shall savor her anger from beyond the grave.”

I pulled back the revolver’s hammer

“Don’t…Please. Look, I’m cooperating. I’m not resisting anymore.”

Tony threw his gun away and held up both hands.

“If you let me go, I’ll repay you. However much money you want—”

I had no intention of listening to him beg for his life.

Bang.

The bullet opened a hole in Tony’s forehead.

He simply fell to the ground without so much as a shout.

“…”

Tony’s wife and son watched on in terror.

--I once more raised the gun.

They had just watched me kill Tony.

I couldn’t let them go.

I drew closer, and the woman gave out a little yelp of fear.

“P-p-please…”

It appeared her mouth was trembling so hard she could barely speak.

The boy looked as though he couldn’t comprehend what had just occurred before him. His expression stiffened as he stared at me, his cheeks stained with tears.

“…”

There was no sign of either resisting.

It would be easy to kill them.

But—

“…Get lost. If you haven’t left this house in the next thirty minutes—I’ll shoot you without hesitation.”

After I said that, Tony’s wife grabbed her son’s hand and raced out of the front gate.

I could hear a voice through the mask.

<--You’re still too soft. You should have killed those two.>

“That wasn’t a murder. It was an act of war. If we’re able to win in the end, killing Tony won’t be that big of a deal.”

<Maybe. And that’s not what I meant, anyhow. That boy—he may come to get revenge on you someday, when he gets bigger>

A cycle of revenge…That was what Mr. Ziz spoke of.

…Even so, Tony’s wife and son were innocent.

I was not like my old self.

Because I--fought for justice.

…Let’s regroup with Gammon and the others. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’ve suppressed the Dark Star Bureau by now.”

“No. I’m positive they have victory in hand.”

“Justice—always wins.”

I pulled out my ammunition box to reload the barrel of my gun.

Inside were normal .44 caliber bullets—and just one golden bullet, alike in shape but different in material.

“I didn’t. There’s—someone else I’ll use it on.”

After filling the cylinder with the standard bullets, I hopped the fence and left the mansion grounds.

<<prev------directory------next>>

20 notes · View notes

pretend-writer · 4 years

Text

Down Below (Chapter 63)

Summary: After being sent down on Earth with the other prisoners from the Ark, Y/N Reyes faces series of events and learns about survival. With new things happening around her, she is now starting a new chapter in her life.

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x reader, Raven Reyes x sister!reader

Word Count: 2.1k words

Warning: swearing, mention of death, violence, cannibalism

Down Below Masterlist

✤ · ✤ · ✤ · ✤ · ✤

'Why are you telling me this now?' Bellamy kept his head low, starring at the ground while sitting on the bench in his cell.

Finally telling him the truth about the Dark Year was pretty tough, considering the fact that that was the reason why we fell apart. He was going into the fighting pit and it seemed like the right thing to do.

'Figured I'd tell you since we're in a pretty fucked up situation.'

'It doesn't add up. What does Kane have to do with any of the things you told me?'

The flashback pained me, it's been over 4 years since the betrayal but it still hurt. 'Days later I told Marcus the truth about everything. He didn't believe me and instead sided with that monster.'

'A monster?' Bellamy huffed, standing up as he walked towards me. 'You had a choice to back away from everything and you blame Abby?'

'Are you kidding me?'

My eyes began to water as I remembered all of the hidden memories that I tried so hard to shove deep down. I never cried about the Dark Year but perhaps since it was the first time I've ever spoke about it out loud, it finally felt real.

'A grown adult who was supposed to protect us threatened to kill my friend if I didn't do as she said, told me to do something absolutely disgusting. You know exactly how it feels to be manipulated. Bellamy, you know!'

'You could've told Kane right when that happened. That doesn't excuse you for what you did for the rest of the years you've been in the bunker.'

'I was told to be brave, be strong. Look out for grown adults that should be able to take care of themselves. I was only a teenager, just a stupid teenager and was betrayed by someone I was supposed to look up to.' I took a deep breath and shook my head. 'What was I supposed to do? I felt alone. I had to keep doing what we were doing to survive.'

Bellamy flared his nose, I couldn't tell if he was angry or frustrated. Either way I knew it wasn't a good sign. 'I told you that I'm always here for you, why didn't you ever tell me?'

'How was I supposed to tell you that I've killed people down there? That someone manipulated me and I fell for it? Considering that I've been trying to be good all these years before the bunker, it's embarrasing. I lost trust in everyone, everyone but Octavia. Then you showed up, then got my sister taken away. What was I supposed to do?'

'But you're my gir-' He paused, I knew exactly what he was going to say. Given the circumstances I guess it was all over. 'I thought we had an understanding that we'd always be able to trust each other.'

'Well, things change especially after six years. You know now, Blake. It's easier for you to judge when you're the outside looking in. You didn't know how bad it was. Every trigger that I pulled is in my hands forever and I have to live with that.'

Bellamy started at me, 'I don't feel sorry for you.'

'For fuck sakes I'm not asking for you to be sorry for me, you ass!' I screamed, 'You could be dying in a few hours right in that fucking fighting pit. I-I'

'You can just end it, you know that right? Instead you're here trying to give me this sob story.'

I rolled my eyes, 'You know what, do whatever the hell you want. I mean that was your motto after all. Just go to the fucking pit for all I care.'

'It's not like I have a choice!' Bellamy yelled as I turned my back against him and stormed to the exit.

Stopping right as I was about to grab the door to leave, I quickly turned around. 'What do you want me to do, huh? Stop the fighting pit? You broke the rules and this is the consequences you have to face.'

'You said you're the one that started the fighting pit so fucking end it! It doesn't have to be this way.' Bellamy face palmed, kicking the wall as he grunted. 'You and Octavia just want to do whatever is convenient for you two. Come down here and try to sweet talk me when I'm about to die.'

'Octavia came down to see you?'

'Yep, of course she did. Now she wants me to be her sweet brother and beat Indra in the fighting pit, when all she have to do is stop th-'

My eyes widened, shocked to hear that Octavia was willing to sacrifice her mentor and someone she deeply loved for her brother.

Indra was someone she truly loved besides Bellamy, she considered her as family. Yet Octavia was okay to tell her brother to kill her.

Bellamy saw my reaction and chuckled, 'Abby played you but so did Octavia. She had you wrapped around her finger.'

Talking about the Dark Year already had me in the verge of tears, I didn't want to be sad over Octavia either. Especially in front of Bellamy.

Just thinking about the possibility of Octavia could throw me under the bus next as if it was nothing made me think of the past six year we had together. I've killed people to protect Octavia from Abby, would she do the same? Or would she throw my life away just as she was doing with Indra's?

'Reyes, I'm not fighting Gaia and Indra in the pit. I'm not stooping to you guys' level and start killing people.'

I was busy thinking about my friendship with Octavia, I barely heard what Bellamy said. This all suddenly felt so stupid to me, what was the point of even fighting anymore?

All of the people I've cared about were gone; Marcus, Bellamy and now Octavia. Raven probably would just laugh at my face once she sees what I've turned into. She would be shameful of me, I would never expect my sister to stay by my side after all of the mess I've made.

'Do you think I like doing all of this shit? I don't enjoy seeing people die or killing them. I sure don't want to see you die.'

'I don't know who you are anymore, Reyes. I don't know what you like or hate, I don't even know if you love me.'

'Of course I love you.' Why wouldn't I? After I lost everything down here, Bellamy was the only person I ever thought about. 'You were the reason I kept going. The reminder of your voice telling me to survive, for you.'

Everyday down at the bunker, I always thought of the what-ifs. What if I stayed with Jasper in Arkadia and spent the rest of my shortened life happy? What if I refused to give Echo or even Emori the suit and went up to The Ring with Bellamy?

I know that one thing was for certain; any of the choices would've been better than spending six years of hell under this bunker. It turned me to someone I hated; I was no better than my parents, Pike or even Emerson that traumatized me for so long. I've become them.

'Bellamy...' I called for his name, 'The day we first met, I hated you for treating people the way you did. I hated what you did with Pike and I judged you for that. All those times of me preaching to be good and now I've become worse than any of the people that we've ever met. I'm sorry that I've changed and I'm sorry that you had to see me like this.'

Even when Abby blackmailed me to kill Wonkru, I knew it was wrong. Just as Marcus always said, we always have a choice. I had a choice to stand up and call her out, instead I hid behind and took innocent lives. I've failed at becoming a great leader and now, I realized that all the anger I had these years was toward myself.

Looking at Bellamy one more time would've just pained me even more, I had to walk away from his cell. Instead, I walked straight to look for Octavia. I had to try to talk her out on the punishment her brother was going to face.

The idea of Octavia basically throwing Indra's life away still didn't sit right with me. I was more sad and upset than angry that she would do such thing.

As I was headed toward Octavia's office, I felt a tug on my arm. 'Y/N!'

'Monty?' I was surprised to see him, also surprised that he was willing to talk to me. 'W-what are you going here?'

'I was looking for Octavia but found you instead. Look! Look what I have.' His smile always cheered me up; Even at times like this he was positive.

Before I asked him what it was, he brought out a pot filled with flowers. 'Why do you have that?'

'Flowers, Y/N! Can you believe it?! How long has it been since we've seen something this beautiful?' He grinned widely, 'Cooper gave me her hydrofarm right before she died but guess what? It still works. We can have enough crops growing to feed us. We don't have to storm into Shallow Valley and instead, we can live here.'

I couldn't find a word to say as I was processing everything that Monty said to me. All these years when we feared for our life ending stopped right at this moment.

We had never had any source of food other than eating human meat for a very long time. The fact that we didn't have to fight our way into a warzone to live made me feel relieved. This was a feeling that I haven't had in a while.

Monty noticed that I hadn't reacted to his good news, 'Are you alright?'

'Yeah... yeah.' I paused, then looked at Monty as I bit my lips. 'How do you do it? Be a good person all the time and being everyone's light?'

His brows raised, perhaps he was surprised that I wasn't acting hostile for once. After all, I have been a bitch ever since we crawled out from the bunker. 'Long time ago, a certain someone was walking in the same shoes as me.'

'No, no Monty. I've always had my ups and downs starting with the whole Jasper situation.' I chuckled, a bit embarrassed. 'I was a mess and I guess I am right now too. But you Monty, you're always so pure and have good judgment.'

Monty gave a light smile, 'It's hard especially at a time like this. I miss the last six years in the Ring where we had none of this chaos.'

My heart broke for him; Spacekru was happy up there, thinking and expecting that Octavia and I were doing great down here too. Instead they came down to this disfunctional family and was dragged into the mess that we made.

'I'm sorry for making you guys' life a living hell. You guys don't deserve this.'

'I can't really say it's not your fault because it kind of is.' He chuckled, 'But seems like you've slowly started to show effort already. It doesn't sound like Skafaiya that I'm talking to.'

'Definitely not her and I think I'm done being Skafaiya.' She was someone I thought was a savior for Wonkru, instead she was terror that everyone feared.

'Seeing you again after saving you guys from the bunker made me think that you've lost your ways forever. I thought that the Y/N that everyone loved and respected was gone.' Monty nodded, 'Turns out I was wrong.'

A smile formed on my face, appreciating the way he handled everything considering that he had every right to hate me. As I was about to thank him, I smelled something burning.

Monty and I looked at each other, confused to why something was burning inside the bunker. Curiously, we both followed the smoke that eventually led into the hydrofarm.

There stood Blodreina, smirking as she stared at the fire as it burned down our last resort of food. The whole farm were now into flames; everything that Monty built for us to survive was gone.

‘Octavia!’ I placed my hand on her shoulders, worried that she was too close to the fire. ‘You’re going to hurt yourself.’

‘What did you do!’ Monty yelled with his fist balled up.

‘No, no she didn’t do this.’ I disagreed with Monty, knowing that there was no way Octavia would demolish our options to survive. ‘O, you didn’t do this right?’

She bit her lip as she turned her head to my direction. ‘Wonkru is going to march into Shallow Valley and take what we deserve. Burning this farm down is the only way to survive.’

✤ · ✤ · ✤ · ✤ · ✤

tag list; @jodiereedus22, @coffeebooksandfandom, @bellamyblakemorley, @wisestydia-15, @dbtvluv , @hurricane–amelia , @lexalexy , @olkathefoxi, @lena-davina, @kellbell44, @thehakunamatara, @akelly4477, @morgannope, @littlegirl-fox, @captainam-erika-trash, @greygarbage, @nathaliabakes, @eternallyvenus, @rauwz, @broco8, @eridanuswave, @minamisulemisa

#bellamy blake x reader #bellamy x reader #raven reyes x sister!reader #bellamy blake fic #the 100 series #the 100 fic #the 100 bellamy fic

42 notes · View notes

kingofthecats · 3 years

Text

Breathing life into a Stone @inanisvitae

Heavy clouds hung over the mountaintops as Shera pierced through the skies, their destination: The Western Continent. The Commissioner of WRO sat in his rickety seat with a laptop balanced on his knees, going through the various files sent to him by WRO volunteers of unusual weather patterns and environmental phenomenons happening all over the world in the last seven days. Opening one of the attachments, there was a blurred photograph of a humanoid figure hovering over the desert region. It was impossible to get a good look at the enigma due to the low quality of the photo through the intensity of the sandstorm, but it looked like a secondary appendage was sprouting out of its back.

"Like a one-winged angel," Reeve cursed under his breath. "Where's Valentine when you need him?"

The turbulence eventually evened out as they approached the landing pad. Closing his laptop, Reeve unbuckled his seatbelt and disembarked with the captain of the ship at his heels.

"Where's the kid?" asked Cid, lighting a cigarette.

"I want to keep him out of this," said Reeve as various WRO employees rushed about to brief them on the current situation. "Cloud's done more than enough for the planet to earn some peace. Besides, this isn't a warzone, this is a diplomatic mission."

"And what makes you think that son of a bitch wants to sit down and have a nice chat over a cup of tea?"

“The fact he has not sliced through my men and gone on a rampage tells me he is a man that can still be reasoned with.”

“You’re out of your goddamn mind, Tuesti.”

“I just need ten minutes alone with him.”

“Reeve-”

“-Five minutes!”

The pilot grit his teeth and waved off the docking bay assistants trying to get his aircrafts details and landing permit. “You're mad if you think I'm just going to let you walk in there alone."

"Then it's a good thing he won't be going alone, Laddie!"

Both men spun around in astonishment as a bouncing ball of black and white fur leapt out of the cargo hold and scurried over to meet the two, a familiar red cape flapping in the breeze and a golden crown miraculously staying perched on its fluffy head.

"Now is not the time for you ventriloquist act, Reeve!"

Reeve did not say anything but stared down at the robotic feline with a neutral expression.

~I don't recall asking for you to come, Caith Sith.~

~Good. I don't recall asking for your permission.~

~This is dangerous. You could get hurt.~

~So could you. At least when my head gets chopped off my shoulders I can re-attach it.~

~The last time he was running about you died!~

~It was my choice to make~ the doll countered, still remembering the remnants of another life where another Cait Sith sacrificed themselves in order to obtain the black materia. ~You never faced him Reeve, not in person. Besides, what would ma think if I let her son walk into the lion's den alone?~

Cid flicked out the bud of his cigarette, eyes darting back and forth between his friend and the robotic toy he was having a staring contest with. The pilot didn't know the details behind how Reeve could operate Cait sith wirelessly, only that it was a mental thing, but there was something peculiar about the way Reeve was glaring down at his own creation, like he was having a conversation with it. “You ok Reeve?"

Both sets of eyes snapped back to Cid.

"I'll take Cait Sith with me for protection. If after five minutes I cannot get him to hear my proposal, you have permission to coordinate the WRO troops into position and take him out.”

"It's your funeral," Cid snorted but said no more as they got into the jeep that took them to their destination. The sand dunes quickly faded into lush green foliage and both men recognized the area as belonging to the Ancient Forest. They pulled over by a WRO campsite where the red beret troops briefed the two men (and cat) on the situation. This was Sephiroth's last sighting official sighting and if the reconnaissance team is lead to be believed, the target has not moved from this location since.

"You think he's waiting for us?" asked Cid wearily.

"I don't think he's waiting for us specifically," Reeve frowned, fingers running through his goatee, "But he must know we're watching him, and yet he's not making an effort to get rid of us. So we'll take advantage of his hospitality for the moment and try and figure out what he's after."

"Probably another magical stone to finish what he started."

A heavy silence fell over the campsite but Reeve would not be perturbed as he and Cait Sith entered the perimeter of the forest and went looking for Sephiroth based on intel's last report regarding his current location. Cait Sith stayed close to his maker and made quick work of any rogue monster in the area that blocked their path. They didn't need to scout very far as they stumbled through the last of the thick undergrowth and emerged into a clearing where a splash of black and grey greeted them.

Reeve took a moment to exam the face he had only ever seen through Cait Sith's eyes. Pale skin, square jaw, sharp cheekbones, aristocrat nose, long silver hair, black leather coat and boots. It was like glimpsing into the past. The man had not aged a day since the advertisements plastered the General's photo all over the broadcasts. The surrealness of the situation hit Reeve like a tidal wave and he found it hard to stay afloat, caught by the otherworldliness of those serpentines eyes and that pulsing aura that seemed to radiate from his very pores.

A small hand tugged on the hem of his coat, snapping Reeve’s attention back to animatronic feline who was smiling up at him reassuringly. Feeling safer knowing his companion was there to protect him, Reeve took and deep breath and stepped forward..

“Sephiroth,” he greeted courteously with a polite bow. “You probably don’t remember me, but I was the Head of City Planning when you were still in SOLDIER. I am a friend of Cloud Strife and founder of The World Regenesis Organization, a volunteer group working to protect and restore the world after the aftermath involving meteor and Shinra draining life energy from the planet. My team have been watching your movements for some time now and I have a proposal for yo-”

“What about me?” Cait Sith interupted, pointing at himself. “I was there with Chocobo-head at the Northern creator when you went all Bizzaro form and started distorting reality. You probably don’t recognize me without Mog, gimme a moment."

Reeve squirmed as Cait Sith proceeded to crawl up his long purple coat and settle himself on the human's shoulders, getting out his megaphone and waving it about. "What about now?"

~Why did I bring you along again?~

#V: Game Over (Dirge of Cerberus)#AU: Inspire #rp: breathing life into a stone #inanisvitae #;long post

3 notes · View notes

writing-royza · 4 years

Text

Royai Week Prompt Three - Old Wounds

Old Wounds

Weapons could be used to wound. Any first-grader that got a lecture from their mother about scissors and sharp knives knew that. But he had hit upon one that, although it had wounded him time and again, it also healed him. Riza had been the cause or reason for several major marks inflicted on him – physical and psychological – and yet Roy knew he’d never be able to let go of her. On the surface, sure. Physically, yes. But never in the deepest recesses of his heart.

Because any wound she caused or he incurred on her behalf, he had only to look at her for it to fade away.

———————-

Logically speaking, he shouldn’t be scared of her.

She was a lone thirteen-year-old girl that kept to herself, did her homework, kept a level head on her shoulders, and somehow still managed to keep the entire house (besides the library) clean and have a hot meal ready at the end of the day. There was absolutely nothing about her that should make him break out in the cold sweat that every hormonal teenage boy dreaded… but that was the exact effect she had on him.

If there was anyone with the last name ‘Hawkeye’ that he should be scared of, it was her father. Her terse, intimidating, single-minded father… but somehow, he garnered much less fear in Roy’s book.

He sat on the overstuffed couch in the study, both feet on the floor, both hands on the book in his lap… and tried to recall what he was supposed to be reading. Every muscle was tense, his jaw clenched, he was afraid to move… and all she was doing was sitting on the opposite couch, facing him, scribbling on a notepad and occasionally checking some bit of information in the book beside her. Her legs were tucked up underneath her, the toes of her bare feet wiggling idly as she worked, light concentration turning those already serious brown eyes somber. That was as much as he could see without lifting his head and making it obvious he was watching her.

Finally, enough of the tension eased from his chest to allow him to speak. “What —“ Having been quiet for so long, his voice gave one of its embarrassing mid-puberty squeaks, and he coughed to unsuccessfully cover it. Riza looked up, and he almost lost his nerve, then swallowed hard and tried again. “What are you working on?”

“Oh.” She held up the book. “Book report. Although it’s less of a report and more of a ‘I hope I’m getting this right,’ because the prose is heavy and kind of hard to understand.”

Roy tried a smile. “Yeah. I recognize the title. That’s a rough one.”

His heart started racing as she returned the smile – in a very pretty fashion for someone so terrifying, he had to admit – before she shifted to sit with her back braced on the armrest, her knees drawn up to create a kind of easel for her notepad. “I’ll still take this over my math homework any day.”

“You have trouble with that, too?” Curiosity was drawing him in, now. At her confirming nod, he set his book aside. “Maybe I can help. I mean… I’m a couple years older than you; chances are I’ve had to deal with it already.”

The look she gave him was sidelong, evaluating the offer. After a moment, she said, “Well… I understood basic trigonometry well enough. Sine, cosine, all that. But we just started talking last week about “functions” and I’m already lost.” Her lips twitched in a suppressed smile. “You might say my math skills have become… non-functional.”

He knew he was staring at her. Open-mouthed, no less. He hadn’t been expecting a joke like that, not from her. She was so quiet, so reserved…. This had to be once-in-a-blue-moon sort of thing for her. Laugh, he thought hazily. Laugh before she gets insulted and puts you out of your misery for good.

He settled for a smothered snort, shaking his head with a grin. “I might be able to help a little bit. That stuff was clear as mud to me, as well.” He looked up, still smiling. “What do you say – shall we make it a study date?”

It was exactly the wrong phrasing to use. He saw her walls go up, saw her dart back into her shell… a dozen metaphors came to mind, all leading to the same conclusion. Roy had firmly overstepped his bounds, had trod on this already tenuous new ground, and stepped directly on the new flower of a possible friendship.

You don’t use the word ‘date’ that fast around a kid like her, idiot, he scolded himself. If she didn’t already barely tolerate you, now she’s just going to think you’re a creep. How are you going to fix —

“I… don’t think a date is necessary.” His train of thought cut off abruptly as she dropped her feet to the floor, gathered her book and notepad, and rose. “I should go,” she added quietly. There was no other emotion in her voice, no obvious discomfort, no open dislike… and somehow that was worse. More condemning.

Roy could think of nothing to say as she headed for the door. His mind was reeling with a combination of embarrassment, rejection, and returning fear, all three emotions leaving painful little scratch marks on his heart. Just as her hand reached for the doorknob, he managed a quiet, “I’m sorry.”

Riza froze instantly, then turned to look at him. “Pardon?”

Swallowing the hurt, he sat straight and forced himself to look her in the eye. “I… made that really awkward, and put you in an uncomfortable position,” he said, knowing he sounded overly formal but not having any idea what other words to use. “I’m sorry about that.”

She watched him for several agonizing heartbeats, her expression unreadable, then nodded. “Apology accepted.” She tilted her head, that small smile coming back. “And, hey…. I said no to the date part, not to some help studying. If you’re still willing.”

———————-

Sometimes, he wished he had paid more attention to constellations and important stars in school. Alchemy, chemistry, physics… that had all come first in his mind, not little points of light in the night sky that would still be there when he decided to take the time to learn about them.

Of course, in Central, seeing stars at night was a rarity. The streetlights dimmed them, if not causing them to vanish altogether. At the Academy, he’d been so tired every night when he finally crawled into the bunk that he couldn’t stay awake to stargaze even if he’d wanted to.

But here, in the desert landscape of Ishval, the sky came alive at night.

Lying on his back, dark eyes wide, he stared the sparkling skyscape overhead, trying to memorize all the stories Riza would spin for him, trying to memorize name after name… and failing horribly. He alternated between watching the sky and watching the graceful movements of her fingers as they traced shapes on the starry backdrop.

“This one is Eagle’s Flight,” she said, pointing to a cluster of stars in the shape of a capital T. “The tip of one wing, to its head, to the other wing, with the tail back here. And this is the first one I learned about: Mother Bear.” She traced an uneven rectangle between four stars. “The body…” Her finger trailed along several bright dots. “…a tail…” In front of the rectangle, she added a triangle that culminated in a single forward-facing point. “…and her head.”

He couldn’t help himself. “Bears don’t have tails that long.”

“Seen many bears, have you?” she shot back easily.

Rolling his eyes, he gave up, pointing instead to another section of stars. “What about that one? Is that anything?”

Riza thought a moment, then nodded. “The Seated Queen. She said that she and her daughter were more beautiful than any sea nymph, and that made the god of the sea so angry that he sent a sea monster to destroy the kingdom. The only way he would stop was if the queen and her husband sacrificed their daughter to the monster.”

He turned his head so that he could see her, lying on her back in the sand like he was, her eyes on the stars. “…You’re kidding. You’re making that up.” She shook her head. “What kind of crazy fairy tales were you reading as a kid?!”

“It’s not a fairy tale, it’s a legend,” she corrected him, though teasingly. “Anyway, the daughter was saved before she could be eaten, by a hero – that’s his constellation over there – and the queen and her husband – over there – were placed next to each other in the stars.”

“Hey, that’s a good deal,” he said dryly. “Agree to sacrifice your daughter and be immortalized forever as a bunch of balls of hot, burning gas.”

She laughed quietly, and the two of them sank into companionable silence. Roy breathed deep of the cooling air, wondering how a moment like this – a moment of personal peace and relaxation – could be achieved in the middle of a warzone. He had almost no right to be lying here, calm, when tomorrow he could be sent back out with the first wave of a new attack.

He turned his head slightly, just enough so that he could see her, and watched her eyes still roaming the sky. They flitted from one group of stars to the next, trailed the lines that, of the two of them, only she could see. He could see a shadow of that young girl he’d known, had helped to figure out math homework in the dusty, close confines of her father’s personal library.

Back then, she’d had bruised and scratched-up legs from being outside every moment she could. The soles of her feet were blackened and calloused, requiring a scrub in the bathtub every night, from going barefoot in the summer heat. She had climbed trees with the best of them, swum in the small stream two hundred metres behind her house, and sat perfectly still to let a butterfly alight on the palm of her hand while he watched breathlessly.

And now she was here, with him. She wore the same uniform he did. She had the same tired, dark circles under her eyes that he did. Her hands held the same bloodstains as his… and it was all his fault. She had followed him to this place, and in doing so, he had condemned her, body and soul.

He looked away quickly; too quickly. She noticed.

“What is it?”

“Nothing,” he said, casually, knowing that the answer wasn’t going to satisfy her. “Just thinking.”

A moment of silence, then, “Not thinking.” Her voice was soft, knowing and sympathetic… but unyielding. “Brooding.”

“Hm.”

Her elbow nudged his ribs. Not painfully, but enough to signal that a second nudge might not be as gentle. “Say it aloud,” she advised. “It’s not going to do you any good if it just sits and festers in your mind.”

Roy held his tongue, trying to wait her out. If he didn’t admit what he had been thinking, she couldn’t hate him for it. She couldn’t hate him for drawing her into this life, for using her father’s research the way he was. She couldn’t hate… him.

But he should have known better than to try to out-wait a sniper. Finally, after fifteen minutes of near-deafening silence, with her head turned so that her eyes were staring holes into his cheek, he let out a a deep sigh. “All right, all right, you win already. I was just… I was thinking that… I’m sorry. Sorry that I drew you into this life.”

Riza said nothing, and after several awkward seconds, he sat up, staring out at the nighttime sands. “I’m sorry that you felt you had to follow me into the military, that it got you sent here, that you’re forced into doing… what it is we do.” More long seconds of silence followed, twisting the knife of guilt a little further into his heart. “I’m so sorry, Riza. For all of it.”

“Does that include thinking so little of me that you believe I’m incapable of my own decisions?”

His head whipped around to find her still lying flat on her back in the sand, her legs crossed at the ankles, her fingers laced together and resting at the bottom of her ribcage, her eyes calm and on the stars once again. “…What?”

“What what?” she countered. “Do you honestly think that I followed you into the military because of some schoolgirl crush? Or maybe you think that you spoke so eloquently about rebuilding the country and using alchemy to help people that I just threw away whatever dreams I had of a civilian life and dashed headlong for the nearest recruitment centre?” She snorted quietly. “Give me some credit, please.”

Roy wasn’t sure what to say, either in general or that wouldn’t make her angrier than she clearly already was, so he kept his mouth shut. Riza continued. “You may have sparked the idea, pardon the pun, of joining the military, but you’re far from the reason I enlisted. I made that decision on my own, based on my own interests. Yes, that led to me being stationed out here, yes, that has led to my having to do things I regret. But in all of it – enlistment, training, being assigned to Ishval – the only point where my hand was forced is in, as you said, doing what we do.”

She got to her feet, brushing herself off. “I gave you my father’s secrets, Roy. I didn’t give you control over my actions or my life. You want to be a leader? You’d do well to remember that.”

Turning, she started back toward the nearby glow of the tents and campfires, leaving him feeling as though one of Kimblee’s explosions had gone off directly underneath him. It sank in, slowly, like ice-cold fingers, that he had probably just ruined one of two genuine friendships he had in this hellhole, and when Hughes heard about this, he could kiss the second one goodbye as well.

You idiot, his mind growled at him. Get off your ass and get after her. Don’t lose her after all you’ve been through.

Scrambling to his feet, he took off, sending sand flying. “Hawkeye, wait up!”

To his relief, she paused, half-turning to watch him approach. Her expression gave nothing away, neither anger or willingness to forgive. Roy skidded slightly as he came to a halt, swallowing hard in nervousness. “I – That was… unfair of me. I assumed a lot of things out of… of guilt, I guess, at finding you here, in a place like this. I feel….”

He struggled with the words for the moment, but she waited, hands folded, watching. “I feel… responsible for you, somehow. Your dad asked me to look after you, and up until now, I’ve done a pretty piss-poor job of that.” He ran an agitated hand through his hair, trying to figure out just how the hell expressing oneself was supposed to work. “You were right, the decisions that brought you here are yours. You’re responsible for your own life. I guess… I just feel guilty that I haven’t done more, and can’t do much, to make sure it’s a happy one.”

When it was clear his words had run out, she spoke. “Would you like to know something that does make me happy?”

He grinned lopsidedly, and only half-heartedly. “Will it make me feel less awful?”

“Maybe.” Her smile was small, knowing. “Something that makes me happy… is seeing someone receive information, and accepting that information and using it to change their outlook. To grow themselves as a person.” She tilted her head to one side, regarding him closely. “And I believe I just saw that.”

He felt it go, felt that cold ice-knife of guilt slide out of the rip it had torn into him, felt the warm, affirming words close up the wound with no blood spilled, and leave him just a little stronger.

“I’ll try to live up to that.” He glanced upward. “Maybe it’s not worth being immortalized in the stars, but it ought to count for something.”

Her fingers brushed, feather-light, against his and then withdrew. “It already counts for a lot.”

———————-

He remembered thinking “oh, good, that’s the last of it” before catching a faint whiff of charred skin, and having to turn away to be violently sick. The tent was too confined, too dark, too oppressively hot all at once, and yet his pulse roared in his ears, spots of light swam in his vision, and a deep chill ran through him.

He spat the foul taste of bile from his mouth, glancing back over her shoulder.

Riza was on her knees, crouched low, her forehead pressed to the sandy ground that served as a floor. He could hear her breathing, the sound coming in sharp hisses around the leather belt clamped between her teeth. Her right hand, the only one he could readily see, slowly clenched and unclenched, compressing and flattening the same palmful of grit over and over.

His voice was hoarse when he spoke. “Hawkeye?”

Her hand froze, then reached with agonizing slowness to the belt and pulled it from her mouth. “Bottom of my kit,” she gritted. “Small white bottle. Get it.”

Roy’s stomach rolled as he moved to do as she said, but he swallowed hard and kept whatever was left in his stomach down. Wriggling a hand through the various articles in her pack, down to the bottom, he fished about until he found something that felt like a bottle. It rattled as he brought it out.

“Pain pills?” he asked, turning toward her.

“For… you know.” She had shifted so that she was sitting, though she was still bent forward. Her cheeks, ashen until now, coloured slightly. “For… ‘women’s troubles?’”

He looked at the label again, read the active ingredient in the medication, and the dosage, his brain feeling fuzzy and sluggish. “…Damn, it hurts bad enough for extra-strength?”

She held out her hand, crooking her fingers impatiently. “Dealing with that means I can deal with this,” she said, just a little sharply. “Two should help.”

“Right, sorry.” He noticed, belatedly, that his fingers were shaking as he twisted the cap off the bottle. The little white tablets inside rattled even harder as he eased a pair of them from the container and passed them to her, watching in dull surprise as she dry-swallowed them, one by one.

He had a sneaking suspicion he was in shock. The one rational part of his brain could realize that. The confusion, the cold sweat, the tent seeming to tilt one way then another around him… all signs pointed to it. He should tell Riza, tell her so that when he most likely passed out, she would know why. It seemed only polite.

She was sitting calm and collected, her eyes closed, taking deep breaths in through her nose and out through her mouth. Maybe he should try that. Mimic her, and in doing so, find some kind of emotional anchor in this storm of emotion.

It hit him again. What had he done? To her, to one of the single most important people in his life, to the quiet girl and stoic woman whom – he had to admit – he had somehow fallen head over heels for? He had marked her. He had marred her. She had been perfect and whole and now —

He watched as she gathered the tan overcoat of her uniform to her chest, apparently realized rather belatedly that she was sitting in the dark without any sort of covering up top. She hugged the fabric, looking his direction… and stopped. “…What?”

“…Can you forgive me for this?”

Brown eyes, dulled slightly by the pain, stared at him for a long moment. Then, quietly, “Roy, I asked you for this. I asked you to destroy it.”

“I didn’t. Destroy it, I mean. Not all of it.” Her eyes flashed with hot anger in the darkness and he scrambled to explain himself. “Riza, I couldn’t! I don’t care how strong you are, that much would…. Even if I held back the most I could, it’d kill you. You can’t go to the medics with this, you know you can’t. They’ll ask too many questions. If I burned that tattoo in its entirety, you’d go into shock and you’d die. Hell, I’m in shock and all I did was snap my fingers!”

Her eyes still smoldered, unrelenting. “So then how —“

“The parts I burnt are absolutely vital to understanding everything else. They tie it all together,” he explained. “It’s… it was surgical, I guess. Precision shots. Without those three spots, the rest is next to useless.”

She was quiet for several beats, then murmured, “Precision shots…. Like a sniper.” The heat was gone from her eyes, the glare fading. “I’m…. I can still be my own person.”

“You always have been.” The smile he offered was nowhere near strong enough to be genuine, but it was a valiant try. “You’re the smartest, strongest, most independent, self-reliant, quick-witted person I know. I’d keep going with adjectives, because I know there’s at least three dozen more, but I can’t think of them.” He closed his eyes, willing the tent to stop spinning, or at least to spin a little less violently. “I want that for you, I want you to have that freedom to be yourself because if any of us deserves to come out of this place with even half a chance, it’s you. It’s you and Hughes.”

“You’re leaving somebody out,” she prodded gently.

He shook his head. “I don’t think you realize how badly this place has hit home for me. I said I wanted to help people, but… I think I’ve got an entire nation – and any others we’re fighting with – to help. I’m not dragging you two into that. Hughes has that girlfriend of his to go home to, you’ve got the rest of your life in front of you.”

“You’re right on that, but wrong on another thing.”

His eyes opened just in time for her to press a soft kiss to his cheek, her hand folding around his. “I’m not leaving here without you.” The words were soft, but anchored stolidly in conviction. “You’ve got big dreams for this country… and thanks to you, so do I. And you’re going to need help to make those happen.”

———————-

His eyes snapped open to darkness, but it wasn’t the darkness of lying on the sand under an Ishvalan sky. Instead, only the whitewashed ceiling stared back at him. The sheets were tangled around his legs, some faint draft turning the sheen of a light sweat icy against his bare chest. Even that did nothing to dispel the summer warmth permeating the apartment.

Nights like this often brought the past back to him in dreams. Sometimes pleasant, more often not. But more and more frequently in the not-too-distant past, it had become much easier to handle.

The reason why was sprawled next to him, her hair lying half on her pillow and half on his, one hand beneath the pillow and the other curled to her chest, her dog draped over one extended leg, and her mouth open just enough for the faintest of snores to issue forth.

Turning onto his side, Roy slid an arm around Riza’s waist, tugging her close against him. If she only knew that she became as un-Riza-like as physically possible while she slept…. He suspected she would find that potentially embarrassing, but he loved it. Hell, he loved her.

And, in the end, that was the miracle balm for any wound, no matter how far in the past or near the present it was.

#royaiweek20 #royai #royai fanfiction #fma #fmab #Roy Mustang #Riza Hawkeye #royza

13 notes · View notes

be-ready-when-i-say-go · 4 years

Text

In Sorrow and In Joy- Part 8: To Be Grounded

Luke learns the hard way what it means to be a dad and how to keep his family safe and together. Dad!Luke with a South Asian Reader. This is a collaborative experience with A Family of Five.

CW: Over the course of this series, themes of racism and prejudice on the basis of religion are present. Please read or skip as necessary.

Enjoy my masterlist | Series Masterlist

Support me on kofi

No one has my permission to repost my work of fiction. This includes translations as well

_______________________________

Luke’s sure prayer is still going on, so he moves about the kitchen as quietly as he can. But that assumption is proven wrong when he hears Zahra’s cry from upstairs. “I have nothing to wear!” He knows for a fact her closet is packed to the hilt with clothes. But that’s not what she wants to hear. So he pauses in the kitchen, waiting for another huff to come. He knows it will. There’s some thuds from above him, sounds like stomping. Please, he begs silently, please just let today go well. Gripping the counter, Luke inhales for three seconds and exhales for five. That’s what his therapist warned him to do when he feels overwhelmed again.

He passed overwhelmed a couple weeks. Right now he’s hanging on by threads. Though he’s positive those threads are gone too now, especially after last night. Last night, he fucked up. He knows he did. He slipped out of bed, snuck into the kitchen, grabbed whatever bottle he got his hands on and sat in the backyard, drinking right from the bottle. It felt good. He felt guilty too, but there was just an ounce of relief behind the guilt. Just enough for him to go for one more swig, when he knew he should’ve stopped. He feels terrible now, thinking about it agan. He feels even more like garbage because he keeps eying the stash.

The stash only exists under the pretense that it’s there for company and company only. And for a while, that’s exactly what it was. Just for company. But now, it’s becoming his solace again. The thing that screws his head, or even unscrews it, when he’s overwhelmed so he doesn’t have to feel again. He has no clue how Calum does it, with three kids. Granted, Calum was always more level headed than he. But still Luke just can’t some days. He tries hard to be there for everything, he tries to understand the nuisance by being a teenager. He remembers what it feels like to have no control over your life. He knows, all too intimately, what it feels like to be someone else’s puppet.

Luke slowly opens his eyes as he hears the soft click of dress shoes on the floor. Zeek rounds the corner, flashing a small smile to his father. “Upstairs is a warzone,” he laughs. “Shoes are flying.”

“It sounds like it,” Luke agrees. He pushes away from the counter, necklace hitting his chest and he waves Zeek over to the stove. “This look right?” he asks, waving over to the dish now simmering.

Zeek nods. “Dad, you’re actually getting better at the whole cooking then.”

Luke’s chest bubbles with laughter. He was not the greatest cook, still isn’t the greatest. But he’s definitely gotten better. “Alright, smart alec,” he teases, ruffling the close crop of Zeek’s hair. Zeek huffs at his father’s antics.

Noor’s the next one to survive the storm, covering the back of her head with her arms. “It’s dangerous up there,” she grins, finally standing to her full height. She pulls at the sleeves of her kurta. It’s similar to the grey one with a green pattern in your possession. Her’s is a light pink with gold accents around the neck and buttons. Noor took once glance to the one in your possession and fell in love with in it. So she begged her grandmother on the next adventure overseas to grab her one.

Luke nods at her comment. He can only imagine the chaos happening up there. He doesn’t mean to leave all the messes to you. But he just can’t handle it right at this moment. He’s barely holding on anymore. He’s probably not holding onto anything anymore. But he can’t give up just yet. So he grabs the oven mitts and moves all the food to the table and kitchen island buffet style.

After a few more minutes, the periodic stomps stop and the rhythmic sound of feet on stairs echoes. He knows it’s Zahra gate. She’s forgone anything too fancy, but still fancy enough in a blouse and billowy pant combination. “She’s arrived,” Luke teases. Ra huffs a little at Luke’s comment. She knows it’s just the band coming over, it’s nothing. But it’s one of the few things that Zahra does that makes her feel wholly herself. The day is hers. Well not really hers, but it puts her in the center. She has no one teasing her, no one prodding her about it. She can exist with no push back.

You follow close behind Zahra, praying that the rest of the day goes without any more issues. With the kids focused on the food, you duck into the back room and grab the gifts. They’re all settled down, eager to receive what they know is behind your back in bags and envelopes. You hands the kids their gifts first, “Eid Mubarak,” falling off in rushed mumbles from their lips. You and Luke return the phrase. Zahra grins, peeping at the green in her hands.

Luke hands his them his gifts. It’s always something extra. Noor immediately places the teardrop earrings on after cracking opening the box. Luke helps Zahra with the necklace and Zeek hugs you over the engraved pen. He’s always wanted a fancier pen to write and sign things his prints with, tired of using his drawing pens. The kids smile at you and Luke before all three rush back up stairs.

“Do you know what’s happening?” You ask Luke.

He shakes his head, asking you with his eyes if you know. You shake your head no, but grin as you hand over the gift for him. He always gives the same reaction, a head shake no, and a half step back. “You didn’t have.” You would think after nearly 15 years of marriage, he’d be used to this. But every year, it’s the same deal.

You roll your eyes. “You are family.”

Luke’s never sure how to handle that. He knows he’s family. But he’s not family like this, this isn’t his holiday. He wasn’t raised on this. He doesn’t want to intrude. “Sweetheart, I’m being serious. Every year you do this.”

You huff a laugh. “And yet, every year you still refuse me.” Shaking the bag at him, you urge him to take the gift. He’s not sure what’s inside, the bag’s big, but not heavy. Cracking it open, he notices the record. He looks to you, eyes widened, jaw dropped.

“How did you--What in the word?”

You just grin. The Rolling Stones record was not easy to come by. But you don’t let on to that. There’s no need. He pulls the record completely from the bag, the neon orange, yellow and red finally exposed. He grins, clutching it to his chest for a second, before flipping over to the back. “God, how long did this take to get?”

“Don’t worry about that. But you like it, right?”

“Babe, I love it,” he says softly, stepping into you. He places the record onto the counter before wrapping you up into a hug. Soft kisses line up around your forehead. The action reiterates his happiness with the gift. But you notice the hug’s not as tight as it usually is. You’re losing him. But you should you bring it up right now. You squeeze him just a little tighter for a beat and then pull away.

The kids return. Noor holding a box and Zeek with a bag. He hands you the bag, watching your reaction. It’s just a book, one you mentioned in passing a couple weeks ago. The note is signed by all three kids. Luke feels his chest constrict as the sight of the necklace in his box. It’s a simple silver chain with a small pendant. On it there’s a circular design that just looks like an amalgamation of swirls. But Zeek talks about how there’s two different Z’s and an N inside the design to stand for the three of them, with your initial made up in the middle. “Guys, I love it. You three at the best thing to ever happen to me,” he says quietly hugging them.

“Besides the band right?” Zeek teases.

“He means before the band,” Noor corrects, lightly slapping at Zeek’s arm.

Zeek rolls his eyes, but laughs. “Forgive me.”

There’s a twinge of disappointment when you realize Luke hasn’t given you anything. He’s always had something at this time. You woke in the morning and expected Luke to shove it into your hands almost immediately. But it didn’t happen, never one to try to make too big a scene you figured to wait. But here you are, waiting, still.

“We waited to get you something else, Mum. But we were stomped,” Zahra confesses, hugging your side briefly.

You shake your head, ridding yourself of the dreading feeling of disappointment from Luke’s lack of a gift. A smile lifts your lips. “I love it. I don’t need much.”

She nods. “But still, sometimes we want to spoil you.” You kiss the top of her head, wrapping an arm around her. As the kids settle down in the living until the rest of the boys and their families arrive, Luke pulls you into the kitchen. “I didn’t forget about you,” he whispers, tucking some of your hair behind your ear.

You only nod. He’s saying that but you notice how his eyes keep leaving your face. What’s catching his attention so much? “You okay?” you ask, forcing his attention back to you.

He’s not okay. He’s not. Luke pushes the glasses up on his face. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I just wanted to let you know Michael’s bringing your gift. I didn’t forget. I swear to it.”

You nod. Why Michael has your gift is beyond you. But Luke’s not looking you directly in the eye, he keeps fidgeting with fingers. He’s slipping. The album’s taking longer than they originally thought, also they’re slowing down. Now with two of the four of them will fully established families. Michael’s on the verge of a family. He and his wife talk about having kids, but aren’t sure. Ashton’s settled down. But they’re antsy, they need an edge. They feel like they’ve lost it. But it can’t just be the record that’s getting to him.

“You’re a terrible liar, you know,” you state. “Whatever’s going on, tell me.”

He shakes his head. Was he that bad already? “I’m okay.”

“Find me when you feel like telling the truth.” You exit the kitchen. Normally, you aren’t this direct, this confrontational. But you refuse to watch Luke spiral again. Whatever the reason doesn’t matter, you just want him to be honest, to stop bottling things up.

Luke watches the spot you were occupying for a beat too long. His body freezes and his chest squeezes. He’s all too reminded of the day you actually moved out of the house. Harlowe had helped you move your things. She carried Zahra on her hip and you and Luke stood on the porch. He couldn’t beg you not to leave. He begged you instead to remember that promise of a second chance. To let him get himself together. But it still hurt, still made him feel like someone had replaced his air with fire watching you walk down those steps and to your car. It still made him cry for an hour on his front porch when your car backed out first, Harlowe in the U-haul behind you.

Oh he is not going through that again. But he can’t spill his guts right now. He clears his throat and steps out of the kitchen, knowing your gaze is locked dead on him. The doorbell sounds and Luke walks over to answer it. Michael grins at him, the small holding cage in his hands. “Babe,” Luke calls, waving Michael inside.

You immediately notice the small kitten, clawing at the cage. A black persian cat. You know the breed all to well. Luke unlatches the door. He reaches inside and carefully collects the cat into his arms. “You’re not even a cat person,” you whisper.

He crosses the hallway to you. “But you are.” Silently, he offers to small ball of fur to you. “He doesn’t have a name yet.”

Noor walks over, gently petting the cat in your arms on the head. “So we might’ve known about the cat. Do you know how hard it was to keep that a secret?”

“He’s very sweet. He climbed up my arm. I have video,” Michael laughs, pulling out his phone. You’re too busy with the kitten in your arms. His smoked gray almost black fur. The melancholy gaze behind bright blue eyes. For a moment, you are a kid again. You have no worries, no traveling from country to country. There’s no harm, no death, no pain. His fur is soft and thick between your fingers. He studies you intently for a moment, before bringing his gaze around the room.

“He’s absolutely the cutest thing.” The awe is evident in your voice, your voice thick and vision blurring just a hair.

“I told you, I didn’t forget.” Luke scratches the top of the kitten’s head. As you gaze up at him, he thinks for a moment, he’s back on track. It took him weeks to pick out the right cat. He even brought the kids to the shelter several times. It did not take much to get Michael in on housing the kitten until the holiday. Michael, after fostering his first kitten, started undertaking some furry friends into his care more often.

“You don’t like cats,” you huff. You want to keep it together. But the tears are already rolling.

Luke shrugs. “He’s cute. I miss having a furry friend in the house.” You two had Petunia until her end. Which was a hard hit. But sometimes the only way out is through. “It’s not a dog, but he’s still company.”

The kitten peers over your arms, a clear indication that they want to get down, so you gently lower to the ground and watch him inspect the foyer and kitchen. “What are you gonna name him?”

“Oh shit,” you huff. “I-I don’t know.”

Noor gently taps your arm, a warning glare for the curse word. But she grins. “I say Floyd. Because you like Pinky Floyd. But Zeek said Smoke. It sounded dumb to me. But I didn’t say it.”

“I can hear you!” Zeek shouts.

“Love you!” she returns, ducking behind Luke. Zeek peers around the corner and rolls his eyes. She always uses Luke as a shield. But it’s okay, he’s going to get her back. Luke places a hand on her back, laughing. This is what he missed. He misses his kids needing him. Zahra spends most of her time in her room or with her friends. Zeek has always been reserved. He’s close, but he’s not affectionate all the time. Noor at first and to this day is still very close to Luke, but lately instead of running to him for help she calls you more often. If she’s out shopping and can’t choose between a top, she turns to you now. Luke feels like he’s not needed anymore. His whole recovery hinged on his family needing him.

Luke recognizes that he had to get better for himself too. He couldn’t keep down that path, but it was much easier to tell himself it was for the benefit of someone else too. It felt more urgent that way. And now that urgency was leaving him. He had been feeling it for weeks. Just lacked the right way to bring it up to anyone. As the house fills up with Ashton and his partner, followed by Calum and Harlowe and their crew, Luke finds himself able to forget the urge in the pit of his stomach. He’s able to gaze at the stash and not long for it.

“You cannot bring Floyd to the table,” Luke smiles, watching Noor with the cat in her lap.

“Please?” she pouts.

A sigh escapes his lips but he nods. He can’t say no to her. She beams up at him, collecting the kitten and rushing to the table. She throws her free arm around Luke’s waist. “Love you, Dad.”

A few tears prick behind Luke’s eyes. He rubs her back for a moment. “Love you too. Now c’mon, let’s eat.”

Luke’s been on the deck for a while. After the boys left and the kitchen was scrubbed down, Luke slipped out of the house. You had only noticed as the backdoor slipped close. You wanted to walk out after him, but you know better. If he’s not willing to talk, you can’t force him. The kids settle down for a movie after a twenty minute argument of who gets to decide. Floyd’s already asleep in your lap. Another reason for your lack of escape to the backyard. But as the backdoor cracks open and Luke leans into the house, you know you’ll have to move now.

You slide Floyd into Noor’s lap, the closest one to you. Normally this sight would make Luke feel at peace. Normally he’s slide in next to you and tussle Zeek’s hair. He’d do something, but all he can muster right now is the slight nod to the outdoors. You slip through the small crack in the door, brushing up against Luke’s chest in the process. He closes the door behind you. The sky is clear and still. You’d normally ask, pry into what’s going on. But you don’t have to, as soon as the glass shuts, Luke grabs your hand.

“I’m not okay,” he starts. “I feel useless again. I know I was doing so well. The whole point of me getting better was to be here for my family. And I feel like I’m fading.”

“Why? Why do you feel like your fading”

“The kids don’t need me like before.”

“They grow up. Things change. It’s an unfortunate truth.”

“I just--I’m not equipped for it. It feels like it came without a warning.”

“Just like you weren’t equipped for fatherhood. No one can really fix that. I can’t snap my fingers and make things better.”

He sighs, looking out to the night. “I know.”

“Tell me what I can do. What do you need?”

Luke runs a hand over his face. He needs help, he needs to be grounded again. “Come with me to my next appointment. I-I don’t know what I need. I just know I need help.”

Wrapping an arm around his waist, you tuck your head to his chest. “I can do that.”

When shouts start up from the inside of the house, the all too distinct sound of the kids shouting at each other, Luke tenses. It’s too much, his feet are planted to the ground. He needs to be grounded. He has to keep it together. He can’t bare the thought of be separated again from his family. You rub his back. You know you’ll have to do some more heavy lifting in the house. “We’re getting rid of the alcohol too.”

He nods, face buried in your hair. He’s fine with that. He’d prefer it actually. He just doesn’t trust himself to do it. No one said being a parent would be easy, but Luke never thought it’d be this hard for him. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m sorry I don’t have it together.”

“No one does. It’s okay to not have it together.”

“I’m sorry to do this on Eid. I really couldn’t have picked a worst time even if I tried.”

You laugh, softly, shoulders shaking just a tad. “Just as long as the kids got their gifts, we’re fine.”

“I’ll try to keep it together for the next two days.”

“If you need a breather, just let me know.” They’re kids aren’t particularly known for being the quietest bunch. It’s nothing but love, but it’s a well known fact.

Luke lifts his head after kissing the crown of your head. “Thank you.”

You could say, ‘You’re welcome.’ You could tell him it’s your responsibility to care about his mental health. You could tell him a lot things. But the truth of the matter is that you will always care, you will always be there. “I love you,” you return. The truth of the matter is that even though it’s rocky you’re still by his side. That even though your heart breaks to see the man you love in such anguish, you are not going to give up on him.

#luke hemmings #luke hemmings fanfic #luke hemmings fic #luke hemmings imagine #luke hemmings series #dad!luke #dad!luke series #5sos #5 seconds of summer #h writes #luke hemmings x south asian reader #luke hemmings x reader #5sos fanfic #5sos fic #5 seconds of summer fanfic #5 seconds of summer fic

5 notes · View notes

atelier-dayz · 4 years

Photo

Hello, Anon! (I put this as a separate text post because I needed the “read more” which doesn’t work for asks.)

So I’m not exactly the best person to ask for meta because my knowledge of Star Wars is relatively small compared to some people’s, but I can give it a shot?? Or at least a starting point of discussion coming from my opinion. (If you’re interested, jedi-order-apologist posted two good meta related to Qui-gon a while back here and here for better reads LOL)

I try very, very hard to not have a critical view of him. I really really do. I want to love Qui-gon. I do. When I first saw TPM, I thought he was cool. I’m still sad he died. But then one thing or another comes up and just *sigh* So here are the points about him that do make me critical about him? (There’s a TL;DR at the end if you find it too long.)

***Disclaimer: these are solely my opinions here. I am not the most knowledgeable in Star Wars by far. I base these solely off my experience and understanding of the movies, books, etc. Your mileage may vary***

First off, I should point out we don’t have much canon material of him to work off of. There’s The Phantom Menace and the book Master & Apprentice -- as well as some appearances in The Clone Wars I believe? I haven’t watched TCW yet.

There’s also the Star Wars - Age of Republic: Heroes - Qui-gon comic, but it doesn’t reveal too much about his character, at least to me, other than showing him questioning the role and path of the Jedi and finding that balance is the key. *shrugs*

Anyways, from The Phantom Menace, we are made to understand that he’s the type of person to push the envelope, who apparently goes against the Council enough for Obi-wan to bring it up. We don’t get details on how he does it those times, only Obi-wan saying “[The Council] will not go along with you this time.” Which implies he has successfully argued his way before (or possibly gone his own way and asked for permission after?).

Being a rebel is not a bad thing. A lot of our media is all about being the rebel, going against the grain, and etc. However, some people in the fandom take that to mean it’s the only correct answer, and use that as an argument that the Jedi were awful people, who needed reform and didn’t deserve to live otherwise, and etc. But clearly, Qui-gon doesn’t disagree with the Jedi to the extent that he would leave them. He’s clearly still a Jedi and believes in the Jedi philosophy.

Qui-gon is a big follower of the Living Force, of focusing on the “here and now,” as he tells Obi-wan in the beginning of the movie. He’s squarely about the present and taking things as they come. -- And yet, he’s also remarkably fixated on the prophecy, which is very much not a matter of the present in my opinion. He is very insistent on Anakin being the Chosen One and therefore should be trained as a Jedi -- to the point where he say “I will do what I must.” So basically, it’s his way or the highway. He will take no other interpretation, even if there’s no concrete evidence that Anakin is the Chosen One.

My impression of him is that he will follow the way that he believes is correct or believes that the Force tells him is correct, and will leave no room for anything else. The casualty of this in TPM: Obi-wan. When Obi-wan warns him the Council won’t agree with him, Qui-gon tells him, “You still have much to learn, my young apprentice.” Fast-forward to later that SAME DAY, when he discovers the Council will not take on Anakin (based reasonably enough on the results of their testing and long-standing rules), he tries to claim Anakin as his padawan when Obi-wan, his actual padawan, is standing right there next to him. When the Council reminds him he has a padawan already, he pushes for Obi-wan’s Trials, and says, “He’s headstrong, and he has much to learn about the living Force, but he is capable. There is little more he will learn from me.” Obi-wan’s Trials was never something brought up before, from what I understand. He basically said hours before that Obi-wan wasn’t ready, and now he’s saying he is. I’m sure he doesn’t mean to hurt Obi-wan in this situation. He’s doing what he thinks he has to in order to have Anakin part of the Order. But it’s NOT COOL to throw away your existing apprentice at the expense of it.

This whole fiasco of a scene is what has me very mad at Qui-gon a lot of times. Overall, it’s not a flattering view of him. As I like to say, his intentions are good, his execution is very very poor.

(He and Obi-wan later make up, but I for one am still upset at him on Obi’s behalf. Especially when Qui-gon’s final words later on is to train Anakin. That’s it. Doing what he must to make sure Anakin is trained. And Obi-wan will of course honor that request, which is a giant undertaking I personally believe he shouldn’t have been burdened with, having just lost his master and just become a new knight through combat. No one in his position would have been ready for that.)

(Addition: he also never mentions to the Council or even Obi-wan from the looks of it that Anakin was a slave. This, I honestly think, is critical information that should have been expressed. For whatever reasons, he did not mention it.)

I can’t speak about his characterization in Master & Apprentice, because I haven’t read that book yet. (It’s on my shelf, I’ll get to it eventually!) I have been warned and heard that he is quite a frustrating character in it that makes you want to throw the book and go “DAMMIT QUI-GON.” So take that as you will.

All of this is just taking account of canon. If you take into account EU/Legends content, oh boy, is that even less flattering. Get ready Anon. I present to you, Jedi Apprentice. Otherwise known as “The reasons why Obi-wan has needed a nap and hugs since he was twelve.”)

So in Legends, there’s an age-cut off for becoming a padawan at 13. Obi-wan’s last chance at becoming a padawan was with Qui-gon as his master. Due to the trauma of his second padawan Falling, Qui-gon renounced his first padawan, who was already a Knight at this point, and had since refused any other padawans. (It is implied that he has crushed the dreams of many children, yes.) So Qui-gon summarily said no to Obi-wan. And due to a fight and wrongful accusations by a rival/bully, Obi-wan gets sent off early to Agricorps on Bandomeer (a whole mess of thing in itself, but I digress). Anyways, coincidentally, Qui-gon is also on the same ship to Bandomeer on a mission. After...a wild ride (and Qui-gon taking the time to shoot down Obi-wan’s hopes of becoming a Knight a second time) and multiple events (including Obi-wan ending up as a mining slave), Qui-gon waffles a bit about possibly taking Obi-wan as his padawan, and then there’s a whole confrontation involving Qui-gon’s Fallen former padawan that ends with Qui-gon officially taking Obi-wan as his apprentice after Obi-wan offers to blow himself up to help Qui-gon escape and save the miners. --- This naturally makes the Council scene in TPM even worse.

Fast-forward to Obi-wan’s second official mission with Qui-gon, they end up in the wartorn Melida/Daan, where they were to retrieve the injured Master Tahl (Qui-gon’s love interest). (Yes, his second mission. I’m not counting Phindar because that was a very unfortunate detour that turned into a mission. They went Bandomeer --> Phindar --> Gala --> Melida/Daan. No time skips that I picked up. Their ship to Melida/Daan was offered to them by Gala’s Queen.) Obi-wan felt that they needed to do more, that they needed to help the youth on the planet stop the fighting and achieve peace. Qui-gon wants to bring Tahl back to the Temple at once, and basically gives him an ultimatum...and then leaves his 13 year old barely new apprentice WITHOUT A LIGHTSABER in an ACTIVE WARZONE where the combatants have shown NO qualms in killing children OR Jedi. Qui-gon goes back -- eventually -- after Obi-wan messages for help, and after several events, takes Obi-wan back as his padawan.

The other big strike against Qui-gon would again involve Master Tahl, in which after she is killed, he mourns her to the point of absolutely neglecting Obi-wan. I haven’t re-read that part yet, but yeah, that happened in the EU.

So basically, in Jedi Apprentice, you get a good number of scenes where Qui-gon clearly cares for Obi-wan, is fond of him, etc. There are ways in which they connect with each other very well, and their thoughts reflect each other’s, which points to how they are in fact a good match as master and apprentice and is lovely to see. But he is also at times very uncommunicative and neglectful and...not a very good Master or someone that should be responsible for children by the looks of it. (All of which is probably rooted back to the trauma of his Fallen padawan.)

The whole caveat of all this is that these are all not canon now. These were also obviously books meant for kids, so when reading them as an adult, things become very very unflattering and there’s some hand-waving and logic that just makes you go UMM?

The short of it: my main issues with Qui-gon are 1) in canon, throwing Obi-wan under the bus in that Council scene, 2) in EU, being at times a neglectful Master who shouldn’t have been responsible for children, and 3) unrelated to canon or EU but becoming more and more a big part of my negative feelings towards Qui-gon, the way certain parts of fandom choose to prop Qui-gon up on a pedestal as the One Good Jedi who knew better than the rest of the Jedi, and they build him up by wrongfully tearing down other characters.

#miya rambles #meta #ish #anonymous #asks

9 notes · View notes

stories-you-wont-hear · 5 years

Text

– four seasons. | storm

hello friends! this is the second installment of the four seasons mini-series ft. billy russo. i really like y/n and maria’s friendship and tbh they end up getting more time together than the reader and billy but IT’S FINE BY ME! i love reading your comments on this, esp bc it’s pre-anvil billy who is a precious sweetheart.

pls enjoy, and as always, leave lots of love! xoxo mira

tag list: shameless-pope bellastellaluna the-scarletsandwich @its-my-little-dumpster-fire

“Mom!” Lisa bellowed, nearly knocking you out as she ran into the kitchen. “Daughter?” Maria called, not moving from her position as her child stood with her hands on her hips staring her down. “Frank keeps taking my headphones! Tell him to stop,” Lisa said, her anger apparent in her tone. “Frank. Stop.” Maria deadpanned, taking a sip from her cup of coffee. You couldn’t help but snort in response to Maria, and Lisa shot you a look of pure hatred for it.

“Mom!” Lisa cried again, this time dropping her arms as she whined. Maria sighed as she shook her head, “Look, you two need to learn how to sort this out amongst yourselves. I’m not a mediator.” “But you’re our mom,” Lisa exasperated. “And I certainly don’t get paid enough for it,” Maria shot back, her hands cupping her cup of coffee. You cut in, wanting to keep Maria’s stress to a minimum. It had been two months since Frank, and Billy, had left and Maria had been handling the kids on her own.

It was nothing she hadn’t done before, but you knew it was never easy. “Lisa,” you called, “Leave your poor mom alone. I’ll take you shopping on Black Friday for new ones.” Maria rolled her eyes behind Lisa, but the kid was satisfied. She left the kitchen with her mood having taken a complete 180. “I birthed them, feed them, keep a roof over their heads, but alas! It’s Aunt Y/N this, Aunt Y/N that,” Maria sighed. You laughed, your hands cupping your own cup of coffee as you looked over at your friend. “Hey, Black Friday shopping is pretty much the equivalent of going into a warzone,” you called back. Maria held a hand up in surrender, “Touche. I’d never do it.” You nodded, giving her a pointed look, “Yeah, you just shop on Monday from your computer like a coward.”

“Better a wise coward than a foolish knight,” Maria said pointedly, moving to wash out her empty cup in the sink. You stood to wash your own empty cup, handing it to Maria’s outstretched hand but made no movement back towards your seat. “So,” you said slowly, not wanting to let your true intentions out so quickly, “Any word lately from Frank?”

“Why do you ask?” Maria asked, her own voice mirroring your tone. An eyebrow raised, she glanced at you suspiciously. “Just wondering,” you said a little too quickly, “The holidays are coming up, I’m sure they’re missing home.”

“They’re?” Maria repeated, now fully looking at you. You felt yourself inched slowly away from Maria, who was now leaning against the counter, arms crossed over her chest as she looked at you through a narrowed gaze. “Frank and… Billy and the rest of the good people who risk their lives for the sak-” you blurt before Maria cut in. “You bitch!” she cried, her eyes wide as she caught Billy’s name. “Language!” Frank Jr.’s voice shouted from down the hall upon catching his mother’s curse.

Maria rolled her eyes before turning her attention back to you, “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.” You shrugged, playing it off like you didn’t know exactly what she was talking about. “Come on,” Maria said, looking at you expectantly. After a solid minute of silent back and forth, you finally sighed in defeat. “We kissed after the party you guys had over the summer,” you said in a low voice, not wanting Frank Jr. to overhear. “Oh my god,” Maria cried, throwing her hands up, “I know that!”

You scoffed, knowing Lisa probably spilled the beans the second she saw Billy’s lips brush over your cheek during that Sunday morning breakfast that seemed so long ago. “So then what?” you asked. “That’s what I’m trying to find out, Y/N!” Maria said.

“There’s really nothing to say other than that,” you explained, “It’s not like he asked me to see him off or write him long, sappy letters.” “Oh, but you should,” Maria said, suddenly moving to place her hands on your shoulders, “You so should.”

“Geez Maria,” you said as you placed your hands on top of hers, “I so should not be getting into whatever this is. It’s so hard for you and Frank and you guys are so… so solid! Me and Billy? We’re just a few weeks of kisses and back and forth flirting.”

“Y/N,” Maria started, her voice so firm that you probably would have agreed to almost anything she was about to say, “It’s hard. It’s so hard. It’s so unbelievably difficult. But it’s so worth it. Billy is worth it.” She turned squeezed your shoulders before sliding her hands from under your grip, the softness in her eyes so different from the firmness of her tone but that was Maria for you.

“Here,” she said, moving away from you to rummage through a kitchen drawer, “We’re going to send Frank a care package, and we always send Billy stuff, too. You should write him a letter.” “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” you said nervously, placing one hand on the kitchen counter to steady yourself.

“I promise I won’t read it,” Maria said, holding up the sheets of notebook paper and pen she had managed to find. You took what she was handing out to you, albeit hesitantly. She also found an envelope and put it on the counter next to you, giving you another reassuring look, “Look, Y/N. I can’t tell you what to do. I’m not even going to lie and say that I don’t want this to happen, you and Billy. Because I do. But, I saw the way you were glowing when the two of you were together. You were happy. You deserve to give this a shot, you deserve a chance at happiness.”

“You should be a motivational speaker, Maria,” you muttered, mustering up a smile to offer in return for her pep talk. “Yeah,” she replied sarcastically, “Once the kids turn 18 and I can quit my day job.” You giggled as Maria slipped past you, giving you privacy to ‘shoot your shot’ according to her.

Dear Billy,

I’m really only writing this because Maria is making me. I mean- I wanted to write to you, but I wasn’t really sure if that’s something you would have liked me to do. I tend to hold myself back a lot because of that.

But here I am, shooting my shot through the lost art of letter writing as Maria likes to say, the first part at least. By the way, she knows about our… practicing. Lisa is a snitch. Totally not to be trusted.

Things here are pretty normal. Normal as can be. Work is work, and I spend a lot of time with Maria and the kids. I really should get friends my own age. Ha. Well, Maria isn’t that much older than me, but don’t tell her I said that. We’re both 29 until we die.

The holidays are coming up, Halloween was fun with the kids. Frank Jr. wanted to be a soldier, but he didn’t because Lisa said it wasn’t just a costume, it was something bigger. She’s definitely Frank’s kid. They ended up going as Ghostbusters. And getting their candy confiscated for fighting on November 1st. Yep, definitely Frank’s kids.

I’m probably going to spend Thanksgiving with them. With Frank gone, Maria needs me. The kids like having me here, or maybe it’s just that I make a decent pecan pie. Wish you were here. And Frank too.

I’ve never really had someone to miss, but I do miss you. Is that cool with you?

Love, Best,

Y/N

And that was that. You folded up the single sheet of paper neatly and slid it into the envelope, sifting through the kitchen drawer Maria had gone through before to find some tape to seal the envelope shut. “Don’t trust my mom?” Lisa called out, drawing your attention to her figure standing by the door. She looked so much like her mom, arms crossed over her chest, but that smile was all Frank. “I honestly don’t trust anyone in House Castle with anything other than my life,” you replied back matter-of-factly. “Good call,” Lisa said with a knowing smile, walking over to lean against the counter near you as you carefully wrote out Billy’s name on the envelope. “I think he’ll write back,” Lisa said simply. You were taken aback by her tone, you blamed the black and whiteness in her perspective on her age. It seemed so simple to kids, kiss a guy and bam, you’re together. It wasn’t as simple as that. Was it?

“You think?” you murmured, your fingers running over the corners of the envelope, still doubting whether you were doing the right thing. “He’d be stupid not to,” Lisa replied, giving you a shrug as if that were that. This time, you weren’t bothered by the plainness of her tone, but instead felt a surge of warmth spreading in your heart, highlighted optimism. “Right,” you repeated with a smile, “He’d be stupid not to.”

Turns out, Billy Russo was not an idiot. He did write back. The letter came, taped up, in the same envelope as one of Frank’s letters. “I didn’t know my husband knew how to write a letter,” Maria had joked, slipping the letter to you after brunch a week after Thanksgiving, “Turns out, Billy was the one who pushed him to it. Something about the lost art of letter writing.”

You were so giddy, you ended up walking over to a nearby coffee shop. You were too afraid you’d be unable to wait until you got home to open the letter, so ten minutes after parting ways with Maria, you were settled at a corner table in a small coffee shop with a hot mocha and Billy’s letter.

Hey Y/N,

Cool opening. Much chiller than yours, you noted.

I already thought I shot my shot with you, but I guess kissing you wasn’t a clear enough hint that I like you? And Lisa wouldn’t have told if you had bribed her the way I do, but that’s a secret that stays with me. You’ll have to find your own way with Lisa. She’s a smart kid.

I’d say that things are normal here too, but there’s nothing normal about being out here. It’s normal for me, but I don’t think anybody else can understand that. And that’s alright, y’know?

God, I do miss pie. Make me some when I get back, will you? It’s the food I miss, the food and the beer. And Maria and the kids, of course. And you. Is that weird?

I guess not. Frank misses Maria. I think I miss you like that. So, it’s fine by me if you miss me. If you want to miss me via e-mail so I can miss you even faster, that’s also fine by me. Hear from you soon, yeah?

Billy

He even closed out his letters in a cool way! You mentally cursed yourself for crossing out that damn love you had written, hoping he hadn’t been able to make out your mistake. After you moved on past your embarrassment, you quickly typed in the email address he had written on the bottom of the letter, typing out a quick message to him.

You nearly pressed sent too, but you held back, finger hovering over the send button.

Hey Billy! Y/N here, as you can probably see as my e-mail address is my first and last name put together. Good point, we should be living in the 21st century and using e-mail. Then again, in the age of texting, e-mail writing is also a lost art of sorts.

And I know what you mean. I just like knowing that you’re well, as well as you can be. I’d like you to come home in one piece, if that’s not too much to ask.

Also, will you tell me your Lisa taming secret for $1 million?

You sighed, wondering if the rules of courtship applied to whatever this was with you and Billy. Twenty long mocha-sipping, barista probably thinks you’re crazy minutes later, you finally hit send. You figured he wouldn’t see the e-mail that quickly anyway, and that rules weren’t real and meant nothing. Just as quickly, you checked your sent folder to see if it had in fact really sent and thanks to the blessing of wireless internet, the e-mail had in fact sent. You then began refreshing your e-mail on your phone, sitting with the strange anticipation of a reply. Another five minutes of that, and you finally headed out to your car after no reply came, dialing Maria’s number at the same time.

“Of course there’s no reply,” Maria’s voice called out over the phone, “You just sent the damn e-mail, Y/N!” “I know,” you whined back, signalling your turn before slumping in the driver’s seat of your car. “Now I want to know what he wrote,” Maria commented offhandedly, and you imagined her leaning over her kitchen counter to stare out the window as she talked you down over the phone. “Over my dead body,” you muttered, to which Maria laughed out loud. “Just hold on, Y/N,” she assured you, “Just hold on.”

Maria was right. Well, she usually almost always was. Billy’s reply came a few days later, and you had practically jumped out of your office chair while at work when the notification popped up.

I’ll try and come back in one piece, but no guarantees. Also, when was e-mail writing ever an art? I thought it was always something painful adults had to do. Even thinking of the word “regards” makes me sick.

Tell me more about how things are for you, work, friends, anything. I want to know more about you.

And I would not sell you my Lisa taming secret for all the money in the world.

You bit back a smile, hoping that no one around the office was looking at you grinning at your phone screen like an idiot. Sure enough, no one was and you reread Billy’s e-mail several times over. And you couldn’t help but smile every time you did.

Over the next weeks, you and Billy e-mailed back and forth with an occasional Skype call in between. The first time you saw him on a screen was when Maria was Skyping with Frank and Billy popped in the background while you were saying hi to Frank.

“Hey stranger!” Billy called, the image of him grainy but sure enough, it was him. “Hey!” you called, your voice immediately brighter than it was a second ago and you caught Maria and Frank giving each other a look. “We can go, y’know, if the two of you want some privacy?” Frank teased as Maria snickered. “Real mature,” you muttered, playfully smacking Maria’s shoulder.

The next time Billy e-mailed you, he gave his Skype ID so that the two of you could talk sans Castle intrusion.

“Hey you!” you called, seated on the floor of your living room as your laptop rested on your coffee table. You had a cozy sweater on, keeping you warm in the midst of the rainstorm outside. It had been pouring for days nonstop, and while it meant no snow to shovel, it was hardly weather to match the cheery-ness of the holiday season.

“Hey sweetheart,” Billy replied, his lips moving in the video a second before the sound processed but you didn’t care. This was the next best thing to having him there. “How was that office Christmas party?” Billy asked, referencing an awful Secret Santa you had been to just two days earlier. “I got a nice set of hot pink oven mitts from this lady in accounting,” you bragged, your eyes wide in exaggeration. Billy laughed and the sound was truly music to your ears, “Hold onto those for me. They sound like they’re just my style.” “Yeah,” you muttered, “And I’ll get you those eyelashes you can put on your car, too.” Billy shook his head at you, unable to push back the smile from his face.

“It’s weird, y’know?” he said suddenly, shifting a bit in his seat. It caught you by surprise, you were telling him about the presents at the party that were so bad that they were good, and the smile dropped from his lips as he spoke. “Secret Santa?” you asked slowly, confused at the sudden change. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “I’ve never had anybody like this to talk to,” he said, hands moving to gesture towards the camera. “Mari-” you began before he cut in. “Nah,” he shook his head, “Not like that. Someone who’s mine.” A silence came over you, the weight of his words hanging in the air as you looked at him at the screen. You thought for a second the screen froze, but Billy blinked his eyes. “Did it freeze?” he said softly, after you hadn’t responded or moved. You shook your head, slowly at first. The sound of the heavy rain against your window were a tell-tale sign, but you weren’t sure of what to say at first. “No,” you replied back, just as softly. “I’m sorry, Y/N,” he said, the regret apparent in his eyes, “I didn’t me-” You cut in, “No, I want you to mean it like that, Billy. I want to be somebody for you. I just didn’t know how you felt, and I’m too afraid I’ll overstep something, some kind of boundary…” Billy laughed softly, the skin around his eyes crinkling up the way it did when he really smiled, “You’re an idiot. You and me both. We let dumb shit like this hold us back.” You couldn’t help but mirror his laugh, the tension sliding off your shoulders, even as the storm didn’t let up outside, “No more dumb shit.” “No more,” he repeated, “Just us.” For the first time since that kiss the night of the party at the Castle’s home, you felt at peace. The sound of the rain was now comforting, the pitter-patter against your window now soothing you as you smiled at Billy’s image on the screen. “Just us,” you said softly, “Us.”

#stories-you-wont-hear #stories: four seasons #billy russo x reader #billy russo imagine #billy russo fanfic #billy russo fic #reader x billy russo #billy russo x y/n #y/n x billy russo #billy russo

67 notes · View notes

lost-tanuki-tales · 4 years

Text

Prompt fill - TDF

Oneshot Prompts Challenge: Loss of Control, Messy Cleanup. Word count: 2.9k.

"All right, Leonida. Are you ready?"

Leo nodded and held out her arm.

"Go ahead, doc."

"Subject #001, Leonida Trust, 34-year-old female. Test #056 of section #24-12. The goal is the calibration of the assault rifle located in the subject's left forearm. Deploy."

Leo made a fist with her hand and the smooth plates that made up her skin silently slid to the sides. A long metal rod gleamed in the neon lights as it sprang out of cover : the top of a rifle, from the receiver down to the muzzle.

"Load."

This was where the last tests had failed. Leo rotated her fist and felt the bullet click in place inside her arm.

"Hey, it works!" she yelled excitedly.

Doctor Whittler smiled. "Keep it down, Leonida. Now fire."

She twisted her wrist back in place and felt the moment the bullet was propelled forward. The force of it made her stumble back and the shot went awry, but the reinforcements beneath her skin and notably of her elbow joint greatly disminished the impact of the recoil on her body.

"Holy shit," she breathed.

"In position," called Doctor Whittler. "Your stance is unsteady, you can do better than that. You trained more than enough for this."

Leo retorted : "Yeah, well receiving the impact from the outside isn't quite the same as receiving it from the inside, now is it doc?"

She was ready to concede that the force that had been used in training had felt similar, but there was a big difference between stopping an oncoming blow with her palm held straight out and having it directly applied to her joint.

"How the hell am I supposed to aim steady like this?" she asked.

Doctor Whittler sighed. "Training, as always. I'm sure you'll get the hang of it. In position."

Leo complied without grumbling because she was excited to get this to work too. Both women had spent the night perfecting the weapon in her forearm so they'd have conclusive results to show the rest of the team. Doctor Nima and Doctor Rotuje were staring intensely at the scene and Doctor Legain was scribbling away on his little notebook.

"Deploy."

It took reaching test #112 three days later to complete basic calibration of the assault rifle. It took months for Leo to calibrate every part of her body, and a few years to completely master it. But it was worth it, she thought as she ran through enemy fire. She'd finally been deemed efficient enough to be tested directly on the battlefield. She had no breath to lose, and the hammering of her heart was a phantom feeling born from memory alone. Bullets wouldn't wound her like they did regular humans. Leonida was stronger, faster, had superhuman stamina. Like this, she could protect others.

There were many wounded but no casualties on their side when the battle reached its conclusion. Leo had managed to stop the bleeding for the three most grievous wounds. She was unsure whether the one with the head injury would ever be fit for combat again but he would survive, and for now it was the best anyone could do. She looked herself over. She'd taken a bullet but it hadn't hurt, and all that remained in the point of impact was a small dirty spot on her flank. Even though Leo's resilience to bullets of all kinds had already been tested she was always amazed at the durability of her skin.

Her first trial as an enhanced military fighter was deemed a success, and so she was sent out again. Sometimes she'd be used as backup for her medical abilities, other times as a one-man army. She could fight alongside comrades-in-arms in a warzone in the middle of the day or be part of a stealth unit at night. Leonida Trust had always been known as a good fighter but her many achievements pushed her up the ranks. Her versatility pleased the higher-ups and the next phase of Project MATES was greenlit whereupon five other subjects began testing and had their body altered in the same way. Things were going smoothly. Then, there was an incident.

"Targets acquired. Give me the all clear," ordered Leo.

"All clear."

"Roger," she murmured, and she raised both of her folded arms above the dirt she was using as cover.

One grenade would suffice but she needed to send the second one close after in case the first didn't land true. She focused on the group of three men hidden inside the flimsy shelter and readied her weapons to initiate the process, and then jerked her arms away at the last moment. The first grenade exploded in a huge pile of supplies way off its mark and it took all of Leo's concentration to stop the second from getting launched completely. A cloud of smoke rose from the burning stocks of food and alarmed yells started rising all around the enemy camp.

"What the fuck, Trust!" Werner's shout crackled on the radio.

Leo cursed. Two women and their kids had appeared at the window just as she'd triggered the launch and her reflexes had taken over. She'd made a worthless mistake and they'd lost the element of surprise as a result.

"Shoot before they move out!" yelled Mullins.

"Too late," Cantrell cut in. "They're dispersing."

"Move in, move in!" Leo barked, grabbing her rifle and jumping over the dirt mound.

Her legs propelled her forwards at a vehicle's speed and she was the first to get into shooting range of her targets. She lifted up the firearm looped around her torso and pulled the trigger, shooting down one of the enemy leaders and catching another in the leg. Leo heard a woman scream and children crying and calling for their mother. Her head whipped around and she saw that one of the women had been gunned down, and more men were coming out of the three surrounding shelters with aggressive shouting. She recognized Mullins and Cantrell standing a few yards away and had the time to see Werner chasing after one of the fleeing targets before something heavily collided with her back and she was thrown through the walls of the nearest hut. Only one coherent thought had the time to form in her mind while she was airborne, which was that whatever had hit her must've been pretty powerful to have sent her flying like this. Then she landed and smacked her head against the ground hard enough that the world flickered. Something above her elbow clicked almost simultaneously and she heard something metallic violently ricochet against the cracked earth a few feet away. Leo's eyes widened in the second it took her to realize that the control she'd had over her systems had just faltered in the moment she'd been stunned. She opened her mouth to scream a warning.

The explosion threw the sound of her voice into oblivion and she was blasted back, her body thrown across the ground and hit by flying debris. She rolled to a stop, ears ringing, head throbbing. Her face and hands burned and she was dazed for several seconds, trying to pull herself up and squinting at her surroundings. There were muffled sounds of fire around her, crackling and shooting, and she could guess that she'd probably gotten rammed into by the armored vehicle that was stopped in the exact spot she'd been standing in just a few seconds ago. Leo quickly got back to her feet and noticed she'd lost her rifle, but that didn't matter. Recovery was easier for her than it was for her human comrades and she lifted her right arm to shoot at the nearby enemies that were still standing. Leo saw the way their eyes widened when they realized the weapon was in her arm and that she wasn't getting wounded by the bullets they retaliated with; she was used to it, and she knew to duck just as they got the idea to shoot her in the head instead. They were too slow for her, she knew the way they'd react, had seen it countless times before.

"Fuck, Trust, what did you do?!" bellowed Werner from the side. He must've been closer than she'd thought, or maybe she'd been thrown in his direction by the blast.

"Shut up and stay alive!" she yelled back. Neither Cantrell nor Mullins were saying anything but it was hard to hear anything above the gunfire in her ears.

The grenade had wiped out nearly half the enemies when it had landed right in the middle of the small camp and incapacitating the rest took less than ten minutes. The harsh strafing fell away and was replaced by the softer sounds of human agony. Moaning, cursing, sobbing floated over the scene as blood spilled and spread out in puddles. Leo stared at the havoc they'd wreaked. Werner ran past her to one of the bodies laying on the ground.

"Shit. Shit! Cantrell! Miles!"

Leonida followed him on autopilot and saw Cantrell laying bloodied in Werner's arms. She knew it was Cantrell, not from his face which was so mangled it was unrecognizable, nor from his tall stature which was missing a leg; she knew it was him because one of his hands was half-open and his fingers limply curled around the the lucky charm he carried around in the crude shape of a four-leaved clover made out of clay. Leo knew it was so unrefined because a child had made it, because Cantrell had told them all during an evening they'd been allowed to relax and learn more about each other. Leonida had seen her fair share of dead bodies and lost many friends in battle and it never got easier.

"Fuck," Werned cursed in a choked voice. "He's dead."

Leonida looked around to find Mullins but there was nothing, not a single distinctive sign that could tell her which of the bodies on the ground belonged to the soldier.

"Mullins!" she shouted.

No answer.

"He got shot just before you threw that grenade," quietly said Werner. He laid Cantrell back down to the ground and got to his feet. "Fucking hell, Trust, what the hell were you thinking?"

Leonida stared at him. "Can you confirm the death of the target you were after?"

Werner's face slackened in disbelief, and then he roared: "You killed Cantrell!"

"Yes, and Mullins is my fault as well. This is all my responsability," she flatly answered. She could tell from Werner's reaction that there was no target left to terminate but she still needed to make sure. "This is an order as your superior: confirm the kill, Werner."

The man stared at her in horrified incredulity and eventually nodded. "Yeah, I... Yeah. He's dead. His body's over there."

Leo marched in the direction he'd pointed her to and found the target with three holes in his chest. He wasn't breathing. She then made her way across the battlefield to check the numerous bodies, kicking away the weapons that were too close to hostile hands, blocking out the sounds of children crying over their parents' bodies, and found her two targets dead as well. She also found Mullins' corpse riddled with bullets in the process.

Leo knew she'd caused this mass murder by not going through with launching the grenades at the three leaders when they'd been gathered in one spot. She knew Mullins wouldn't have died if she'd done her part of the mission correctly, so that they could've retreated afterwards like they'd meant to do. She knew it was her weapon that had directly caused the disfigurement and death of Miles Cantrell. They'd all known there was always a possibility to die in battle, but not like this. Not by friendly fire, not at the hands of a companion.

She turned to Werner, feeling nothing but cold and empty. "We have to clean up this place."

Werner was still staring at her with wide eyes that were equally revulsed and aghast. He was staring at her like he wasn't facing his captain, like he wasn't facing the talented and charismatic Leonida Trust, but a monster he'd never known existed until now. Sometimes Leonida really felt the part. She gestured to Cantrell.

"I'll handle him and Mullins if that makes it easier for you. You know what to do with the rest."

Werner's gaze flickered to the bodies that had now all ceased moving entirely. The scene felt surreal, two individuals standing nearly unharmed in the middle of a sea of blood, gore and corpses. Their unit often did dirty work but they were good at what they did and it had never gotten this bad. Now they weren't a unit anymore, just an unsteady half that would probably be pulled apart as soon as they returned to make their report.

The man pulled himself together with visible effort and gave a curt nod. "Yes, Captain."

He walked off to start picking up the enemies' weapons and Leonida searched for Cantrell's missing limb. Her feet squelched in the spots where blood mixed with earth that wasn't quite as dry to form red mud, and small pieces of flesh stuck to her shoes and clothes. Maybe some of it was Cantrell's. Leo felt a strong wave of disgust towards the slick mess of human matter on and around her and most of all towards herself. She ragingly swiped at her clothes with hands that stung from the burns the explosion had inflicted her skin and shook them free of the cold, gunky bits. As she continued searching her gaze then landed on a limb covered in soiled fabric, the bone jaggedly cut where it had been torn away. The dirt around it was streaked with blood. Leonida forced herself to come closer and crouched next to it. The hands that reached out to pick up the leg didn't feel like they belonged to her.

Leo carried it back to Cantrell and pulled up the soldier's body as well- careful to slip the clay clover in her own pocket first so that it wouldn't get lost- and dragged what had once been a friendly, calm and appreciated individual all the way back to where they'd left their vehicle. She gently laid Cantrell's body down and gazed at the flayed face. One of his eyes had been gouged out by the shrapnel.

"I'm sorry," she whispered to him. She felt so empty. There were a lot of things she wanted to tell him but it was all useless, and she wouldn't have expected him to be willing to listen even if he was hanging around as a ghost. She'd killed him. It had been an accident, but she'd killed him. In the end she just repeated: "I'm sorry."

And then she turned back around to go get Mullins' body, as well. She didn't speak again. By the time she'd wrapped both bodies in a tarpaulin, pushed them in the back of the vehicle and joined up with Werner, he'd gathered eight of the twenty-seven corpses on the edge of the camp. Leonida helped with the rest, dragging the red oozing bodies across the earth and painting it with large irregular strokes of crimson. The children seemed to have all been spared and they were huddled around the surviving woman, all of them silent and wide-eyed. The clean up was very quiet. Grim, tedious, messy, and quiet.

Werner and Leonida left the place while it was still night. The desperate screaming of the sole five survivors had started up again, but it was feeble against the roar of the huge fire at their back. The air smelled like burning meat and hair. The stench clung to their clothes and gear, and the vehicle was already filled with death when they got in. They didn't talk to each other, didn't look at each other. Leo apologized one last time as she drove her men back to the base. Werner looked outside the window and didn't answer.

Werner's testimony was in accordance with hers and it lead to the questioning of how far emotion and doubt could compromise a human weapon's efficiency. Up until now Leo's many successes had allowed the Project MATES team to soothe these concerns, but her mistake was the first step of its gradual downfall. There was another incident about a month later when one of the subjects accidentally discharged in Doctor Rotuje's stomach. Then a scandal involving Doctor Nima and unethical experiments exploded, and the researcher disappeared. With two of its head researchers missing and problems coming up one after the other, Project MATES lost fundings and was finally dropped in favor of continuing the development of android fighters instead. Leonida was still a MATES and so were the other subjects that had agreed to undergo the enhancement process, and it wasn't like they could go back to what they'd been before. They were kept in the army, each of them was assigned a military technician for repairs and reports who they were told they'd have to lug around for the foreseeable future, and soon after they were all sent on their respective missions.

This was how Leonida jump-started the fall of a billion-dollar worth project, fucked up her mental state even further, met the prickly Arkady Dragunin, and ultimately ended up getting sent to space alone with the guy.

(The Disaster Five are also on AO3.)

7 notes · View notes

inkdrinkershadowsinger · 4 years

Text

Thoughts/ Background The Deathly Hallows Part Two

The introduction music is so haunting. The castle in all its glory is haunted by dementors and fog. Snape is solitary. Everything is singular and empty on the grounds. The only color we see at Hogwarts during this time is during the final battle when McGonagall pushes Harry out of the way, and we see that flash of fire from her wand. That’s when you know stuff is about to kick off.

Griphook sounds so lost as to why Harry would bury Dobby. The divide between creatures and wizards, between goblins and wizards has gotten so great that neither side even thinks to assume that the other possesses even the smallest hint of kindness or humility. This is a fic all in itself.

What are the goblins stake in the sword? What is with the mention of the tiara in the books? I feel like Rowling had more to say about this topic, but for some reason she didn’t.

I hate that Fleur seems to be so meek in this movie. I want her to be this badass fighter chick, the kind of person who the Goblet of Fire would chose once again to play one of the most challenging games ever, the kind of person who would leave her country and family for an amazing opportunity and adventure, but her character wasn’t given much time or space to be free to show itself in that manner.

Wandlore is super fascinating. Is there a book about wandlore? Like a companion book like Quidditch Through the Ages? I feel like there should be.

It looks like that is a quilt patch behind Harry’s head. It would have been a gift from Mrs. Weasley.

It always bothered me that Luna was just like, “Yeah, I’m going back to school.” They just locked her butt up in the dungeons, and then she decides to go back to a school where the people who locked her up are currently in power and could torture her for information about the whereabouts of Harry Potter, the person she literally just escaped with. I think, that’s why this scene was cut from the final cut of the basic DVD versions.

Ron is so quick here to be like, “They suspect us. They suspect us.” But the silence doesn’t go on for that long. It feels like someone with such an iron gut gets antsy really quickly, and not antsy like sweating a bit, but antsy like he’s about to start crying. It just seems weird. One of the basic security measures to the bank might be that they have like a gas that leaks through that makes people feel paranoid or something like that. You want to get 200 galleons out, but what happens if you get robbed on the way out the door? Better to only get 100, thus keeping money in the bank under the goblins eyes. It would help keep out thieves as well, petty and otherwise.

None of the other goblins think that something is off with the behavior of this one goblin who seems to be in a positon of authority?

Goblins are keyed into the various vaults? Which means that they could seal them at any time as well, right? Is this in the books?

Hermione, baby, your Gryffindor is showing, and it is SEXY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Lol

Those goblins are like, “Assume the fire breathing position.”

You can see how deep down they are. And I know this isn’t real, but to think that that dragon would have only had that small opening of real light shining down on it all that time is truly depressing.

Litearlly, they all deserve to bite it after what that dragon was put through.

“And he’s homicidal.”

“We plan, we get there, all hell breaks loose.” I feel that.

I always assumed that Voldemort when to Gringotts and killed the goblins. But no, he summoned them to Malfoy Manor, and then killed them. Why would he do it like that?

That mirror is rectangular, but I always envisioned the mirrors as being circular.

Why does Aberforth tell them that the Order is finished? He knows that it isn’t. This whole speech of his is very demoralizing. But Harry dgaf…..

This, “I trusted the man I knew” attitude is why Harry named one of his children Albus Severus.

Hermione is the one who asks questions of Aberforth, and yet, he directly responds to Harry. I always thought that was odd.

And Aberforth has been helping them the whole time? Then why the speech?

Neville badass Longbottom.

Another nod to the books.

I wanted some more information about what was going on in Hogwarts while Harry, Ron, and Hermione were on the run. I wanted to hear more about what Dumbledore’s Army were getting up to while the others were hunting horcruxes. There were tasters of it in the book, but I would have loved to have had more of it tbh.

Fact: Neville’s plant from five is the mascot for the Hogwart’s resistance.

“She gots lost of those, hasn’t she?” This line from Seamus at the very beginning of this movie just made it so perfect. This movie is a gosh dang masterpiece.

Snape had such a hard job. I mean, I know people hate on Snape, and I can understand their reasoning, but I have a soft spot for the man. Maybe I read too much fanfiction because fanfic!Snape and canon!Snape are two very different individuals.

Harry’s name among these students is the stuff of legend. The way they all look around and start talking carries that spark of hope that good rumors sometimes have.

Harry, “Perfect timing group.”

People back up when Harry faces Snape. People move the hell out of dodge when McGonagall draws her wand.

Snape takes out the two Carrows behind him before he apparates out of the school.

Padma gets zero dances at the Yule Ball, and then Voldemort invades her mind. Great.

Pansy, my darling, there is a time to speak and there is a time to stay silent. Read the room.

Filch, ditto.

Why do all of the magical, “evil” Slytherins allow Filch, a squib, to lock them up?

Even the portraits are getting out of there.

All the kids in the background are completely flummoxed.

“Boom!”

Say that five times fast. No, say it once without messing up and you get to be bff’s with Maggie Smith.

This spell is sick, this music is sick, McGonagall is a queen. When I saw this in theater, my skin got goose pimples. “Do your duty for our school!” It is just so amazing, and iconic. This whole scene makes me feel so empowered, and pumped like I’m about to head into battle, like I’m about to defend my home and my life.

My thoughts on the diadem and the other founders objects can be found in a post that I made. My thoughts are strong, and though they aren’t canon, they are still unspoken canon.

Voldemort is like, “I was about to monologue. Why you speaking to me?”

“You okay, Freddie?” Don’t come at me like that, writers.

We all died laughing in the theater when Ron said that. “Harry talks in his sleep.” Harry only speaking parseltongue when around snakes theory is still enforced when you think about the snake Pettigrew sneaking around the whole time.

Exactly why the fuck does Remus need Tonks more than her small child? I never understood this line, and I never liked them as a couple. Thought the book version was creepy, and the movie version unrealized.

Some movies really don’t need to be split into two for the ending *Divergent trilogy* but this one really benefitted from having two films. I wouldn’t want this huge battle scene and character plot and humor to be lost.

No one thinks to cast a spell to catch Neville??? This is like the first flying lesson all over again.

Go, Mr. Weasley, you are on fire.

Kingsley, whip their arses with that fancy shit. LET’S GO!!!!!!

Harry reached out to Ginny first. This movie is so lacking in any real chemistry between these two actors and characters that it is almost painful. This is one instance, that I never noticed before, that makes all of their other interactions less cringey to watch.

Neville almost died on that bridge. He might as well tell Luna how he feels. I love this and can fully ship canon book couples with canon movie couples at the same time. Thank you very much.

That kiss between them is so weird. I just can’t.

Hermione in this scene is proof that men rattle your brain with smooches. Lol

So, if you are using the room of requirement for something, and someone who already has been in that same room, and wants it for the same reason that you do, they can get in as well? But not if they want it for the same reason, which is why Umbridge couldn’t be get it in Order of the Phoenix.”

There are so many Easter eggs in this scene in the ROR. You can see a chess piece from 1, pixies from 2. It just enforces my headcanon that the house elves use the ROR as a sort of dumping ground for the random stuff that they find at the school.

Harry is so gosh dang blasé about seeing Draco again. He’s just like, “What’s up, dude?” He is not concerned in the slightest that he has three wands pointed at him right now. They are just causally chatting about whose wand each other has got.

The statue of the pig right behind Harry and Hermione. It would make sense Voldemort would try to totally remake Hogwarts, and I think that would go into removing those odd little things that make the castle a bit quirky. The castle looks bleak and unnaturally bland compared to the other movies. It would make sense that he would want statues of hogs also taken out.

You see the lanterns that Slughorn had at his Christmas party.

Why is the fire morphing into different animals? The phoenix attacks Draco, Blaise, and Goyle, the tiger chases Ron and Hermione, and then the snake goes after Harry. And then they all converge on the trio? Why make it animals? Is there any significance to this? I never noticed that they were actually animals before.

Finding the brooms perfect. Saving them perfect. Killing the horcrux then kicking it into the flames. Perfect.

The music while the trio are fighting to get to boat house is so haunting and lovely and it’s like it calls to every nostalgic atom in your body.

Really, death eater, you’ve got time to stop and cast the cruciatus on someone in the middle of this warzone?

I love that Hermione was the one to blast Fenrir away from Lavender. So touching.

Aberforth, Mr. IT IS ALL GOING TO END HORRIBLY WHY EVEN TRY, has enough hope and good memories to cast away that many dementors. Yeah, he’s fake.

Voldemort just doesn’t like that Snape is taller than him.

I just wanted a touch of the friendship that was expressed between Lily and Snape in the book. Harry understood it, and said it perfectly at the end of book seven. I wanted some of that to translate to screen. It wasn’t just because Snape had some weird crush on her it was because they were friends, best friends. Ron and Harry and Hermione friendship. The next time someone comes at me with that bull I’m just going to refer them back to the facts.

This is probably the first time that Snape had ever been allowed to really look at Harry as a person rather than someone who is supposed to hate him. It is the first time that he could be unguarded around him.

Snape hired more healers. Why else would they be there? He knew that with the group in charge that as in power, that they would be needed.

I can’t stand this barrage of lost souls. It is painful, and I get flashbacks from when I read the book for the first time, and the pages were covered in my tears.

It doesn’t look like Snape even has anything in this office. It looks barren. He knew he had no time to get comfortable in his position.

That tree is beautiful.

I love their friendship. I will always love their friendship.

Look at Snape and all those books. Lily and Snape, the studious, top of their year duo with the Marauders who eschew libraries but still manage to succeed. I don’t need to think hard to imagine the rivalry. In fact, I did imagine it, and wrote some down in the thing, message me if you would like part of the thing.

Hermione knew, or at least, strongly suspected that Harry was going to have to do what he sets off to accomplish, for sure.

I love that when Harry walked into the forest to face down death that he had these people, these guardians, these people who at one point or another swore to protect this boy with everything that they have get to be the ones that are with him at the end just like at the beginning. Things are different for them, and different from how they thought it would be when Harry was born into this world, but they still kept their promise.

“Does it hurt?” This is something that a child asks. We forget that Harry, here, is only supposed to be 17 years old, that’s a kid. Added to that, you have the very real

“We’re here, you see?” Perfect.

“Stay close to me?” “Always.”

My thoughts mean nothing in the perfection of this scene.

Hagrid is still looking out for Harry’s best interest. He is the only adult worth a flip in more than half of these films.

“The boy who lived come to die.”

I know Dumbledore is like, “The man” here, and the mentor or whatever, but I would have really have liked to have the person who met Harry at Kings Cross had been Snape especially after harry had just learned the truth. Way more dynamic.

Narcissa straight up lied to the most dangerous wizard ever. She deserved that pardon for her family. All she wanted was out, and to take care of her son, and I respect that. Don’t give a dang for the rest of the world when they would gladly let you burn. Take care of number one even when number one is a group instead of a single entity.

You hear that noise when Neville picks up the hat, and if you read the books, you know what he just found. He was out there preparing and scouting for another battle, and Hogwarts rewarded him.

Hagrid carrying in Harry’s body was so painful to watch. Visually, there little death parade plus the music just puts you in this anxious state. Pinpricks.

The acting by Bonnie Wright here is superb. The lack of chemistry is not equally weighted on her shoulders.

Luna looks at Draco like she is sick. Then like she is sad. I hate it. She was wishing for something else there for sure.

The way Dean Thomas looks at Voldemort in this scene is the way that I feel about that weird af hug.

Voldemort has to restrain himself from killing Neville on the spot for interrupting him.

Neville has never in the course of these movies failed to speak when needed. He stood up to the trio in 1, and he spoke up against Seamus and nearly everyone else in the common room in Ootp. Neville stands up for what is right.

All of those death eaters are like, “Fuck! This boy came back to life again? What are the Dark Lord’s AK’s broken? Nevermind, fuck this shit, I’m out.”

That music when Neville regains consciousness. YES!

See, if Voldemort didn’t play with his food, he might have won.

NOT MY DAUGHTER YOU BITCH!!!! When I say people cheered and screamed in the theater when Molly said and did this epic shit I ain’t kidding. IT WAS AND STILL IS ONE OF THE MOST ICONIC HP QUOTES OF ALL TIME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ONE OF THE BEST, MOST EMPOWERING QUOTES!!!!!!! We all want Molly Weasley to have our backs like this.

The whole ending of this movie is LEGENDARY!!!! I went to the midnight showing for the release of this movie with a bunch of other diehards, and seeing Neville cut the head off of the snake, and watching Harry finally beat Voldemort with the elder wand. I mean, we were literally just in such a state of excitement and yes and hallelujah, it was insane.

Neville and Luna. I see y’all.

Percy is talking to Arthur, reconciling.

That guy behind Cho is definitely about to shoot his shot with someone.

Filch, bless his heart.

Ron and Hermione. Harry knows. Harry blesses this union. Harry has been the number one ship captain this whole time, and now he is rewarded.

I like that Harry snapped the wand in the movie. See, if book Harry had snapped the wand, the Cursed Child would have never graced our consciousness with its heteronormative agenda. Scorbus is life. Fight me.

This series has had such a serious impact on me. I love it. I spend hours upon hours inside of this universe every day as beloved fanfiction writers play inside of it’s territory. It made me a reader. It helped me when I wasn’t sure what was next for me in life. It gave me entertainment and enjoyment, and still does. I love it, and I hope that I always will. We cling to the thought of magic because we hope that it is really, we hope that like in this world where there is magic that cannot be easily be explained exists. We hope that in our world, too, there is that same kind of magic that can wrap itself around us.

I think that kind of magic is real. I just think that we have to look for it, remember it, talk about, cherish it, and spread it around for others who have forgotten to look for it themselves. And great literature, like this series, helps us to do that.

That is why it will be remembered for generations to come. At least, if I have anything to say about it.

#Harry Potter #Harry Potter and the deathly hallows part two #Harry Potter thoughts #Harry Potter anaysis #Harry Potter background #harry potter meta

4 notes · View notes